When the girl emerged from the cubicle in the nightdress, he was captivated by her appearance: “It’s as if I’m seeing her for the first time. Whenever this happens, it’s like you have seen someone in a previous life. This one would be worth building houses for, being her guardian, anything, babysitting her children, becoming her worshipper or her friend . . .”

That is what he thought. What he actually said was: “You know, I can’t buy this nightdress. It’s too expensive.”

And with that he flew out of the store with the stolen spoils in his pocket. He barely remembered to grab his raincoat.

After he visited a few bars to kill time, with two or three petty thefts of cigarettes on the way, it was around midnight when he arrived home, or rather at his rented apartment, to find his telephone lying on the staircase. For failure to pay his bills, he had been thrown out of the apartment. In despair, he turned on his answering machine at a neighboring café and listened to the recorded messages. There was only one. It was his ex-wife. Her voice sounded sweet coming out of the box: “I know you came round. And I know what you did. You took something again. The little gold box with the bow. Don’t worry. I haven’t told the police. For the moment. This time you only took the present I’d bought for you for Christmas . . .”