controland
over-reaching
of
civilized
matter
.
It
was
in
Rome
or
in
Paris
.
It
had
an
air
of
possession
everywhere
.
Volker
was
stranger
in
Paris
than
his
companion
,
who
had
only
just
arrived
.
He
felt
a
little
raw
and
uncomfortable
,
almost
a
tourist
.
He
was
being
shown
“
Paris
by
Night
”
;
almost
literally
,
for
his
inclinations
had
not
taken
him
much
to
that
side
of
the
town
.
Objects
—
cocottes
,
newsvendors
,
waiters
—
flowed
through
Kreisler’s
brain
without
trouble
or
surprise
.
His
heavy
eyes
were
big
gates
of
a
self-centred
city
.
It
was
just
a
procession
.
There
was
no
trade
in
the
town
.
He
was
a
property
of
Nature
,
or
a
favourite
slave
,
untidy
and
aloof
.
Kreisler
so
real
and
at
home
was
like
a
ghost
sitting
there
beside
him
,
for
Ernst
Volker
.
He
had
not
had
the
time
to
solidify
yet
in
Paris
by
all
rights
,
and
yet
was
so
solid
and
accustomed
at
once
.
This
body
was
in
Paris
now
!
—
with
an
heroic
freedom
.
Volker
began
looking
for
himself
.
He
was
only
made
of
cheap
thin
stuff
.
He
picked
up
the
pieces
quietly
.
This
large
rusty
machine
of
a
man
smashed
him
up
like
an
egg-shell
at
every
meeting
.
His
shell
grew
quickly
again
,
but
never
got
hard
enough
.
He
was
glad
to
see
him
again
!
Kreisler
was
a
good
fellow
.
—
Despite
himself
Ernst
Volker
was
fidgety
at
the
lateness
of
the
hour
.
The
next
day
Fraulein
Bodenaar
,
who
was
sitting
for
him
,
was
due
at
9.30
.
But
the
first
night
of
seeing
his
friend
again
—
He
drank
rather
more
than
usual
,
and
became
silent
,
thinking
of
his
Westphalian
home
and
his
sister
who
was
not
very
well
.
She
had
had
a
bicycle
accident
,
and
had
received
a
considerable
shock
.
He
might
spend
the
summer
with
her
and
his
mother
at
Berck-sur-Mer
or
Calais
.
He
would
have
gone
home
for
a
week
or
so
now
,
only
an
aunt
he
did
not
like
was
staying
there
.
“
Well
,
let’s
get
back
!
”
said
Kreisler
,
rather
thoughtful
,
too
,
at
all
the
life
he
had
seen
.
CHAPTER
III
In
Paris
Ernst
Volker
had
found
himself
.
It
seemed
especially
constructed
for
him
,
such
a
wonderful
,
large
,
polite
institution
.
No
one
looked
at
him
because
he
was
small
.
For
money
in
Paris
represented
delicate
things
,
in
Germany
chiefly
gross
ones
.
His
money
lent
him
more
stature
than
anything
else
could
,
and
in
a
much
more
dignified
and
subtle
way
than
elsewhere
.
His
talent
benefited
for
the
first
time
by
his
money
.
Heavy
temperament
,
primitive
talent
,
had
their
big
place
,
but
money
had
at
last
come
into
its
own
and
got
into
the
spiritual
sphere
.
A
very
sensible
and
soothing
spirit
reigned
in
this
seat
of
intelligence
.
A
very
great
number
of
sensible
,
well-dressed
figures
perambulated
all
over
these
suave
acres
.
Large
tribes
of
“
types
”
prosecuted
their
primitive
enthusiasms
in
certain
cafés
,
unannoyed
by
either
the
populace
or
the
differently
minded
€
lite
.
The
old
romantic
values
he
was
used
to
in
his
Fatherland
were
all
deeply
modified
.
Money
—
that
is
luck
and
its
power
—
was
the
genius
of
the
new
world
.
American
clothes
were
adapted
for
the
finer
needs
of
the
Western
European
.
On
the
evening
following
Kreisler’s
arrival
Volker
had
an
engagement
.
The
morning
after
that
Kreisler
turned
up
at
half-past
twelve
.
Volker
was
painting
Fraulein
Bodenaar
.
She
was
very
smartly
dressed
,
in
a
tight
German
way
.
He
displayed
a
disinclination
to
make
Kreisler
and
his
sitter
acquainted
.
He
was
a
little
confused
.
They
arranged
to
meet
at
dinner-time
.
He
was
going
to
lunch
with
Fraulein
Bodenaar
.
Kreisler
the
night
before
had
spent
a
good
deal
of
money
in
the
German
paradise
beyond
the
river
.
Volker
understood
by
the
particular
insistent
blankness
of
Kreisler’s
eye
that
money
was
needed
.
He
was
familiar
with
this
look
.
Kreisler
owed
him
fifteen
hundred
marks
.
He
had
at
first
made
an
effort
to
pay
back
Volker
money
borrowed
,
when
his
allowance
arrived
.
But
in
Rome
,
and
earlier
for
a
short
time
in
Munich
,
his
friend’s
money
was
not
of
so
much
value
as
it
was
at
present
.
Ernst
waived
repayment
in
an
eager
,
sentimental
way
.
The
debt
grew
.
Kreisler
had
felt
keenly
the
financial
void
caused
by
Volker’s
going
off
to
Paris
.
He
had
not
formulated
to
himself
the
real
reason
of
his
following
Volker
.
Nor
had
he
taken
the
trouble
to
repudiate
it
.
He
was
now
in
the
position
of
a
man
separated
for
some
months
from
his
wife
.
He
was
in
a
luxurious
hurry
to
see
once
more
the
colour
of
Volker’s
gold
.
Kreisler
was
very
touchy
about
money
,
like
many
borrowers
.
He
sponged
with
discrimination
.
He
had
not
for
some
time
required
to
sponge
at
all
,
as
Volker
amply
met
his
needs
.
So
he
had
got
rather
out
of
practice
.
He
found
this
reopening
of
his
account
with
little
friend
Ernst
a
most
delicate
business
.
It
was
worse
than
tackling
a
stranger
.
He
realized
there
might
be
a
modification
of
Volker’s
readiness
to
lend
.
He
therefore
determined
to
ask
for
a
sum
in
advance
of
actual
needs
,
and
by
boldness
at
once
re-establish
continuity
.
After
dinner
he
said
:
“
You
remember
Ricci
?
Where
I
got
my
paints
the
first
part
of
the
time
.
I
had
some
trouble
with
that
devil
before
I
left
.
He
came
round
and
made
a
great
scandal
on
the
staircase
.
He
shouted
‘
Bandit
!
Ha
!
ha
!
Sporca
la
tua
Madonna
!
’
—
how
do
you
say
it
?
—
‘
Sporco
Tedesco.’
Then
he
called
the
neighbours
to
witness
.
He
kept
repeating
he
was
‘
not
afraid
of
me.’
I
took
him
by
the
ear
and
kicked
him
out
I
”
he
ended
with
florid
truculence
.
Volker
laughed
obsequiously
but
with
discomfort
.
Kreisler
solicited
his
sympathetic
mirth
with
a
masterful
eye
.
He
laughed
himself
,
unnecessarily
heartily
.
A
scene
of
violence
in
which
a
small
man
was
hustled
,
which
Volker
would
have
to
applaud
,
was
a
clever
prelude
.
Then
Otto
began
to
be
nice
.
“
I
am
sorry
for
the
little
devil
!
I
shall
have
the
money
soon
.
I
shall
send
it
him
.
He
shall
not
suffer
.
Antonio
,
too
.
I
don’t
owe
much
.
I
had
to
settle
most
before
I
left
.
Himmel
!
My
landlord
!
”
He
choked
mirthfully
over
his
coffee
a
little
,
almost
upsetting
it
,
then
mincingly
adjusted
the
cup
to
his
moustached
lips
.
If
he
had
to
settle
up
before
he
left
,
he
could
not
have
much
now
,
evidently
!
There
was
a
disagreeable
pause
.
Volker
stirred
his
coffee
.
