He heard a dog bark, a wagon rattle, a bell strike; he heard people talking, murmuring, crying; he heard the scraping of feet. But it all sounded to him like noises that were reaching his ears through the walls of a prison. He went on his way; his gait was unsteady.
As he reached the Church of Our Lady, Daniel turned to the right toward the Market Place, and saw the Goose Man standing before him.
“Go home,” the Goose Man seemed to say with a sad voice. “Go home!”
“Who are you? what do you wish of me?” A voice within him asked. But then it seemed that the figure had become invisible, and that it could not be seen again until it was far off in the distance, where it was being shone upon by a bright light.
People were running across Ægydius Place; some of them were crying “Fire!” Daniel turned the corner; he could see his house. Flames were leaping up behind his window. He pressed his hands to his temples, and, with eyes wide open and filled with terror, he forced his way through the crowd up to his house. “For God’s sake, for Heaven’s sake!” he cried, “save my trunk!”
Many looked at him. A figure appeared at the window; many arms were pointed at it. “The woman! Look, look, the woman!” came a cry from the crowd. And then again: “She has set the house on fire! She has swung the torch and started the fire!”
Daniel rushed into his house. Firemen overtook him. There he saw in the hall, lighted by the lanterns being carried back and forth so swiftly, and placed in the corner with no more care or consideration than was possible under such circumstances, the dead body of old Jordan. His body, and close beside it, as if in supernatural mockery of all things human, the doll, the Swiss maid with the machine in her stomach. Sighing and sobbing, he fell down; his forehead touched the dead hand of the old man.
As if in a dream he heard the hissing of the hoses, the commands, the hurried running back and forth of the firemen. Then he felt as if a shadow, a figure from the lower world, suddenly rose before him. A clenched fist, he thought, opened and hurled shreds of paper into his face. When he looked up he could see nothing but the firemen rushing around him. The shadow, the figure, had pushed its way in among them, and in the confusion no one had paid any attention to it.
With an absent-minded gesture, Daniel reached out and picked up the paper that was lying nearest him. It had fallen on the face of the doll. He unfolded it and saw, written in his own hand, the music to the “Harzreise im Winter.” Under the notes were the words:
But aside, who is it?
His path in the bushes is lost,
Behind him rustle
The thickets together,
The grass rises again,
The desert conceals him.