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May Day 158
The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories
At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation.
"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a building beautifully hung with
enormous candelabra, you prefer to spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?"
Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed uproariously; they found it was
impossible to look at each other without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man --they were
laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was either raving drunk or raving crazy.
"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and preparing another.
They laughed again.
"Na-ah."
"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of the university known as the Sheffield
Scientific School."
"Na-ah."
"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to preserve your incognito in this --this
paradise of violet blue, as the newspapers say."
"Na-ah," said Key scornfully, "we was just waitin' for somebody."
"Ah," exclaimed Peter, rising and filling their glasses,
"very interestin'. Had a date with a scrub lady, eh?"
They both denied this indignantly.
"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A scrub lady's as good as any lady in the world.
Kipling says `Any lady and Judy O'Grady under the skin.'"
"Sure," said Key, winking broadly at Rose.
"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn
girl I ever saw. Refused to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure I want to kiss
you and then plunk! Threw me over! What's the younger generation comin' to?"
"Say tha's hard luck," said Key --"that's awful hard luck."
"Oh, boy!" said Rose.
"Have another?" said Peter.
"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but it was too far away."
"A fight? --tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. "Fight 'em all! I was in the army."
"This was with a Bolshevik fella."
May Day 159
The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories
"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's what I say! Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!"
"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism.
"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americuns! Have another."
They had another.
VI
At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its
members, seating themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of providing music for the
Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a famous flute-player, distinguished throughout New York for
his feat of standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played the latest jazz on his flute.
During his performance the lights were extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute-player and another
roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic colors over the massed dancers.
Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only with debutantes, a state equivalent to the
glow of a noble soul after several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her music; her
partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it
seemed as if days had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary subjects with many
men. She had been kissed once and made love to six times. Earlier in the evening different under-graduates
had danced with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her own entourage --that is, half
a dozen gallants had singled her out or were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty;
they cut in on her in regular, inevitable succession.
Several times she had seen Gordon --he had been sitting a long time on the stairway with his palm to his
head, his dull eyes fixed at an infinite speck on-the floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and quite
drunk --but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All that seemed long ago; her mind was
passive now, her senses were lulled to trance-like sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in hazy
sentimental banter.
But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her,
sublimely and happily drunk. She gasped and looked up at him.
" Why, Peter!"
"I'm a li'l' stewed, Edith."
"Why, Peter, you're a peach, you are! Don't you think it's a bum way of doing --when you're with me?"
Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish sentimentality varied with a silly
spasmodic smile.
"Darlin' Edith," he began earnestly, "you know I love you, don't you?"
"You tell it well."
"I love you --and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly.
May Day 160
The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories
His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful
eyes, like stars above. He wanted to 'pologize --firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for drinking
--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was mad at him -- -- The red-fat man cut in, and
looking up at Edith smiled radiantly.
"Did you bring any one?" she asked.
No. The red-fat man was a stag.
"Well, would you mind --would it be an awful bother for you to --to take me home to-night?" (this extreme
diffidence was a charming affectation on Edith's part --she knew that the red-fat man would immediately
dissolve into a paroxysm of delight).
"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn glad to."
"Thanks loads! You're awfully sweet."
She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said "half-past one" to herself, it floated
vaguely into her mind that her brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his newspaper
until after one-thirty every evening.
Edith turned suddenly to her current partner.
"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?"
"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course."
"I mean, what cross street?"
"Why --let's see it's on Forty-fourth Street."
This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the street and just around the corner, and it
occurred to her immediately that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on him, a
shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith
revelled in doing --an unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her imagination
--after an instant's hesitation she had decided. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
May Day 158
The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories
At this point Rose contributed a grunt to the conversation.
"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a building beautifully hung with
enormous candelabra, you prefer to spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?"
Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed uproariously; they found it was
impossible to look at each other without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man --they were
laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was either raving drunk or raving crazy.
"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and preparing another.
They laughed again.
"Na-ah."
"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of the university known as the Sheffield
Scientific School."
"Na-ah."
"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to preserve your incognito in this --this
paradise of violet blue, as the newspapers say."
"Na-ah," said Key scornfully, "we was just waitin' for somebody."
"Ah," exclaimed Peter, rising and filling their glasses,
"very interestin'. Had a date with a scrub lady, eh?"
They both denied this indignantly.
"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A scrub lady's as good as any lady in the world.
Kipling says `Any lady and Judy O'Grady under the skin.'"
"Sure," said Key, winking broadly at Rose.
"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn
girl I ever saw. Refused to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure I want to kiss
you and then plunk! Threw me over! What's the younger generation comin' to?"
"Say tha's hard luck," said Key --"that's awful hard luck."
"Oh, boy!" said Rose.
"Have another?" said Peter.
"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but it was too far away."
"A fight? --tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. "Fight 'em all! I was in the army."
"This was with a Bolshevik fella."
May Day 159
The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories
"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's what I say! Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!"
"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism.
"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americuns! Have another."
They had another.
VI
At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its
members, seating themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of providing music for the
Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a famous flute-player, distinguished throughout New York for
his feat of standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played the latest jazz on his flute.
During his performance the lights were extinguished except for the spotlight on the flute-player and another
roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic colors over the massed dancers.
Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only with debutantes, a state equivalent to the
glow of a noble soul after several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her music; her
partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it
seemed as if days had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary subjects with many
men. She had been kissed once and made love to six times. Earlier in the evening different under-graduates
had danced with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her own entourage --that is, half
a dozen gallants had singled her out or were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty;
they cut in on her in regular, inevitable succession.
Several times she had seen Gordon --he had been sitting a long time on the stairway with his palm to his
head, his dull eyes fixed at an infinite speck on-the floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and quite
drunk --but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All that seemed long ago; her mind was
passive now, her senses were lulled to trance-like sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in hazy
sentimental banter.
But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her,
sublimely and happily drunk. She gasped and looked up at him.
" Why, Peter!"
"I'm a li'l' stewed, Edith."
"Why, Peter, you're a peach, you are! Don't you think it's a bum way of doing --when you're with me?"
Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish sentimentality varied with a silly
spasmodic smile.
"Darlin' Edith," he began earnestly, "you know I love you, don't you?"
"You tell it well."
"I love you --and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly.
May Day 160
The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories
His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful
eyes, like stars above. He wanted to 'pologize --firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for drinking
--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was mad at him -- -- The red-fat man cut in, and
looking up at Edith smiled radiantly.
"Did you bring any one?" she asked.
No. The red-fat man was a stag.
"Well, would you mind --would it be an awful bother for you to --to take me home to-night?" (this extreme
diffidence was a charming affectation on Edith's part --she knew that the red-fat man would immediately
dissolve into a paroxysm of delight).
"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn glad to."
"Thanks loads! You're awfully sweet."
She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said "half-past one" to herself, it floated
vaguely into her mind that her brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his newspaper
until after one-thirty every evening.
Edith turned suddenly to her current partner.
"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?"
"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course."
"I mean, what cross street?"
"Why --let's see it's on Forty-fourth Street."
This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the street and just around the corner, and it
occurred to her immediately that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on him, a
shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith
revelled in doing --an unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her imagination
--after an instant's hesitation she had decided. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]