CHAPTER VI
Already before a considerable pile of saucers, representing his evening’s menu of drink, Kreisler sat quite still, his eyes very bright, smiling to himself. Tarr did not at once ask him “what Kreisler meant.” “Kreisler” looked as though it meant something a little different on that particular evening. He acknowledged Tarr’s arrival slightly, seeming to include him in his reverie. It was a sort of silent invitation to “come inside.” Then they sat without speaking, an unpleasant atmosphere of police-court romance for Tarr.
Tarr still kept his retrospective luxury before him, as it maintained the Kreisler side of the business in a desired perspective. Anastasya, whom he had seen that evening, had come as a diversion. He got back, with her, into the sphere of “real” things again, not fanciful retrospective ones.
This would be a reply to Kreisler (an Anastasya for your Otto) and restore the balance. At present they were existing on a sort of three-legged affair. This inclusion of the fourth party would make things solid and less precarious again.
To maintain his rôle of intermediary and go on momentarily keeping his eye on Kreisler’s threatening figure, he must himself be definitely engaged in a new direction, beyond the suspicion of hankerings after his old love.
Did he wish to enter into a new attachment with Anastasya? That could be decided later. He would make the first steps, retain her if possible, and out of this, charming expedient pleasant things might come. He was compelled to requisition her for the moment. She might be regarded as a travelling companion. Thrown together inevitably on a stage-coach journey, anything might happen. Delight, adventure, and amusement was always achieved: as his itch to see his humorous concubine is turned into a “retrospective luxury,” visits to the Lipmann circle, mysterious relationship with Kreisler. This, in its turn, suddenly turning rather prickly and perplexing, he now, through the medium of a beautiful woman, turns it back again into fun; not serious enough for Beauty, destined, therefore, rather for her subtle, rough, satiric sister.
Once Anastasya had been relegated to her place rather of expediency, he could think of her with more freedom. He looked forward with gusto to his work in her direction.
There would be no harm in anticipating a little. She might at once be brought on to the boards, as though the affair were already settled and ripe for publicity.
“Do you know a girl called Anastasya Vasek? She is to be found at your German friend’s, Fräulein Lipmann’s.”
“Yes, I know her,” said Kreisler, looking up with unwavering blankness. His introspective smile vanished. “What then?” was implied in his look. What a fellow this Englishman was, to be sure! What was he after now? Anastasya was a much more delicate point with him than Bertha.
“I’ve just got to know her. She’s a charming girl, isn’t she?” Tarr could not quite make out Kreisler’s reception of these innocent remarks.
“Is she?” Kreisler looked at him almost with astonishment.
There is a point in life beyond which we must hold people responsible for accidents and their unconsciousness. Innocence then loses its meaning. Beyond this point Tarr had transgressed. Whether Tarr knew anything or not, the essential reality was that Tarr was beginning to get at him with Anastasya, just having been for a week a problematic and officious figure suddenly appearing between him and his prey of the Rue Martine. The habit of civilized restraint had kept Kreisler baffled and passive for a week. Annoyance at Bertha’s access of self-will had been converted into angry interest in his new self-elected boon companion. He had been preparing lately, though, to borrow money from him. Anastasya brought on the scene was another kettle of fish.
What did this Tarr’s proceedings say? They said: “Bertha Lunken will have nothing more to do with you. You mustn’t annoy her any more. In the meantime, I am getting on very well with Anastasya Vasek!”
A question that presented itself to Kreisler was whether Tarr had heard the whole story of his assault on his late fiancée? The possibility of his knowing this increased his contempt for Tarr.
Kreisler was disarmed for the moment by the remembrance of Anastasya. By the person he had regarded as peculiarly accessible becoming paradoxically out of his reach, the most distant and inaccessible—such as Anastasya—seemed to be drawn a little nearer.
“Is Fräulein Vasek working in a studio?” he asked.
“She’s at Serrano’s, I think,” Tarr told him.
“So you go to Fräulein Lipmann’s?”
“Sometimes.”
Kreisler reflected a little.
“I should like to see her again.”
Tarr began to scent another mysterious muddle. Would he never be free of Herr Kreisler? Perhaps he was going to be followed and rivalled in this too? With deliberate meditation Kreisler appeared to be coming round to Tarr’s opinion. For his part too, Fräulein Vasek was a nice young lady. “Yes, she is nice!” His manner began to suggest that Tarr had put her forward as a substitute for Bertha!
For the rest of the evening Kreisler insisted upon talking about Anastasya. How was she dressed? Had she mentioned him? etc. Tarr felt inclined to say, “But you don’t understand! She is for me. Bertha is your young lady now!” Only in reflecting on this possible remark, he was confronted with the obvious reply, “But is Bertha my young lady?”