,large
flaccid
surface-machinery
of
the
City
.
They
tramped
on
under
the
small
uniform
trees
Paris
is
planted
with
,
a
tame
and
insipid
obsession
.
Kreisler
ignored
his
surroundings
.
He
was
transporting
himself
,
self-guarded
Siberian
exile
,
from
one
cheerless
place
to
another
.
To
Bertha
Nature
still
had
the
usual
florid
note
.
The
immediate
impression
caused
by
the
moonlight
was
implicated
with
a
thousand
former
impressions
:
she
did
not
discriminate
.
It
was
the
moon
illumination
of
several
love
affairs
.
Kreisler
,
more
restless
,
renovated
his
susceptibility
every
three
years
or
so
.
The
moonlight
for
him
was
hardly
nine
months
old
'
,
,
and
belonged
to
Paris
,
where
there
was
no
romance
.
For
Bertha
the
darkened
trees
rustled
with
the
delicious
and
tragic
suggestions
of
the
passing
of
time
and
lapse
of
life
.
The
black
unlighted
windows
of
the
tall
houses
held
within
,
for
her
,
breathless
and
passionate
forms
,
engulfed
in
intense
eternities
of
darkness
and
whispers
.
Or
a
lighted
one
,
in
its
contrast
to
the
bland
light
of
the
moon
,
so
near
,
suggested
something
infinitely
distant
.
There
was
something
fatal
in
the
rapid
never-stopping
succession
of
their
footsteps
—
loud
,
deliberate
,
continual
noise
.
Her
strange
companion’s
dreamy
roughness
,
this
romantic
enigma
of
the
evening
,
suddenly
captured
her
fancy
.
The
machine
and
indiscriminate
side
of
her
awoke
.
She
took
his
hand
—
rapid
,
soft
and
humble
,
she
struck
the
deep
German
chord
,
vibrating
rudimentarily
in
the
midst
of
his
cynicism
.
“
You
are
suffering
!
I
know
you
are
suffering
.
I
wish
I
could
do
something
for
you
.
Cannot
I
?
”
Kreisler
began
tickling
the
palm
of
her
hand
slightly
.
When
he
saw
it
interrupted
her
words
,
he
stopped
,
holding
her
hand
solemnly
as
though
it
had
been
a
fish
slipped
there
for
some
unknown
reason
.
Having
her
hand
—
her
often-trenchant
hand
with
its
favourite
gesture
of
sentimental
over-emphasis
—
captive
,
made
her
discourse
almost
quiet
.
“
I
know
you
have
been
wronged
and
wounded
.
Treat
me
as
a
sister
:
let
me
help
you
.
You
think
my
behaviour
odd
:
do
you
think
I’m
a
funny
girl
?
But
,
ah
!
we
walk
about
and
torment
each
other
enough
!
I
knew
you
were
not
drunk
,
but
were
half-cracked
with
something
—
Perhaps
you
had
better
not
come
on
to
this
place
—
—
”
He
quickened
his
steps
,
and
still
gazing
stolidly
ahead
,
drew
her
by
the
hand
.
“
I
only
should
like
you
to
feel
I
am
your
friend
,
”
she
said
.
“
Right
!
”
with
promptness
came
through
his
practical
moustache
.
“
You’re
afraid
I
—
”
she
looked
at
the
ground
,
he
ahead
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
,
“
but
you
shall
know
my
secret
!
Why
should
not
I
avail
myself
of
your
sympathy
?
You
must
know
that
my
frac
—
useful
to
waiters
,
that
is
why
I
get
so
much
for
the
poor
suit
—
this
frac
is
at
present
not
in
my
lodgings
.
No.
That
seems
puzzling
to
you
?
Have
you
ever
noticed
an
imposing
edifice
in
the
Rue
de
Rennes
,
with
a
footsoldier
perpetually
on
guard
?
Well
,
he
mounts
guard
,
night
and
day
,
over
my
suit
!
”
Kreisler
pulled
his
moustache
with
his
free
hand
—
“
Why
keep
you
in
suspense
?
My
frac
is
not
on
my
back
because
—
it
is
in
pawn
!
Now
,
Fraulein
,
that
you
are
acquainted
with
the
cause
of
my
slight
,
rather
wistful
,
meditative
appearance
,
you
will
be
able
to
sympathize
adequately
with
me
!
”
She
was
crying
a
little
,
engrossed
directly
,
now
,
in
herself
.
He
thought
he
should
console
her
.
“
Those
are
the
first
tears
ever
shed
over
my
frac
.
But
do
not
distress
yourself
,
Fraulein
Lunken
.
The
garçons
have
not
yet
got
it
!
”
Kreisler
did
not
distinguish
Bertha
much
from
the
others
.
At
the
beginning
he
was
distrustful
in
a
mechanical
way
at
her
advances
.
If
not
“
put
up
”
to
doing
this
,
she
at
least
hailed
from
a
quarter
that
was
conspicuous
for
Teutonic
solidarity
.
Now
he
accepted
her
present
genuineness
,
but
ill-temperedly
substituted
complete
boredom
for
mistrust
,
and
at
the
same
time
would
use
this
little
episode
to
embellish
his
programme
.
He
had
not
been
able
to
shake
her
off
:
it
was
astonishing
how
she
had
stuck
:
and
here
she
still
was
;
he
was
not
even
sure
yet
that
he
had
the
best
of
it
.
His
animosity
for
her
friends
vented
itself
on
her
.
He
would
anyhow
give
her
what
she
deserved
for
her
disagreeable
persistence
.
He
shook
her
hand
again
.
Then
suddenly
he
stopped
,
put
his
arm
round
her
waist
,
and
drew
her
forcibly
against
him
.
She
succumbed
to
the
instinct
to
“
give
up
,
”
and
even
sententiously
“
destroy
.
”
She
remembered
her
resolve
—
a
double
one
of
sacrifice
—
and
pressed
her
lips
,
shaking
and
wettened
,
to
his
.
This
was
not
the
way
she
had
wished
:
but
,
God
!
what
did
it
matter
?
It
mattered
so
little
,
anything
,
and
above
all
she
!
This
was
what
she
had
wanted
to
do
,
and
now
she
had
done
it
!
The
“
resolve
”
was
a
simple
one
.
In
hazy
,
emotional
way
,
she
had
been
making
up
her
mind
to
it
ever
since
Tarr
had
left
that
afternoon
.
He
wished
to
be
released
,
did
not
want
her
,
was
irked
,
not
so
much
by
their
formal
engagement
as
by
his
liking
for
her
(
this
kept
him
,
she
thought
she
discerned
)
.
A
stone
hung
round
his
neck
,
he
fretted
the
whole
time
,
and
it
would
always
be
so
.
Good
.
This
she
understood
.
Then
she
would
release
him
.
But
since
it
was
not
merely
a
question
of
words
,
of
saying
I
“
we
are
no
longer
engaged
”
(
she
had
already
been
very
free
with
them
)
,
but
of
acts
and
facts
,
she
must
bring
these
substantialities
about
.
By
putting
herself
in
the
most
definite
sense
out
of
his
reach
and
life
—
far
more
than
if
she
should
leave
Paris
,
their
continuance
of
relations
must
be
made
impossible
.
Somebody
else
—
and
a
somebody
else
who
was
at
the
same
time
nobody
,
and
who
would
evaporate
and
leave
no
trace
the
moment
he
had
served
her
purpose
—
must
be
found
.
She
must
be
able
to
stare
pityingly
and
resignedly
,
but
silently
,
if
he
were
mentioned
.
Kreisler
exactly
filled
this
ticket
.
And
he
arose
not
too
unnaturally
.
This
idea
had
been
germinating
while
Tarr
was
still
with
her
that
morning
.
So
,
a
prodigality
and
profusion
of
self-sacrifice
being
offered
her
in
the
person
of
Kreisler
,
she
behaved
as
she
did
.
This
clear
and
satisfactory
action
displayed
her
Prussian
limitation
;
also
her
pleasure
with
herself
,
that
done
.
