Zdenka stopped in front of the Stations of the Cross, where people prayed every year on the night of Good Friday. The chapel of St. Laurenzius was also here. From up above it was possible to see the city in the late afternoon mist. A sluggish wind pushed the withered leaves into the stone gutters on the sides of the path. Zdenka stepped on the white berries that rolled onto the earth from the bushes. As a child the small pop they made when they burst had always made her happy. A soldier came toward them. He bent toward his girl and kissed her. Zdenka walked next to Severin with a soul full of tears.

IV


The guests had already gathered in Doctor Konrad’s atelier when Lazarus and Severin arrived. A blur of voices struck them from the cigarette smoke: the unfamiliar mix of German and Czech conversations, the affected laughter of the women. In the corner a few provocatively dressed young models were milling around a table and entertaining themselves with an Italian dice game. Next to blonde Ruschena, casually leaning against the doorpost and looking on, stood the wonderfully slender figure of a lady in a black velvet dress. Severin recognized her immediately. An image he had not thought of in a long time rose in his memory, as sharp and full of life as something that had just happened. As a schoolboy, in the year before his finishing examination, he had crossed Ferdinandstrasse one holiday morning while the beautiful world was making its promenade. She had attracted his attention with the large, blood-red ostrich feather in her hat, with her unusual, exquisite slenderness, with the charming and dangerous smile he saw only once after that, in a painting of the penitent Magdalene. A beautiful young man approached with a greeting and kissed her gloved fingers. This image had remained clinging to his senses and now clarified again: the festive liveliness of the street, the smooth sound of the rubber tires as the carriages drove over the pavement, and, in the middle of the bustle of people and made-up faces, the motion full of indescribable grace with which the strange woman gave her hand to the young dandy to kiss. After that he had come across her on a few occasions, fleeting and distant. Then for a long time he had not seen her. She was a singer from the National Theatre, who at that time had stood at the height of public favor. Now Kain, who had noticed Severin’s unwavering glance, told him her story. She had lost her voice as a result of an illness she had contracted from her lover. She had tried her luck on the stages in the country until it was no longer possible. Now she was back in Prague, and Kain had already seen her a few times at Doctor Konrad’s atelier.

In this circle it was not customary for the guests to be introduced to one another. Everyone came and went as he pleased. Nevertheless, when the master of the house greeted the newcomers, Severin asked him to take him to the lady in black. He stood in front of her and bowed when Doctor Konrad said his name. He searched her face for the charm of that moment.