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PARTISAN REVIEW
dollars? He wouldn't ask Moscow, who already was openly feed–
ing him one square meal a day, who sneaked him leftovers from
the kitchen, and could hardly afford, on a salary of twelve dollars
a week, to pay his
own
rent. Athos had combed the want ads and
walked the streets every day the weather was decent to hunt for
work, but who wanted librarians or translators when what every–
body despeflltely needed was food? clothes? shelter? After all,
even he couldn't eat a book. And now with the bad weather bear–
ing down, job-hunting would be much harder because of his
poor coat and worn-out shoes. Money for carfare was out; there
wasn't any. It would be almost easier to walk out into the storm,
catch pneumonia and be taken to the County Hospital. He
might die, but at least he would die in a clean bed in a warm
ward.
"Banks are closing right and left," the man was shouting in
Greek. "We have thirteen million unemployed and that forni–
cator Hoover is still saying 'business as usual.' Where am I going
to find the food to put in my daughter's mouth between now and
March when FOR takes office? I carried her on my shoulders in
the torchlight parade the night he won, but I'm carrying two
mortgages on my property, I'm still being paid in scrip half the
time, and though I work fifteen hours a day in my laboratory,
the only steady requests are from bootleggers and sons of bitches
who want to dope the horses."
Somebody else at the table spoke, and the man with the
long hair shouted back,
"'6chee!
I'm not Saint Panayotis, but
you do not dishonor your work. How could I look into the eyes
of my child if I filled with narcotics and stimulants hypodermics
for horses? It is well that everybody should know this about me
because some of the requests have come from down here," and he
jerked his head toward the door that opened onto. Halsted Street.
A small arm reached toward the bread basket in front of the
man with the loud voice, and for the first time Athos became
aware that a child was sitting on the other side of him. By cran–
ing he could make out a little girl of six or seven with puffy
shadows under her eyes and a morose look.
" H ere,
pethimou,"
the man said. "Ea t! " H e handed her a
chunk of bread, but she broke off only a tiny fragment to put
into her mouth.
"Feta?"
the man insisted. "Olives?"
The child shook her head , and Athos realized that she
