And Tristan's naturally bubbling good humour flared into a roar of laughter: "at the risk of sounding like a hierophant, Issy, I really don't think I'm cut out to be a recruiting sergeant for the Salvation Army or your Band of Hope, whatever that is, though Tristan Tzara's Ragtag Band might be more like the thing for me, but to be quite honest with you, I haven't yet discovered the Moloch I'm prepared to make extreme sacrifices to," and he broke off as the dapper figure of the other half of the Berlin-Bart musical powerhouse in Cabaret Voltaire came peacocking down the length of the Dining Car, and whispered to Issy: "the rest of us look like tramps after ten days and nights on this train, how does Lionel manage to always seem newly pressed?" and Issy confided: "his old man was a master tailor, that kind of thing's in your blood – so is writing love songs for the girls in the Wardrobe Department, that wins lots of favours! but you're a poet, Tris, can't you compose a few sonnets to earn something in return: like, say, a decent haircut?" and he ducked a slap from the boy as Lionel plopped down at the other side of the table: "who's the chick?" he asked Tristan, indicating with his eyes the woman sitting alone nearby, and Tristan explained that she was a new passenger, the Prima Donna from the Opera House in Vienna, Hildegard von Bingen, at which Lionel sniffed: "opera shmopera, they think they're better than us mortals just cause they can warble in different languages, like ballet shmallet dancers, they're hoofers in tutus but put on airs and graces – they wouldn't last a minute in the East End," and Issy added: "or the Lower East Side," and Tristan affected a pose and said: "the East is Oriental and the West is Accidental, but I'm stuck in the Middle with you two Wise Guys!"