Chapter 6 chapter Five

The next morning I walked down the Rue Saint-Michel to Rue Soflot for coffee and brioche.It is a sunny morning.The horse chestnuts in the Luxembourg Gardens were in bloom.It makes people feel a cool and pleasant atmosphere in the morning on a hot day.I drank coffee, read the newspaper, and smoked a cigarette.The flower girl was returning from the market, arranging a bouquet for the day.Some of the past students went to law school, and some went to the Faculty of Arts and Sciences of the University of Paris.The street is bustling with the traffic of trams and commuters.I boarded a bus, stood on the platform in the back, and headed for the Madeleine Church.From the La Magdalene, follow the Capuchin Avenue to the Opera House and then to the Editorial Office.I walk past a man with a jumping frog and a toy boxer.His girlfriend manipulates a toy boxer with a string.She stood, wiping the thread with her folded hands, but her eyes were looking away.I walked around so as not to touch the line.The man was selling to two tourists.The other three tourists stopped to watch.I'm walking behind a man pushing a roller that's stamping wet CINZANO onto the pavement.Pedestrians along the way are going to work.Going to work is a joy.I cross the street and turn into the editorial office.

Upstairs in my office I read the French morning papers, smoked, and then sat at my typewriter and worked all morning.At eleven o'clock, I took a taxi and went to Kaidao Race.I went in and sat with a dozen journalists for half an hour, listening to and answering questions from a foreign ministry spokesman (a young diplomat sent by the New France Review in horn-rimmed glasses).The President of the Senate was delivering a speech in Lyon, or rather, he was on his way home.A few people asked questions for themselves.Some news agency reporters asked two or three questions in order to know the truth.No news.Woolsey and Klum and I took a taxi back from the Keidou race.

"What do you do every night, Jack?" Krum asked. "I can't see you anywhere." "Oh, I spend a lot of time in the Latin Quarter." "I'll go some night too. Dingo's. That's the funnest place, isn't it?" "Yes. Dingo, or the new Ascot Café." "I've wanted to go for a long time," Krum said. "But with a wife and children, you know what's going on." "Do you play tennis?" Woolsey asked. "Oh, no play," Krum said. "It can be said that I haven't played once this year. I always want to go there once, but it rains a lot on Sunday and the tennis court is so crowded."

"The British have Saturdays off," Woolsey said. "Blessed are the boys," Krum said. "Oh, I'll tell you what. One day I'm not going to work for the news agency. I'll have plenty of time to go out into the country then." "That's right. Live in the country and get a car." "I plan to buy one next year." I knocked on the car window.The driver braked the car. "I'm here," I said. "Come on up for a drink." "No thanks, old friend," said Krum.Woolsey shook his head and said, "I've got to make a manuscript out of what he said this morning."

I slipped a two-franc piece into Krum's hand. "You're crazy, Jack," he said. "This trip is mine." "Anyway, it's all paid by the editorial department." "No. I'll pay." I wave goodbye.Krum poked his head out of the car window. "See you at dinner on Wednesday." "Sure." I took the elevator to the office.Robert Cohn was waiting for me. "Hi, Jack," he said. "Would you like to go out to eat?" "Okay. I'll see what's new." "Where are we going to eat?" "Anywhere."

I glanced at my desk. "Where do you want to eat?" "How about 'Wezel'? The cold cuts are good there." When we got to the restaurant, we ordered snacks and beers.The head of Sabao brought beer, which was very cold, and the outside of the tall wine glass was covered with water droplets.There are more than a dozen plates of snacks in different designs. "Have you had a good time last night?" I asked. "not so good." "How is your writing?" "It's bad. I can't finish the second part." "It happens to anyone."

"Oh, I understand what you're saying. But it's annoying me to death." "Are you still thinking about going to South America?" "Want to go." "Then why don't you start yet?" "Because of Frances." "Come on," I said, "take her with you." "She doesn't want to go. She doesn't like it. She likes it." A crowded place." "Then tell her to go to hell!" "I can't do that. I have some kind of obligation to her." He pushed aside a plate of cucumber slices and took a plate of pickled herring.

"What do you know about Lady Brett Ashley, Jack?" "Got to call her Mrs. Ashley. Brett is her own name. She's a good girl," I said. "She's getting a divorce and is going to marry Mike Campbell. Mike's in Scotland. What do you want her to do?" "This woman is very attractive." "yes?" "She has a certain air, a certain grace. She looks absolutely graceful and upright." "She's very nice." "It's hard to describe her temperament," Cohen said. "Good breeding, I suppose." "You sound like you like her very much."

"I like her very much. It wouldn't be surprising if I fell in love with her." "She's a drunk," I said. "She loves Mike Campbell and she's going to marry him. Mike's going to be rich sooner or later." "I don't believe she's going to marry him after all." "why?" "I don't know. I just don't believe it. You've known her long?" "Yes," I said, "she was a nurse in the Volunteer Ambulance Corps when I was hospitalized during the Great War." "She must have been a little girl then,"

"She is thirty-four now." "When did she marry Ashley?" "During the Great War. At that time, someone she really loved had just died of dysentery." "You put it so sarcastic." "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to tell you the truth." "I don't believe she would be willing to marry someone she doesn't love." "Well," I said. "She's done it twice already." "I do not believe." "Come on," I said, "if you don't like that answer, don't ask me a bunch of stupid questions."

"I didn't ask you that." "It was you who asked me about Brett Ashley." "I didn't ask you to speak ill of her." "Hmph, go to hell!" He turned pale suddenly, got up from his seat, and stood distraught behind the table covered with snack plates. "Sit down," I said. "Don't be stupid." "Take back your words." "Stop playing with your old temper from cram school." "Take it back!" "Okay. Anything. I don't know anything about Brett. Is that all right?" "No. Not that thing. It's that line you told me to go to hell with." "Oh, don't go to hell then," I said, "sit down, we've just started eating." Cohn smiled again and sat down.It seemed he was happy to sit down.What could he do if he didn't sit down? "You're saying such a disrespectful thing, Jack." "I'm sorry. I didn't speak well. But I definitely didn't mean it that way." "I see," Cohen said. "Actually, you're my best friend, Jack." God bless you, I thought. "Don't take what I say to heart," I said. "I'm sorry." "It's okay. It's okay. I'm just angry for a while." "That's okay. Let's get something else to eat." After we finished our meal, we wandered over to the Peace Cafe for coffee.I sensed that Cohen wanted to mention Brett, but I cut the conversation.We talked about other things, and then I said goodbye to him and went back to the editorial office.