He
immediately
showed
his
hand
,
for
he
looked
up
and
with
transparent
innocence
asked
:
“
By
the
way
,
Otto
,
you
remember
Blauenstein
at
Munich
—
—
?
”
“
You
mean
the
little
Jew
from
whom
everybody
used
to
borrow
money
?
”
Kreisler
fixed
him
severely
and
significantly
with
his
eye
and
spoke
with
heavy
deliberation
.
“
Did
people
borrow
money
from
him
?
I
had
forgotten
.
Yes
,
that’s
the
man
.
He
has
turned
up
here
;
who
do
you
think
with
?
With
Irma
,
the
Bohemian
girl
.
They
are
living
together
—
round
the
corner
there
”
“
Hum
!
Are
they
?
She
was
a
pretty
little
girl
.
Do
you
remember
the
night
Von
Gerarde
was
found
stripped
and
tied
to
his
door-handle
?
He
assured
me
Irma
had
done
it
and
had
pawned
his
clothes
.
”
Was
Volker
thinking
that
Blauenstein’s
famous
and
admitted
function
should
be
resorted
to
as
an
alternative
for
himself
by
Kreisler
?
“
Volker
,
I
can
speak
to
you
plainly
;
isn’t
that
so
?
You
are
my
friend
.
What’s
more
,
already
we
have
—
”
he
laughed
strongly
and
easily
.
“
My
journey
has
cost
the
devil
of
a
lot
.
I
shall
be
getting
my
allowance
in
a
week
or
so
.
Could
you
lend
me
a
small
sum
of
money
.
When
my
money
comes
—
”
“
Of
course
!
But
I
am
hard
up
.
How
much
—
?
”
These
were
three
jerky
efforts
.
“
Oh
,
a
hundred
and
fifty
or
two
hundred
marks
.
”
Volker’s
jaw
dropped
.
“
I
am
afraid
,
my
dear
Kreisler
,
I
can’t
—
just
now
—
manage
that
.
My
journey
,
too
,
cost
me
a
lot
.
I’m
very
sorry
.
Let
me
see
.
I
have
my
rent
next
week
?
I
don’t
see
how
I
can
manage
—
—
”
Volker
had
a
clean-shaven
,
depressed
,
and
earnest
face
.
He
had
always
been
honest
and
timid
.
Kreisler
looked
sulkily
at
the
tablecloth
and
knocked
the
ash
sharply
off
his
cigarette
into
his
cup
.
He
said
nothing
.
Volker
became
nervous
.
“
Will
a
hundred
marks
be
of
any
use
?
”
“
Yes
.
”
Kreisler
drew
his
hand
over
.his
chin
as
though
stroking
a
beard
down
and
then
pulled
his
moustaches
up
,
fixing
the
waitress
with
an
indifferent
eye
.
“
Can
you
spare
that
?
”
“
Well
—
I
can’t
really
.
But
if
you
are
in
such
a
position
that
—
—
”
This
is
how
he
lost
Volker
.
He
felt
that
hundred
marks
,
given
him
as
a
favour
,
was
the
last
serious
bite
he
would
get
.
He
only
gradually
realized
of
how
much
more
worth
Volker’s
money
now
was
,
and
what
before
was
an
unorganized
mass
of
specie
,
in
which
the
professional
borrower
could
wallow
,
was
now
a
sound
and
suitably
conducted
business
.
He
met
that
night
the
new
manager
.
He
was
taken
round
to
the
Berne
after
dinner
.
He
did
not
realize
what
awaited
him
.
He
found
himself
in
the
head-quarters
of
many
national
personalities
.
Politeness
reigned
.
Kreisler
was
pleased
to
find
a
permanent
vat
of
German
always
on
tap
.
His
roots
mixed
sluggishly
with
Ernst’s
in
this
living
lump
of
the
soil
of
the
Fatherland
dumped
down
at
the
head
of
the
Boulevard
Pfeiffer
.
The
Germans
he
met
here
spoke
a
language
and
expressed
opinions
he
could
not
agree
with
,
but
with
which
Volker
evidently
did
.
They
argued
genially
over
glasses
of
beer
and
champagne
.
He
found
his
ticket
at
once
.
He
was
the
vielle
barbe
of
the
party
.
“
Yes
,
I’ve
seen
Gaugins
.
But
why
go
so
far
as
the
South
Sea
Islands
unless
you
are
going
to
make
people
more
beautiful
?
Why
go
out
of
Europe
?
Why
not
save
the
money
for
the
voyage
?
”
he
would
bluster
.
“
More
beautiful
?
What
do
you
understand
by
the
word
‘
beautiful
,
’
my
dear
sir
?
”
would
answer
a
voice
in
the
service
of
new
movements
.
“
What
do
I
call
beautiful
?
How
would
you
like
your
face
to
be
as
flat
as
a
pancake
,
your
nostrils
like
a
squashed
strawberry
,
one
of
your
eyes
cocked
up
by
the
side
of
your
ear
?
Would
not
you
be
very
unhappy
to
look
like
that
?
Then
how
can
you
expect
any
one
but
a
technique-maniac
to
care
a
straw
for
a
picture
of
that
sort
—
call
it
Cubist
or
Fauve
or
whatever
you
like
?
It’s
all
spoof
.
It
puts
money
in
somebody’s
pocket
,
no
doubt
.
”
“
It’s
not
a
question
,
unhappily
,
of
how
we
should
like
our
faces
to
be
.
It
is
how
they
are
.
But
I
do
not
consider
the
actual
position
of
my
eyes
to
be
any
more
beautiful
than
any
other
position
that
might
have
been
chosen
for
them
.
The
almond
eye
was
long
held
in
contempt
by
the
hatchet-eye
—
—
”
Kreisler
peered
up
at
him
and
laughed
.
“
You’re
a
modest
fellow
.
You’re
not
as
ugly
as
you
think
!
Nach
!
I
like
to
find
—
—
”
“
But
you
haven’t
told
us
,
Otto
,
what
you
call
beautiful
.
”
“
I
call
this
young
lady
here
”
—
and
he
turned
gallantly
to
a
blushing
cocotte
at
his
side
—
“
beautiful
,
very
beautiful
!
”
He
kissed
her
amid
gesticulation
and
applause
.
“
That’s
just
what
I
supposed
,
”
his
opponent
said
,
with
appreciation
.
He
did
not
get
on
well
with
Soltyk
.
Louis
Soltyk
was
a
young
Russian
,
half
Polish
,
who
occasionally
sat
amongst
the
Germans
at
the
Berne
.
Volker
saw
more
of
him
than
anybody
.
It
was
he
who
had
superseded
Kreisler
in
the
position
of
influence
as
regards
Volker’s
purse
.
Soltyk
did
not
borrow
a
hundred
marks
.
His
system
was
far
more
up
to
date
.
Ernst
had
experienced
an
unpleasant
shock
in
coming
into
contact
with
Kreisler’s
clumsy
and
slovenly
,
small-scale
money
habits
again
!
Soltyk
physically
bore
,
distantly
and
with
polish
,
a
resemblance
to
Kreisler
.
His
handsome
face
and
elegance
were
very
different
.
Kreisler
and
he
disliked
each
other
for
obscure
physiological
reasons
:
they
had
perhaps
scrapped
in
the
dressing-rooms
of
creation
for
some
particular
fleshly
covering
,
and
each
secured
only
fragments
of
a
coveted
garment
.
In
some
ways
,
then
,
Soltyk
was
his
efficient
and
more
accomplished
counterpart
,
although
as
empty
and
unsatisfactory
as
himself
.
“
Aber
wo
ist
der
deutsche
Student
?
”
Soltyk
would
ask
,
referring
to
him
usually
like
that
.
“
He’s
in
good
company
somewhere
!
”
Volker
revealed
Kreisler
as
a
lady’s
man
.
This
satisfied
Soltyk’s
antipathy
.
The
Russian
kept
an
eye
on
Volker’s
pocket
while
Kreisler
was
about
.
He
had
not
only
recognized
in
him
a
mysterious
and
vexing
kinship
,
with
his
instinct
;
his
sharper’s
sense
,
also
,
noted
the
signs
of
the
professional
borrower
,
the
most
contemptible
and
slatternly
member
of
the
crook
family
.
