hemingway, ernest - garden of eden-第8章

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nk　you　thank　you　my　girl&mdash；〃


She　lay　there　a　long　time　and　he　thought　that　she　had　gone　to　sleep。　Then　she　moved　away　very　slowly　lifting　herself　lightly　on　her　elbows　and　said；　〃I　have　a　wonderful　surprise　for　myself　for　tomorrow。　I'm　going　to　the　Prado　in　the　morning　and　see　all　the　pictures　as　a　boy。〃

〃I　give　up；〃　David　said。

Chapter　Seven




IN　ThE　MORNING　he　got　up　while　she　was　still　sleeping　and　went　out　into　the　bright　early　morning　freshness　of　the　high　plateau　air。　He　walked　in　the　street　up　the　hill　to　the　Plaza　Santa　Ana　and　had　breakfast　at　a　cafe　and　read　the　local　papers。　Catherine　had　wanted　to　be　at　the　Prado　at　ten　when　it　opened　and　before　he　left　he　had　set　the　alarm　to　wake　her　at　nine。　Outside　on　the　street；　walking　up　the　hill　he　had　thought　of　her　sleeping；　the　beautiful　rumpled　head　that　looked　like　an　ancient　coin　lying　against　the　white　sheet；　the　pillow　pushed　away；　the　upper　sheet　showing　the　curves　of　her　body。　It　lasted　a　month；　he　thought；　or　almost。　And　the　other　time　from　le　Grau　du　Roi　to　Hendaye　was　two　months。　No；　less；　because　she　started　thinking　of　it　in　Nimes。　It　wasn't　two　months。　We've　been　married　three　months　and　two　weeks　and　I　hope　I　make　her　happy　always　but　in　this　I　do　not　think　anybody　can　take　care　of　anybody。　It's　enough　to　stay　in　it。　The　difference　is　that　she　asked　this　time；　he　told　himself。　She　did　ask。

When　he　had　read　the　papers　and　then　paid　for　his　breakfast　and　walked　out　into　the　heat　that　had　come　back　to　the　plateau

when　the　wind　had　changed；　he　made　his　way　to　the　cool；　formal；　sad　politeness　of　the　bank；　where　he　found　mail　that　had　been　forwarded　from　Paris。　He　opened　and　read　mail　while　he　waited　through　the　lengthy；　many…windowed　formalities　of　cashing　a　draft　which　had　been　sent　from　his　bank　to　this；　their　Madrid　correspondent。

Finally　with　the　heavy　notes　buttoned　into　his　jacket　pocket　he　came　out　into　the　glare　again　and　stopped　at　the　newsstand　to　buy　the　English　and　American　papers　that　had　come　in　on　the　morning　Sud　Express。　He　bought　some　bullfight　weeklies　to　wrap　the　English　language　papers　in　and　then　walked　down　the　Carrera　San　Geronimo　to　the　cool　friendly　morning　gloom　of　the　Buffet　Italianos。　There　was　no　one　in　the　place　yet　and　he　remembered　that　he　had　made　no　rendezvous　with　Catherine。

〃What　will　you　drink？〃　the　waiter　asked　him。

〃Beer；〃　he　said。

〃This　isn't　a　beer　place。〃

〃Don't　you　have　beer？〃

〃Yes。　But　it's　not　a　beer　place。〃

〃Up　yours；〃　he　said　and　re…rolled　the　papers　and　went　out　and　walked　across　the　street　and　back　on　the　other　side　to　turn　to　the　left　into　the　Calle　Vittoria　and　on　to　the　Cervezeria　Alvarez。　He　sat　at　a　table　under　the　awning　in　the　passageway　and　drank　a　big　cold　glass　of　the　draft　beer。

The　waiter　was　probably　only　making　conversation；　he　thought；　and　what　the　man　said　was　quite　true。　It　isn't　a　beer　place。　He　was　just　being　literal。　He　wasn't　being　insolent。　That　was　a　very　bad　thing　to　say　and　he　had　no　defense　against　it。　It　was　a　shitty　thing　to　do。　He　drank　a　second　beer　and　called　the　waiter　to　pay。

