on his face, he slyly watched the even smaller gentleman. Embarassed,
he took his hat off his head and spoke, stuttering, said that his
name was Kuno Kohn, and excused himself--little else could be made
out. The hunchback hid part of his face behind thin fingers, coughed,
and quickly moved on. The locksmith thought: hm, and went on his
way.

Then there was a tug on his arm. He turned his face: the hunchback
again stood next to him, still somewhat breathless from moving
quickly. Kuno Kohn was very red, but he could, without stuttering,
say: Excuse me for causing you more trouble. I always know
afterwards what I want to say." This he spoke extremely loudly, to
overcome his embarassment. Then he said: "Perhaps you have the time...
Perhaps I may invite you to look for a restaurant with me...or may
I assume that you have not yet eaten this evening." The locksmith
was not against the idea.

In a huge tavern, Kuno Kohn ordered food and beer for Max Mechenmal.
He himself did not eat, and he drank little. He enjoyed watching how
pleased the locksmith was. Later, probably, he sometimes stroked him
timidly on the chin. That pleased the locksmith. At first they
spoke of the misery of being alive, of the injustice of fate. After
Mechenmal drank his third glass of beer, he boasted of his beloved.
That was unpleasant for the hunchback. Up to that point he had
permitted the locksmith to talk. And his interest was indicated only
by the fact that he shut his blue eyes theatrically and approvingly,
as a result of which, for a few seconds, only miserable shadows were
visible, or he slowly shook his shapeless head, or he pressed his
nervous fingers sympathetically against Mechenmal's leg. Now he began
to express his own opinions. He cursed women. His voice seemed at