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PARTISAN REVIEW
his hands. "Give me my money." An usher took his arm, as if to
lead him from the stage, but the assistant manager deterred him,
unwilling as yet to resort to force.
"Look here," said Cornelius firmly, "either you pay him or
I am going to speak to the audience about this." In reply, the
assistant manager began to pay Cornelius, counting the money
with clipped tones as he placed it in Cornelius's hand. The old
man grabbed the assistant manager's arm when he finished,
say
109:
"Where is my money? Don't cheat me, I've had hard luck all
my life."
"My good man," said the assistant manager, "Your hard
luck is not my fault, nor this theater's responsibility. Please do
not cause a disturbance. Now if both of you will leave the stage,
we can go on with the other prizes and with the show."
In answer, the old man sat down upon the stage, looking
grotesque there, with his head turned up. "I will sit here until I
am paid," he said tearfully.
The scene was becoming unbearable for Cornelius. The old
man seemed to have decided that this money was as important as
his life. As far as Cornelius was concerned , he had been cheated.
This was too much for Cornelius.
"I am going to tell the audience about this," said Cornelius.
"No, you're not," said the assistant manager, but Cornelius
reached the microphone before the assistant manager could get
there.
"Listen!" said the assistant manager, in a wearied breathless
panicky voice, ''I'm going to lose my job for this. Have a heart."
This new object of sympathy made matters even more
complex for Cornelius. But then he looked toward the old man
seated on the floor. He had begun sobbing, and he had taken off
his glasses, wet by his tears, and was drying them with a rumpled
handkerchief.
This sight decided Cornelius. He grasped the microphone
and addressed the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the management refuses to pay this
man the sum which he has won , claiming that his card was
badly printed. This is only a pretext. I have examined the card
