maniac.”
Again it was sunset time. The Professor ran beneath the arched gate, turned his face toward the red sky, and began to trot along the Piste d’In Salah, straight into the setting sun. Behind him, from the garage, the soldier took a potshot at him for good luck. The bullet whistled dangerously near the Professor’s head, and his yelling rose into an indignant lament as he waved his arms more wildly, and hopped high into the air at every few steps, in an access of terror.
The soldier watched a while, smiling, as the cavorting figure grew smaller in the oncoming evening darkness, and the rattling of the tin became a part of the great silence out there beyond the gate. The wall of the garage as he leaned against it still gave forth heat, left there by the sun, but even then the lunar chill was growing in the air.
(1947)
Call at Corazón
B UT WHY WOULD YOU want a little horror like that to go along with us? It doesn’t make sense. You know what they’re like.”
“I know what they’re like,” said her husband. “It’s comforting to watch them. Whatever happens, if I had that to look at, I’d be reminded of how stupid I was ever to get upset.”
He leaned further over the railing and looked intently down at the dock. There were baskets for sale, crude painted toys of hard natural rubber, reptile-hide wallets and belts, and a few whole snakeskins unrolled. And placed apart from these wares, out of the hot sunlight, in the shadow of a crate, sat a tiny furry monkey. The hands were folded, and the forehead was wrinkled in sad apprehensiveness.
“Isn’t he wonderful?”
“I think you’re impossible—and a little insulting,” she replied.
He turned to look at her. “Are you serious?” He saw that she was.
She went on, studying her sandaled feet and the narrow deckboards beneath them: “You know I don’t really mind all this nonsense, or your craziness. Just let me finish.” He nodded his head in agreement, looking back at the hot dock and the wretched tin-roofed village beyond. “Itgoes without saying I don’t mind all that, or we wouldn’t be here together. You might be here alone…”
“You don’t take a honeymoon alone,” he interrupted.
“ You might.” She laughed shortly.
He reached along the rail for her hand, but she pulled it away, saying, “I’m still talking to you. I expect you to be crazy, and I expect to give in to you all along. I’m crazy too, I know. But I wish there were some way I could just once feel that my giving in meant anything to you. I wish you knew how to be gracious about it.”
“You think you humor me so much? I haven’t noticed it.” His voice was sullen.
“I don’t humor you at all. I’m just trying to live with you on an extended trip in a lot of cramped little cabins on an endless series of stinking boats.”
“What do you mean?” he cried excitedly. “You’ve always said you loved the boats. Have you changed your mind, or just lost it completely?”
She turned and walked toward the prow. “Don’t talk to me,” she said. “Go and buy your monkey.”
An expression of solicitousness on his face, he was following her. “You know I won’t buy it if it’s going to make you miserable.”
“I’ll be more miserable if you don’t, so please go and buy it.” She stopped and turned. “I’d love to have it. I really would. I think it’s sweet.”
“I don’t get you at all.”
She smiled. “I know. Does it bother you very much?”
After he had bought the monkey and tied it to the metal post of the bunk in the cabin, he took a walk to explore the port. It was a town made of corrugated tin and barbed wire. The sun’s heat was painful, even with the sky’s low-lying cover of fog. It was the middle of the day and few people were in the streets. He came to the edge of the town almost immediately. Here between him and the forest lay a narrow, slow-moving stream, its water the color of black coffee. A few women were washing
Again it was sunset time. The Professor ran beneath the arched gate, turned his face toward the red sky, and began to trot along the Piste d’In Salah, straight into the setting sun. Behind him, from the garage, the soldier took a potshot at him for good luck. The bullet whistled dangerously near the Professor’s head, and his yelling rose into an indignant lament as he waved his arms more wildly, and hopped high into the air at every few steps, in an access of terror.
The soldier watched a while, smiling, as the cavorting figure grew smaller in the oncoming evening darkness, and the rattling of the tin became a part of the great silence out there beyond the gate. The wall of the garage as he leaned against it still gave forth heat, left there by the sun, but even then the lunar chill was growing in the air.
(1947)
Call at Corazón
B UT WHY WOULD YOU want a little horror like that to go along with us? It doesn’t make sense. You know what they’re like.”
“I know what they’re like,” said her husband. “It’s comforting to watch them. Whatever happens, if I had that to look at, I’d be reminded of how stupid I was ever to get upset.”
He leaned further over the railing and looked intently down at the dock. There were baskets for sale, crude painted toys of hard natural rubber, reptile-hide wallets and belts, and a few whole snakeskins unrolled. And placed apart from these wares, out of the hot sunlight, in the shadow of a crate, sat a tiny furry monkey. The hands were folded, and the forehead was wrinkled in sad apprehensiveness.
“Isn’t he wonderful?”
“I think you’re impossible—and a little insulting,” she replied.
He turned to look at her. “Are you serious?” He saw that she was.
She went on, studying her sandaled feet and the narrow deckboards beneath them: “You know I don’t really mind all this nonsense, or your craziness. Just let me finish.” He nodded his head in agreement, looking back at the hot dock and the wretched tin-roofed village beyond. “Itgoes without saying I don’t mind all that, or we wouldn’t be here together. You might be here alone…”
“You don’t take a honeymoon alone,” he interrupted.
“ You might.” She laughed shortly.
He reached along the rail for her hand, but she pulled it away, saying, “I’m still talking to you. I expect you to be crazy, and I expect to give in to you all along. I’m crazy too, I know. But I wish there were some way I could just once feel that my giving in meant anything to you. I wish you knew how to be gracious about it.”
“You think you humor me so much? I haven’t noticed it.” His voice was sullen.
“I don’t humor you at all. I’m just trying to live with you on an extended trip in a lot of cramped little cabins on an endless series of stinking boats.”
“What do you mean?” he cried excitedly. “You’ve always said you loved the boats. Have you changed your mind, or just lost it completely?”
She turned and walked toward the prow. “Don’t talk to me,” she said. “Go and buy your monkey.”
An expression of solicitousness on his face, he was following her. “You know I won’t buy it if it’s going to make you miserable.”
“I’ll be more miserable if you don’t, so please go and buy it.” She stopped and turned. “I’d love to have it. I really would. I think it’s sweet.”
“I don’t get you at all.”
She smiled. “I know. Does it bother you very much?”
After he had bought the monkey and tied it to the metal post of the bunk in the cabin, he took a walk to explore the port. It was a town made of corrugated tin and barbed wire. The sun’s heat was painful, even with the sky’s low-lying cover of fog. It was the middle of the day and few people were in the streets. He came to the edge of the town almost immediately. Here between him and the forest lay a narrow, slow-moving stream, its water the color of black coffee. A few women were washing
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