Should
Tarr
wish
it
undone
,
it
could
easily
be
so
.
The
smudge
on
Kreisler’s
back
was
a
guarantee
,
and
did
the
trick
in
more
ways
than
he
had
counted
on
.
But
in
any
case
his
whole
personality
was
a
perfect
alibi
for
the
heart
,
to
her
thinking
.
At
the
back
of
her
head
there
may
have
been
something
in
the
form
of
a
last
attempt
here
.
With
the
salt
of
jealousy
,
and
a
really
big
row
,
could
Tarr
perhaps
be
landed
and
secured
even
now
?
In
a
moment
,
the
point
so
gained
,
she
pushed
Kreisler
more
or
less
gently
away
.
It
was
like
a
stage-kiss
.
The
needs
of
their
respective
roles
had
been
satisfied
.
He
kept
his
hands
on
her
biceps
.
She
was
accomplishing
a
soft
withdrawal
.
They
had
stopped
at
a
spot
where
the
Boulevard
approached
a
more
populous
and
lighted
avenue
.
As
they
now
stood
a
distinct
,
yet
strangely
pausing
,
female
voice
struck
their
ears
.
“
Fraulein
Lunken
!
”
Some
twenty
yards
away
stood
several
of
her
companions
,
who
,
with
fussy
German
sociableness
,
had
returned
to
carry
her
forward
with
them
,
as
they
were
approaching
the
Bonnington
Club
.
Finding
her
not
with
them
,
and
remembering
she
had
lagged
behind
,
with
some
wonderment
they
had
walked
back
to
the
head
of
the
Boulevard
.
They
now
saw
quite
plainly
what
was
before
them
,
but
were
in
that
state
in
which
a
person
does
not
believe
his
eyes
,
and
lets
them
bulge
until
they
nearly
drop
out
,
to
correct
their
scandalous
vision
.
Kreisler
and
Bertha
were
some
distance
from
the
nearest
lamp
and
in
the
shade
of
the
trees
.
But
each
of
the
spectators
would
have
sworn
to
the
identity
and
attitude
of
their
two
persons
.
Bertha
nearly
jumped
out
of
her
skin
,
broke
away
from
Kreisler
,
and
staggered
several
steps
.
He
,
with
great
presence
of
mind
,
caught
her
again
,
and
induced
her
to
lean
against
a
tree
,
saying
curtly
:
“
You’re
not
quite
well
,
Fraulein
.
Lean
—
so
.
Your
friends
will
be
here
in
a
moment
.
”
Bertha
accepted
his
way
out
.
She
turned
,
indeed
,
rather
white
and
sick
,
and
even
succeeded
so
far
as
to
half
believe
her
lie
,
while
the
women
came
up
.
Kreisler
called
out
to
the
petrified
and
quite
silent
group
at
the
end
of
the
avenue
.
Soon
they
were
surrounded
by
big-eyed
faces
.
Hypocritical
concern
soon
superseded
the
masks
of
scandal
.
“
She
was
taken
suddenly
ill.
”
Kreisler
coughed
conventionally
as
he
said
this
,
and
flicked
his
trousers
as
though
he
had
been
scuffling
on
the
ground
.
Indignant
glances
were
cast
at
him
.
Whatever
attitude
they
might
take
up
towards
their
erring
friend
,
there
was
no
doubt
as
to
their
feeling
towards
him
.
He
was
to
blame
from
whichever
way
you
looked
at
it
.
They
eventually
,
with
one
or
two
curious
German
glances
into
her
eyes
,
slow
,
dubious
,
incredulous
questions
,
with
a
drawing
back
of
the
head
and
dying
away
of
voice
,
determined
temporarily
to
accept
her
explanation
.
To
one
of
them
,
very
conversant
with
her
relations
with
Tarr
,
vistas
of
possible
ruptures
and
commotions
opened
.
Here
was
a
funny
affair
!
With
Kreisler
,
of
all
people
—
Tarr
was
bad
enough
!
Bertha
would
at
once
have
returned
home
,
carrying
out
the
story
of
sudden
indisposition
.
But
she
felt
the
only
thing
was
to
brave
it
out
.
She
did
not
want
to
absent
herself
at
once
.
The
affair
would
be
less
conspicuous
with
her
not
away
.
Her
friends
must
at
once
ratify
their
normal
view
of
this
little
happening
.
The
only
thing
she
thought
of
for
the
moment
was
to
hush
up
and
obliterate
what
had
just
happened
.
Her
heroism
disappeared
in
the
need
for
action
.
So
they
all
walked
on
together
,
a
scandalized
silence
subsisting
in
honour
chiefly
of
Kreisler
.
Again
he
was
safe
,
he
thought
with
a
chuckle
.
His
position
was
precarious
,
only
he
held
Fraulein
Lunken
as
hostage
!
Exception
could
not
openly
be
taken
to
him
,
without
reflecting
on
their
friend
.
He
walked
along
with
perfect
composure
,
mischievously
detached
and
innocent
.
Fraulein
Lipmann
and
the
rest
had
already
gone
inside
.
Several
people
were
arriving
in
taxis
and
on
foot
.
Kreisler
got
in
without
difficulty
.
He
was
the
only
man
present
not
in
evening-dress
.
CHAPTER
II
One
certain
thing
amongst
many
uncertainties
about
the
English
club
,
the
Bonnington
Club
,
was
that
it
had
not
yet
found
itself
quite
.
Its
central
room
(
and
that
was
all
there
was
of
it
—
a
shell
of
a
house
)
reminded
you
of
a
public
swimming-bath
when
it
was
used
as
a
ballroom
,
and
when
used
as
a
studio
you
thought
of
a
concert-hall
.
But
one
had
a
respect
for
it
.
It
had
cost
a
good
deal
to
build
.
It
was
quite
phenomenally
handsome
as
seen
from
the
street
,
and
was
grateful
.
It
made
a
cheerful
show
,
with
pink
,
red
,
and
pale
blue
paper-chains
and
Chinese
lanterns
,
one
week
for
some
festivity
;
and
the
next
,
sparely
robed
in
dark
red
curtains
,
would
settle
its
walls
gravely
to
receive
some
houseless
quartet
.
In
this
manner
it
paid
its
way
.
Some
phlegmatic
but
obstinate
power
had
brought
it
into
existence
.
“
Found
a
club
,
found
a
club
!
”
it
had
reiterated
in
the
depths
of
certain
anonymous
minds
,
with
sleepy
tenacity
.
Some
one
sighed
,
got
up
and
went
round
to
another
,
and
said
perhaps
a
club
had
better
be
founded
.
The
other
assented
and
subscribed
something
,
to
get
rid
of
the
other
.
In
the
course
of
time
a
young
French
architect
had
been
entrusted
with
the
job
.
A
club
.
Yes
.
What
sort
of
a
club
?
The
architect
could
not
find
out
.
Something
to
be
used
for
drawing-classes
,
social
functions
,
a
reading-room
,
etc.
He
saw
he
was
on
the
wrong
tack
.
He
went
away
and
made
his
arrangements
accordingly
.
He
produced
a
design
of
an
impressive
and
to
all
appearance
finished
house
.
It
was
a
sincerely
ironic
masterpiece
,
but
with
a
perfect
gravity
,
and
even
stateliness
,
of
appearance
.
It
was
the
most
non-committing
façade
,
the
most
absolutely
unfinal
interior
,
the
most
tentative
set
of
doors
,
ever
seen
:
a
monster
of
reservation
.
Not
only
had
it
been
put
to
every
conceivable
use
itself
,
but
it
dragged
the
club
with
it
,
as
it
were
.
The
club
changed
and
metamorphosed
itself
with
its
changes
.
The
club
became
athletic
or
sedentary
according
to
the
shifts
and
exigencies
of
the
building’s
existence
.
The
members
turned
out
in
dress-clothes
or
gymnasium
get-ups
as
the
building’s
destiny
prompted
,
to
back
it
up
.
One
month
they
would
have
to
prove
that
it
was
a
gymnasium
,
the
next
that
it
was
a
drawing-school
.