In
an
access
of
sentiment
Ernst
asked
his
new
friend
to
try
and
sell
a
painting
of
Kreisler’s
.
Soltyk
dealt
in
paintings
and
art
objects
.
But
Soltyk
took
him
by
the
lapel
of
the
coat
and
in
a
few
words
steadied
him
into
cold
sense
.
“
Non
!
Sois
pas
bête
!
Here
,
”
he
pulled
out
a
handful
of
money
and
chose
a
dollar-piece
.
“
Here
—
give
him
this
.
You
buy
a
picture
—
if
it’s
a
picture
you
want
to
buy
—
of
Krashunine’s
.
Kreisler
has
nothing
but
Kreisler
to
offer
.
C’est
peu
!
”
Ernst
introduced
Kreisler
next
to
another
sort
of
Paris
compatriot
.
It
was
a
large
female
contingent
this
time
.
He
took
him
round
to
Fraulein
Lipmann’s
on
her
evening
,
when
these
ladies
played
the
piano
and
met
.
Kreisler
felt
that
he
was
a
victim
of
strategy
.
He
puffed
and
swore
outside
,
complained
of
their
music
,
the
coffee
,
their
way
of
dressing
.
The
Lipmann
circle
could
have
stood
as
a
model
for
Tarr’s
Bourgeois-Bohemians
,
stood
for
a
group
.
For
chief
characteristic
this
particular
BourgeoisBohemian
set
had
the
inseparability
of
its
members
.
Should
a
man
,
joining
them
,
wish
to
flirt
with
one
F
particularly
,
he
must
flirt
with
all
—
flatter
all
,
take
all
to
the
theatre
,
carry
the
umbrellas
and
paint-boxes
of
all
.
Eventually
,
should
he
come
to
that
,
it
is
doubtful
if
a
proposition
of
marriage
could
be
made
otherwise
than
before
the
assembled
band
!
And
marriage
alone
could
wrench
the
woman
chosen
away
from
the
clinging
bunch
.
Kreisler
,
despite
his
snorting
,
went
again
with
Volker
.
The
female
charm
had
done
its
work
.
This
gregarious
female
personality
had
shown
such
frank
invitation
to
Volker
that
had
any
separate
woman
exhibited
half
as
hospitable
a
front
he
would
have
been
very
alarmed
.
As
it
was
,
it
had
at
first
just
fulfilled
certain
bourgeois
requirements
of
his
lonely
German
soul
.
Kreisler
came
a
few
weeks
running
to
the
Lipmann
soiree
.
Never
finding
Volker
there
,
he
left
off
going
as
well
.
He
felt
he
had
been
tricked
and
slighted
.
The
ladies
divined
what
had
happened
.
Fraulein
Lipmann
,
the
leader
,
put
a
spiteful
little
mark
down
to
each
of
their
names
.
CHAPTER
IV
Kreisler
pocketed
Ernst’s
hundred
marks
and
made
no
further
attempt
on
the
formerly
hospitable
income
of
his
friend
.
Debts
began
accumulating
.
Only
he
found
he
had
grown
suddenly
timid
with
his
creditors
.
The
concierge
frightened
him
.
He
conciliated
the
garçon
at
the
cafe
,
to
whom
he
owed
money
.
He
even
paid
several
debts
that
it
was
quite
unnecessary
to
pay
,
in
a
moment
of
panic
and
weakness
.
A
straitened
week
ensued
.
At
the
Berne
he
had
lost
his
nerve
in
some
way
;
he
clowned
obsequiously
on
some
evenings
,
and
,
depressed
and
slack
the
next
,
perhaps
,
resented
his
companions’
encores
.
Next
he
gradually
developed
the
habit
of
sitting
alone
.
More
often
than
not
he
would
come
into
the
café
and
go
to
a
table
at
the
opposite
side
of
the
room
to
that
at
which
the
Germans
were
sitting
.
Ridicule
is
sighted
at
twenty
yards
,
the
spectator
then
,
without
the
sphere
of
average
immediate
magnetism
.
For
once
it
does
not
matter
,
but
if
persisted
in
it
inevitably
results
in
humour
.
Those
who
keep
to
themselves
awaken
mirth
as
a
cartwheel
running
along
the
road
by
itself
would
.
People
feel
with
the
“
lonely
”
man
that
he
is
going
about
with
some
eccentric
companion
—
that
is
himself
.
Why
did
he
choose
this
deaf-and-dumb
companion
?
What
do
they
find
to
say
?
He
is
ludicrous
as
two
men
would
be
who
,
perpetually
in
each
other’s
company
,
were
never
seen
to
exchange
a
word
—
who
dined
together
,
went
to
theatre
or
café
,
without
ever
looking
at
each
other
or
speaking
.
So
Kreisler
became
a
lonely
figure
.
It
was
a
strange
feeling
.
He
must
be
quiet
and
not
attract
attention
.
He
.
was
marked
in
some
way
as
though
he
had
committed
a
theft
.
Perhaps
it
was
merely
the
worry
of
perpetual
“
tick
”
beginning
to
tell
.
For
the
moment
he
would
just
put
himself
aside
and
see
what
happened
.
He
was
afraid
of
himself
too
.
Always
up
till
then
immersed
in
that
self
,
now
for
the
first
time
he
stood
partly
outside
it
.
This
slight
divorce
made
him
less
sure
in
his
actions
.
A
little
less
careful
of
his
appearance
,
he
went
sluggishly
about
,
smoking
,
reading
the
paper
a
great
deal
,
working
at
the
art
school
fairly
often
,
playing
billiards
with
an
Austrian
cook
whose
acquaintance
he
had
made
in
a
café
and
who
disappeared
owing
him
seven
francs
.
Volker
had
been
a
compendious
phenomenon
in
his
life
,
although
his
cheery
gold
had
attracted
him
to
the
more
complete
discovery
.
He
had
ousted
women
,
too
,
from
Kreisler’s
daily
needs
.
He
had
become
a
superstition
for
his
tall
friend
.
It
was
Kreisler’s
deadness
,
his
absolute
lack
of
any
reason
to
be
confident
and
yet
perfect
aplomb
,
that
mastered
his
companion
.
But
this
acquired
eventually
its
significance
as
well
,
for
Kreisler
.
The
inertia
and
phlegm
,
outward
sign
of
depressing
everyday
Kreisler
,
had
found
some
one
for
whom
they
were
a
charm
and
something
to
be
envied
.
Kreisler’s
imagination
woke
shortly
after
Volker’s
.
It
was
as
though
a
peasant
who
had
always
regarded
his
life
as
the
dullest
affair
,
were
suddenly
inspirited
about
himself
by
realizing
some
townsman’s
poetic
notion
of
him
.
Kreisler’s
moody
wastefulness
and
futility
had
found
a
raison
d’etre
and
meaning
.
Ernst
Volker
had
remained
for
three
vague
years
becalmed
on
this
empty
sea
.
Kreisler
basked
round
him
,
never
having
to
lift
his
waves
and
clash
them
together
as
formerly
he
had
been
forced
sometimes
to
do
.
There
had
been
no
appeals
to
life
.
Volker
had
been
the
guarantor
of
his
peace
.
His
failure
was
the
omen
of
the
sinking
ship
,
the
disappearance
of
the
rats
!
Then
they
had
never
arrived
at
terms
of
friendship
.
It
had
been
only
an
epic
acquaintanceship
,
and
Kreisler
had
taken
him
about
as
a
parasite
that
he
pretended
not
to
notice
.
There
was
no
question
,
therefore
,
of
a
reproach
at
desertion
.
He
merely
hopped
off
on
to
somebody
else
.
Kreisler
was
more
exasperated
at
this
than
at
the
defection
of
a
friend
,
who
could
be
fixed
down
,
and
from
whom
at
last
explanation
must
come
.
It
was
an
unfair
advantage
taken
.
A
man
had
no
right
to
accompany
you
in
that
distant
and
paradoxical
fashion
,
get
all
he
could
,
become
ideally
useful
,
unless
it
was
for
life
.
He
watched
Soltyk’s
success
with
distant
mockery
.
