"I don't know why I'm so thirsty. I haven't eaten anything salty."
"I'll bring you some water if you like."
"Water." She drew back the glass contemptuously.
"I wish you wouldn't drink tonight. It's a strong punch," I said. My tone was unmistakable. I did not mean to be disobeyed. Yet a little later I saw her at the bowl and frowned at the quick motion with which she raised her arm and drank. I was irritated enough to consider, for a moment, striding up and snatching the glass away.
Instead I started a conversation with Abt on the first subject that came to hand, the war in Libya. We wandered into the kitchen, talking.
Abt is one of my oldest and best friends. I have-always been much attached to him and have valued him perhaps more than he has valued me. That does not make much difference; he certainly has great affection for me, and some respect. At college we roomed together for a while. We were temporarily estranged because of a political matter. When we returned to Chicago we resumed our friendship, and while he worked for his doctorate-comuntil last June he was an instructor in political science-comhe practically lived with us.
"We owe a lot to the Italians," Abt was saying. "They have a sensible attitude toward the war.
They want to go home. And that isn't our only indebtedness. Capitalism never made them the victims of addition and subtraction. They remained a thoughtful people." (he spoke slowly, o that I knew he was improvising, an old habit of his.) "And they never became swashbucklers. They have better taste and less false pride than the heirs of Arminius. Of course, that was an Italian mistake. Tacitus inflated the Germans '@.
My irritation with Iva faded. I found myself listeningAmused, to his praise of the Italians.
"So that's our debtea8I said, smiling. "Do you think they're going to save us?88They won't do us any harm. It begins to look as thoughcivilization may start its comeback from the Mediterranean, where it was born.88Have you tried that on Dr.
Rood?88He'd take me seriously and try to steal the idea.8Dr. Arnold Rood, or Mary Baker Rood, as Abt liked tocall him, was the head of his department and a dean of thecollege.8How is the old man?88Still oily, still the highest-paid Reader in the city, andjust as ignorant as ever. I have become his favorite problem in conversion and I have to see him twice a week todiscuss Science and Health. Some fine afternoon I'll sticka knife into him and say, "Pray yourself out of that, youbastard." That's a vulgar refutation, like lohnson's kickingthe stone to triumph over Berkeley. But I can't think of anyother way to deal with him.8I laughed, and at the same moment another, shrillerladdugh, almost an outcry, came from the front of the house. i stared down the hall.8Minna," Abt said.
"I wish something could be done "It appalled to hear that cry and to recall the look on her face when she had greeted us in the entry hall. The party blared on in. side, and I began to think what a gathering of this sort meant. And it came to me all at once that the human purposeof these occasions had always been to free the charge of feeling in the pent heart; and that, as animals instinctivelysought salt or lime, we, too, flew together at this need as we had at Eleusis, with rites and dances, and at other high festivals and corroborees to witness pains and tortures, to give our scorn, hatred, and desire temporary liberty and play. Only we did these things without grace or mystery, lacking the forms for them and, relying on drunkenness, assassinated the Gods in one another and shrieked in vengefulness and hurt. I frowned at this dreadful picture.
"Oh, yes," said Abt, "she's having a bad time."
It reassured me to hear him say this; he felt as I did about it.
"But she shouldn't allow herself'." Rapid footstepscame toward the kitchen. "There's such a thing as '@.
"What's such a thing?" Minna said.
"Was that you yelling?" said Abt.
"I wasn't yelling. Stand aside from the refrigerator. George and I have come for ice cubes. Say, what are you hiding in the kitchen for, anyway? There's a party on. These two," she said to George, "are always in a corner together. Him in his undertaker's suit, and this one… with rings under his eyes. Like a couple of plotters." She walked out unsteadily. George, with a set and disapprovingface, carried the ice. filled bowl.
"Having a wonderful night, isn't she?" said Abt.
"Is Harry dnmk, too? What's the matter with them?"
"He may be a little soused. I think he knows what he's doing," said Abt. "But it's really not our business @?
"I thought they were getting along."
"There's trouble of some sort. But, ah!" he made a grimace. "It's very unlovely."
"It certainly is," I said.
"I've had my share, too, tonight. That business of George's damned poem."
"Oh, I know."
"I'm going to keep my nose clean."
I felt increasingly disturbed. Abt looked and sounded exceptionally unhappy. Not that it was unusual for him to be unhappy; he was seldom otherwise.
But tonight there was a much larger degree of harshness in his customary mixture of levity and harshness. I had noticed that and, though I had laughed, I had also winced a little when he spoke of stabbing Dr. Rood.
I sighed. Of course he was still in love with Minna.
Or would it be better to say that he had never recovered from his disappointment in her? But there was more to it than that, I knew-a fundamental discontentwhich would not yield its meaning to such easy formulations as "love" and "disappointment." Still more, I was disturbed at myself because I knew that at heart I was tired of Abt's unhappiness and of seeing him rise to it like a jaded but skillful boxer. I did not want to admit that. I urged my sympathies to work for him.
He was unhappy, after all, wasn't he?
We came back to the living room. Iva was sitting beside Stillman on the piano bench.
Servatius and Gilda Hillman had appeared at last; they were dancing. Her face was lowered against his chest; they hung together, moving slowly.
"Nice-looking couple, aren't they?" Minna said. She was standing behind us. We turned uneasily.
"Well, they are," she said. "Harry dances well. She's not bad, either." We did not reply.
"Oh, you're a couple of fish." She started to walk away but thought better of it. "You needn't have such high opinions of yourselves.
You're not the man Harry is, and you're not, either."
"Minna," I said. "Minna yourself!"
We turned from her. "She's getting worse and worse," I said awkwardly. "We ought to leave."
Abt answered nothing.
I told Iva that I was going to get her coat.
"What for?" she said. "I don't want to go yet." She regarded the matter as settled. She looked around calmly; she was mildly drunk.
I persisted. "It's getting late."
"Oh, don't break up the party," said Stillman. "Stay a while."
Red-faced and smiling broadly, Jack Brill came up to us a few minutes later, saying, "Minna's looking for you, Morris."
"For me? What does she want?" said Abt.
"Search me. But I'm pretty sure she'll get it."
"Morris!"
"Morris!"
"I told you. Here she comes," said Brill.
"Morris," said Minna, putting her hand on his shoulder, "I want you to do something for the party. It's got to be livened up, it's going dead."
"I'm afraid I can't help you," said Abt.
"Yes you can. I have a marvelous idea."
No one asked what this idea was. Jack Brill, after smiling at everyone's discomfiture, said, "What's your idea, Minna?"
"Morris is going to hypnotize somebody."
"You're mistaken," said Abt. "I've given up amateur hypnotism. You'll have to ask someone else to liven up your party." He spoke coldly and without looking at her. "It's not a good idea, Minna," I put it.