The dummy sat by itself at a table near the counter and looked so convincing one might have thought it was a real person sitting there though it was of the same plastic material as the other dummies in the cart and as life-sized as those outside, and yet, in the light of the diner, its pink skin seemed more transparent and its gaze more meditative than theirs as it sat with its legs tucked under the table with perfect propriety, a propriety it was forced to exercise in order that it should be able to sit at all, with one hand in its lap and the other on the table, its head turned away a fraction, tipping slightly, so as to make it seem the face was gazing into the distance somewhat lost in thought — and as soon as the man saw it he immediately went to sit beside it, so that by the time Korin had removed his coat he too had to sit with the dummy and clearly found it difficult not to query its presence at first, though once he got used to it being there he accepted it and no longer felt any need to ask any questions, just glanced at it every so often, and after the fifth or sixth round of drinks, once the Unicum had well and truly gone to his head, he accepted the dummy to the extent that he even started including it in his conversation, a conversation that consisted primarily of his monologue of course, whose intention was to enlighten the other by telling him about the headaches, about his own revelation concerning Babel and to continue with his account of the time in the records office, the weeks at Sárváry’s, the journey to America passing on to the manuscript, eternity, the gun, then, eventually, Kasser, Bengazza, Falke and Toót, and the way out, how they couldn’t find it and how he carried them about inside him but felt extremely worried now even though earlier he thought he’d be perfectly calm, because they somehow stayed with him, were clinging to him, and he felt he couldn’t get rid of them just like that, but what could he do, where and how could he solve the problem, he sighed, then went to the toilet on returning from which he was confronted in the corridor by the proprietress with the froufrou hairdo who begged his pardon but asked him, a little awkwardly, not to ply his companion with drink, because they knew him very well in the restaurant, and he was neither used to it, nor able to cope with it, to which Korin answered that neither could he himself, though the woman, rather impatiently, cut him short, saying it would do his companion no good at all, and adjusted her froufrou hair as she did so, because he was a very sensitive, good-hearted boy and he has this obsession with store dummies, populating the whole district with them, and it wasn’t just in her restaurant he planted one but wherever they would let him, and they let him because he is such a quiet, gentle, decent sort of man, and he had left three dummies in Grand Central Station, as well as others in the public library, one at McDonald’s, another at the cinema at 11 th Street, and one at a nearby newsstand in front of the magazine shelves, but people said he had more at home, one sitting in the armchair in his room watching the TV, one at the kitchen table and one at the window supposedly looking out, in other words, said the proprietress, she couldn’t deny that he was somewhat cranky but he was not mad, and he was only doing all this on account of some woman because, they say, he very much loved her, and she was simply asking Korin to understand, and more than understand, to look after him if he could, because you couldn’t fill him with drink, it was just asking for trouble, to which Korin readily agreed, saying yes, he understood now, and that he would certainly look after him most carefully as he too thought he was a really nice man, confessing that as soon as he set eyes on him he really liked him, so, yes, he would look after him, he promised, but then immediately broke his word for as soon as he sat back down with the man at the restaurant he immediately ordered another round, nor could he be dissuaded from more on top of that, so he was truly asking for trouble, and this eventually did lead to trouble, though not in the form the proprietress had anticipated, for it was Korin who felt ill, extremely ill in fact once they had finished and while vomiting helped, it only relieved him for a few minutes, then he was ill again, and worse, no longer pushing the cart but clinging onto it, constantly telling the other man, whom he now referred to as his friend, that death meant nothing to him, while clinging on, almost allowing himself to be drawn, his feet repeatedly slipping on the snow, which by this time, that is to say about four or half past four, had frozen solid.
They were going somewhere in the snow and it didn’t matter to Korin where it was, nor did it seem to matter much to the other man, who occasionally adjusted the tarpaulin covering the dummies, then bent forward and blindly dragged the cart behind him in the sharp wind blowing down the avenues oriented north to south so that every time they passed one of these, which they did frequently, they tried to escape from it as soon as they could, fleeing from it, saying nothing at all for a long time, until the man suddenly said something over his shoulder, something he must have been thinking for a while, but Korin didn’t hear him so the man had to drop the pole, go over to Korin so he could get his message through to him, which was that it was all very nice what he had told him about the manuscript in the Mocca restaurant, very nice indeed, he nodded, but of course he had invented the lot, admit it, for beautiful as the Cretan, the Venetian and Roman episodes were, he should calmly own up to the fact that they existed only in his imagination, to which Korin naturally responded with a firm no, that no, he had not made it up, the manuscript existed and what was more was there on his bed on 159 th Street if he wanted to see it, he said, quickly grabbing the back of the cart because he had let go of it for a moment, and yes, said the other man very slowly, because if it was true — he raised his head — it must be beautiful and it would really be very nice to see it, and surely there was something one could do about that road, that way out, and you know what? he asked, we should meet tomorrow night about six o’clock at my place, and Korin should bring that manuscript with him, that’s if it existed, for if it did exist it would be very beautiful and he would like to show a page or two to the woman he loved, he said gazing at the dummies under the tarpaulin, then produced a business card from his pocket, pointed to the address on it, saying, here, and gave it to Korin who put it away, and the place would be easy enough to find, so let us say six o’clock, he added before falling flat on his face and remaining motionless on the snow while Korin stared at him for a moment before letting go of the cart and taking a step toward the man to help him, but he lost his balance in trying to do so and fell beside him where he lay until the man, who might have been brought to his senses, or if not precisely to his senses at least to consciousness by the cold before Korin was, extended his arms, pulled Korin to his feet, and they stood there, with feet planted apart, facing each other, both of them swaying for a whole minute or more, until the man suddenly said that Korin was a likable guy but somehow lacked a center, and with that he took up his place at the front of the cart, raised the pole and set off along the snow once more, only this time Korin did not follow him, for he hadn’t the strength to do so, not even by clinging onto the cart, but gazed at the man with his dummies getting ever further and further away, reeled over to the nearest doorway, pushed at the outer door and lay down by the wall at the foot of the stairs.