At last, everything stood still again; and he saw himself in the glass.

But Christine had disappeared.
He rushed up to the glass.

He struck at the walls.

Nobody! And meanwhile the room still echoed with a distant passionate singing: "Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!" Which way, which way had Christine gone?
...

Which way would she return?
...
Would she return?
Alas, had she not declared to him that everything was finished?
And was the voice not repeating: "Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!" To me?
To whom?
Then, worn out, beaten, empty-brained, he sat down on the chair which Christine had just left.