〃Y　la　Senora？〃　the　waiter　said。

〃At　the　Museo　del　Prado。　I'm　going　to　get　her。〃

〃Well；　until　you　get　back；〃　the　waiter　said。

He　walked　back　to　the　hotel　by　a　downhill　shortcut。　The　key　was　at　the　desk　so　he　rode　up　to　their　floor　and　left　the　papers　and　the　mail　on　a　table　in　the　room　and　locked　most　of　the　money　in　his　suitcase。　The　room　was　made　up　and　the　shutters　were　lowered　against　the　heat　so　that　the　room　was　darkened。　He　washed　and　then　sorted　through　his　mail　and　took　four　letters　out　and　put　them　in　his　hip　pocket。　He　took　the　Paris　editions　of　The　New　York　Herald；　the　Chicago　Tribune　and　the　London　Daily　Mail　down　with　him　to　the　bar　of　the　hotel　stopping　at　the　desk　to　leave　the　key　and　to　ask　the　clerk　to　tell　Madame；　when　she　came　in；　that　he　was　in　the　bar。

He　sat　on　a　stool　at　the　bar　and　ordered　a　marismeiio　and　opened　and　read　his　letters　while　he　ate　the　garlic…flavored　olives　from　the　saucer　the　bartender　had　placed　before　him　with　his　glass。　One　of　the　letters　had　two　cuttings　of　reviews　of　his　novel　from　monthly　magazines　and　he　read　them　with　no　feeling　that　they　dealt　with　him　or　with　anything　that　he　had　written。

He　put　the　cuttings　back　in　the　envelope。　They　had　been　understanding　and　perceptive　reviews　but　to　him　they　had　meant　nothing。　He　read　the　letter　from　the　publisher　with　the　same　detachment。　The　book　had　sold　well　and　they　thought　that　it　might　continue　selling　on　into　the　fall　although　nobody　could　ever　tell　about　such　things。　Certainly；　so　far；　it　had　received　an　extraordinarily　fine　critical　reception　and　the　way　would　be　open　for　his　next　book。　It　was　a　great　advantage　that　this　was　his　second　and　not　his　first　novel。　It　was　tragic　how　often　first　novels　were　the　only　good　novels　American　writers　had　in　them。　But　this；　his　publisher　went　on；　his　second；　validated　all　the　promise　his　first　had　shown。　It　was　an　unusual　summer　in　New　York；　cold　and　wet。　Oh　Christ；　David　thought；　the　hell　with　how　it　was　in　New　York　and　the　hell　with　that　thin…lipped　bastard　Coolidge　fishing　for　trout　in　a　high　stiff　collar　in　a　fish　hatchery　in　the　Black　Hills　we　stole　from　the　Sioux　and　the　Cheyenne　and

bathtub…ginned…up　writers　wondering　if　their　baby　does　the　Charleston。　And　the　hell　with　the　promise　he　had　validated。　What　promise　to　whom？　To　The　Dial；　to　The　Bookman；　to　The　New　Republic？　No；　he　had　shown　it。　Let　me　show　you　my　promise　that　I'm　going　to　validate　it。　What　shit。

〃Hello；　young　man；〃　said　a　voice。　〃What　are　you　looking　so　indignant　about？〃

〃Hello；　Colonel；〃　David　said　and　felt　suddenly　happy。　〃What　the　hell　are　you　doing　here？〃

The　Colonel；　who　had　deep　blue　eyes；　sandy　hair　and　a　tanned　face　that　looked　as　though　it　had　been　carved　out　of　flint　by　a　tired　sculptor　who　had　broken　his　chisel　on　it；　picked　up　David's　glass　and　tasted　the　marisme　no。