The
inviting
of
the
German
contingent
was
a
business
move
.
They
might
be
enticed
into
membership
,
and
would
in
any
event
spread
the
fame
of
the
club
,
getting
and
subsequently
giving
some
conception
of
the
resources
of
the
club-house
building
.
The
salle
was
arranged
very
prettily
.
The
adjoining
rooms
were
hung
with
the
drawings
and
paintings
of
the
club
members
.
Kreisler
ever
since
the
scene
on
the
boulevard
had
felt
a
reckless
gaiety
and
irresponsibility
,
which
he
did
not
conceal
.
With
his
abashed
English
hostess
he
carried
on
a
strange
conversation
full
of
indirect
references
to
the
“
stately
edifice
in
the
Hue
de
Rennes
.
”
He
had
spoken
of
it
to
Bertha
:
“
That
stately
edifice
in
the
Rue
de
Rennes
—
but
of
course
you
don’t
know
it
!
”
With
smiling
German
ceremoniousness
,
with
ingenious
circumlocutions
,
he
bent
down
to
his
hostess’s
nervously
smiling
face
and
poured
into
her
startled
ear
symbols
and
images
of
pawnshops
,
usury
,
three
gold
balls
,
“
pious
mountains
,
”
“
smokkin
”
or
“
frac
”
suits
,
etc.
,
which
he
seemed
a
little
to
confuse
,
overwhelmed
her
with
a
serious
terminology
,
all
in
a
dialect
calculated
to
bewilder
the
most
acute
philologist
.
“
Yes
,
it
is
interesting
,
”
she
said
with
strained
conviction
.
“
Isn’t
it
?
”
Kreisler
replied
.
It
was
a
comparative
estimate
of
the
facilities
for
the
disposing
of
a
watch
in
Germany
and
France
.
“
I’m
going
to
introduce
you
,
Herr
Kreisler
,
to
a
friend
of
mine
—
Mrs.
Bevelage
.
”
She
wanted
to
give
the
German
guests
a
particularly
cordial
reception
.
Kreisler
did
not
seem
,
superficially
,
a
great
acquisition
to
any
club
,
but
he
was
with
the
others
.
As
a
means
of
concluding
this
very
painful
interview
—
he
was
getting
nearer
every
minute
to
the
word
that
he
yet
solemnly
forbade
himself
the
use
of
—
she
led
him
to
a
self-controlled
remnant
of
beautiful
womanhood
who
had
a
reputation
with
her
for
worldliness
.
Mrs.
Bevelage
could
listen
to
all
this
,
and
would
be
able
to
cope
with
a
certain
disquieting
element
she
recognized
in
the
German
.
He
saw
the
reason
of
this
measure
;
and
,
looking
with
ostentatious
regret
at
a
long-legged
flapper
seated
next
door
,
cast
a
reproachful
glance
at
his
hostess
.
Left
alone
with
the
widow
,
he
surveyed
her
ample
and
worldly
form
.
“
Get
thee
to
a
nunnery
!
”
he
said
dejectedly
.
“
I
beg
your
pardon
?
”
“
Yes
.
You
have
omitted
‘
my
lord.’
”
Mrs.
Bevelage
looked
pleased
and
puzzled
.
Possibly
he
was
a
count
or
baron
.
“
Do
you
know
that
stingy
but
magnificent
edifice
“
Yes
“
That
handsome
home
of
precarious
‘
fracs
’
in
the
Rue
de
Rennes
“
I’m
afraid
I
don’t
quite
understand
—
”
The
widow
had
not
got
used
to
his
composite
tongue
.
She
liked
Kreisler
,
however
.
“
Shall
we
dance
?
”
he
said
,
getting
up
quickly
.
He
clasped
her
firmly
in
the
small
of
the
back
and
they
got
ponderously
in
motion
,
he
stamping
a
little
bit
,
as
though
he
mistook
the
waltz
for
a
more
primitive
music
.
He
took
her
twice
,
with
ever-increasing
velocity
,
round
the
large
hall
,
and
at
the
third
round
,
at
breakneck
speed
,
spun
with
her
in
the
direction
of
the
front
door
.
The
impetus
was
so
great
that
she
,
although
seeing
her
peril
,
could
not
act
sufficiently
as
a
break
on
her
impetuous
companion
to
avert
the
disaster
.
Another
moment
and
they
would
have
been
in
the
street
,
amongst
the
traffic
,
a
disturbing
meteor
,
whizzing
out
of
sight
,
had
they
not
met
the
alarmed
resistance
of
a
considerable
English
family
entering
the
front
door
as
Kreisler
bore
down
upon
it
.
It
was
one
of
those
large
,
featureless
,
human
groups
built
up
by
a
frigid
and
melancholy
pair
,
uncannily
fecund
,
during
interminable
years
of
blankness
.
They
received
this
violent
couple
in
their
midst
.
The
rush
took
Kreisler
and
his
partner
half-way
through
,
and
there
they
stood
embedded
and
unconscious
for
many
seconds
.
The
English
family
then
,
with
great
dignity
,
disgorged
them
and
moved
on
.
The
widow
had
come
somewhat
under
the
fascination
of
Kreisler’s
mood
.
She
was
really
his
woman
,
had
he
known
it
.
She
felt
wrapt
in
the
midst
of
a
simoon
—
she
had
not
two
connected
thoughts
.
All
her
worldliness
and
measured
management
of
her
fat
had
vanished
.
Her
face
had
become
coarsened
in
a
few
minutes
.
But
she
buzzed
back
again
into
the
dance
and
began
a
second
,
mad
,
but
this
time
merely
circular
career
.
Kreisler
was
very
careful
,
whatever
he
did
,
to
find
a
reason
for
it
.
“
He
was
abominably
short-sighted
;
he
had
mistaken
the
front
door
for
one
leading
into
the
third
room
,
merely
.
”
His
burden
,
not
in
the
best
condition
,
was
becoming
more
and
more
puffed
,
and
heavier
every
moment
.
When
satisfied
with
this
part
of
his
work
he
led
Mrs.
Bevelage
into
a
sort
of
improvised
conservatory
and
talked
about
pawnshops
for
ten
minutes
or
so
—
in
a
mixture
of
French
,
English
,
and
German
.
He
then
reconducted
her
,
more
dead
than
alive
,
to
her
seat
,
and
strode
off
from
her
with
great
sweeps
of
his
tall
figure
.
He
had
during
this
incident
regained
complete
impassivity
.
He
stalked
away
to
the
conservatory
.
Bertha
had
soon
been
called
on
to
dance
vigorously
.
without
much
intermission
.
In
the
convolutions
of
the
valse
,
however
,
she
matured
a
bold
and
new
plan
.
She
whirled
and
trotted
with
a
preoccupied
air
.
Would
Tarr
hear
of
all
this
?
She
was
alarmed
,
now
it
was
done
.
Also
she
was
cowed
and
sorry
for
her
action
at
the
thought
of
Lipmann
and
Van
Bencke’s
attitude
towards
the
Kreisler
kissing
.
She
undoubtedly
must
secure
herself
.
The
plan
she
hit
on
offered
a
“
noble
”
rôle
that
she
could
not
,
in
any
circumstances
,
have
resisted
.
Her
scheme
was
plain
and
clever
.
She
would
simply
“
tell
the
truth
.
”
“
She
had
recognized
something
distracting
in
Kreisler’s
life
,
the
presence
of
crisis
.
On
an
impulse
,
she
had
offered
him
her
sympathy
.
He
had
taken
up
her
offer
immediately
in
an
astonishing
and
brutal
manner
.
(
One
against
him
:
two
for
her
!
)
Such
direct
and
lurid
sympathy
he
claimed
.
”
So
she
jogged
out
her
strategies
in
exhilaration
of
the
waltzes
.
At
this
point
of
her
story
she
would
hint
,
by
ambiguous
hesitation
,
that
she
,
in
truth
,
had
been
ready
even
for
this
sacrifice
:
had
made
it
,
if
her
hearers
wished
!