Volker’s
loves
were
all
husks
,
of
illogical
completeness
.
A
man
appeared
one
day
in
the
Berne
who
had
known
Kreisler
in
Munich
.
The
story
of
Kreisler’s
marrying
his
fiancee
to
his
father
then
became
known
.
Other
complications
were
alleged
in
which
Otto’s
paternity
played
a
part
.
The
dot
of
the
bride
was
another
obscure
matter
.
It
was
during
his
aloofness
.
He
looked
the
sort
of
man
,
the
party
agreed
,
who
would
splice
his
sweetheart
with
his
papa
or
reinforce
his
papa’s
affairs
with
a
dot
he
did
not
wish
to
pay
for
at
last
with
his
own
person
.
The
Berne
was
also
informed
that
Kreisler
had
to
keep
seventeen
children
in
Munich
alone
;
that
he
only
had
to
look
at
a
woman
for
her
to
become
pregnant
.
It
was
when
the
head
of
the
column
,
the
eldest
of
the
seventeen
,
emerged
into
boyhood
,
requiring
instruction
,
that
Kreisler
left
for
Rome
.
Since
then
a
small
society
had
been
founded
in
Bavaria
to
care
for
Kreisler’s
offsprings
throughout
Germany
.
This
great
capacity
of
Otto’s
was
,
naturally
,
not
admired
;
at
the
best
it
could
be
considered
as
a
misdirected
and
disordered
efficiency
.
The
stories
pleased
,
nevertheless
.
When
he
appeared
that
night
his
friends
turned
towards
his
historic
figure
with
cries
of
welcome
.
But
he
was
not
gregarious
.
He
missed
his
opportunity
.
He
took
a
seat
in
the
passage-way
leading
to
the
Bureau
de
Tabac
.
As
their
laughter
struck
him
through
his
paper
he
was
unstrung
enough
to
be
annoyed
.
He
frowned
and
puckered
up
his
eyes
,
and
two
flushed
lines
descended
from
his
eyes
to
his
jaw
.
On
their
way
out
one
or
two
of
his
compatriots
greeted
him
:
“
Sacred
Otto
!
Why
so
unsociable
?
”
“
Hush
!
He
has
much
to
think
about
.
You
don’t
understand
what
the
cares
of
—
—
”
,
“
Come
,
old
Otto
,
a
drink
!
”
He
shook
them
off
with
mixture
of
affected
anger
and
genuine
spitting
oaths
.
He
avoided
their
eyes
and
spat
blasphemously
at
his
beer
.
He
avoided
the
café
for
some
days
.
Kreisler
then
recovered
.
At
first
nothing
much
happened
.
He
had
just
gone
back
again
into
the
midst
of
his
machinery
like
a
bone
slipped
into
its
place
,
with
a
soft
crick
.
He
became
rather
more
firm
with
his
creditors
.
He
changed
his
rooms
(
moving
then
to
the
Boulevard
Pfeiffer
)
,
passed
an
occasional
evening
with
the
Germans
at
the
Berne
,
and
started
a
portrait
of
Suzanne
,
who
had
been
sitting
at
the
school
.
“
How
is
Herr
Volker
?
Is
he
out
of
Paris
?
”
Fraulein
Lipmann
asked
him
when
they
met
.
“
Come
round
and
see
us
.
”
People’s
actual
or
possible
proceedings
formed
in
very
hard-and-fast
mould
in
Kreisler’s
mind
,
seen
not
with
realism
,
but
through
conventions
of
his
suspicious
irony
.
This
solicitude
as
to
Volker
he
contrasted
with
their
probable
indifference
as
regards
his
old
,
shabby
,
and
impolite
self
.
But
he
went
round
,
his
reception
being
insipid
.
He
had
shown
no
signs
of
animation
or
interest
in
them
.
Both
he
and
the
ladies
were
rather
doubtful
as
to
why
he
came
at
all
.
No
pleasure
resulted
on
either
side
from
these
visits
,
yet
they
doggedly
continued
.
A
distinct
and
steady
fall
in
the
temperature
could
be
observed
.
He
sneered
,
as
though
the
aimlessness
of
his
visits
were
an
insult
that
had
at
last
been
taken
up
.
They
would
have
been
for
ever
discontinued
except
for
a
sudden
necessity
to
reopen
that
channel
of
bourgeois
intercourse
.
CHAPTER
V
On
the
first
day
of
his
letter
being
overdue
,
a
convenient
way
of
counting
,
Otto
rose
late
,
from
a
maze
of
shallow
dreams
,
and
was
soon
dressed
,
wanting
to
get
out
of
his
room
.
As
the
clock
struck
one
he
slammed
his
door
and
descended
the
stairs
alertly
.
The
concierge
,
on
the
threshold
of
her
“
loge
,
”
peered
up
at
him
.
“
Good
morning
,
Madame
Leclerc
;
it’s
a
fine
day
,
”
said
Kreisler
,
in
his
heavy
French
,
his
cold
direct
gaze
incongruously
ornamented
by
a
cheerful
smile
.
“
Monsieur
has
got
up
late
this
morning
,
”
replied
the
concierge
,
with
very
faint
amiability
.
“
Yes
,
I
have
lost
all
sense
of
time
.
J’ai
perdu
le
temps
!
Ha
ha
!
”
He
grinned
mysteriously
.
The
watch
had
gone
the
way
of
the
dress
clothes
some
days
already
.
She
followed
him
slowly
along
the
passage
,
become
extremely
grave
.
“
Quel
original
!
quel
genre
!
”
With
a
look
of
perplexed
distrust
she
watched
him
down
the
street
.
—
This
German
good
humour
and
sudden
expansiveness
has
always
been
a
portentous
thing
to
French
people
.
Latin
races
are
as
scandalized
at
northern
amenities
,
the
badness
of
our
hypocrisies
or
manners
and
total
immodesty
displayed
,
as
the
average
man
of
Teutonic
race
is
with
the
shameful
perfection
of
and
ease
in
deceit
shown
by
the
French
neighbour
.
Kreisler
,
still
beneath
the
eye
of
the
concierge
,
with
his
rhythmic
martial
tread
,
approached
the
restaurant
.
A
few
steps
from
the
threshold
he
slowed
down
,
dragging
his
long
German
boots
,
which
acted
as
brakes
.
The
Restaurant
Lejeune
,
like
many
others
in
Paris
,
had
been
originally
a
clean
,
tranquil
little
creamery
,
consisting
of
a
small
shop
a
few
feet
either
way
.
—
Then
one
customer
after
another
had
become
more
gluttonous
.
He
had
asked
,
in
addition
to
his
daily
glass
of
milk
,
for
beefsteak
and
spinach
,
or
some
other
terrific
nourishment
,
which
the
decent
little
business
at
first
supplied
with
timid
protest
.
But
perpetual
scenes
of
sanguine
voracity
—
weeks
of
compliance
with
the
most
brutal
and
unbridled
appetites
of
man
—
gradually
brought
about
a
change
in
its
character
.
—
It
became
frankly
a
place
where
the
most
carnivorous
palate
might
be
palled
.
As
trade
grew
,
the
small
business
had
burrowed
backwards
into
the
house
—
the
victorious
flood
of
commerce
had
burst
through
walls
and
partitions
,
flung
down
doors
,
discovered
many
dingy
rooms
in
the
interior
that
it
instantly
filled
with
serried
cohorts
of
eaters
.
It
had
driven
out
terrified
families
,
had
hemmed
the
apoplectic
concierge
in
her
“
loge
,
”
it
had
broken
out
on
to
the
court
at
the
back
in
shed-like
structures
.
And
in
the
musty
bowels
of
the
house
it
had
established
a
broiling
,
luridly-lighted
,
roaring
den
,
inhabited
by
a
rushing
and
howling
band
of
slatternly
savages
.
—
The
chef’s
wife
sat
at
a
desk
immediately
fronting
the
entrance
door
.
When
a
diner
had
finished
,
adding
up
the
bill
himself
on
a
printed
slip
of
paper
,
he
paid
it
there
on
his
way
out
.
In
the
first
room
a
tunnel-like
and
ill-lit
recess
furnished
with
a
long
table
formed
a
cul-de-sac
to
the
left
.
