get another job and stay on a while?’
Congo produced two bent cigarettes out of the breast pocket of his coat, handed one to Emile, struck a match on the seat of his trousers, and let the smoke out slowly through his nose. ‘I’m fed up with it here I tell you…’ He brought his flat hand up across his Adam’s apple, ‘up to here… Maybe I’ll go home an visit the little girls of Bordeaux… At least they are not all made of whalebone… I’ll engage myself as a volunteer in the navy and wear a red pompom… The girls like that. That’s the only life… Get drunk and raise cain payday and see the extreme orient.’
‘And die of the syph in a hospital at thirty…’
‘What’s it matter?… Your body renews itself every seven years.’
The steps of their rooming house smelled of cabbage and stale beer. They stumbled up yawning.
‘Waiting’s a rotton tiring job… Makes the soles of your feet ache… Look it’s going to be a fine day; I can see the sun on the watertank opposite.’
Congo pulled off his shoes and socks and trousers and curled up in bed like a cat.
‘Those dirty shades let in all the light,’ muttered Emile as he stretched himself on the outer edge of the bed. He lay tossinguneasily on the rumpled sheets. Congo’s breathing beside him was low and regular. If I was only like that, thought Emile, never worrying about a thing… But it’s not that way you get along in the world. My God it’s stupid… Marco’s gaga the old fool.
And he lay on his back looking up at the rusty stains on the ceiling, shuddering every time an elevated train shook the room. Sacred name of God I must save up my money. When he turned over the knob on the bedstead rattled and he remembered Marco’s hissing husky voice: I never see the dawn that I dont say to myself perhaps.
‘If you’ll excuse me just a moment Mr Olafson,’ said the house-agent. ‘While you and the madam are deciding about the apartment…’ They stood side by side in the empty room, looking out the window at the slatecolored Hudson and the warships at anchor and a schooner tacking upstream.
Suddenly she turned to him with glistening eyes; ‘O Billy, just think of it.’
He took hold of her shoulders and drew her to him slowly. ‘You can smell the sea, almost.’
‘Just think Billy that we are going to live here, on Riverside Drive. I’ll have to have a day at home… Mrs William C. Olafson, 218 Riverside Drive… I wonder if it is all right to put the address on our visiting cards.’ She took his hand and led him through the empty cleanswept rooms that no one had ever lived in. He was a big shambling man with eyes of a washed out blue deepset in a white infantile head.
‘It’s a lot of money Bertha.’
‘We can afford it now, of course we can. We must live up to our income… Your position demands it… And think how happy we’ll be.’
The house agent came back down the hall rubbing his hands. ‘Well, well, well… Ah I see that we’ve come to a favorable decision… You are very wise too, not a finer location in the city of New York and in a few months you wont be able to get anything out this way for love or money…’
‘Yes we’ll take it from the first of the month.’
‘Very good… You won’t regret your decision, Mr Olafson.’
‘I’ll send you a check for the amount in the morning.’
‘At your own convenience… And what is your present address please…’ The houseagent took out a notebook and moistened a stub of pencil with his tongue.
‘You had better put Hotel Astor.’ She stepped in front of her husband.
‘Our things are stored just at the moment.’
Mr Olafson turned red.
‘And… er… we’d like the names of two references please in the city of New York.’
‘I’m with Keating and Bradley, Sanitary Engineers, 43 Park Avenue…’
‘He’s just been made assistant general manager,’ added Mrs Olafson.
When they got out on the Drive walking downtown against a tussling wind
Congo produced two bent cigarettes out of the breast pocket of his coat, handed one to Emile, struck a match on the seat of his trousers, and let the smoke out slowly through his nose. ‘I’m fed up with it here I tell you…’ He brought his flat hand up across his Adam’s apple, ‘up to here… Maybe I’ll go home an visit the little girls of Bordeaux… At least they are not all made of whalebone… I’ll engage myself as a volunteer in the navy and wear a red pompom… The girls like that. That’s the only life… Get drunk and raise cain payday and see the extreme orient.’
‘And die of the syph in a hospital at thirty…’
‘What’s it matter?… Your body renews itself every seven years.’
The steps of their rooming house smelled of cabbage and stale beer. They stumbled up yawning.
‘Waiting’s a rotton tiring job… Makes the soles of your feet ache… Look it’s going to be a fine day; I can see the sun on the watertank opposite.’
Congo pulled off his shoes and socks and trousers and curled up in bed like a cat.
‘Those dirty shades let in all the light,’ muttered Emile as he stretched himself on the outer edge of the bed. He lay tossinguneasily on the rumpled sheets. Congo’s breathing beside him was low and regular. If I was only like that, thought Emile, never worrying about a thing… But it’s not that way you get along in the world. My God it’s stupid… Marco’s gaga the old fool.
And he lay on his back looking up at the rusty stains on the ceiling, shuddering every time an elevated train shook the room. Sacred name of God I must save up my money. When he turned over the knob on the bedstead rattled and he remembered Marco’s hissing husky voice: I never see the dawn that I dont say to myself perhaps.
‘If you’ll excuse me just a moment Mr Olafson,’ said the house-agent. ‘While you and the madam are deciding about the apartment…’ They stood side by side in the empty room, looking out the window at the slatecolored Hudson and the warships at anchor and a schooner tacking upstream.
Suddenly she turned to him with glistening eyes; ‘O Billy, just think of it.’
He took hold of her shoulders and drew her to him slowly. ‘You can smell the sea, almost.’
‘Just think Billy that we are going to live here, on Riverside Drive. I’ll have to have a day at home… Mrs William C. Olafson, 218 Riverside Drive… I wonder if it is all right to put the address on our visiting cards.’ She took his hand and led him through the empty cleanswept rooms that no one had ever lived in. He was a big shambling man with eyes of a washed out blue deepset in a white infantile head.
‘It’s a lot of money Bertha.’
‘We can afford it now, of course we can. We must live up to our income… Your position demands it… And think how happy we’ll be.’
The house agent came back down the hall rubbing his hands. ‘Well, well, well… Ah I see that we’ve come to a favorable decision… You are very wise too, not a finer location in the city of New York and in a few months you wont be able to get anything out this way for love or money…’
‘Yes we’ll take it from the first of the month.’
‘Very good… You won’t regret your decision, Mr Olafson.’
‘I’ll send you a check for the amount in the morning.’
‘At your own convenience… And what is your present address please…’ The houseagent took out a notebook and moistened a stub of pencil with his tongue.
‘You had better put Hotel Astor.’ She stepped in front of her husband.
‘Our things are stored just at the moment.’
Mr Olafson turned red.
‘And… er… we’d like the names of two references please in the city of New York.’
‘I’m with Keating and Bradley, Sanitary Engineers, 43 Park Avenue…’
‘He’s just been made assistant general manager,’ added Mrs Olafson.
When they got out on the Drive walking downtown against a tussling wind
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