〃Bring　me　a　bottle　of　whatever　this　young　man　is　drinking　to　that　table；〃　he　said　to　the　bartender。　〃Bring　a　cold　bottle。　You　don't　need　to　ice　it。　Bring　it　immediately。〃

〃Yes　sir；〃　said　the　bartender。　〃Very　good　sir。〃

〃Come　along；〃　the　Colonel　said　to　David；　leading　him　to　the　table　in　the　corner　of　the　room。　〃You're　looking　very　well。〃

〃So　are　you。〃

Colonel　John　Boyle　was　wearing　a　dark　blue　suit　of　a　cloth　that　looked　stiff　but　cool　and　a　blue　shirt　and　black　tie。　〃I'm　always　well；〃　he　said。　〃Do　you　want　a　job？〃

〃No；〃　said　David。

〃Just　like　that。　Don't　even　ask　what　it　is；〃　His　voice　sounded　as　though　he　had　hawked　it　up　out　of　a　dusty　throat。

The　wine　came　and　the　waiter　filled　two　glasses　and　put　down　saucers　of　the　garlic　olives　and　of　hazelnuts。

〃No　anchovies？〃　the　Colonel　asked。　〃What　sort　of　a　fonda　is　this？〃

The　bartender　smiled　and　went　for　the　anchovies。

〃Excellent　wine；〃　the　Colonel　said。　〃First　rate。　I　always　hoped　your　taste　would　improve。　Now　why　don't　you　want　a　job？　You've　just　finished　a　book。〃

6o
〃I'm　on　my　honeymoon。〃
〃Silly　expression；〃　the　Colonel　said。　〃I　never　liked　it。　It　sounds　sticky。　Why　didn't　you　say　you've　just　been　married？　It　makes　no　difference。　You'd　be　worthless　in　any　event。〃
'What　was　the　job？〃
〃No　use　talking　about　it　now。　Who　did　you　marry？　Anyone　I　know？〃
〃Catherine　Hill。〃
〃Knew　her　father。　Very　odd　type。　Killed　himself　in　a　car。　His　wife　too。〃

〃I　never　knew　them。〃
〃You　never　knew　him？〃
〃No。〃
〃Strange。　But　perfectly　understandable。　He's　no　loss　to　you　as　a　father…in…law。　The　mother　was　very　lonely　they　say。　Stupid　way　for　grown　up　people　to　be　killed。　Where　did　you　meet　this　girl？〃
〃In　Paris。〃
〃She　has　a　silly　uncle　who　lives　there。　He's　really　worthless。　Do　you　know　him？〃
〃I've　seen　him　at　the　races。〃
〃At　Longchamps　and　Auteuil。　How　could　you　help　it？〃
〃I　didn't　marry　her　family。〃
〃Of　course　not。　But　you　always　do。　Dead　or　alive。〃
〃Not　the　uncles　and　aunts。〃
〃Well　anyway；　have　fun。　You　know；　I　liked　the　book。　Has　it　done　well？〃
〃It's　done　pretty　well。〃
〃It　moved　me　very　deeply；〃　the　Colonel　said。　〃You're　a　decep　tive　son　of　a　bitch。〃

〃So　are　you；　John。〃
〃I　hope　so；〃　the　Colonel　said。
David　saw　Catherine　at　the　door　and　stood　up。　She　came　over　to　them　and　David　said；　〃This　is　Colonel　Boyle。〃
〃How　do　you　do；　my　dear？〃


