A stepmother, prodigiously smart, well-to-do, neglecting them; sent first to one place then another (now Paris) to be out of the way. Yet the stepmother supplies them superfluously from her superfluity.—They talked about themselves with a consciously dramatic matter-of-factness, as twin parcels, usually on the way from one place to another, expensively posted here and there, without real destination. They enjoyed nothing at all; painted well (according to Juan Soler); had a sort of wild uncontrollable attachment for the Lipmann. “Oh! Bertha, I didn’t know your dear ‘Sorbert’ was going to England.” “Dein Sorbet” was the bantering formula for Tarr. Bertha was perpetually talking about him, to them, to the charwoman, to the greengrocer opposite, to everybody she met. Tarr did not quite bask in this notoriety. “Didn’t you? Oh, yes; he’s gone.” “You’ve not quarrelled—with your Sorbert?” “What’s that to do with you, my dear?” Bertha gave a brief, indecent laugh she sometimes had. “By the way, I’ve just seen Herr Kreisler. We’ve arranged to go out somewhere to-morrow.” “Go out—Kreisler! Liebes Kind!—What on earth possessed you—!—Herr—_Kreisler_!” “What’s the matter with Herr Kreisler? You were all friendly enough with him a week ago.” Elsa looked at her with the cold-blooded scrutiny of the precocious urchin. “But he’s a vicious brute. Besides, there are other reasons for avoiding Herr Kreisler. You know the reason of his behaviour the other night? It was it appears, because Anastasya Vasek snubbed him. He was nearly the same when the Fogs wouldn’t take an interest in him. He can’t leave women alone. He follows them about and annoys them, and then becomes—well, as you saw him the other night—when he’s shaken off. He is impossible. He is not a person who can be accepted by anybody.” “Where did you hear all that? I don’t think that Fräulein Vasek’s story is true. I am certain⸺” “Well, he once was like that with me. He began hanging round, and—You know the story of his engagement?” “What engagement?” “He was engaged to a girl and she married his father instead of marrying him.” Bertha struggled a moment, a little baffled. “Well, what is there in that? I’ve known several cases⸺” “Yes. That _by itself_⸺” Elsa Kinderbach was quite undisturbed. Her information had been coldly given. She had argued sweepingly, as though talking to a child, and following some reasonable resolve formed during her earlier silent scrutiny.—In a few moments Bertha returned to the charge. “Did Fräulein Vasek give that particular explanation of Herr Kreisler’s behaviour?” “No. We put two and two together. She did say something—yes, she did as a matter of fact say that she thought she had been the cause of Kreisler’s behaviour.” “How funny! I can’t stand that girl; she’s so unnatural, she’s such a _poseuse_. Don’t you think, Elsa?—What a funny thing to say? You can depend on it that _that_, anyhow, is not the explanation.” “Sorbert has a rival perhaps?”