Into
this
Kreisler
got
.
At
the
right-hand
side
the
passage
led
to
the
inner
rooms
.
A
mind
feeling
the
need
for
things
clean
and
clear
cut
would
have
been
better
content
,
although
demurring
,
with
Kreisler’s
military
morning
suit
,
slashed
with
thick
seams
;
carefully
cut
hair
,
short
behind
,
a
little
florid
and
bunched
on
the
top
;
his
German
high-crowned
bowler
hat
,
and
plain
cane
,
than
the
Charivari
of
the
Artfashion
and
uniform
of
The
Brush
in
those
about
him
,
chiefly
students
from
the
neighbouring
Art
schools
.
He
was
staring
at
the
bill
of
fare
when
some
one
took
the
seat
in
front
of
him
.
—
He
looked
up
,
put
down
the
card
.
A
young
woman
was
sitting
there
,
who
now
seemed
waiting
,
as
though
Kreisler
might
be
expected
,
after
a
rest
,
to
take
up
the
menu
again
and
go
on
reading
it
.
“
Have
you
done
with
—
?
May
I
—
?
”
At
the
sound
of
her
voice
he
moved
a
little
forward
,
and
in
handing
it
to
her
,
spoke
in
German
.
“
Danke
schön
,
”
she
said
,
smiling
with
a
German
nod
of
racial
recognition
.
He
ordered
his
soup
.
—
Usually
this
meal
passed
in
surly
impassible
inspection
of
his
neighbours
and
the
newspaper
.
Staring
at
and
through
the
figure
in
front
of
him
,
he
spent
several
minutes
.
He
seemed
making
up
his
mind
.
“
Monsieur
est
distrait
aujourd’hui
,
”
Jeanne
said
,
who
was
waiting
to
take
his
order
.
Contrary
to
custom
,
he
sought
for
some
appetizing
dish
,
to
change
the
routine
.
Appetite
had
not
woken
,
but
he
had
become
restless
before
the
usual
dull
programme
.
There
were
certain
tracts
of
menu
he
never
explored
.
His
eye
always
guided
him
at
once
to
the
familiar
place
where
the
“
plat
du
jour
”
was
to
be
found
,
and
the
alternative
sweets
heading
the
list
.
He
now
plunged
his
eye
down
the
long
line
of
unfamiliar
dishes
.
He
fixed
his
eye
on
Jeanne
with
indecision
too
,
and
picked
up
the
menu
.
“
My
vis-à-vis
is
pretty
!
”
he
thought
.
“
Lobster
salad
,
mayonnaise
,
and
a
pommes
à
l’huile
,
Jeanne
,
”
he
called
out
.
This
awakening
to
beauties
of
the
menu
brought
with
it
a
survey
of
his
neighbour
.
Vaguely
,
she
must
be
connected
with
lobster
salad
.
How
could
that
be
?
First
he
was
surprised
that
such
a
beautiful
girl
should
be
sitting
there
.
Beautiful
people
wander
dangerously
about
in
life
,
just
like
ordinary
folk
.
He
appeared
to
think
that
they
should
be
isolated
like
powder
magazines
or
lepers
.
This
man
could
never
leave
good
luck
alone
,
or
reflect
that
that
,
too
,
was
a
dangerous
vagrant
.
He
could
not
quite
grasp
that
it
was
a
general
good
luck
and
easily
explained
phenomenon
.
He
had
already
been
examined
by
the
beautiful
girl
.
Throwing
an
absent
far-away
look
into
her
eyes
,
she
let
them
wander
over
him
.
Afterwards
she
cast
them
down
into
her
soup
.
As
a
pickpocket
,
after
brisk
work
in
a
crowd
,
hurries
home
to
examine
and
evaluate
his
spoil
,
so
she
then
examined
collectedly
what
her
dreamy
eyes
had
noted
.
This
method
was
not
characteristic
of
her
,
but
of
the
category
of
useful
habits
bequeathed
us
,
each
sex
having
its
own
.
Perhaps
in
her
cloudy
soup
she
beheld
something
of
the
storm
and
shock
that
inhabited
her
neighbour
.
Without
preliminary
reflection
Kreisler
found
himself
addressing
her
,
a
little
abashed
when
he
suddenly
heard
his
voice
,
and
with
eerie
feeling
when
it
was
answered
.
“
From
your
hesitation
in
choosing
your
lunch
,
gnadiges
Fraulein
,
I
suppose
you
have
not
been
long
in
Paris
?
”
“
No
,
I
only
arrived
a
week
ago
,
from
America
.
”
She
settled
her
elbows
on
the
table
for
a
moment
.
“
Allow
me
to
give
you
some
idea
of
what
the
menu
of
this
restaurant
is
like
.
”
This
was
like
a
lesson
.
He
started
ponderously
.
“
At
the
head
of
each
list
you
will
find
simple
dishes
;
elemental
dishes
,
I
might
call
them
!
(
Elementalische
platter
!
)
This
is
the
rough
material
from
which
the
others
are
evolved
.
Each
list
is
like
an
oriental
dance
.
It
gets
wilder
as
it
goes
along
.
In
the
last
dish
you
can
be
sure
that
the
potatoes
will
taste
like
tomatoes
,
and
the
pork
like
a
sirloin
of
beef
.
”
“
So
!
”
laughed
the
young
woman
,
with
good
German
gutteral
.
“
I’m
glad
to
say
I
have
ordered
dishes
that
head
the
list
.
”
“
Garlic
is
an
enemy
usually
ambushed
in
gigot
.
—
That
is
his
only
quite
certain
haunt
.
”
“
Good
;
I
will
avoid
gigot
.
”
She
was
indulgent
to
his
clowning
,
and
drawled
a
little
in
sympathy
.
Between
language
and
feeding
,
Kreisler
sought
to
gain
the
young
lady’s
confidence
,
adhering
conventionally
to
the
progress
of
Creation
.
He
found
his
neighbour
inclined
to
slight
Nature
.
He
,
too
,
was
a
little
overlooked
;
in
waiving
of
conventions
being
blandly
forestalled
.
There
was
something
uncomfortable
about
all
this
.
He
must
brace
himself
He
realized
with
the
prophetic
logic
of
his
hysteria
,
racing
through
the
syllogisms
his
senses
divined
,
sensations
now
anachronisms
,
afterwards
recognized
as
they
burst
out
in
due
course
.
This
precocity
in
the
restaurant
took
him
to
the
solution
of
what
their
coming
together
might
mean
.
One
plethoric
impression
of
her
was
received
—
although
from
her
—
instalment
of
a
senseless
generosity
.
She
wore
a
heavy
black
burnous
,
very
voluminous
and
severe
;
a
large
ornamental
bag
was
on
the
chair
at
her
side
,
which
you
expected
to
contain
herbs
and
trinkets
,
paraphernalia
of
the
witch
,
rather
than
powder
,
lip-cream
,
and
secrets
.
Her
hat
was
immense
and
sinuous
;
generally
she
implied
an
egotistic
code
of
advanced
order
,
full
of
insolent
strategies
.
Other
women
in
the
restaurant
appeared
dragged
down
and
drained
of
vitality
by
their
clothes
beside
her
,
Kreisler
thought
,
although
she
wore
so
much
more
than
they
did
.
Her
large
square-shouldered
and
slim
body
swam
in
hers
like
a
duck
.
When
she
laughed
,
this
commotion
was
transmitted
to
her
body
as
though
sharp
,
sonorous
blows
had
been
struck
on
her
mouth
.
Her
lips
were
long
,
hard
bubbles
risen
in
the
blond
heavy
pool
of
her
face
,
ready
to
break
,
pitifully
and
gaily
.
Grown
forward
with
ape-like
intensity
,
they
refused
no
emotion
noisy
egress
if
it
got
so
far
.
Her
eyes
were
,
large
,
stubborn
,
and
reflective
,
brown
coming
out
of
blondness
.
Her
head
was
like
a
deep
white
egg
in
a
tobacco-coloured
nest
.
She
exuded
personality
with
alarming
and
disgusting
intensity
.
