Across the River and Into the Trees Page 8

There were many good pieces of old jewelry in the window and they stood and looked at them and pointed out the best ones to each other, unclasping their hands to do so.

  �Is there anything you really want? I could get it in the morning. Cipriani would loan me the money.�

  �No,� she said. �I do not want anything but I notice that you never give me presents.�

  �You are much richer than I am. I bring you small things from the PX and I buy you drinks and meals.�

  �And take me in gondolas and to lovely places in the country.�

  �I never thought you wanted presents of hard stones.�

  �I don�t. It is just the thought of giving and then one looks at them and thinks about them when they are worn.�

  �I�m learning,� the Colonel said. �But what could I buy you on Army pay that would be like your square emeralds?�

  �But don�t you see. I inherited them. They came from my grandmother, and she had them from her mother who had them from her mother. Do you think it is the same to wear stones that come from dead people?�

  �I never thought about it.�

  �You can have them if you like, if you like stones. To me they are only something to wear like a dress from Paris. You don�t like to wear your dress uniform, do you?�

  �No.�

  �You don�t like to carry a sword, do you?�

  �No, repeat, no.�

  �You are not that kind of a soldier and I am not that sort of girl. But sometime give me something lasting that I can wear and be happy each time I wear it.�

  �I see,� the Colonel said. �And I will.�

  �You learn fast about things you do not know,� the girl said. �And you make lovely quick decisions. I would like you to have the emeralds and you could keep them in your pocket like a lucky piece, and feel them if you were lonely.�

  �I don�t put my hands much in my pockets when I�m working. I usually twirl a stick, or something, or point things out with a pencil.�

  �But you could put your hand in your pocket only once in a long time and feel them.�

  �I�m not lonely when I�m working. I have to think too hard to ever be lonely.�

  �But you are not working now.�

  �No. Only preparing the best way to be over-run.�

  �I�m going to give them to you anyway. I�m quite sure Mummy will understand. Also I won�t need to tell her for quite a long time. She keeps no check on my things. I�m sure my maid would never tell her.�

  �I don�t think I should take them.�

  �You should, please, to give me pleasure.�

  �I�m not sure it�s honorable.�

  �That is like not being sure whether you are a virgin. What you do to give pleasure to another whom you love is most honorable.�

  �All right,� the Colonel said. �I will take them for better or for worse.�

  �Now you say thank you,� the girl said and slipped them into his pocket as quickly and ably as a jewel thief might. �I brought them with me because I have been thinking and deciding about this all week.�

  �I thought you thought about my hand.�

  �Don�t be surly, Richard. And you should never be stupid. It is your hand you touch them with. Didn�t you think of that?�

  �No. And I was stupid. What would you like from that window?�

  �I would like that small Negro with the ebony face and the turban made of chip diamonds with the small ruby on the crown of the turban. I should wear it as a pin. Everyone wore them in the old days in this city and the faces were those of their confidential servants. I have coveted this for a long time, but I wanted you to give it to me.�

  �I�ll send it in the morning.�

  �No. Give it to me when we have lunch before you go.�

  �Right,� the Colonel said.

  �Now we must walk or we will be too late for dinner.�

  They started to walk, arm through arm, and as they went up the first bridge, the wind lashed at them.

  When the twinge came, the Colonel said to himself, the hell with that.

  �Richard,� the girl said. �Put your hand in your pocket to please me and feel them.�

  The Colonel did.

  �They feel wonderful,� he said.

  CHAPTER XI

  THEY came in, out of the wind and the cold, through the main entrance of the Gritti Palace Hotel, into the light and warmth of the lobby.

  �Good evening, Contessa,� the concierge said. �Good evening, my Colonel. It must be cold outside.�

  �It is,� the Colonel said, and did not add any of the rough or obscene phrases about the extent of the cold, or the force of the wind, that he could ordinarily have employed, for their mutual pleasure when speaking, alone, with the concierge.

  As they entered the long hallway that led to the big stairs and to the elevator, leaving, on your right, the entrance to the bar, the doorway onto the Grand Canal, and the entrance to the dining room, the Gran Maestro came out of the bar.

