"The distance of hundreds of years, that's what makes it. Just let Stephensen be stored for two hundred years, then you will see what kind of fellow he will turn out."
"Yes, but," the blonde exclaimed, "then all this that we now … our art … would also be antiquated, just like the old one is in our days?"
"Oh, logic!" the fair beard shouted, "your name is simplicitas profana! Indeed, madam! everything is relative! Even our great Stephensen is not quite absolute, therefore beware, don't take him too much au serieux!"
"You with your irony," Stephensen said. "Yes, let everything be relative, but we"
He was then brought to silence, even he, by a laughter that seemed to freeze the whole party, and which I can never forget. It was Minna who laughed. She got up, held her handkerchief to her mouth, and burst out again as she turned from the party.
"What is there to laugh about in such a way?" Stephensen said, and his voice was extremely irritable.
"Nein, es ist zu drollig!" (No, it's too funny), Minna murmured. At the same minute her eyes passed over me, but if they stopped, it was only for such an atom of time that it was not possible for me to decide whether she had seen and recognised me. She slowly went towards the adjoining empty room, where the gas had already been turned off.
"Where are you going to?" Stephensen asked.
"I feel suffocated in here," she answered, and disappeared in the dark space. I heard her open a window.
The indefatigable Stephensen started again. Directly afterwards, the robust bearded man got up and went into the dark room. I put on my fur coat, for I also felt suffocated. While I paid the waiter, a strong manly voice
