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PARTISAN REVIEW
the bump, maybe because his forehead was already rather bumpy
as if the cranium beneath had been molded by a potter who was
just beginning to learn his craft.
"I need a translator," the man said in Greek. " With your
permission-" and he sat down in the chair beside Athos. The
chair sagged slightly and collapsed.
It
was so much like his parents' vaudeville routines, that for
one crazy moment Athos wondered if Panayotis Rigas had re–
hearsed it all ahead of time. An instant later he was filled with
panic, for the fellow was glaring up at him from the splintered
rubble of the flimsy Thonet chair as if Athos had sawed it apart
and then carefully reglued it so that it would be sure to burst into
smithereens at the slightest pressure. He wasn't a heavy man at
all, but he was abrupt and forceful in his movements, and he
could hardly have known that the most rickety furniture was re–
served for the rear of the restaurant where the waiters and charity
cases like Athos took their meals. Now Rigas would never hire
him!
" Chama tou keratos!"
Rigas growled.
" Co
screw your
cuckold! "
Athos leaned down to give him a hand and felt how heavy
the man's bones were. No wonder the chair had snapped
to
pieces.
Rigas leaned forward and with his free hand grasped the table
leg for additional support.
"No, no!" cried Athos, but it was already too late. Like the
ghost
to
the tomb, like the child to the womb, it collapsed and
unbuilded again. Delicately the table teetered on its legs, and
then they folded under it as smoothly as if they had been hinged,
with only little cracking noises
to
tell of nails being ripped from
holes, splinters from legs. The entire assemblage-table, linen
spattered with tomato sauce, silver and glassware, newspaper
and dishes, including a half-full bowl of egg-lemon soup-came
down upon Rigas like the wolf on the fold. Athos wasn't think–
ing of Byron just then, but Maude, for some inexplicable reason,
was,
and she could never recall that improbable scene in the res–
taurant without Byron's anapests galloping through her head.
After all, she had been secretary of the Ladies' Literary Society at
Oberlin for three years.
But Pano was no lamb. "Go sleep with Christ and the Holy
