CONSUL. Haven't you seen anything of them either?
MASTER. I never ask any questions about the other tenants. What comes to me unasked, I accept—but I never make any wrong use of it, and I never interfere, for I am anxious for the peace of my old age.
CONSUL. Old age—yes! I think it's nice to grow old, for then there isn't so much left to be recorded.
MASTER. Indeed, it is nice. I am settling my accounts, both with life and with people, and I have already begun to pack for the journey. Of course, the solitude has its draw-backs, but when there is nobody who can make any demands on you, then you have won your freedom—the freedom to come and go, to think and act, to eat and sleep, in accordance with your own choice.
At this moment the shade in one of the windows on the second floor is raised a little way, so that part of a woman's dress becomes visible. Then it is quickly drawn again.
CONSUL. They are astir up there—did you see?
MASTER. Yes, there is such a lot of mystery about it—and at night it is worse than ever. Sometimes there is music, but it's always bad; and sometimes I think they are playing cards; and long after midnight carriages drive up and take away people.—I never make a complaint against other tenants, for then they want to get even, and nobody wants to change his ways. The best thing is to remain oblivious of everything.
A gentleman, dressed in a dinner coat but bareheaded, comes out of the house and drops a big pile of letters into the mail-box; then he disappears into the house again.
CONSUL. That fellow must have a lot of correspondence.
MASTER. It looked to me like circulars.