It
was
an
ostentation
similar
to
diamonds
and
gold
watch-chains
.
Kreisler
felt
himself
in
the
midst
of
a
cascade
,
a
hot
cascade
.
She
seemed
to
feel
herself
a
travelling
circus
of
tricks
and
wonders
,
beauty
shows
and
monstrosities
.
Quite
used
to
being
looked
at
,
she
had
become
resigned
to
inability
to
avoid
performing
.
She
possessed
the
geniality
of
public
character
and
the
genius
of
sex
.
Kreisler
was
a
strange
loafer
talked
to
easily
,
without
any
consciousness
of
condescension
.
Just
as
he
was
most
out
of
his
depth
,
Kreisler
had
run
up
against
all
this
!
It
all
had
the
mellowness
of
sunset
,
and
boomed
in
this
small
alcove
infernally
.
—
By
the
fact
of
sex
this
figure
seems
to
offer
him
a
traditional
substantiality
.
He
clutches
at
it
eagerly
as
at
something
familiar
and
unmetamorphosed
—
and
somewhat
unmetamorphosable
—
by
Fate
.
In
the
first
flush
he
revolves
with
certain
skill
in
this
new
champ
de
manoeuvres
,
executing
one
or
two
very
pretty
gymnastics
.
He
has
only
to
flatter
himself
on
the
excellent
progress
,
really
,
that
he
makes
.
_
“
My
name
is
Anastasya
,
”
she
says
irrelevantly
to
him
,
as
if
she
had
stupidly
forgotten
,
before
,
this
little
detail
.
Whew
!
his
poor
ragged
eyelashes
flutter
,
a
cloud
of
astonishment
passes
grotesquely
over
his
face
;
like
the
clown
of
the
piece
,
he
looks
as
though
he
were
about
to
rub
his
head
,
click
his
tongue
,
and
give
his
nearest
man-neighbour
an
enthusiastic
kick
.
“
Anastasya
!
”
It
will
be
“
Tasy
”
soon
!
He
outwardly
becomes
more
solemn
than
ever
,
like
a
merchant
who
sees
an
incredible
dupe
before
him
,
and
would
in
some
way
conceal
his
exhilaration
.
But
he
calls
her
carefully
at
regular
intervals
,
Anastasya
!
“
I
suppose
you’ve
come
here
to
work
?
”
he
asked
.
“
I
don’t
want
to
work
any
more
than
is
absolutely
necessary
.
I
am
overworked
as
it
is
,
by
living
merely
.
”
He
could
well
believe
it
;
she
must
do
some
overtime
!
“
If
it
were
not
for
my
excellent
constitution
—
—
”
This
was
evidently
,
Kreisler
felt
,
the
moment
to
touch
on
the
heaviness
of
life’s
burden
;
as
her
expression
was
perfectly
even
and
non-committal
.
“
Ah
,
yes
,
”
he
sighed
heavily
,
one
side
of
the
menu
rising
gustily
and
relapsing
,
“
Life
gives
one
work
enough
.
”
She
looked
at
him
and
reflected
,
“
What
work
does
‘
cet
oiseau-la
’
perform
?
”
“
Have
you
many
friends
here
,
Anastasya
?
”
“
None
.
”
—
She
laughed
with
ostentatious
satisfaction
at
his
funniness
.
“
I
came
here
,
as
a
matter
of
fact
,
to
be
alone
.
I
want
to
see
only
fresh
people
.
I
have
had
all
the
gusto
and
illusion
I
had
lent
all
round
steadily
handed
back
to
me
where
I
come
from
.
‘
I
beg
your
pardon
!
Your
property
,
ma’am
!
’
The
result
is
that
I
am
amazingly
rich
!
—
I
am
tremendously
rich
!
”
She
opened
her
eyes
wide
;
Kreisler
pricked
up
his
ears
and
wondered
if
this
were
to
be
taken
in
another
sense
.
He
cast
down
his
eyes
respectfully
.
“
I
have
the
sort
of
feeling
that
I
have
enough
to
go
all
round
.
—
But
perhaps
I
haven’t
!
”
Kreisler
lingered
over
her
first
observation
:
“
wanted
to
be
alone
.
”
The
indirect
compliment
conveyed
(
and
he
felt
,
when
it
was
said
,
that
he
was
somewhere
near
the
frontier
,
surely
,
of
a
German
confidence
)
was
rather
mitigated
by
what
followed
.
The
“
having
enough
to
go
all
round
”
;
that
was
very
universal
,
and
included
him
too
easily
in
its
sweep
.
“
Do
you
want
to
go
all
round
?
”
he
asked
,
with
heavy
plagiarism
of
her
accent
,
and
solemn
sentimental
face
.
“
I
don’t
want
to
be
mean
.
”
His
eyes
struggled
with
hers
;
he
was
easily
thrown
.
But
she
had
the
regulation
feminine
foible
of
charity
he
reassured
himself
,
by
her
answer
.
Kreisler’s
one
great
optimism
was
a
belief
in
the
efficacy
of
women
.
—
You
did
not
deliberately
go
there
—
at
least
,
he
usually
did
not
—
unless
you
were
in
straits
.
But
there
they
were
all
the
time
,
vast
dumping-ground
for
sorrow
and
affliction
—
a
world-dimensioned
pawnshop
,
in
which
you
could
deposit
not
your
dress-suit
or
garments
,
but
yourself
,
temporarily
,
in
exchange
for
the
gold
of
the
human
heart
.
Their
hope
consisted
,
no
doubt
,
in
the
reasonable
uncertainty
as
to
whether
you
would
ever
be
able
to
take
yourself
out
again
.
Kreisler
had
got
in
and
out
again
almost
as
many
times
as
his
“
smokkin
”
in
its
pawnshop
.
Women
were
Art
or
expression
for
him
in
this
way
.
They
were
Man’s
Theatre
.
The
Tragedies
played
there
purged
you
periodically
of
the
too
violent
accumulations
of
desperate
life
.
There
its
burden
of
laughter
as
well
might
be
exploded
.
—
Woman
was
a
confirmed
Schauspielerin
or
play-actress
;
but
coming
there
for
illusion
he
was
willingly
moved
.
Much
might
be
noticed
in
common
between
him
and
the
drunken
navvy
on
Saturday
night
,
who
comes
home
bellicosely
towards
his
wife
,
blows
raining
gladly
at
the
mere
sight
of
her
.
He
may
get
practically
all
the
excitement
and
exertion
he
violently
needs
,
without
any
of
the
sinister
chances
a
more
real
encounter
would
present
.
His
wife
is
“
his
little
bit
”
of
unreality
,
or
play
.
He
can
declaim
,
be
outrageous
to
the
top
of
his
bent
;
can
be
maudlin
too
;
all
conducted
almost
as
he
pleases
,
with
none
of
the
shocks
of
the
real
and
too
tragic
world
.
In
this
manner
woman
was
the
aesthetic
element
in
Kreisler’s
life
.
Love
,
too
,
always
meant
unhappy
love
for
him
,
with
its
misunderstandings
and
wistful
separations
.
He
issued
forth
solemnly
and
the
better
for
it
.
He
approached
a
love
affair
as
the
deutscher
Student
engages
in
a
student’s
duel
—
no
vital
part
exposed
,
but
where
something
spiritually
of
about
the
importance
of
a
nose
might
be
lost
;
at
least
stoically
certain
that
blood
would
be
drawn
.
A
casual
observer
of
the
progress
of
Otto
Kreisler’s
life
might
have
said
that
the
chief
events
,
the
crises
,
consisted
of
his
love
affairs
—
such
as
that
unfortunate
one
with
his
present
stepmother
.
—
But
,
in
the
light
of
a
careful
analysis
,
this
would
have
been
an
inversion
of
the
truth
.
When
the
events
of
his
life
became
too
unwieldy
or
overwhelming
,
he
converted
them
into
love
,
as
he
might
have
done
,
with
specialized
talent
,
into
some
art
or
other
.
He
was
a
sculptor
—
a
German
sculptor
of
a
mock-realistic
and
degenerate
school
—
in
the
strange
sweethearting
of
the
“
free-life
.
