One certain thing amongst many uncertainties1 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 ballroom2, 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 graceful3. 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[133] walls gravely to receive some houseless quartet. In this manner it paid its way. Some phlegmatic4 but obstinate5 power had brought it into existence. “Found a club, found a club!” it had reiterated6 in the depths of certain anonymous7 minds, with sleepy tenacity8. Some one sighed, got up and went round to another, and said perhaps a club had better be founded. The other assented9 and subscribed10 something, to get rid of the other. In the course of time a young French architect had been entrusted11 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 tack12. 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 ironic13 masterpiece, but with a perfect gravity, and even stateliness, of appearance. It was the most non-committing fa?ade, 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 athletic14 or sedentary according to the shifts and exigencies15 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 inviting16 of the German contingent17 was a business move. They might be enticed18 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 prettily19. The adjoining rooms were hung with the drawings and paintings of the club members.
Kreisler ever since the scene on the boulevard had[134] felt a reckless gaiety and irresponsibility, which he did not conceal20.
With his abashed21 English hostess he carried on a strange conversation full of indirect references to the “stately edifice22 in the Rue23 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 bent25 down to his hostess’s nervously26 smiling face and poured into her startled ear symbols and images of pawnshops, usury27, three gold balls, “pious mountains,” “smokkin” or “frac” suits, etc., which he seemed a little to confuse, overwhelmed her with a serious terminology28, all in a dialect calculated to bewilder the most acute philologist29.
“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 disquieting30 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.’”
[135]
Mrs. Bevelage looked pleased and puzzled. Possibly he was a count or baron31.
“Do you know that stingy but magnificent edifice?”
“Yes??”
“That handsome home of precarious32 ‘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 ponderously33 in motion, he stamping a little bit, as though he mistook the waltz for a more primitive34 music.
He took her twice, with ever-increasing velocity35, round the large hall, and at the third round, at breakneck speed, spun36 with her in the direction of the front door.
The impetus37 was so great that she, although seeing her peril38, could not act sufficiently39 as a break on her impetuous companion to avert40 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 frigid41 and melancholy42 pair, uncannily fecund43, 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 embedded44 and unconscious for many seconds. The English family then, with great dignity, disgorged them and moved on.
The widow had come somewhat under the fascination46 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[136] 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 abominably48 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 puffed49, and heavier every moment. When satisfied with this part of his work he led Mrs. Bevelage into a sort of improvised50 conservatory51 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 regained52 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 trotted53 with a preoccupied54 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 undoubtedly55 must secure herself. The plan she hit on offered a “noble” r?le 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 brutal57 manner. (One against him: two for her!) Such direct and lurid58 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 hesitation59, that she, in truth, had been[137] 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 confession60 she had many precedents61. Only a week ago Fr?ulein Van Bencke herself, inflating62 proudly her stout63 handsome person, had told them that while in Berlin she had allowed a young painter to kiss her: she believed “that the caresses64 of a pure woman would be helpful to him at that juncture65 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 distinguished66 camaraderie67 depressed68 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 rusty69 machine had a thirst for action. His energies were repudiating70 their master.
[138]
Soltyk’s analogies with Kreisler worked in the dark to some end of mutual71 destruction. The nuance72 of possibility Soltyk liked his friendships with women to have, was a different affair to Kreisler’s heady and thorough-going intrigues73. 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 winding75 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 lethargic76 intervals77 as with Kreisler. It at all times needed “expression” of such sort.
For Anastasya, Soltyk was one of her many impresarios79, 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 Impresario78.
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 emulated81 the matter-of-factness and aplomb82 that impressed him in the others à outrance. So much was this so that the Audience took some time to notice him, the vein83 of scandal running through the performance.
In the conservatory he established his head-quarters.
From there he issued forth84 on various errands. All his errands showed the gusto of the logic85 of his personality, and not despair. He might have been enjoying himself. He invented outrage86 that was[139] natural to him, and enjoyed slightly the licence and scope of his indifference87.
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 scrupulous88 German politeness. He then, while marking time in a crush, disengaged his hand, and appeared to wish to alter the lie of her bosom89, 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 notably90 a flapper, radiant with heavy inexperience and loaded with bristling91 bronze curls, he lured92 into the conservatory. They all came out with scarlet93 faces.