  He was wearing a formal white jacket, cut long, and he smiled at them and said, �Good evening, my Countess. Good evening, my Colonel.�

  �Gran Maestro� the Colonel said. The Gran Maestro smiled and, still bowing, said, �We are dining in the bar at the far end. There is no one here now in the winter time and the dining room is too big. I have saved your table. We have a very fine lobster if you would like him to commence with.�

  �Is he really fresh?�

  �I saw him this morning when he came from the market in a basket. He was alive and a dark green and completely unfriendly.�

  �Would you like lobster, Daughter, to start your dinner?�

  The Colonel was conscious of using the word, and so was the Gran Maestro, and so was the girl. But to each one it meant a different thing.

  �I wanted to have him for you in case any pescecani came in. They are down now to gamble at the Lido. I was not trying to sell him.�

  �I would love some lobster,� the girl said. �Cold, and with mayonnaise. The mayonnaise rather stiff.� She said this in Italian.

  �It isn�t too expensive?� she said to the Colonel, seriously.

  �Ay hija mia,� the Colonel said.

  �Feel in your right pocket,� she said.

  �I�ll see that he is not too expensive,� the Gran Maestro said. �Or I�ll buy him myself. I could get him quite easily with a week�s wages.�

  �Sold to TRUST,� the Colonel said, this being the code designation of the task force occupying Trieste. �He only costs me a day�s wages.�

  �Put your hand in your right hand pocket and feel very rich,� the girl said.

  The Gran Maestro had sensed this was a private joke and had gone; silently. He was happy about the girl, whom he respected and admired, and he was happy for his Colonel.

  �I am rich,� the Colonel said. �But if you tease me about them, I will give them back, and on the linen tablecloth, and in public.�

  He was teasing rough in his turn; throwing in the counter-attack without even thinking.

  �No you won�t,� she said. �Because you love them already.�

  �I would take anything I love and throw it off the highest cliff you ever saw and not wait to hear it bounce.�

  �No, you wouldn�t,� the girl said. �You would not throw me off any high cliffs.�

  �No,� the Colonel agreed. �And forgive me for talking badly.�

  �You didn�t talk very badly and I didn�t believe it anyway,� the girl told him. �Now should I go to the women�s room to comb my hair and make myself presentable, or should I come up to your room?�

  �Which do you wish?�

  �To come to your room, of course, and see how you live and how things are there.�

  �What about the hotel?�

  �Everything is known in Venice anyway. But it is also known who my family are and that I am a good girl. Also they know it is you and it is I. We have some credit to exhaust.�

  �Good,� the Colonel said. �By stairs or elevator?�

  �By elevator,� she said, and he
heard the change in her voice. �You can call a boy or we can run it ourselves.�

  �We run it ourselves,� the Colonel said. �I checked out on elevators long ago.�

  It was a good ride with a slight bump, and a rectification at the end, and the Colonel thought: Checked out, eh? You better be checked out again.

  The corridor was now not simply beautiful, but exciting, and putting the key into the lock was not a simple process, but a rite.

  �Here it is,� the Colonel said when he swung the door open. �What there is of it.�

  �It is charming,� the girl said. �But it is awfully cold with the windows open.�

  �I�ll close them.�

  �No, please. Leave them open if you like it that way.�

  The Colonel kissed her and felt her wonderful, long, young, lithe and properly built body against his own body, which was hard and good, but beat-up, and as he kissed her he thought of nothing.

  They kissed for a long time, standing straight, and kissing true, in the cold of the open windows that were onto the Grand Canal.

  �Oh,� she said. Then, �Oh.�

  �We owe nothing,� the Colonel said. �Not a thing.�

  �Will you marry me and will we have the five sons?�

  �I will! I will.�

  �The thing is that, would you?�

  �Of course.�

  �Kiss me once again and make the buttons of your uniform hurt me but not too much.�

  They stood there and kissed each other true. �I have a disappointment for you, Richard,� she said. �I have a disappointment about everything.�

  She said it as a flat statement and it came to the Colonel in the same way as a message came from one of the three battalions, when the battalion commander spoke the absolute truth and told you the worst.