She
would
imply
rather
that
from
modesty
—
not
wanting
to
appear
too
“
noble
”
—
she
refrained
from
telling
them
.
It
is
true
that
for
such
a
confession
she
had
many
precedents
.
Only
a
week
ago
Fraulein
Van
Bencke
herself
,
inflating
proudly
her
stout
handsome
person
,
had
told
them
that
while
in
Berlin
she
had
allowed
a
young
painter
to
kiss
her
:
she
believed
“
that
the
caresses
of
a
pure
woman
would
be
helpful
to
him
at
that
juncture
of
his
life
.
”
But
this
had
not
been
,
it
was
to
be
supposed
,
in
the
middle
of
the
street
.
No
one
had
ever
seen
,
or
ever
would
see
,
the
young
painter
in
question
,
or
the
kiss
.
Busy
with
these
plans
,
Bertha
had
not
much
time
to
notice
Kreisler’s
further
deportment
.
She
came
across
him
occasionally
,
and
keyed
her
solid
face
into
an
intimate
flush
and
such
mask
as
results
from
any
sickly
physical
straining
.
“
Poor
mensch
!
”
Soltyk
surprised
one
Anglo-Saxon
partner
after
another
with
his
wonderful
English
—
unnecessarily
like
the
real
thing
.
He
went
about
surprising
people
in
a
cold
,
tireless
way
,
exhibiting
no
signs
of
pleasure
,
except
as
much
as
was
testified
to
by
his
action
,
merely
.
Kreisler
saw
him
with
Anastasya
only
twice
.
On
those
occasions
he
could
not
,
on
the
strength
of
Soltyk’s
attitude
,
pin
him
down
as
a
rival
.
Yet
he
was
thirsting
for
conventional
figures
.
His
endless
dissatisfaction
and
depression
could
only
be
satisfied
by
active
things
,
unlike
itself
.
Soltyk’s
self-possessed
and
masterly
signs
of
distinguished
camaraderie
depressed
Kreisler
very
much
.
The
Russian
had
been
there
once
at
the
critical
moment
,
and
was
,
more
distantly
,
an
attribute
of
Volker
.
He
did
not
like
him
.
How
it
would
satisfy
him
to
dig
his
fingers
into
that
flesh
,
and
tear
it
like
thick
cloth
!
He
was
“
for
it
”
;
he
was
going
out
.
He
was
being
helped
off
by
things
.
Why
did
he
not
shout
?
He
longed
to
act
:
the
rusty
machine
had
a
thirst
for
action
.
His
energies
were
repudiating
their
master
.
Soltyk’s
analogies
with
Kreisler
worked
in
the
dark
to
some
end
of
mutual
destruction
.
The
nuance
of
possibility
Soltyk
liked
his
friendships
with
women
to
have
,
was
a
different
affair
to
Kreisler’s
heady
and
thorough-going
intrigues
.
But
he
liked
his
soul
to
be
marked
with
little
delicate
wounds
and
wistfulnesses
.
He
liked
an
understanding
,
a
little
melancholy
,
with
a
woman
.
They
would
just
divine
in
each
other
possibilities
of
passion
,
that
was
yet
too
lasse
and
sad
to
rise
to
the
winding
of
Love’s
horns
that
were
heard
,
nevertheless
,
in
a
décor
Versaillesque
and
Polonais
.
They
were
people
who
looked
forward
as
others
look
back
.
They
would
say
farewell
to
the
future
as
most
men
gaze
at
the
past
.
At
the
most
they
played
the
slight
dawning
and
disappearing
of
passion
,
cutting
,
fastidiously
,
all
the
rest
of
the
piece
.
So
he
was
often
found
with
women
.
Life
had
no
lethargic
intervals
as
with
Kreisler
.
It
at
all
times
needed
“
expression
”
of
such
sort
.
For
Anastasya
,
Soltyk
was
one
of
her
many
impresarios
,
who
helped
her
on
to
and
off
the
scene
of
Life
.
He
bored
her
usually
,
but
they
had
something
equivalent
to
pleasant
business
relations
.
She
appreciated
him
as
an
Impresario
.
These
things
arraying
themselves
in
reality
after
this
ordinary
unexciting
fashion
,
conventional
figures
of
drama
lacked
.
Kreisler
was
in
the
wrong
company
.
But
he
conformed
for
the
sake
of
the
Invisible
Audience
haunting
life
.
He
emulated
the
matter-of-factness
and
aplomb
that
impressed
him
in
the
others
à
outrance
.
So
much
was
this
so
that
the
Audience
took
some
time
to
notice
him
,
the
vein
of
scandal
running
through
the
performance
.
In
the
conservatory
he
established
his
headquarters
.
From
there
he
issued
forth
on
various
errands
.
All
his
errands
showed
the
gusto
of
the
logic
of
his
personality
,
and
not
despair
.
He
might
have
been
enjoying
himself
.
He
invented
outrage
that
was
natural
to
him
,
and
enjoyed
slightly
the
licence
and
scope
of
his
indifference
.
He
,
for
instance
,
at
the
first
sortie
,
noticed
a
rather
congested
,
hot
,
and
spectacled
young
woman
,
rather
constantly
fluttered
over
her
womanhood
,
but
overworked
by
her
conscience
,
her
features
set
by
duty
.
He
succeeded
in
getting
her
for
a
partner
,
and
soon
won
her
confidence
by
his
scrupulous
German
politeness
.
He
then
,
while
marking
time
in
a
crush
,
disengaged
his
hand
,
and
appeared
to
wish
to
alter
the
he
of
her
bosom
,
very
apologetically
.
“
Excuse
me
!
It’s
awkward
.
More
to
the
left
—
so
!
Clumsy
things
and
women
are
so
proud
of
them
!
(
No
:
I’m
sure
you’re
not
!
)
No.
Let
it
hang
to
the
left
!
”
The
young
lady
,
very
red
,
and
snorting
almost
in
his
face
,
left
him
brusquely
.
Several
young
women
,
and
notably
a
flapper
,
radiant
with
heavy
inexperience
and
loaded
with
bristling
bronze
curls
,
he
lured
into
the
conservatory
.
They
all
came
out
with
scarlet
faces
.
For
the
first
hour
he
paid
no
attention
to
Anastasya
,
but
prosecuted
his
antics
as
though
he
had
forgotten
ah
about
her
.
He
knew
she
was
there
and
left
her
alone
,
even
in
thought
,
in
a
grim
spirit
.
He
hid
coquettishly
behind
his
solemn
laughter-in-action
,
the
pleasant
veil
of
his
hysteria
.
He
had
become
generally
noticed
in
the
room
,
although
there
were
a
great
many
people
present
.
Fraulein
Lipmann
hesitated
.
She
thought
at
length
that
he
was
mad
.
In
speaking
to
him
and
getting
him
removed
,
she
feared
a
scandalous
scene
.
As
he
appeared
on
the
threshold
of
the
conservatory
an
expectant
or
anxious
tremor
invaded
several
backs
.
But
he
just
stalked
round
this
time
on
a
tour
of
inspection
,
as
though
to
see
that
all
was
going
along
as
it
should
.
He
stared
heavily
and
significantly
at
those
young
ladies
who
had
been
his
partners
,
when
he
came
across
them
.
One
he
stopped
in
front
of
and
gazed
at
severely
.
He
then
returned
to
the
conservatory
.
In
his
deck
chair
,
his
head
stretched
back
,
glasses
horizontal
and
facing
the
ceiling
,
he
considered
the
graceless
Hamlet
that
he
was
.
“
Go
to
a
nunnery
,
Widow
!
”
He
should
have
been
saying
that
to
his
Ophelia
.
Why
did
he
not
go
to
her
?
Contact
was
the
essential
thing
,
but
so
difficult
to
bring
about
.
He
must
make
her
angry
,
insult
her
:
that
would
bare
her
soul
.
Then
he
would
spit
on
it
.
Then
he
really
could
insult
her
.
But
Soltyk
offered
a
conventional
target
for
violence
.
Soltyk
was
evading
him
with
his
contempt
.
