Tarr was amused now at his position of dummy. He enjoyed crossing the road under Kreisler’s eye, in his service. The evening’s twists were very comic.
Imaginative people are easy to convince of the naturalness of anything; and the Russian was the prophet of the necessity of this affair. Stephen was not convinced; but he soon made up his mind that Bitzenko was either Kreisler’s accomplice in some scheme or at least had made up his mind that there could only be one ending to the matter.
He went back to the café and, sitting down beside Soltyk again, said:
“I’m afraid I was mistaken, Louis. Your German means to fight you or else he has some little game. If you’re sure there’s nothing in it, you must tell him and his little Russian to go to the devil.”
While Stephen Staretsky had been away one of Soltyk’s friends told them about Bitzenko.
“Don’t you know him, Louis? Maiewski used to know him. He lives in one of those big studios, Rue Ulm, near the Invalides. Il a du pognon, il parait.”
Soltyk began patting his cheek gently. But his vanity ached steadily inside.
“What is his name?” asked another.
“Bitzenko. He once had a duel and blinded a man.”