  �You are positive?�

  �Yes.�

  �My poor Daughter,� he said.

  Now there was nothing dark about the word and she was his Daughter, truly, and he pitied her and loved her.

  �No matter,� he said. �You comb yourself and make a new mouth and all that, and we will have a good dinner.�

  �Say once more, first, that you love me and make the buttons very tight.�

  �I love you,� the Colonel said quite formally.

  Then he whispered into her ear as gently as he knew how to whisper, as his whisper was when they are fifteen feet away and you are a young lieutenant on a patrol, �I love you only, my best and last and only and one true love.�

  �Good,� she said, and kissed him hard so he could feel the sweet salt of the blood inside his lip. And I like that too, he thought.

  �Now I will comb my hair and make my mouth new and you can watch me.�

  �Do you want me to shut the windows?�

  �No,� she said. �We will do it all in the cold.�

  �Who do you love?�

  �You,� she said. �And we don�t have too much luck do we?�

  �I don�t know,� the Colonel said. �Go ahead and comb your hair.�

  The Colonel went into the bathroom to wash up for dinner. The bathroom was the only disappointing part of the room. Due to the exigencies of the Gritti having been built as a palace, there had been no site for bathrooms at the time of building, and, later, when they were introduced, they had been built down the corridor and those entitled to use them gave due warning before-hand and water was heated and towels laid out.

  This bathroom had been cut, arbitrarily, from a corner of the room and it was a defensive, rather than an attacking bathroom, the Colonel felt. Washing, and forced to look in the mirror to check any traces of lipstick, he regarded his face.

  It looks as though it had been cut out of wood by an indifferent craftsman, he thought.

  He looked at the different welts and ridges that had come before they had plastic surgery, and at the thin, only to be observed by the initiate, lines of the excellent plastic operations after head wounds.

  Well, that is what I have to offer as a gueule or a fa�ade, he thought. It is a damn poor offer. The only thing is that it is tanned, and that takes some of the curse off of it. But, Christ what an ugly man.

  He did not notice the old used steel of his eyes nor the small, long extending laugh wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, nor that his broken nose was like a gladiator�s in the oldest statues. Nor did he notice his basically kind mouth which could be truly ruthless.

  The hell with you, he said to the mirror. You beat-up, miserable. Should we rejoin the ladies?

  He went out from the bathroom into the room, and he was as young as at his first attack. Every worthless thing had been left in the bathroom. As always, he thought. That�s the place for it.

  O� sont les neiges d�antan? O� sont les neiges d�autre-fois? Dans le pissoir toute la chose comme �a.

  The girl whose first name was Renata, had the doors of the tall armoire open. They were all mirrored inside and she was combing her hair.

  She was not combing it for vanity, nor to do to the Colonel what she knew it could and would do. She was combing it with difficulty and without respect, and, since it was very heavy hair and as alive as the hair of peasants, or the hair of the beauties of the great nobility, it was resistant to the comb.

  �The wind made it very tangled,� she said. �Do you love me still?�

  �Yes,� the Colonel said. �May I help you?�

  �No, I�ve done it all my life.�

  �You could stand sidewise.�

  �No. All contours are for our five sons and for your head to rest on.�

  �I was only thinking of the face,� the Colonel said. �But thank you for calling my attention. My attention has been faulty again.�

  �I am over bold.�

  �No,� the Colonel said. �In America, they make such things of wire and of sponge-rubber, such as you use in the seats of tanks. You never know there, whether there is any truth in the matter, unless you are a bad boy as I am.�

  �Here it is not that way,� she said, and, with the comb, swung her now parted hair forward so that it came below the line of her cheek, and slanting back, hung over her shoulders.

  �Do you like it neat?�

  �It�s not too neat but it is damn lovely.�

  �I could put it up and all that sort of thing if you value neatness. But I cannot manage hairpins and it seems so silly.� Her voice was so lovely and it always reminded him of Pablo Casals playing the cello that it made him feel as a wound does that you think you cannot bear. But you can bear anything, he thought.