For the first hour he paid no attention to Anastasya, but prosecuted94 his antics as though he had forgotten all 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. Fr?ulein 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 tremor95 invaded several backs. But he just stalked round this time on a tour of inspection96, 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 severely97. He then returned to the conservatory.
[140]
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 evading98 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 deliberately99 and quickly into the central room. But Soltyk was nowhere to be seen.
The dancers were circling rapidly past with athletic elation80, 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 trunkless, 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 throng100 of people careering, like a spoon stirring in a saucepan.[141] It stirred and stirred and they jerked and huddled101 insipidly102 round and round.
Kreisler was drawn103 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 intercepted104 the course of his imaginary life (of which his pursuit of Soltyk was a portion). He stood like somebody surprised in a questionable105 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, hustling106 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 curiously107. 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[142] 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 doorway108, as incapable109 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 lameness110, 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?” Fr?ulein Lipmann had asked Eckhart.
Eckhart was a little drunk himself. He took a very decided111 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 generosity112 at his great Amoureuse.
“Ah! here he comes again!” said Fr?ulein 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 line with him. She had been startled, awakened113, 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 tugs114 of the maelstrom115 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 gusty116 tickling117.
But this was not how Kreisler felt about it. He[143] was boiling and raging. That laugh had driven him foaming118, fugitive119 and confused, into the nearest chair. He could not turn round and retaliate120 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 affront121, 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 darting122 and skulking123 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 (his business) must he 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 discourses124 with a solemn “Widow!” occasionally alternating it with “Derelict!” But this, all uttered in a jumbled125 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 shuffling126 of his feet, still looking at the floor, where he had cast his eyes as Kreisler approached.
“What? I?”
“Widow! permit me?” said Kreisler.
[144]
Manipulating her with a leisurely127 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 fumbling128 in a confused mass of memory, but finding nothing definite. All it managed to bring to light 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 noted129 her with a wink130 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 berth24 this time, but suddenly and gently swerved131, and bore down upon her. The Widow veered132 frantically133, took a false step, tripped on her dress, tearing it, and fell to the ground. They caused a circular undulating commotion134 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 scrambled135 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.
[145]
Kreisler regained the conservatory with great dignity.
But now Fr?ulein 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, Fr?ulein?” he asked in an astonished voice.
He remained lolling at full length.
“A lady I was dancing with fell over, owing entirely136 to her own clumsiness and intractability—but perhaps she was drunk; I didn’t think of that.”
“So you’re not going?”
“Certainly, Fr?ulein—when you go! We’ll go together.”
“Scheusal!” Hurling137 hotly this epithet138 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 “scheusal” had been the living thing, and she were emptying her breast of it violently), she left the room. His last exploit had been accomplished139 in a half disillusioned140 state. He merely went on farcing141 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 hissed142 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[146] stirred. He wanted to kiss her now. He must get his mouth on hers—he must revel143 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 allied144 to his senses, the vibration145 became more definitely alarming. He began thinking about her with a slow moistening of the lips. “I shall possess her!” he laid to himself, seeing himself in the r?le of the old Berserker warrior146, ravening147 and irresistible148. The use of the word shall in that way was enough.
But this infernal dance! With the advent149 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 flick150 his boots with.
“So!” he grunted151, smartly shooting on his coat.
The central room, when he got into it, appeared a different place. People were standing74 about and waiting for the next tune152. 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 immediate56 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 refreshments153 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[147] something. He turned towards the couch. Soltyk and Anastasya were sitting there, and looking at him with the abrupt154 embarrassment155 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 steadily156 to the bar.
A shy consciousness of his physique beset157 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 nude158 for Anastasya and the Russian was the result of the evening! Scores of little sensations, like troublesome imps159, herded160 airily behind him. They tickled161 him with impalpable fingers.
He munched162 sandwiches without the faintest sense of their taste. Anastasya’s eyes were scourging163 him. He felt like a martyr164. Suddenly conscious of an awkwardness in his legs, he changed his position. His arms were ludicrously disabled. The sensation of standing neck deep in horrid165 filth166 beset him. Compelled to remain in soaking wet clothes and unable to change them, his body gradually drying them, would have been a similar discomfort167. 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[148] disappearing, he could have avoided this scrutiny168. He had preferred to plank169 himself there in front of her, inevitably170 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 gorge45 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 drollery171. His fists clenched172, his face emptied of every drop of colour, in the mere47 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 perspiring173 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 climax174, of blows, words, definite things. But things remained vague. The turmoil175 of the evening remained his, the solid part of it, unshared by anybody else. He smiled, rather hideously176 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.
