“Nobody has come.”
Freder looked at him without answering.
“I sat all night in this chair,” continued Josaphat, misinterpreting Freder’s silence. “I did not sleep a wink. I expected you to come at any second, or a messenger to come from you, or that you would ring me up. I also informed the watchman. Nobody has come, Mr. Freder.”
Freder still remained silent. Slowly, almost stumblingly he stepped over the threshold, into the room raising his right hand to his head, as though to take off his hat, then noticing that he was wearing the cap, the black cap, which pressed the hair tightly down, he swept it from his head; it fell to the ground. His hand sank from his brow, over his eyes, resting there a little while. Then the other joined it, as though wishing to console its sister. His form was like that of a young birch tree pressed sideways by a strong wind.
Josaphat’s eyes hung on the uniform which Freder wore.
“Mr. Freder,” he began cautiously, “how comes it that you are wearing these clothes?”
Freder remained turned away from him. He took his hands from his eyes and pressed them to his face as though he felt some pain there.
“Georgi wore them....” He answered. “I gave him mine....”
“Then Georgi is a workman?”
“Yes.... I found him before the Pater-noster machine. I took his place and sent him to you....”