Freder dragged himself through the hole. He ran through the house. His wild eyes sought an enemy and fresh obstacles in each corner. But he found neither one nor the other. Unchallenged, he reached the door, found it open and reeled out into the street. He ran in the direction which Maria had taken. But the surf of the people had washed her away. She had vanished. For some minutes Freder stood among the hurrying mob, as though paralysed. One senseless hope befogged his brain: Perhaps—perhaps she would come back again ... if he were patient and waited long enough.... But he remembered the cathedral—waiting in vain—her voice in the magician’s house—words of fear—her sweet, wicked laugh.... No—no waiting—! He wanted to know. With clenched teeth he ran.... There was a house in the city where Maria lived. An interminably long way. What should he ask about? With bare head, with raw hands, with eyes which seemed insane with weariness, he ran towards his destination: Maria’s abode. He did not know by how many precious hours Slim had come before him.... He stood before the people with whom Maria was supposed to live: a man—a woman—the faces of whipped curs. The woman undertook the reply. Her eyes twitched. She held her hands clutched under her apron. No—no girl called Maria lived here—never had lived here.... Freder stared at the woman. He did not believe her. She must know the girl. She must live here. Half stunned with fear that this last hope of finding Maria could prove fallacious too, he described the girl, as memory came to the aid of this poor madman. She had such fair hair.... She had such gentle eyes.... She had the voice of a loving mother.... She wore a severe but lovely gown.... The man left his position, near the woman, and stooped down sideways, hunching his head down between his shoulders as though he could not bear to hear how that strange young man there, at the door, spoke of the girl, for whom he was seeking. Shaking her head in angry impatience for him to be finished, the woman repeated the same unvarnished words: The girl did not live here, once and for all.... Hadn’t he nearly finished with his catechism? Freder went. He went without a word. He heard how the door was slammed to, with a bang. Voices were retiring, bickering. Interminable steps brought him to the street again. Yes ... what next? He stood helpless. He did not know which way to turn. Exhausted to death, drunken with weariness, he heard, with a sudden wince, that the air around him was becoming filled with an overpowering sound.