THE LAST MOHICAN
181
seum, he saw flights of angels-gold, blue, white--interrningled in
the sky. "My God, 1 got to stop using my eyes so much," Fidelman
said to himself. But back in his room he sometimes wrote till morning.
Late one night, about a week after his arrival in Rome, as
Fidelman was writing notes on the Byzantine style mosaics he had
seen during the day, there was a knock on the door, and though the
student, immersed in his work, was not conscious he had said
"Avanti," he must have, for the door opened, and instead of an
angel, in came Susskind in
his
shirt and baggy knickers.
Fidelman, who had all but forgotten the refugee, certainly never
thought of him, half rose in astonishment. "Susskind," he exclaimed,
"how did you get in here?"
Susskind for a moment stood motionless, then answered with a
weary smile, "I'll tell you the truth, 1 know the desk clerk."
"But how did you know where 1 live?"
"1 saw you walking in the street so 1 followed you."
"You mean you saw me accidentally?"
"How else? Did you leave me your address?"
Fidelman resumed his seat. "What can 1 do for you, Susskind?"
He spoke grimly.
The refugee cleared
his
throat. "Professor, the days are warm
but the nights are cold. You see how 1 go around naked." He held
forth bluish arms, goosefleshed. "1 came to ask you to reconsider
about giving away your old suit."
"And who says it's an old suit?" Despite himself, Fidelman's
voice thickened.
"One suit is new, so the other is old."
"Not precisely. 1 am afraid 1 have no suit for you, Susskind. The
one 1 presently have hanging in the closet is a little more than
a.
year old and 1 can't afford to give it away. Besides, it's gahardine,
more like a summer suit."
"On me it will be for
all
seasons."
Mter a moment's reflection, Fidelman drew out
his
billfold and
counted four single dollars. These he handed to Susskind.
"Buy yourself
a.
warm sweater."
Susskind also counted the money.
"If
four," he said, "then why
not five?"
Fidelman flushed. The man's warped nerve. "Because 1 happen
