196
PARTISAN REVIEW
Giotto.
San Francesco dona Ie vesti al cavaliere povero.
Fidelman awoke running. He stuffed his blue gabardine into
a paper bag, caught a bus, and knocked early on Susskind's heavy
portal.
"Avanti." The refugee, already garbed
in
beret and raincoat
(probably
his
pajamas), was standing at the table, lighting the candle
with a flaming sheet of paper. To Fidelman the paper looked like
the underside of a typewritten page. Despite himself, the student re–
called in letters of fire his entire chapter.
"Here, Susskind," he said in a trembling voice, offering the
bundle, "I bring you my suit. Wear it in good health."
The refugee glanced at it without expression. "What do you
wish for it?"
"Nothing at all." Fidelman laid the bag on the table, called
goodbye and left.
He soon heard footsteps clattering after him across the cobble–
stones.
"Excuse me, I kept this under my mattress for you." Susskind
thrust at him the pigskin brief case.
Fidelman savagely opened it, searching frenziedly in each com–
partment, but the bag was empty. The refugee was already
in
flight
With a bellow the student started after him. "You bastard, you burned
my chapter!"
"Have mercy," cried Susskind, "I did you a favor."
"I'll do you one and cut your throat."
"The words were there but the spirit was missing."
In a towering rage, Fidelman forced a burst of speed, but the
refugee, light as the wind in his marvelous knickers, his green coat–
tails flying, rapidly gained ground.
The ghetto Jews, framed
in
amazement in their medieval
win–
dows, stared at the wild pursuit. But
in
the middle of it, Fidelman,
stout and short of breath, moved by all he had lately learned,
had
a triumphant insight.
"Susskind, come back," he shouted, half sobbing. "The suit
is
yours. All is forgiven."
He came to a dead halt but the refugee ran on. When last
seeD
he was still running.
