Tarr (Oxford World's Classics) (40 page)

‘That, sir’ he seemed to assert ‘is not the way to treat a gentleman. That, too, is an insult no gentleman will support.’ He pointed towards the door. ‘Herr Kreisler, as you know, cannot enter the Café; he is waiting there for your reply. He has been turned out like a drunken workman.’

The Russian was as grave as he was collected, and stood in front of the other principal in this affair, who had sat down again now, with the evident determination to get a different reply. The talking went on for
some time. Then he turned towards Tarr, and, seeing him watching the discussion, came towards him, raising his hat. He said in french:

‘You know Herr Kreisler, I believe. Will you consent to act for him with me, in an affair that unfortunately—? If you would step over here, I will put you “au courant.” ’

‘I’m afraid I cannot act for Herr Kreisler, as I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning’ Tarr replied.

But the Russian displayed the same persistence with him as he had already observed him to be capable of with the other people.

At last Tarr said ‘I don’t mind acting temporarily—for a few minutes, now, until you can find somebody else. Will that do? But you must understand that I cannot delay my journey—you must find a substitute at once.’

The Russian explained with business-like gusto and precision, having drawn him towards the door (seemingly to cut off a possible retreat of the enemy), that it was a grave affair. Kreisler’s honour was compromised. His friend Otto Kreisler had been provoked in an extraordinary fashion. Stories had been circulated concerning him, affecting seriously the sentiments of a girl he knew regarding him; put about with that object by another gentleman, also acquainted with this particular girl. The Russian luxuriated in his emphasis upon this point. Tarr suggested that they should settle the matter at once, as he had not very much time. He was puzzled. Surely the girl mentioned must be Bertha? If so, had Bertha been telling more fibs? Was the Kreisler mystery after all to her discredit? Perhaps he was now in the presence of
another
rival, existing unknown to him.

In this heroic, very solemnly official atmosphere of ladies’ ‘honour’ and the ‘honour’ of gentlemen, that the little Russian was rapidly creating, Tarr unwillingly remained for some time. Noisy bursts of protest from other members of the opposing party met the Russian’s points. ‘It is all nonsense’ they shouted; ‘there could be no question of honour here!—Kreisler was a quarrelsome German. Kreisler was drunk!’

Tarr liked his own farces: but to be drawn into the service of one of Kreisler’s was a humiliation. Kreisler, without taking any notice of him, had turned the tables in that matter.

The discussion was interminable. They were now speaking French: the entire Café appeared to be participating. Several times
the principal on the other side attempted to go, evidently very cross at the noisy scene. Then Anastasya’s name was mentioned.

‘You and Herr Kreisler’ the Russian was saying patiently and distinctly ‘exchanged blows, I understand, this afternoon, before this lady. This was as a result of my friend Herr Kreisler demanding certain explanations from you which you refused to afford him. These explanations had reference to certain stories you are supposed to have circulated as regards him.’

‘Circulated—as regards—that chimpanzee you are conducting about?—what does the ape mean! What does he mean!’

‘If you please! By being abusive you cannot escape. You are accused by my friend of having at his expense—.’

‘Expense? Does he want money?’

‘If you please! Allow me! I am sorry! You cannot buy off Herr Kreisler; but he might be willing for you to pay a substitute if you find it—inconvenient—?’

‘I find you, bearded idiot—!’

‘We can settle all that afterwards sir. You understand me? I shall be quite ready! But at present it is the affair between you and Herr Kreisler—.’

In brief, it was the hapless Soltyk that Kreisler had eventually run to earth, and had just now publicly smacked, having some hours before smacked him privately.

K
REISLER’S
afternoon encounter with Anastasya and Soltyk had resembled Tarr’s meeting with him and Bertha. Kreisler had seen Anastasya and his new Café friend one day from his window: his reference to possible nose-pulling was accounted for by this. The next day he had felt rather like looking Anastasya up again, his interest revived somewhat. With this object, he had patrolled the neighbourhood. About four o’clock, having just bought some cigarettes at the ‘Berne,’ he was standing outside considering a walk in the Luxembourg, when Fräulein Vasek appeared. Soltyk was with her. He went over at once. With urbane timidity, as though they had been alone, he offered his hand. She looked at Soltyk, smiling: but she seemed quite pleased to see Kreisler. They began strolling along
the Boulevard, Soltyk showing every sign of impatience. She then stopped.

