Katherine Anne Porter by Katherine Anne Porter, Darlene Harbour Unrue Page A

good and faithful friends, and to the world. He said, gentlemen: ‘Tell them I am a martyr to love. I perish in a cause worthy the sacrifice. I die of a broken heart!’ and then he said, ‘Isabelita, my executioner!’ That was all, gentlemen,” ended the proprietor, simply and reverently. He bowed his head. They all bowed their heads.
    “That was truly magnificent,” said Ramón, after the correct interval of silent mourning. “I thank you. It is a superb epitaph. I am most gratified.”
    “He was also supremely fond of my tamales and pepper gravy,” added the proprietor in a modest tone. “They were his final indulgence.”
    “That shall be mentioned in its place, never fear, my good friend,” cried Ramón, his voice crumbling with generous emotion, “with the name of your café, even. It shall be a shrine forartists when this story is known. Trust me faithfully to preserve for the future every smallest detail in the life and character of this great genius. Each episode has its own sacred, its precious and peculiar interest. Yes, truly, I shall mention the tamales.”
    1923

Magic
    A ND , Madame Blanchard, believe that I am happy to be here with you and your family because it is so serene, everything, and before this I worked for a long time in a fancy house—maybe you don’t know what is a fancy house? Naturally. . . everyone must have heard sometime or other. Well, Madame, I work always where there is work to be had, and so in this place I worked very hard all hours, and saw too many things, things you wouldn’t believe, and I wouldn’t think of telling you, only maybe it will rest you while I brush your hair. You’ll excuse me too but I could not help hearing you say to the laundress maybe someone had bewitched your linens, they fall away so fast in the wash. Well, there was a girl there in that house, a poor thing, thin, but well-liked by all the men who called, and you understand she could not get along with the woman who ran the house. They quarreled, the madam cheated her on her checks: you know, the girl got a check, a brass one, every time, and at the week’s end she gave those back to the madam, yes, that was the way, and got her percentage, a very small little of her earnings: it is a business, you see, like any other—and the madam used to pretend the girl had given back only so many checks, you see, and really she had given many more, but after they were out of her hands, what could she do? So she would say, I will get out of this place, and curse and cry. Then the madam would hit her over the head. She always hit people over the head with bottles, it was the way she fought. My good heavens, Madame Blanchard, what confusion there would be sometimes with a girl running raving downstairs, and the madam pulling her back by the hair and smashing a bottle on her forehead.
    It was nearly always about the money, the girls got in debt so, and if they wished to go they could not without paying every sou marqué. The madam had full understanding with the police; the girls must come back with them or go to the jails. Well, they always came back with the policemen or with another kind of man friend of the madam: she could make men work for her too, but she paid them very well for all, letme tell you: and so the girls stayed on unless they were sick; if so, if they got too sick, she sent them away again.
    Madame Blanchard said, “You are pulling a little here,” and eased a strand of hair: “and then what?”
    Pardon—but this girl, there was a true hatred between her and the madam. She would say many times, I make more money than anybody else in the house, and every week were scenes. So at last she said one morning, Now I will leave this place, and she took out forty dollars from under her pillow and said, Here’s your money! The madam began to shout, Where did you get all that, you——? and accused her of robbing the men who came to visit her. The girl said, Keep your hands off or I’ll brain