  �I love you very much the way you are,� the Colonel said. �And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, or seen, even in paintings by good painters.�

  �I wonder why the portrait has not come.�

  �The portrait is lovely to have,� the Colonel said, and now he was a General again without thinking of it. �But it is like skinning a dead horse.�

  �Please don�t be rough,� the girl said. �I don�t feel at all like being rough tonight.�

  �I slipped into the jargon of my sale m�tier.�

  �No,� she said. �Please put your arms around me. Gently and well. Please. It is not a dirty trade. It is the oldest and the best, although most people who practice it are unworthy.�

  He held her as tight as he could without hurting and she said, �I would not have you be a lawyer nor a priest. Nor sell things. Nor be a great success. I love you to be in your trade and I love you. Please whisper to me if you wish.�

  The Colonel whispered; holding her tight, and with his heart broken, honestly and fairly, in his whisper that was as barely audible as a silent dog whistle heard close to the ear, �I love you, devil. And you�re my Daughter, too. And I don�t care about our losses because the moon is our mother and our father. And now let�s go down to dinner.�

  He whispered this last so low that it was inaudible to anyone who did not love you.

  �Yes,� the girl said. �Yes. But kiss me once more first.�

  CHAPTER XII

>   THEY were at their table in the far corner of the bar, where the Colonel had both his flanks covered, and he rested solidly against the corner of the room. The Gran Maestro knew about this, since he had been an excellent sergeant in a good company of infantry, in a first-rate regiment, and he would no more have seated his Colonel in the middle of a room than he would have taken up a stupid defensive position.

  �The lobster,� the Gran Maestro said.

  The lobster was imposing. He was double the size a lobster should be, and his unfriendliness had gone with the boiling, so that now he looked a monument to his dead self; complete with protruding eyes and his delicate, far-extended antennae that were for knowing what rather stupid eyes could not tell him.

  He looks a little bit like Georgie Patton, the Colonel thought. But he probably never cried in his life when he was moved.

  �Do you think that he will be tough?� he asked the girl in Italian.

  �No,� the Gran Maestro assured them, still bowing with the lobster. �He�s truly not tough. He�s only big. You know the type.�

  �All right,� the Colonel said. �Serve him.�

  �And what will you drink?�

  �What do you want, Daughter?�

  �What you want.�

  �Capri Bianco,� the Colonel said. �Secco and really cold.�

  �I have it ready,� said the Gran Maestro.

  �We are having fun,� the girl said. �We are having it again and without sorrow. Isn�t he an imposing lobster?�

  �He is,� the Colonel answered. �And he better damn well be tender.�

  �He will be,� the girl told him. �The Gran Maestro doesn�t lie. Isn�t it wonderful to have people who do not lie?�

  �Very wonderful and quite rare,� the Colonel said. �I was thinking just now of a man named Georgie Patton who possibly never told the truth in his life.�

  �Do you ever lie?�

  �I�ve lied four times. But each time I was very tired. That�s not an excuse,� he added.

  �I lied a lot when I was a little girl. But mostly it was making up stories. Or I hope so. But I have never lied to my own advantage.�

  �I have,� said the Colonel. �Four times.�

  �Would you have been a general if you had not lied?�

  �If I had lied as others lied, I would have been a three-star general.�

  �Would it make you happier to be a three-star general?�

  �No,� said the Colonel. �It would not.�

  �Put your right hand, your real hand, in your pocket once and tell me how you feel.�

  The Colonel did so.

  �Wonderful,� he said. �But I have to give them back you know.�

  �No. Please no.�

  �We won�t go into it now.�

  Just then the lobster was served.

  It was tender, with the peculiar slippery grace of that kicking muscle which is the tail, and the claws were excellent; neither too thin, nor too fat.

  �A lobster fills with the moon,� the Colonel told the girl. �When the moon is dark he is not worth eating.�

  �I didn�t know that.�

  �I think it may be because, with the full moon, he feeds all night. Or maybe it is that the full moon brings him feed.�

  �They come from the Dalmatian coast do they not?�

  �Yes,� the Colonel said. �That�s your rich coast in fish. Maybe I should say our rich coast.�

  �Say it,� the girl said. �You don�t know how important things that are said are.�

  �They are a damn sight more important when you put them on paper.