‘Mr. Soltyk and I were just going to have the “five o’clock”
*
somewhere’ she said.

Soltyk looked pointedly down the Boulevard, as though that had been an improper piece of information to communicate to Kreisler.

‘If you consent to my accompanying you, Fräulein, it would give me the greatest pleasure to remain in your company a little longer.’

She laughed. ‘Where were we going, Louis? Didn’t you say there was a place near here?’

‘There’s one over there. But I’m afraid, Fräulein Vasek, I must leave you.—I have—.’

‘Oh must you? I’m sorry.’

Soltyk had appeared mortified. He did not go, looking at her doubtfully and then at Kreisler, with an incredulous smile, suggesting that her joke was in bad taste and that she had better bring it to a conclusion. At this point Kreisler had addressed him.

‘I said nothing, sir, when a moment ago you failed to return my salute. I understand you were going to have tea with Fräulein Vasek. Now you deprive her suddenly of the pleasure of your company. So there is no further doubt on a certain point.—Will you tell me at once and clearly what objection you have to me?’

‘I don’t wish to discuss things of that sort before this lady, sir.’

‘Will you then name a place where they may be discussed? I will then take my leave?’

‘I see no necessity to discuss anything with you.’

‘Ah, you see none—I do. And perhaps it is as well that Fräulein Vasek should hear. Will you explain to me, sir, how it is that you have been putting stories about having reference to me, and to my discredit, calculated to prejudice my interests—since this lady no doubt has heard some of your lies, it would be of advantage that you take them back at once, or else explain yourself.’

Before Kreisler had finished, Soltyk said to Anastasya ‘I had better go at once, to save you this—.’ Then he turned to Kreisler:

‘I should have thought you would have had sufficient decency left—.’

‘Decency, liar? Decency,
lying swine
? Decency—? What do you mean?’ said Kreisler, loudly, in crescendo.

Then he crossed quickly over in front of Anastasya and smacked Soltyk smartly first upon one cheek and then upon the other.

‘There is
liar
branded on both your cheeks! And if you should not wish to have
coward
added to your other epithets, you or your friends will find me at the following address before the day is out.’ Kreisler produced a card and handed it to Soltyk.

Soltyk stared at him, paralysed for the moment at this outrage, his eyes burning with the sweet intensity Tarr had noticed later that day, taking in the incredible fact. He got the fact at last. He lifted his cane and brought it down on Kreisler’s shoulders. Kreisler snatched it from him, broke it in three and flung it in his face, one of the splinters making a little gash in his under-lip.

Anastasya had turned round and begun walking away, leaving them alone. Kreisler also waited no longer, but marched rapidly off in the other direction. Soltyk caught Anastasya up, and apologized for what had occurred, dabbing his lip with a handkerchief.

After this Kreisler felt himself fairly launched upon a most satisfactory little affair. Many an old talent would come in useful. He acted for the rest of the day with a gusto of professional interest. For an hour or two he stayed at home. No one came, however, to call him to account. Leaving word that he would soon be back, he went in search of a man to act for him. He remembered a Russian he had had some talk with at the Atelier, and whom he had once visited. He was celebrated for having had a duel and blinded his opponent.
*
His instinct now led him to this individual, who has already been seen in action: his qualifications for a second
*
were quite unique.

Kreisler found him just finishing work. He had soon explained what he required of him. With great gravity the solemn Otto set forth his deep attachment for a ‘beautiful girl,’ the discreditable behaviour of the Russian, who had sought to prejudice her against him: he gave in fact, a false picture of the situation in which the heart was substituted for the purse, and Anastasya for Vokt. His honour
must
now be satisfied: he would accept
nothing less
than reparation by arms: such was Kreisler, but he was that offended and deeply injured self with a righteous cynicism. He had explained such curiosities of the Kreisler
geist
to Vokt after the following manner: ‘I am a hundred different things; I am as many people as the different types of people I have lived amongst: I am a “Boulevardier” (he believed that on occasion
he answered fully to that description), I am a “Rapin”—I am also a “Korps student.” ’

In his account of how things stood he had, besides, led the Russian to understand that there was more in it than met the eye or than it was expedient to say, or in fact than he
could
say (suggesting that he did not care to compromise third parties of sexes that it was the duty of all men of honour to shield and defend). Whatever attitude might be taken up by his proposed adversary, this gentleman, too, knew, he hinted, that they had come to a point in their respective relations towards this ‘beautiful girl’ at which one of them must disappear. In addition, he, Kreisler, had been grossly insulted in the very presence of the ‘beautiful girl’ that afternoon: the outrageous Pole had made use of his cane.

