“I don’t know,” said Freder, “whom you mean....”
And his tongue, too, was heavy, and as though made of clay.
Jan gave no answer. He had hunched up his shoulders as though he were bitterly cold. Bewildered and undecided, he listened to the intermediate rolling of the organ.
“Let us go!” he said tonelessly, turning around. Freder followed him. They left the cathedral. They walked along together in silence for a long time. Jan seemed to have a destination of which Freder did not know. He did not ask. He waited. He was thinking of his dream and of the monk’s words.
At last Jan opened his mouth; but he did not look at Freder, he spoke into space:
“You do not know who she is.... But nobody knows.... She was suddenly there.... As a fire breaks out.... No one can say who fanned the flame.... But there it is, and now everything is ablaze....”
“A woman...?”
“Yes. A woman. Perhaps a maid, too. I don’t know. It is inconceivable that this being would give herself to a man ... (Can you imagine the marriage of ice?) ... Or if she were to do so, then she would raise herself up from the man’s arms, bright and cool, in the awful, eternal virginity of the soulless....”
He raised his hand and seized his throat. He tugged something away from him which was not there. He was looking at a house which lay opposite him, on the other side of the street, with a gaze of superstitious hostility, which made his hands run cold.
“What is the matter with you?” asked Freder. There was nothing remarkable about this house, except that it lay next to Rotwang’s house.