Soltyk
!
What
should
be
done
with
him
?
Why
(
a
prolonged
and
stormily
rising
“
why
”
)
,
there
was
no
difficulty
about
that
.
He
got
up
from
his
chair
,
and
walked
deliberately
and
quickly
into
the
central
room
.
But
Soltyk
was
nowhere
to
be
seen
.
The
dancers
were
circling
rapidly
past
with
athletic
elation
,
talking
in
the
way
people
talk
when
they
are
working
.
Their
intelligences
floated
and
flew
above
the
waves
of
the
valse
,
but
with
frequent
drenchings
,
as
it
were
,
and
cessations
.
The
natural
strangeness
for
him
of
all
these
English
people
together
did
not
arrest
his
mind
or
lead
him
to
observation
,
but
yet
got
a
little
in
the
way
.
Couple
followed
couple
,
the
noise
of
their
feet
,
or
dress
,
for
a
moment
queerly
distinct
and
near
above
the
rest
,
as
though
a
yard
or
two
of
quiet
surrounded
Kreisler
.
They
came
into
this
area
for
a
moment
,
everything
distinct
and
clear
cut
,
and
then
went
out
again
.
Each
new
pair
of
dancers
seemed
coming
straight
for
him
.
Their
voices
were
loud
for
a
moment
.
A
hole
was
cut
out
of
the
general
noise
,
as
it
were
opening
a
passage
into
it
.
Each
new
face
was
a
hallucination
of
separate
energy
,
seeming
very
distant
,
laughs
,
words
,
movements
.
They
were
like
trunk-less
,
living
heads
rolling
and
bobbing
past
,
a
sea
of
them
.
The
two
or
three
instruments
behind
the
screen
of
palms
produced
the
necessary
measures
to
keep
this
throng
of
people
careering
,
like
a
spoon
stirring
in
a
saucepan
.
It
stirred
and
stirred
and
they
jerked
and
huddled
insipidly
round
and
round
.
Kreisler
was
drawn
up
at
the
first
door
for
a
minute
.
He
was
just
taking
a
step
forward
to
work
his
way
round
to
the
next
,
when
he
caught
sight
of
Anastasya
dancing
with
(
he
supposed
)
some
Englishman
.
He
stopped
,
paralysed
by
her
appearance
.
This
reality
intercepted
the
course
of
his
imaginary
life
(
of
which
his
pursuit
of
Soltyk
was
a
portion
)
.
He
stood
like
somebody
surprised
in
a
questionable
act
.
He
had
not
reckoned
on
being
met
by
her
before
his
present
errand
was
finished
.
The
next
moment
he
was
furious
at
this
interference
;
at
her
having
the
power
to
draw
him
up
.
This
imaginary
life
should
grow
.
Hell
and
Heaven
!
he
was
not
going
to
stop
there
looking
at
her
.
She
and
her
partner
had
drawn
up
for
a
moment
just
in
his
way
,
being
stopped
by
other
couples
marking
time
.
She
had
not
seen
him
.
He
took
her
partner
roughly
by
the
arm
,
pushing
him
against
her
,
hustling
him
,
fixing
him
with
his
eye
.
He
passed
beyond
them
then
,
through
the
passage
he
had
made
.
His
blood
was
flooding
him
,
and
making
him
expand
and
sink
like
a
Russian
dancer
.
The
young
man
handled
in
this
manner
,
shy
and
unprompt
,
stared
after
Kreisler
with
a
“
What
the
devil
!
”
People
are
seldom
so
rude
in
England
.
Preparation
for
outbursts
of
potential
rudeness
form
a
part
of
the
training
of
a
German
.
Kreisler
also
,
without
apology
,
but
as
if
waiting
for
more
vigorous
expostulation
,
was
also
looking
back
,
while
he
stepped
slowly
along
the
wall
towards
a
door
beyond
,
the
one
leading
to
the
refreshment-room
.
Anastasya
freed
herself
at
once
from
her
partner
and
pale
and
frowning
(
but
as
though
waiting
)
was
looking
after
Kreisler
curiously
.
She
would
have
liked
him
to
stop
.
He
had
done
something
strange
and
was
as
suddenly
going
away
.
That
was
unsatisfactory
.
They
looked
at
each
other
blankly
.
He
showed
no
sign
of
stopping
:
she
just
stared
.
Suddenly
it
was
comic
.
She
burst
out
laughing
.
But
they
had
clashed
,
like
people
in
the
dance
,
and
were
both
disappearing
from
each
other
again
,
the
shock
hardly
over
.
The
contact
had
been
brought
about
.
He
was
still
as
surprised
at
his
action
,
which
had
been
done
“
in
a
moment
,
”
as
she
was
.
Anastasya
felt
,
too
,
in
what
way
this
had
been
contact
.
She
felt
his
hand
on
her
arm
as
though
it
had
been
she
he
had
seized
.
This
rough
figure
disappeared
in
the
doorway
,
as
incapable
of
explaining
anything
.
She
shivered
nervously
as
she
grasped
her
partner’s
arm
again
,
at
this
merely
physical
contact
.
“
What’s
the
matter
with
that
chap
?
”
her
partner
asked
,
conscious
of
a
lameness
,
but
of
something
queer
going
on
.
This
question
had
been
asked
a
few
minutes
before
elsewhere
.
“
Herr
Kreisler
is
behaving
very
strangely
.
Do
you
think
he’s
been
drinking
?
”
Fraulein
Lipmann
had
asked
Eckhart
.
Eckhart
was
a
little
drunk
himself
.
He
took
a
very
decided
view
of
Kreisler’s
case
.
“
Comme
toute
la
Pologne
!
As
drunk
as
the
whole
of
Poland
!
”
he
affirmed
.
But
he
only
gave
it
as
an
opinion
,
adding
no
sign
of
particular
indignation
.
He
was
beaming
with
greedy
generosity
at
his
great
Amoureuse
.
“
Ah
!
here
he
comes
again
!
”
said
Fraulein
Lipmann
at
the
door
.
(
It
was
when
Kreisler
had
started
up
in
search
of
Soltyk
)
.
So
Kreisler
disappeared
in
the
doorway
.
He
passed
through
the
refreshment-room
.
In
a
small
room
beyond
he
sat
down
by
an
open
window
.
Anastasya
had
at
last
got
into
fine
with
him
.
She
had
been
startled
,
awakened
,
and
had
also
laughed
.
This
was
an
exact
and
complete
response
to
Kreisler
at
the
present
.
Something
difficult
to
understand
and
which
should
have
been
alarming
for
a
woman
,
the
feel
of
the
first
tugs
of
the
maelstrom
he
was
producing
and
conducting
all
on
his
own
,
and
which
required
her
for
its
heart
:
and
then
laughter
,
necessarily
,
once
one
was
in
that
atmosphere
,
like
laughing
gas
,
with
its
gusty
tickling
.
But
this
was
not
how
Kreisler
felt
about
it
.
He
was
boiling
and
raging
.
That
laugh
had
driven
him
foaming
,
fugitive
and
confused
,
into
the
nearest
chair
.
He
could
not
turn
round
and
retaliate
at
the
time
.
The
door
being
in
front
of
him
,
he
vanished
as
Mephistopheles
might
sink
with
suddenness
into
the
floor
,
at
the
receipt
of
some
affront
,
to
some
sulphurous
regions
beneath
,
in
a
second
;
come
to
a
stop
alone
,
upright
;
stick
his
fingers
in
his
mouth
,
nearly
biting
them
in
two
,
his
eyes
staring
:
so
stand
stock
still
,
breathless
and
haggard
for
some
minutes
:
then
shoot
up
again
,
head
foremost
,
in
some
other
direction
,
like
some
darting
and
skulking
fish
,
to
the
face
of
the
earth
.
He
did
not
even
realize
that
the
famous
contact
was
established
,
so
furious
was
he
.
He
would
go
and
strike
her
across
the
mouth
,
spit
in
her
face
,
kiss
her
in
the
middle
of
the
dance
,
where
the
laugh
had
been
!
