40
PARTISAN REVIEW
the blood rose to
his
cheeks-it was rather undignified to be caught
looking at such things-when he recognized Julie's voice; she always
had to clear a little hoarseness from it, nervously, before speaking to
him, saying, "Good morning, Professor. You too are early today?"
"Oh," he said. "Oh." And he touched politely the rim of
his
hat. "Oh, I was just going to say, 'You too are late today?'"
They both smiled
in
a silly way and walked on together. He
looked at her askance, her mildly Semitic face with the lightly fluffed
astonished little mouth, discreetly lipsticked, her small friendly nose
and the doe eyes which were the prettiest part of her pleasing though
far from handsome appearance. She had straight black hair, worn in
a bun at her neck, and in her short dark blue camel's hair coat and
low-heeled oxfords, she walked somehow like a sailor, holding her vjo–
lin case like a bundle under her arm. Odd, he thought, when she plays
she is beautiful. He had thought it often, during the lessons, before she
took her diploma; he would accompany her distractedly, by ear, with–
out looking at the notes, in order to look at her face, serious and
strong, each feature intensified and ennobled, and her unimportant
little hand become gracile and nimble. And he thought it often as he
watched her, after she had taken her diploma and was sitting next to
him in the orchestra, leading the second violins; often he let her take
over, with her clear clean tone, again feeling distracted, as though
he were merely accompanying her on the piano, as he looked at her
face.
The stage door opened and the ape came in. He walked on his
hind legs and he was huge; his long arms dangled loosely as he
walked. Now and then he touched the parquet floor with his finger–
tips, and he seemed to enjoy this touch and yet feel guilty and
apologetic about it. He held the baton between his teeth.
It was his first rehearsal with the symphony orchestra. The
members rose respectfully to greet him. The woodwinds applauded
by clapping their hands, while the strings drummed with their bows
on their music stands. The ape swung himself onto the platform,
bowed repeatedly, then joined the clamor, drumming with the baton
on the stand. He did this half, it seemed, in apish imitation, and half
leading the noise, quickening its rhythm and raising its intensity.
Grinning. Then suddenly he stopped and held his baton, this extension
