Immediately there came an extraordinary change over the whole of this man sitting right next to me. He once more took evasive action and as he had formerly grasped my umbrella, now he grasped the glass in front of him, knocked back the hot, steaming mixture therein in one long swig and hissed through his teeth:
"It's quite true nevertheless. I hate the moon. It's my deadliest enemy and I am eclipsed by it as it is eclipsed itself by that paraffin lamp swinging above us."
I waved to the waitress, who understood my wave and put another steaming glass down right under my colleague's nose.
"Thank you," said the judge. "And I have you to thank as well for, had I not fallen into the arms of yourself and your umbrella, I really don't know what would have become of me on that shadowless beach."
"Colleague," I said, "I am a law-abiding man and have attended to my official duties for many years now to the satisfaction of my official subordinates and the powers that be. I keep my medal for services rendered at home in a filing cabinet and have never knowingly divulged any secret confided in me, scout's honour. Would you take it amiss, colleague, if I asked you to tell me how you came to quarrel with that innocent satellite revolving round our sinful earth?"
"I would certainly not take it amiss," said the colleague. "On the contrary, from time to time I feel the most pressing need to give vent to my hate and anger and my innermost anxieties and inhibitions. Order another glass of grog and listen to the story that I have to tell. Afterwards you can judge and I will abide by your judgement, all the more so as I already know you to be a most capable lawyer from our official correspondence."
"I am most greatly indebted to you," I said, hanging now on his every word, and looked into his eyes as I had not looked into the eyes of my bride when we got married twenty-five years ago. He drank another deep draught of the steaming beverage, smacked his lips and commenced his confession.
"First of all," he said, "I must tell you that my doctor has sent me to this seaside health resort at the instigation of my wife because of my 'condition' as she calls it, or because of my bad nerves as he, the doctor, says. For years now this man, who has known me from my youth, who grew up with me, has laughed at this penchant of mine; only at my wife's insistence did he come to take the matter seriously. For once he came to the conclusion that it was high time to do something to counter this regrettable complex and here I am, taking to the water daily on doctor's orders and, as you have learned tonight, so far without the least success. But I digress! In a word, I'm paying for the sins of my youth."
"Aha!" I murmured, but immediately recognizing my meaning, my colleague shook his head emphatically and sighed:
"No! No! Nothing like that. If only it had been that! For my sins it was quite the opposite of what you have in mind that led to my breakdown. I can assure you that neither women nor wine led me astray in my younger days. I was far too staid for that and regret it today in worry, pain and an island swimming costume. If only I'd gone off the rails in the days of my youth. If only I had curbed my fantasy and the danger of being thrown by it and breaking my neck at the right time! It's a repressed desire for poetry that's sent me off my rocker long after my fortieth year. The light of the good old German moon is taking its revenge on me and I doubt that any kind of bath or water, alkaline or acidic, will help me."