[149]
While he was making towards the vestibule he was confronted again with Fr?ulein 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 exasperation177 perfectly178 meeting hers, his right hand threatening, quickly raised towards his left shoulder, he shouted:
“Lass mich doch—gemeine alte Sau!”
The hissing179, thunderous explosion was the last thing in vocal180 virulence181. The muscles all seemed gathered up at his ears like reins182, and the flesh tightened183 and white round his mouth.
Fr?ulein 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. Fr?ulein 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.
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uncertainties
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| 无把握( uncertainty的名词复数 )； 不确定； 变化不定； 无把握、不确定的事物 | |
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ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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phlegmatic
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| adj.冷静的，冷淡的，冷漠的，无活力的 | |
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5
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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6
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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8
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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9
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
subscribed
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| v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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13
ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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14
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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15
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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16
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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17
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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18
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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20
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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21
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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23
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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24
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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25
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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26
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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27
usury
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| n.高利贷 | |
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28
terminology
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| n.术语；专有名词 | |
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29
philologist
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| n.语言学者，文献学者 | |
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30
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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31
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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32
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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33
ponderously
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34
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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35
velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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36
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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37
impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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38
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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39
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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40
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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41
frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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42
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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43
fecund
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| adj.多产的，丰饶的，肥沃的 | |
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44
embedded
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| a.扎牢的 | |
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45
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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46
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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47
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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48
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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49
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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50
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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51
conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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52
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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53
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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54
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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55
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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56
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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57
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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58
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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59
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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60
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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61
precedents
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|
| 引用单元； 范例( precedent的名词复数 )； 先前出现的事例； 前例； 先例 | |
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62
inflating
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| v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的现在分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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64
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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65
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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66
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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67
camaraderie
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| n.同志之爱，友情 | |
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68
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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69
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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70
repudiating
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|
| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的现在分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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71
mutual
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|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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72
nuance
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| n.(意义、意见、颜色)细微差别 | |
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73
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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74
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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75
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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76
lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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77
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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78
impresario
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| n.歌剧团的经理人；乐团指挥 | |
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79
impresarios
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| n.（演出的）主办人，经理( impresario的名词复数 ) | |
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80
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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81
emulated
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的过去式和过去分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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82
aplomb
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| n.沉着，镇静 | |
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83
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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84
forth
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|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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85
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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86
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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87
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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88
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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89
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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90
notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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91
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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92
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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93
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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94
prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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95
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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96
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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97
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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98
evading
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| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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99
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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100
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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101
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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102
insipidly
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| adv.没有味道地，清淡地 | |
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103
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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104
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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105
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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106
hustling
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| 催促（hustle的现在分词形式） | |
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107
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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108
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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109
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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110
lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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111
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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112
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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113
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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114
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
maelstrom
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| n.大乱动；大漩涡 | |
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116
gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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117
tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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118
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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119
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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120
retaliate
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| v.报复，反击 | |
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121
affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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122
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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123
skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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124
discourses
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| 论文( discourse的名词复数 )； 演说； 讲道； 话语 | |
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125
jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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126
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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127
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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128
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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129
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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130
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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131
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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133
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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134
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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135
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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136
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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137
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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138
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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139
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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140
disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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141
farcing
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| v.笑剧( farce的现在分词 )；闹剧；笑剧剧目；作假的可笑场面 | |
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142
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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143
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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144
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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145
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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146
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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147
ravening
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| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
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148
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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149
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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150
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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151
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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152
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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153
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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154
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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155
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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156
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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157
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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158
nude
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| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
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159
imps
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| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
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160
herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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161
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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162
munched
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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163
scourging
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| 鞭打( scourge的现在分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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164
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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165
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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166
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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167
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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168
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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169
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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170
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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171
drollery
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| n.开玩笑，说笑话；滑稽可笑的图画（或故事、小戏等） | |
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172
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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173
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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174
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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175
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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176
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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177
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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178
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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179
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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180
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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181
virulence
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| n.毒力，毒性；病毒性；致病力 | |
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182
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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183
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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