230
DAVID JACKSON
Meredith sat and thought. Whenever
his
literary opinion
was asked, he gave his answer hard thought, he always searched
for an honest reaction. Finally he said, "Don't you think there's
perhaps a little too much of the
Fran~oise
Sagan in it? I mean,
you know,
Bonjour .
.."
"Say, Franz ... He's a German poet, right? I don't want
anything Kraut about this."
"Well, no. Actually, you see it's a young
girl,
a French
girl,
she's written all these weird popular novels, and I just thought,
perhaps ..."
Tipping up his bottle, Nicolas had a worried look; swallow–
ing, he said, angrily, "That title wasn't my idea at
all.
If
that
bastard's goin to get me classified . . . Well, I'll fix him. You
watch. Now read me your poem. What's it about?
I
"As
a matter of fact, Greek myth. The Orpheus-Eurydice
\
myth, you know." Meredith found the poem and began reading
it in his earnest voice. Nicolas chewed and swallowed and stared
at him. He felt pretty sure he'd put himself across. On what
grounds, he couldn't say, yet, but now he was relaxed and quite
a bit more complacent about the hours ahead. The point was not
to be too friendly. He started forming some words of reaction to
the poem.
It was finished. He could tell because Meredith looked up
at him. Nicolas nodded, "Say, I liked that sexy part in there.
Now, you oughta ... Wait a minute. Where's the can?"
"The .. ? Oh, it's right out here." Meredith took Manas to
the hall and pointed up to the end at the toilet door marked
'00'. He waited. And he waited, not realizing that Manas was
several bottles of beer ahead. At last, he heard Manas calling,
"Hey! Hey, man! Where are we!" Laughing, Meredith went
out into the hall and said, "In here."
Through her door came their voices.
Mary Jane stopped writing in her journal. She raised her
eyebrows, thoughtfully. Could he have followed her,
here?
Weari–
ness and impatience, for a second or so, overcame her. Then her
