314
PARTISAN REVIEW
"Well, what are you, then?" she asked softly.
Beard, surprising himself, said, ''I'm a Jew." With a rush of strong and
important feeling, it struck him that he was indeed a Jew.
Inger shrugged. "I might have Jewish blood. Who knows about such
things?"
Beard had anticipated a more meaningful, more sensitive, response.
He saw instead, once again, the essential Inger. She was, in her peculiar
way, as innocent as a monkey. She had no peculiar, cultivated sensibility.
No idea of history. She was what she was, as if she'd dropped into the
world yesterday. A purely objective angelic being. He had her number,
he thought. Having her number didn't make him detached. His feelings
were no less intense, no less wonderful, and - no other word for it - un–
satisfied. She got to him like certain kinds of music . He thought of
unaccompanied cello suites.
"Inger," he whispered, "have pity. I'm in love with you."
"Nonsense. I'm not very pretty."
"Yes, you are."
"If that's how you feel ... "
"It is."
"You feel this now. Later, who knows?"
"Could you feel something for me?"
''I'm not indifferent."
"That's all?"
"You may love me."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. But I think ... "
''I'm self-indulgent."
"It's a burden for me."
''I'll learn to be good."
"I applaud this decision."
"When can I see you again?"
"You will pay me what you promised?"
"Of course."
She studied his face, as if to absorb a new understanding, and then ,
with no reservations in her voice, said, "I will go home tonight. You may
come for me tomorrow night. You may come upstairs and meet my
roommate. "
me.
"Must you go home?"
"I dislike washing my underwear in a bathroom sink."
''I'll wash your underwear."
"I have chores, things
I
have to do at home. You are frightening
"
