I have just made a complete fool of myself. I went to see Alice to tell her about Herr Huber's visit and on the way back I thought I saw across the width of the Kärntner Ring a figure that I recognized.
Yes, I was sure that I knew that soldier in the uniform of the Bohemian Dragoons with his slow gait and clumsy boots. I even thought I could smell across the heads of the fashionable crowd who promenaded there, the whiff of the raw onions that nothing can prevent Corporal Hatschek from chewing when he is off duty. And my heart raced, excitement coursed through me - and I lifted my skirts ready to hurry across the road.
But the Ringstrasse is wide, the hansom cabs are never in a hurry. By the time I'd reached the other side there was no sign of him.
I'd imagined him then. Conjured him up out of my deepest need. It's not the first time that I've run across the road like a homesick child towards this onion-chewing corporal and found he was a mirage. Well, so be it. There is only one cure for what ails me, and thank heaven I have it in abundance. Work.