He liked fingering over listlessly the thought of Anastasya, but as a stranger. This subject gave him a little more interest in Bertha, just as, for her, it had a similar effect in his favour. She was immediately convinced that Fräulein Vasek had been guilty of the most offensive, self-complacent mistake. Kreisler had not energy enough left to continue his pursuit of his bespangled dream. Bertha now had achieved a simplification of the whole matter as follows: Anastasya, a beautiful and swankily original girl, had arrived, bespangled and beposed, on the scene of her (Bertha’s) simple little life. She had discovered her kissing and being kissed by a ridiculous individual in the middle of the street. Bertha had disengaged herself rapidly, and explained that she had been doing that because he had awoken her pity by his miserable and half-starved appearance; that, even then, he had assaulted her, and she had been found in that delicate situation entirely independent of her own will. Anastasya’s lip had curled, and she had received these explanations in silence. Then, at their nervous repetition, she had said negligently: “You were no doubt being hugged by Herr Kreisler in the middle of the pavement, the motives the ordinary ones. You might have waited till—But that’s your own business. On the other hand, the reason of his eccentric appearance this evening was _this_. He had the incredible impudence to wish to make up to me. I sent him about his business, and he ‘manifested’ in the way you know.” Reducing all the confused material of this affair to such essential situation, Bertha saw clearly the essence of her action. Definite withdrawal from the circle of her friends was now essential. It was accomplished with as much style as possible. Kreisler provided the style. Her instinct now was to wallow still more in the unbecoming situation in which she had been found, with defiance. She wanted to be seen with Kreisler. The meanness, strangeness, and certain _déchéance_ or come-down, in consorting with this sorry bird, must be heightened into poetry and thick and luscious fiction. _They had driven her to this. They were driving her!_ Very well. She was _lasse_! She would satisfy them. She would satisfy Sorbert. It was what he wanted, was it not? Kreisler, of course, was the central, irreducible element in this mental pie. He was the egg-cup that kept up the crust. She tried to interest herself in Kreisler and satisfy Tarr, her friends, _the whole world_, more thoroughly. CHAPTER VIII Destiny has more power over the superstitious. They attract constantly bright fortunes and disasters within their circle. Destiny had laid its trap in the unconscious Kreisler. It fixed it with powerful violent springs. Eight days later (dating from the Observatoire meeting), it snapped down on Bertha.