Yet
he
didn’t
move
,
but
sat
on
staring
in
front
of
him
,
quite
forgetful
where
he
was
and
how
long
he
had
sat
there
,
in
the
midst
of
a
hot
riot
of
thoughts
.
He
suddenly
sat
up
and
looked
round
,
like
a
man
who
has
been
asleep
and
for
whom
work
is
waiting
;
got
up
with
certain
hesitation
,
and
again
made
for
the
door
.
Well
,
life
and
work
(
Ms
business
)
must
be
proceeded
with
all
the
same
.
He
glanced
reflectively
and
solemnly
about
,
and
perceived
the
Widow
talking
to
a
little
reddish
Englishman
.
“
May
I
take
the
Widow
away
for
a
little
?
”
he
asked
her
companion
.
He
always
addressed
her
as
“
Widow
”
:
he
began
all
his
discourses
with
a
solemn
“
Widow
!
”
occasionally
alternating
it
with
“
Derelict
!
”
But
this
,
all
uttered
in
a
jumbled
tongue
,
lost
some
of
its
significance
.
The
little
Englishman
on
being
addressed
gave
the
English
equivalent
of
a
jump
—
a
sudden
moving
of
his
body
and
shuffling
of
his
feet
,
still
looking
at
the
floor
,
where
he
had
cast
his
eyes
as
Kreisler
approached
.
“
What
?
I
—
—
”
“
Widow
!
permit
me
—
—
”
said
Kreisler
.
Manipulating
her
with
a
leisurely
gusto
,
he
circled
into
the
dance
.
The
band
was
playing
the
“
Merry
Widow
”
valse
.
“
Merry
Widow
!
”
he
said
smilingly
to
his
partner
.
“
Yes
,
Merry
Widow
!
”
shaking
his
head
at
her
.
The
music
seemed
fumbling
in
a
confused
mass
of
memory
,
but
finding
nothing
definite
.
All
it
managed
to
bring
to
fight
was
a
small
cheap
photograph
,
taken
at
a
Bauern
Bal
,
with
a
flat
German
student’s
cap.
The
man
remained
just
his
photograph
.
Their
hostess
also
was
dancing
.
Kreisler
noted
her
with
a
wink
of
recognition
.
Dancing
very
slowly
,
almost
mournfully
,
he
and
his
partner
bumped
into
her
each
time
as
they
passed
.
The
Widow
felt
the
impact
,
but
it
was
only
at
the
third
round
that
she
perceived
the
method
and
intention
inducing
these
bumps
.
She
realized
they
were
going
to
collide
with
the
other
lady
.
The
collision
could
not
be
avoided
.
But
she
shrank
away
,
made
herself
as
small
and
soft
as
possible
,
bumped
gently
and
apologized
over
her
shoulder
,
with
a
smile
and
screwing
up
of
the
eyes
,
full
of
meaning
.
At
the
fourth
turn
of
the
room
,
however
,
Kreisler
having
increased
her
speed
sensibly
,
she
was
on
her
guard
,
and
in
fact
already
suggesting
that
she
should
be
taken
back
to
her
seat
.
He
pretended
to
be
giving
their
hostess
a
wide
berth
this
time
,
but
suddenly
and
gently
swerved
,
and
bore
down
upon
her
.
The
Widow
veered
frantically
,
took
a
false
step
,
tripped
on
her
dress
,
tearing
it
,
and
fell
to
the
ground
.
They
caused
a
circular
undulating
commotion
throughout
the
neighbouring
dancers
like
a
stone
falling
in
a
pond
.
Several
people
bent
,
down
to
help
Mrs.
Bevelage
—
Kreisler’s
assistance
was
angrily
rejected
.
His
partner
scrambled
to
her
feet
and
went
to
the
nearest
chair
,
followed
by
one
or
two
people
.
“
Who
is
he
?
”
“
He’s
drunk
.
”
“
What
happened
?
”
“
He
ought
to
be
turned
out
!
”
people
said
who
had
seen
the
accident
.
Kreisler
regained
the
conservatory
with
great
dignity
.
But
now
Fraulein
Lippmann
,
alone
,
appeared
before
him
as
he
lay
stretched
in
his
chair
,
and
said
in
a
tight
,
breaking
voice
:
“
I
think
,
Herr
Kreisler
,
you
would
do
well
now
,
as
you
have
done
nothing
all
the
evening
but
render
yourself
objectionable
,
to
relieve
us
of
your
company
.
I
don’t
know
whether
you’re
drunk
.
I
hope
you
are
,
for
—
—
”
“
You
hope
I’m
drunk
,
Fraulein
?
”
he
asked
in
an
astonished
voice
.
He
remained
lolling
at
full
length
.
“
A
lady
I
was
dancing
with
fell
over
,
owing
entirely
to
her
own
clumsiness
and
intractability
—
but
perhaps
she
was
drunk
;
I
didn’t
think
of
that
.
”
“
So
you’re
not
going
?
”
“
Certainly
,
Fraulein
—
when
you
go
!
We’ll
go
together
.
”
“
Schensal
!
”
Hurling
hotly
this
epithet
at
him
—
her
breath
had
risen
many
degrees
in
temperature
at
its
passage
,
and
her
breast
heaved
in
dashing
it
out
(
as
though
,
in
fact
,
the
word
“
schensal
”
had
been
the
living
thing
,
and
she
were
emptying
her
breast
of
it
violently
)
,
she
left
the
room
.
His
last
exploit
had
been
accomplished
in
a
half
disillusioned
state
.
He
merely
went
on
farcing
because
he
could
think
of
nothing
else
to
do
.
Anastasya’s
laughter
had
upset
and
ended
everything
of
his
“
imaginary
life
.
”
He
told
himself
now
that
he
hated
her
.
“
Ich
hasse
dich
!
Ich
hasse
dich
!
”
he
hissed
over
to
himself
,
enjoying
the
wind
of
the
“
hasse
”
in
his
moustaches
.
But
(
there
was
no
doubt
about
it
)
the
laugh
had
crushed
him
.
Ridiculous
and
hateful
had
been
his
goal
.
But
now
that
he
had
succeeded
he
thought
chiefly
in
the
latter
affair
,
he
was
overwhelmed
.
His
vanity
was
wounded
terribly
.
In
laughing
at
him
she
had
puffed
out
and
transformed
in
an
extraordinary
way
,
also
,
his
infatuation
.
For
the
first
time
since
he
had
first
set
eyes
on
her
he
realized
her
sex
.
His
sensuality
had
been
directly
stirred
.
He
wanted
to
kiss
her
now
.
He
must
get
his
mouth
on
hers
—
he
must
revel
in
the
laugh
,
where
it
grew
!
She
was
néfaste
.
She
was
in
fact
evidently
the
devil
.
So
his
idée
fixe
having
suddenly
taken
body
and
acquired
flesh
,
now
allied
to
his
senses
,
the
vibration
became
more
definitely
alarming
.
He
began
thinking
about
her
with
a
slow
moistening
of
the
lips
.
“
I
shall
possess
her
!
”
he
said
to
himself
,
seeing
himself
in
the
role
of
the
old
Berserker
warrior
,
ravening
and
irresistible
.
The
use
of
the
word
shall
in
that
way
was
enough
.
But
this
infernal
dance
!
With
the
advent
of
the
real
feeling
all
the
artificial
ones
flew
or
diminished
at
once
.
He
was
no
longer
romantically
“
desperate
,
”
but
bored
with
his
useless
position
there
.
All
his
attention
was
now
concentrated
on
a
practical
issue
,
that
of
the
“
possession
”
of
Anastasya
.
He
was
tired
as
though
he
had
been
dancing
the
whole
evening
.
He
got
up
and
threw
his
cigarette
away
;
he
even
dusted
his
coat
a
little
with
his
hand
.
He
then
,
not
being
able
to
get
at
the
white
patch
on
the
shoulder
,
took
it
off
and
shook
it
.
A
large
grey
handkerchief
was
used
to
flick
his
boots
with
.
“
So
!