”
The
two
or
three
women
he
had
left
about
the
world
in
this
way
—
although
perhaps
those
symbolic
statues
had
grown
rather
characterless
in
Time’s
weather
and
perhaps
lumpish
—
were
monuments
of
his
perplexities
.
After
weeks
of
growing
estrangement
,
he
would
sever
all
relations
suddenly
one
day
—
usually
on
some
indigestible
epigram
,
that
worried
the
poor
girl
for
the
rest
of
her
days
.
Being
no
adept
in
the
science
of
his
heart
,
there
remained
a
good
deal
of
mystery
for
him
about
the
appearance
of
“
Woman
”
in
his
life
.
He
felt
that
she
was
always
connected
with
its
important
periods
;
he
thought
,
superstitiously
,
that
his
existence
was
in
some
way
implicated
with
dem
Weib
.
She
was
,
in
any
case
,
for
him
,
a
stormy
petrel
.
He
would
be
killed
by
a
woman
,
he
sometimes
thought
.
This
superstition
had
flourished
with
him
before
he
had
yet
found
for
it
much
raison
d'etre
.
—
A
serious
duel
having
been
decided
on
in
his
early
student
days
,
this
reflection
,
“
I
am
quite
safe
;
it
is
not
thus
that
I
shall
die
,
”
had
given
him
a
grisly
coolness
.
His
opponent
nearly
got
himself
killed
,
because
he
,
for
his
part
,
had
no
hard
and
fast
theory
about
the
sort
of
death
in
store
for
him
.
This
account
,
to
be
brought
up
to
date
,
must
be
modified
.
Since
knowing
Volker
,
no
woman
had
come
conspicuously
to
disturb
him
.
Volker
had
been
the
ideal
element
of
balance
in
his
life
.
But
between
this
state
—
the
minimum
degree
of
friendship
possible
—
a
distant
and
soothing
companionship
—
and
more
serious
states
,
there
was
no
possible
foothold
for
Kreisler
.
Friendship
usually
dates
from
unformed
years
.
But
Love
still
remains
in
full
swing
long
after
Kreisler’s
age
at
that
time
;
a
sort
of
spurious
and
intense
friendship
.
An
uncomfortable
thing
happened
now
.
He
realized
suddenly
all
the
possibilities
of
this
chance
acquaintanceship
,
plainly
and
cinematographically
.
—
He
was
seized
with
panic
.
—
He
must
make
a
good
impression
.
—
From
that
moment
he
ran
the
risk
of
doing
the
reverse
.
For
he
was
unaccustomed
to
act
with
calculation
.
—
There
he
was
like
some
individual
who
had
gone
nonchalantly
into
the
presence
of
a
prince
;
who
—
just
in
the
middle
of
the
audience
—
when
he
would
have
been
getting
over
his
first
’
embarrassment
—
is
overcome
with
a
tardy
confusion
,
the
imagination
in
some
way
giving
a
jump
.
It
is
the
imagination
,
repressed
and
as
it
were
slighted
,
revenging
itself
.
Casting
about
desperately
for
means
of
handling
the
situation
,
he
remembered
she
had
spoken
of
getting
a
dog
to
guide
her
.
—
What
had
she
meant
?
Anyway
,
he
grasped
at
the
dog
.
He
could
regain
possession
of
himself
in
romantic
stimulus
of
this
figure
.
He
would
be
her
dog
!
Lie
at
her
feet
!
He
would
fill
with
a
merely
animal
warmth
and
vivacity
the
void
that
must
exist
in
her
spirit
.
His
imagination
,
flattered
,
came
in
as
ally
.
This
,
too
,
exempted
him
from
the
necessity
of
being
victorious
.
All
he
asked
was
to
be
her
dog
!
—
only
wished
to
impress
her
as
a
dog
!
Even
if
she
did
not
feel
much
sympathy
for
him
now
,
no
matter
.
—
He
would
humbly
follow
her
up
,
put
himself
at
her
disposal
,
not
be
exigent
.
It
was
a
role
difficult
to
refuse
him
.
Sense
of
security
the
humility
of
this
resolution
brought
about
caused
him
to
regain
a
self-possession
.
Only
it
imposed
the
condition
,
naturally
,
of
remaining
a
dog
.
—
Every
time
he
felt
his
retiring
humbleness
giving
place
to
another
sensation
,
he
anew
felt
qualms
.
“
Do
you
intend
studying
here
,
Fraulein
?
”
he
asked
,
with
a
new
deference
in
his
tone
—
hardly
a
canine
whine
,
but
deep
servient
bass
of
the
faithful
St.
Bernard
.
—
She
seemed
to
have
noticed
this
something
new
already
,
and
Kreisler
on
all
fours
evidently
astonished
her
.
She
was
inclined
to
stroke
him
,
but
at
the
same
time
to
ask
what
was
the
matter
.
“
A
year
or
two
ago
I
escaped
from
a
bourgeois
household
in
an
original
manner
.
Shall
I
tell
you
about
that
,
Otto
?
”
Confidence
for
confidence
,
he
had
told
Anastasya
that
he
was
Otto
.
“
Please
!
”
he
said
,
with
reverent
eagerness
.
“
Well
,
the
bourgeois
household
was
that
of
my
father
and
mother
.
—
I
got
out
of
it
in
this
way
.
—
I
made
myself
such
a
nuisance
to
my
family
that
they
had
to
get
rid
of
me
.
”
Otto
flung
himself
back
in
his
chair
with
dramatic
incredulity
.
“
It
was
quite
simple
.
—
I
began
scribbling
and
scratching
all
over
the
place
—
on
blotting-pads
,
margins
of
newspapers
,
on
my
father’s
correspondence
,
the
wall-paper
.
I
inundated
my
home
with
troublesome
images
.
It
was
like
vermin
;
my
multitude
of
little
figures
swarmed
everywhere
.
They
simply
had
to
get
rid
of
me
.
—
I
said
nothing
.
I
pretended
to
be
possessed
.
I
got
a
girl-friend
in
Munich
to
write
enthusiastic
letters
:
her
people
lived
quite
near
us
when
we
were
in
Germany
.
”
Kreisler
looked
at
her
rather
dully
,
and
smiled
solemnly
,
with
really
something
of
the
misplaced
and
unaccountable
pathos
and
protest
of
dogs
(
although
still
with
a
slavish
wagging
of
the
tail
)
at
some
pleasantry
of
the
master
.
—
Her
expansiveness
,
as
a
fact
,
embarrassed
him
very
much
at
this
point
.
He
was
divided
between
his
inclination
to
respond
to
it
in
some
way
,
and
mature
their
acquaintance
at
once
,
and
his
determination
to
be
merely
a
dog
.
Yet
he
felt
that
her
familiarity
,
if
adopted
,
in
turn
,
by
him
,
might
not
be
the
right
thing
.
And
yet
,
as
it
was
,
he
would
appear
to
be
holding
back
,
would
seem
“
reserved
”
in
his
mere
humility
.
He
was
a
very
perplexed
dog
for
some
time
.
He
remained
dumb
,
smiling
up
at
her
with
appealing
pathos
from
time
to
time
.
She
wondered
if
he
had
indigestion
or
what
.
He
made
several
desperate
dog-like
sorties
.
But
she
saw
he
was
clearly
in
difficulties
.
—
As
her
lunch
was
finished
,
she
called
the
waitress
.
—
Her
bill
was
made
out
,
Kreisler
scowling
at
her
all
the
while
.
Her
attitude
,
suggesting
,
“
Yes
,
you
are
funny
,
you
know
you
are
.
I’d
better
go
,
then
you’ll
be
better
,
”
was
responded
to
by
him
with
the
same
offended
dignity
as
the
drunken
man
displays
when
his
unsteadiness
is
observed
.
He
repudiated
sulkily
the
suggestion
that
there
was
anything
wrong
.
Then
he
grew
angry
with
her
.
His
nervousness
was
her
doing
.
—
All
was
lost
.
He
was
very
near
some
violence
.
—
But
when
she
stood
up
,
he
was
so
impressed
that
he
sat
gaping
after
her
.
He
remained
cramped
in
his
place
until
she
had
left
the
restaurant
.