Catherine　looked　at　him　and　smiled　and　sat　down　at　the　table。　David　watched　her　and　it　seemed　as　though　she　were　holding　her　breath。
〃Are　you　tired？〃　David　asked。
〃I　think　so。〃
〃Have　a　glass　of　this；〃　the　Colonel　said。
〃Would　it　be　all　right　if　I　had　an　absinthe？〃
〃Of　course；〃　David　said。　〃I'll　have　one　too。〃
〃Not　for　me；〃　the　Colonel　said　to　the　bartender。　〃This　bottle's　lost　its　freshness。　Put　it　back　to　chill　and　bring　me　a　glass　from　a　cold　bottle。〃
〃Do　you　like　the　real　Pernod？〃　he　asked　Catherine。　〃Yes；〃　she　said。　〃I'm　shy　with　people　and　it　helps。〃　〃It's　an　excellent　drink；〃　he　said。　〃I'd　join　you　but　I　have　work　I　must　do　after　lunch。〃
〃I'm　sorry　I　forgot　to　make　a　rendezvous；〃　David　said。
〃This　is　very　nice。〃
〃I　stopped　by　for　the　mail　at　the　bank。　There's　quite　a　lot　for　you。　I　left　it　in　the　room。〃
〃I　don't　care　about　it；〃　she　said。
〃I　saw　you　in　the　Prado　looking　at　the　Grecos；〃　the　Colonel　said。
〃I　saw　you　too；〃　she　said。　〃Do　you　always　look　at　pictures　as　though　you　owned　them　and　were　deciding　how　to　have　them　re…hung　properly？〃
〃Probably；〃　the　Colonel　said。　〃Do　you　always　look　at　them　as　though　you　were　the　young　chief　of　a　warrior　tribe　who　had　gotten　loose　from　his　councillors　and　was　looking　at　that　marble　of　Leda　and　the　Swan？〃
Catherine　blushed　under　her　dark　tan　and　looked　at　David　and　then　at　the　Colonel。
〃I　like　you；〃　she　said。　〃Tell　me　some　more。
〃I　like　you；〃　he　said。　〃And　I　envy　David。　Is　he　everything　you　want？〃
〃Don't　you　know？〃
〃'To　me　the　visible　world　is　visible；'〃　the　Colonel　said。　〃Now　go　on　and　take　another　sip　of　that　wormwood…tasting　truth　serum。〃
〃I　don't　need　it　now。
〃Aren't　you　shy　now？　Drink　it　anyway。　It's　good　for　you。　You're　the　darkest　white　girl　I've　ever　seen。　Your　father　was　very　dark　though。〃
〃I　must　have　his　skin。　My　mother　was　very　fair。〃
〃I　never　knew　her。〃
〃Did　you　know　my　father　well？〃
〃Quite　well。〃
〃How　was　he？〃
〃He　was　a　very　difficult　and　charming　man。　Are　you　really　shy？〃
〃Truly。　Ask　David。〃
〃You　get　over　it　awfully　quickly。〃
〃You　rode　over　it。　How　was　my　father？〃
〃He　was　the　shyest　man　I　ever　knew　and　he　could　be　the　most　charming。〃
〃Did　he　have　to　use　Pernod　too？〃
〃He　used　everything。〃
〃Do　I　remind　you　of　him？〃
〃Not　at　all。〃
〃That's　good。　Does　David？〃
〃Not　in　the　least。〃
〃That's　even　better。　How　did　you　know　I　was　a　boy　in　the　Prado？〃
'Why　shouldn't　you　be？〃
〃I　only　started　it　again　last　evening。　I　was　a　girl　for　almost　a　month。　Ask　David。〃
〃You　don't　need　to　say　ask　David。　What　are　you　right　now？〃
〃A　boy　if　it's　all　right　with　you。〃
〃It's　fine　with　me。　But　you're　not。〃

〃I　just　wanted　to　say　it；〃　she　said。　〃Now　that　I　said　it　I　don't　have　to　be　it。　But　it　was　wonderful　in　the　Prado。　That　was　why　I　wanted　to　tell　David　about　it。〃
〃You'll　have　plenty　of　time　to　tell　David。〃
〃Yes；〃　she　said。　〃We　have　time　for　things。〃
〃Tell　me　where　you　got　so　dark；〃　the　Colonel　said。　〃Do　you　know　how　dark　you　are？〃
〃That　was　from　le　Grau　du　Roi　and　then　not　fa