”
he
grunted
,
smartly
shooting
on
his
coat
.
The
central
room
,
when
he
got
into
it
,
appeared
a
different
place
.
People
were
standing
about
and
waiting
for
the
next
tune
.
It
had
been
completely
changed
by
his
novel
and
material
feeling
for
Anastasya
.
Everything
,
for
a
second
time
,
was
quite
ordinary
,
but
not
electrically
ordinary
,
almost
hushed
,
this
time
.
He
had
become
a
practical
man
,
surrounded
by
facts
.
But
he
was
much
more
worried
'
and
tired
than
at
the
beginning
of
the
evening
.
To
get
away
was
his
immediate
thought
.
But
he
felt
hungry
.
He
went
into
the
refreshment-room
.
On
the
same
side
as
the
door
,
a
couple
of
feet
to
the
right
,
was
a
couch
.
The
trestle-bar
with
the
refreshments
ran
the
length
of
the
opposite
wall
.
The
room
was
quiet
and
almost
empty
.
Out
of
the
tail
of
his
eye
,
as
he
entered
,
he
became
conscious
of
something
.
He
turned
towards
the
couch
.
Soltyk
and
Anastasya
were
sitting
there
,
and
looking
at
him
with
the
abrupt
embarrassment
people
show
when
an
absentee
under
discussion
suddenly
appears
.
He
flushed
and
was
about
to
turn
back
to
the
door
.
But
he
flushed
still
more
next
moment
,
at
thought
of
his
hesitation
.
This
humiliating
full-stop
beneath
their
eyes
must
be
wiped
out
,
anyhow
.
He
walked
on
steadily
to
the
bar
.
A
shy
consciousness
of
his
physique
beset
him
.
He
felt
again
an
outcast
—
of
an
inferior
class
,
socially
.
He
must
not
show
this
.
He
must
be
leisurely
.
He
was
leisurely
.
He
thought
when
he
stretched
his
hand
out
to
take
his
cup
of
coffee
that
it
would
never
reach
it
.
Reduced
to
posing
nude
for
Anastasya
and
the
Russian
was
the
result
of
the
evening
!
Scores
of
little
sensations
,
like
troublesome
imps
,
herded
airily
behind
him
.
They
tickled
him
with
impalpable
fingers
.
He
munched
sandwiches
without
the
faintest
sense
of
their
taste
.
Anastasya’s
eyes
were
scourging
him
.
He
felt
like
a
martyr
.
Suddenly
conscious
of
an
awkwardness
in
his
legs
,
he
changed
his
position
.
His
arms
were
ludicrously
disabled
.
The
sensation
of
standing
neck
deep
in
horrid
filth
beset
him
.
Compelled
to
remain
in
soaking
wet
clothes
and
unable
to
change
them
,
his
body
gradually
drying
them
,
would
have
been
a
similar
discomfort
.
The
noise
of
the
dancing
began
again
,
filled
the
room
.
This
purified
things
somewhat
.
He
got
red
in
the
face
as
though
with
a
gigantic
effort
,
but
went
on
staring
in
front
of
him
.
His
anger
kept
rising
.
He
stood
there
deliberately
longer
;
in
fact
on
and
on
,
almost
in
the
same
position
.
She
should
wait
his
pleasure
till
he
liked
to
turn
round
,
and
—
then
.
He
allowed
her
laughter
to
accumulate
on
his
back
,
like
a
coat
of
mud
.
In
his
illogical
vision
he
felt
her
there
behind
him
laughing
and
laughing
interminably
.
Had
he
gone
straight
up
to
her
,
in
a
moment
of
passion
,
both
disembodied
as
it
were
,
anything
in
the
shape
of
objective
observation
disappearing
,
he
could
have
avoided
this
scrutiny
.
He
had
preferred
to
plank
himself
there
in
front
of
her
,
inevitably
ridiculous
,
a
mark
for
that
laugh
of
hers
.
Soltyk
was
sharing
it
.
More
and
more
his
laughter
became
intolerable
.
The
traditional
solution
again
suggested
itself
.
Laugh
!
Laugh
!
He
would
stand
there
letting
the
debt
grow
,
letting
them
gorge
themselves
on
his
back
.
The
attendant
behind
the
bar
began
observing
him
with
severe
curiosity
.
He
had
stood
in
almost
the
same
position
for
five
minutes
and
kept
staring
darkly
past
her
,
very
red
in
the
face
.
Then
suddenly
a
laugh
burst
out
behind
him
—
a
blow
,
full
of
insult
,
in
his
ears
—
and
he
nearly
jumped
off
the
ground
.
After
his
long
immobility
the
jump
was
of
the
last
drollery
.
His
fists
clenched
,
his
face
emptied
of
every
drop
of
colour
,
in
the
mere
action
he
had
almost
knocked
a
man
,
standing
beside
him
,
over
.
The
laugh
,
for
him
,
had
risen
with
tropic
suddenness
,
a
simoom
of
intolerable
offence
.
It
had
carried
him
off
his
legs
,
or
whirled
him
round
rather
,
in
a
second
.
A
young
English
girl
,
already
terrified
at
Kreisler’s
appearance
,
and
a
man
,
almost
as
much
so
,
stood
open-mouthed
in
front
of
him
.
As
to
Anastasya
and
Soltyk
,
they
had
very
completely
disappeared
,
long
before
,
in
all
probability
.
To
find
that
he
had
been
struggling
and
perspiring
in
the
grasp
of
a
shadow
was
a
fresh
offence
,
merely
,
for
the
count
of
the
absentees
.
Obviously
,
shadow
or
not
,
there
or
not
there
,
it
was
they
.
He
felt
this
a
little
;
but
they
had
disappeared
into
the
Ewigkeit
for
the
moment
.
He
had
been
again
beating
the
air
.
This
should
have
been
a
climax
,
of
blows
,
words
,
definite
things
.
But
things
remained
vague
.
The
turmoil
of
the
evening
remained
his
,
the
solid
part
of
it
,
unshared
by
anybody
else
.
He
smiled
,
rather
hideously
and
menacingly
,
at
the
two
English
people
near
him
,
and
walked
away
.
He
was
not
going
in
search
of
Anastasya
.
They
would
be
met
somewhere
or
other
,
no
doubt
.
All
he
wanted
now
was
to
get
away
from
the
English
club
as
soon
as
possible
.
While
he
was
making
towards
the
vestibule
he
was
confronted
again
with
Fraulein
Lipmann
.
“
Herr
Kreisler
,
I
wish
to
speak
to
you
,
”
he
heard
her
say
.
“
Go
to
the
devil
!
”
he
answered
without
hesitation
or
softness
.
“
Besotted
fool
!
if
you
don’t
go
at
once
,
I’ll
get
—
—
”
Turning
on
her
like
lightning
,
with
exasperation
perfectly
meeting
hers
,
his
right
hand
threatening
,
quickly
raised
towards
his
left
shoulder
,
he
shouted
:
“
Lass
mich
doch
—
gemeine
alte
Sau
!
”
The
hissing
,
thunderous
explosion
was
the
last
thing
in
vocal
virulence
.
The
muscles
all
seemed
gathered
up
at
his
ears
like
reins
,
and
the
flesh
tightened
and
white
round
his
mouth
.
Fraulein
Lipmann
took
several
steps
back
.
Kreisler
with
equal
quickness
turned
away
,
rapped
on
the
counter
,
while
the
attendant
looked
for
his
hat
,
and
left
the
Club
.
Fraulein
Lippmann
was
left
with
the
heavy
,
unforgettable
word
“
sow
”
deposited
in
her
boiling
spirit
,
that
,
boil
as
it
might
,
would
hardly
reduce
this
word
to
tenderness
or
digestibility
.
PART
IV
A
JEST
TOO
DEEP
FOR
LAUGHTER
CHAPTER
I
With
a
little
scratching
(
as
the
concierge
pushed
it
)
with
the
malignity
of
a
little
,
quiet
,
sleek
animal
,
the
letter
from
Germany
crept
under
the
door
the
next
morning
,
and
lay
there
through
the
silence
of
the
next
hour
or
two
,
until
Kreisler
woke
.