He
moved
in
his
chair
stiffly
;
he
ached
as
though
he
had
been
sitting
for
his
portrait
.
The
analogy
struck
him
.
Had
he
been
sitting
for
his
portrait
?
These
people
dining
near
him
as
though
they
had
suddenly
appeared
out
of
the
ground
—
he
was
embarrassed
at
finding
himself
alone
with
them
.
They
knew
all
that
had
happened
,
but
were
pretending
not
to
.
He
had
not
noticed
that
they
were
there
all
round
him
,
overhearing
and
looking
on
.
It
was
as
though
he
had
been
talking
to
himself
,
and
had
just
become
aware
of
it
.
A
tide
of
magnetism
had
flowed
away
,
leaving
him
bare
and
stranded
.
—
He
cursed
his
stupidity
.
He
then
stopped
this
empty
mental
racket
abruptly
.
—
Only
a
few
minutes
had
passed
since
Anastasya’s
departure
.
He
seized
hat
and
stick
and
hurried
up
to
the
desk
.
—
Once
outside
he
gave
his
glasses
an
adjusting
pull
,
gazed
up
and
down
the
boulevard
in
all
directions
.
No
sign
of
the
tall
figure
he
was
pursuing
.
He
started
off
,
partly
at
a
run
,
in
the
likeliest
direction
.
—
At
the
Café
Berne
corner
,
where
several
new
vistas
opened
,
there
she
was
,
some
way
down
the
Boulevard
du
Paradis
,
on
the
edge
of
the
side-walk
,
waiting
till
a
tram
had
passed
to
cross
.
Having
seen
so
much
,
should
he
not
go
back
?
For
there
was
nothing
else
to
be
done
.
To
catch
her
up
and
force
himself
on
her
could
have
only
one
result
,
he
thought
.
He
might
,
perhaps
,
follow
a
little
way
.
That
was
being
done
already
.
They
went
on
for
some
hundred
yards
,
she
a
good
distance
ahead
on
the
other
side
of
the
boulevard
.
Walking
for
a
moment
,
his
eyes
on
the
ground
,
he
looked
up
and
caught
her
head
pivoting
slowly
round
.
She
no
doubt
had
seen
him
.
—
With
shame
he
realized
what
was
happening
.
—
“
Here
I
am
following
this
girl
as
though
we
were
strangers
!
This
is
what
I
began
in
the
restaurant
.
I
am
putting
the
final
touch
by
following
her
in
the
street
,
as
though
we
had
never
spoken
!
”
Either
he
must
catch
her
up
at
once
or
vanish
.
He
promptly
turned
up
a
side
street
,
and
circled
round
to
his
starting-point
.
CHAPTER
VI
His
nature
would
probably
have
sought
to
fill
up
the
wide
,
shallow
gap
left
by
Ernst
and
earlier
ties
either
by
another
Ernst
or
,
more
likely
,
a
variety
of
matter
.
It
would
have
been
only
a
temporary
stopping
.
Now
a
gold
crown
,
regal
person
,
had
fallen
on
the
hollow
.
But
his
nature
was
an
effete
machine
and
incapable
of
working
on
all
that
glory
.
Desperate
at
dullness
,
he
betook
himself
to
self-lashings
.
He
would
respond
to
utmost
of
weakened
ability
;
with
certainty
of
failure
,
egotistically
,
but
not
at
a
standstill
.
Kreisler
was
a
German
who
,
by
all
rights
and
rules
of
the
national
temperament
,
should
have
committed
suicide
some
weeks
earlier
.
Anastasya
became
an
ideé
fixe
.
He
was
a
machine
,
dead
weight
of
old
iron
,
that
,
started
,
must
go
dashing
on
.
His
little-dog
simile
was
veritably
carried
out
in
his
scourings
of
the
neighbourhood
,
in
hope
of
crossing
Anastasya
.
But
these
“
courses
”
gave
no
result
.
Benignant
apparition
,
his
roughness
had
scared
it
away
,
and
off
the
earth
,
for
ever
.
He
entered
,
even
infested
,
all
painting
schools
of
the
quarter
.
He
rapidly
pursued
distant
equivocal
figures
in
streets
and
gardens
.
Each
rendered
up
its
little
quota
of
malignant
hope
,
then
presented
him
with
a
face
of
monotonous
strangeness
.
It
was
Saturday
when
Kreisler
was
found
preparing
to
take
his
valise
to
the
Mont
de
Piété
.
On
the
preceding
evening
he
had
paid
one
of
his
unaccountable
calls
on
Fraulein
Lipmann
,
the
first
for
some
time
.
He
had
a
good
reason
for
once
.
This
salon
was
the
only
place
of
comparatively
public
assembly
in
the
quarter
he
had
not
visited
.
Entering
with
his
usual
slight
air
of
mystification
,
he
bent
to
kiss
Fraulein
Lipmann’s
hand
in
a
vaguely
significant
fashion
.
The
blank
reciprocal
indifference
of
these
calls
was
thus
relieved
.
It
awoke
a
vague
curiosity
on
one
side
,
a
little
playful
satisfaction
on
the
other
.
This
might
even
have
ripened
into
a
sort
of
understanding
and
bonhomie
.
He
did
not
pursue
it
or
develop
the
role
.
After
a
half-hour
of
musing
on
the
brink
of
a
stream
of
conversation
and
then
music
,
he
suddenly
recognized
something
,
flotsam
bobbing
past
.
It
had
bobbed
past
before
several
times
.
He
gradually
became
steadily
aware
of
it
.
A
dance
at
the
Bonnington
Club
,
that
would
take
place
the
following
evening
,
was
the
event
that
arrested
him
.
Why
was
this
familiar
?
Anastasya
?
Anastasya
had
spoken
of
it
.
That
was
all
he
could
remember
.
Would
she
be
there
?
He
at
once
,
and
as
though
he
had
come
there
to
do
so
,
fished
delicately
in
this
same
stream
of
tepid
,
chatter
for
an
invitation
to
the
dance
.
Fraulein
Lipmann
,
the
fish
he
particularly
angled
,
for
,
was
backward
.
They
did
not
seem
to
want
him
very
much
at
the
dance
.
Nevertheless
,
after
an
hour
of
indefatigable
manoeuvring
,
the
exertion
of
many
powers
seldom
put
forth
in
that
salon
,
he
secured
the
form
,
not
the
spirit
,
of
an
invitation
.
Kreisler
saw
,
in
his
alarmed
fancy
,
Anastasya
becoming
welded
into
this
gregarious
female
personality
.
The
energy
and
resource
of
the
Devil
himself
would
be
required
to
extricate
her
.
She
must
be
held
back
from
this
slough
for
the
moment
he
needed
.
Was
it
too
late
to
intercept
her
?
But
he
felt
he
might
do
it
.
The
eyes
of
these
ladies
,
so
far
dull
with
indifference
,
would
open
.
He
would
be
seen
as
a
being
with
a
new
mysterious
function
.
He
felt
that
Volker’s
absence
from
their
reunions
was
due
to
his
not
wishing
to
meet
him
.
They
,
too
,
must
see
that
.
Now
the
enigmatical
and
silent
doggedness
of
these
visits
would
seem
explained
.
He
would
appear
like
some
unwieldy
,
deliberate
parasite
got
on
to
their
indivisible
body
.
The
invitation
given
,
he
made
haste
to
go
.
If
he
stayed
much
longer
it
would
be
overlaid
with
all
sorts
of
offensive
and
effacing
matter
,
and
be
hardly
fit
for
use
.
A
defiant
and
jeering
look
on
his
face
,
he
withdrew
with
an
“
Until
to-morrow
.
”
It
was
at
this
point
that
the
“
smokkin
”
came
into
prominence
.
CHAPTER
VII
“
Impossible
,
my
poor
Kreisler
!
Five
francs
.
No
more
!
”
Suzanne
stood
at
attention
before
him
in
the
hall
of
the
Mont
de
Piété
.
If
she
had
been
inexorable
before
,
she
was
now
doubly
so
beneath
the
eyes
of
the
veritable
officials
.
The
sight
of
them
,
and
the
half-official
status
of
go-between
and
interpreter
,
urged
her
to