The Russian, Bitzenko by name, a solemnly excitable bourgeois of Petrograd, recognized a situation after his own heart: excitement was a food he seldom got in such qualities as was promised here, and pretending to listen to Kreisler a little abstractedly and uncertainly to start with, he was from the first very much his man.

Kreisler and his newly-found henchman had thenceforth gone about their business silently and intently, laying their plans like a pair of gunmen; their proposed victim had been located some quarter of an hour before Tarr’s appearance, and stared out of countenance upon the spot by the implacable Otto.

T
HE
passionate effervescence gradually subsided: but the child of this eruption remained: the group of Poles found the legacy of the uproar as cold as its cause had been hot: Bitzenko inspired respect as he scratched his beard, which smelt of tobacco, and wrinkled up imperturbably small grey eyes.

But, the excitement over, the red mark on Soltyk’s cheek became merely a fact: his friends found themselves examining it obliquely, as a relic, with curiosity—he had had his face smacked earlier in the day, as well. How much longer was his face going to go on being smacked? Here was the Russian still with them: there was the chance of an affair—a duel—a duel, for a change, in our humdrum life, c’etait une idée.

Who was the ‘beautiful girl’ the idiot-Russian kept mentioning? Was she that girl he had been telling them about who had a manservant? Kreisler was a Freiherr?—the Russian had referred to him as ‘my friend the Freiherr.’

‘Herr Kreisler does not wish to take further measures to insure himself some form of satisfaction’ the Russian said monotonously.

‘There is always the police for drunken blackguards’ Soltyk answered.

‘lf you please! That is not the way—! I beg your pardon, but it is not usually so difficult to obtain satisfaction from a gentleman.’

‘But then I am not a gentleman in the sense that your friend Kreisler is. I am not a Freiherr you see.’

‘Perhaps not, but a blow on the face—.’

The little Russian said ‘blow on the face’ in a soft inviting way, as though it were a tidbit with powers of fascination of its own not to be easily resisted.

‘But it is most improper to ask me to stand here wrangling with you’ he next said.

‘You please yourself.’

‘I am merely serving my friend Herr Kreisler. Will you oblige me by indicating a friend of yours with whom I can discuss this matter?’

The waiter who had brought in the card again approached their table. This time he presented Soltyk with a note, written on the Café paper, and folded in four.

Tarr had been watching what was going on with curiosity. He did not believe in a duel: but he wondered what would happen, for he was certain that Kreisler would not let this man alone until he had brought something unpleasant off. What would he have done in Soltyk’s place? He would have refused of course—if you had to fight a duel with any man who liked to hit you on the head—! Kreisler, moreover, was not a man with whom a duel need be fought: he was in a weak position to claim such privileges, in spite of the additional blacking on his boots. Tarr himself could have taken refuge in the fact that Englishmen do not duel—but what would have been the next step, this settled, had he been in Soltyk’s shoes? Kreisler was waiting at the door of the Café: as soon as the Pole got up and went out, at the door he would once more have his face smacked. His knowledge of Kreisler convinced him that that face would be smacked all over the Quarter, at all hours of the day, for many days to come: Kreisler, unless physically overwhelmed,
would smack it in public and in private until further notice. He would probably spit in it, after having smacked it, occasionally. So Kreisler must be henceforth fought by the Pole wherever met. Would this state of things justify the use of a revolver?
*
That depended on the Pole. Kreisler should be maimed probably; it all should be prepared with great thoroughness; exactly the weight of walking-stick and so forth: the french laws would sanction quite a bad wound.
*
But Tarr felt that the sympathetic young Pole would soon have Bitzenko on his hands as well. There was every indication that this would shortly be the case. Bitzenko was very alarming.