Succeeding
to
his
first
brutal
farewells
to
his
dreams
,
no
hopes
leapt
on
his
body
,
a
magnificent
stallion’s
,
uselessly
refreshed
.
Soon
he
saw
the
letter
.
It
lay
there
quiet
,
unimportant
,
rather
matter
of
fact
and
sly
.
Kreisler
felt
it
an
indignity
to
have
to
open
it
.
Until
his
dressing
was
finished
,
it
remained
where
it
was
.
He
might
have
been
making
some
one
wait
.
Then
he
took
it
up
,
and
opening
it
,
drew
out
between
his
forefinger
and
thumb
,
the
cheque
.
This
he
deposited
with
as
much
contempt
as
possible
,
and
a
“
phui
”
on
the
edge
of
his
washhand
stand
.
Then
he
turned
to
the
letter
.
He
read
the
first
few
fines
,
pumping
at
a
cigarette
,
reducing
it
mathematically
to
ash
.
Cold
fury
entered
his
mind
with
a
bound
at
the
first
words
.
They
were
the
final
words
giving
notice
of
a
positive
stoppage
of
supplies
.
This
month’s
money
was
sent
to
enable
him
to
settle
up
his
affairs
and
come
to
Germany
at
once
.
He
read
the
first
three
lines
over
and
over
again
,
going
no
further
,
although
the
news
begun
in
these
first
lines
was
developed
throughout
the
two
pages
of
the
letter
.
Then
he
put
it
down
beside
the
cheque
,
and
crushing
it
under
his
fist
,
said
monotonously
to
himself
,
without
much
more
feeling
than
the
sound
of
the
word
contained
:
“
Schwein
,
Schwein
,
Schwein
!
”
He
got
up
,
and
pressed
his
hand
on
his
forehead
;
it
was
wet
:
he
put
his
hands
in
his
pockets
and
these
came
into
contact
with
a
cinquante
centime
piece
.
He
took
them
out
again
slowly
,
went
to
his
box
and
underneath
an
old
dressing-gown
found
writing
paper
and
envelopes
.
Then
,
referring
to
his
father’s
letter
for
the
date
,
he
wrote
the
following
lines
:
“
1th
June
19
—
“
Sir
,
—
I
shall
not
return
as
you
suggest
in
person
,
but
my
body
will
no
doubt
be
sent
to
you
about
the
middle
of
next
month
.
If
—
keeping
to
your
decision
—
no
money
is
sent
,
it
being
impossible
to
five
without
money
,
I
shall
on
the
seventh
of
July
,
this
day
next
month
,
shoot
myself
.
“
Otto
Kreisler
.
”
Within
half
an
hour
this
was
posted
.
Then
he
went
and
had
breakfast
with
more
tranquillity
and
relish
than
he
had
known
for
some
days
.
He
sat
up
stiffly
like
a
dilapidated
but
apparently
in
some
way
satisfied
rooster
at
his
café
table
.
This
life
was
now
settled
,
pressure
ceased
.
He
had
come
to
a
conventional
and
respectable
decision
.
His
conduct
the
night
before
,
for
instance
,
had
not
been
at
all
respectable
.
Death
—
like
a
monastery
—
was
before
him
,
with
equivalents
of
a
slight
shaving
of
the
head
merely
,
a
handful
of
vows
,
some
desultory
farewells
,
very
restricted
space
,
but
none
the
worse
for
that
;
with
something
like
the
disagreeableness
of
a
dive
for
one
not
used
to
deep
water
.
But
he
had
got
into
life
,
anyhow
,
by
mistake
;
il
s’était
trompé
de
porte
.
His
life
might
almost
have
been
regarded
as
a
long
and
careful
preparation
for
voluntary
death
.
The
nightmare
of
Death
,
as
it
haunted
the
imaginations
of
the
Egyptians
,
had
here
been
conjured
in
another
way
.
Death
was
not
to
be
overcome
with
embalmings
and
Pyramids
,
or
fought
within
the
souls
of
children
.
It
was
confronted
as
some
other
more
uncompromising
race
(
and
yet
also
haunted
by
this
terrible
idea
)
might
have
been
.
Instead
of
rearing
smooth
faces
of
immense
stone
against
it
,
you
imagine
an
unparalleled
immobility
in
life
,
a
race
of
statues
,
throwing
flesh
in
Death’s
path
instead
of
basalt
.
Kreisler
would
have
undoubtedly
been
a
high
priest
among
this
people
.
CHAPTER
II
In
a
large
fluid
but
nervous
handwriting
,
the
following
letter
lay
,
read
,
as
it
were
:
Bertha
still
keeping
her
eye
on
it
from
a
distance
:
“
Dear
Bertha
,
—
I
am
writing
at
the
Gare
St.
Lazare
,
on
my
way
to
England
.
You
have
made
things
much
easier
for
me
in
one
way
of
course
,
far
more
difficult
in
another
.
Parenthetically
,
I
may
mention
that
the
whimsical
happenings
between
you
and
your
absurd
countryman
in
full
moonlight
are
known
to
me
.
They
were
recounted
with
a
wealth
of
detail
that
left
nothing
to
the
imagination
,
happily
for
my
peculiar
possessive
sensitiveness
,
known
to
you
.
I
don’t
know
whether
that
little
red-headed
bitch
—
the
colour
of
Iscariot
,
so
perhaps
she
is
—
is
a
friend
of
yours
?
Kreisler
!
I
was
offered
an
introduction
to
him
the
other
day
,
which
I
refused
.
It
seems
he
has
introduced
himself
!
“
Before
,
I
had
contemplated
retiring
to
a
little
distance
for
the
purpose
of
reflection
.
This
last
coup
of
yours
necessitates
a
much
further
recul
,
withdrawal
—
a
couple
of
hundred
miles
at
least
,
I
have
judged
.
And
as
far
as
I
can
see
I
shall
be
some
months
—
say
ten
—
away
.
I
am
not
wise
enough
to
take
your
action
au
pied
de
la
lettre-
,
nevertheless
,
you
may
consider
yourself
free
as
women
go
.
What
I
mean
is
you
need
not
trouble
to
restrain
the
exuberance
of
your
exploits
in
future
.
(
What
rubbish
!
)
Let
them
develop
naturally
,
right
up
to
fiançailles
,
or
elsewhere
.
I
have
a
very
German
idea
.
Why
should
not
girls
have
two
or
three
fiancés
?
Not
two
or
three
husbands
.
But
fiancé
,
especially
nowadays
,
is
an
elastic
term
.
Why
shouldn’t
fiancé
take
the
place
of
husband
?
It
is
a
very
respectable
word
:
a
very
respectable
state
.
But
my
idea
was
that
of
a
club
,
organized
around
the
fiancée
.
You
seem
to
me
cut
out
for
such
a
club
.
A
man
might
spend
quite
a
pleasant
time
with
the
other
fiancés
.
A
fine
science
of
women
would
be
developed
,
perhaps
along
Oriental
lines
a
little
.
Then
a
man
would
remember
the
different
clubs
he
had
belonged
to
.
Some
very
beautiful
women
might
have
a
sort
of
University
settled
near
them
.
To
have
belonged
to
one
of
these
celebrated
but
ephemeral
institutions
would
insure
a
man
success
with
less
illustrious
queens
.
‘
He
was
a
fiancé
of
Fraulein
Stuck’s
,
you
know
,
’
would
carry
prestige
.
You
have
Germanized
me
in
a
horrible
way
!
Anyhow
,
you
may
count
on
me
should
you
think
of
starting
a
little
institution
of
that
sort
.
My
address
for
the
next
few
months
will
be
10
Waterford
Street
,
London
,
W.C.
—
Yours
,
“
SORBETT
.
”
He
spelt
his
name
with
two
T’s
because
Bertha
had
never
disciplined
herself
to
suppress
final
consonants
.
Bertha
was
in
her
little
kitchen
.
It
was
near
the
front
door
.
Next
to
it
was
her
studio
