When they parted, Lisel Liblichlein lowered her head and kissed
Kohn's mouth several times. Thus Kuno Kohn and Lisel Liblichlein
parted... He said that he was pleased that she would visit him the
next evening. She said, very quietly, "I... oh... also..."

On the well cared-for streets, the carefully arranged houses stood
like books on shelves. The moon had scattered bright blue dust on
them. Few windows were lit, shining peacefully, like the eyes of
lonely people, with the same gold-colored look. Kuno Kohn went home
thoughtfully. His body was dangerously bent forward. His hands lay
firmly at the end of his back. His head was hanging low. The hump
towered above, an adventurous, sharp stone. At this time Kuno Kohn
was no longer a man; he had his own form.

He thought: "I wish to avoid being happy. That would mean giving up
the longing that transcends all fulfillment, which is my most
exquisite meaning. To degrade the holy hump, with which a friendly
destiny has endowed me, through which I have experienced existence
much more deeply, more unhappily, more wonderfully, than people
perceive, to a burdensome superficiality. I wish to develop out of
Lisel Liblichlein her higher being. I want to make her utterly
unhappy..."

While the poet Kohn was thinking these thoughts, the poet Schulz at
last was stabbing himself with a salad knife. He had observed Kuno
Kohn and Lisel Liblichlein in their confidential conversation in the
hidden recess. He had seen how they had gone off together. He tried
to drink and eat away his grief, to no avail. After he had eaten and
drunk for some time, he was insane. He sang: "Death is a serious
matter... Death has no time for jokes... Death is an urgent need..."