The Collected Stories Of Saul Bellow (35 page)

Or thinking back to the passionate Clara, or to the Clara who had wanted them buried side by side or even in the same grave. This had lately begun to amuse him.

From her New York office, she had continued to talk. So far he had had little to say other than to congratulate her on the recovery of this major symbol, Madison Hamilton’s emerald. “This Gina is a special young woman, Ithiel,” she told him. “You would have expected such behavior from a Sicilian or a Spanish woman, and not a contemporary, either, but a romantic Stendhal character—a Happy Few type, or a young woman of the Italian Renaissance in one of those Venetian chronicles the Elizabethans took from.”

“Not what you would expect from the Vienna of Kurt Waldheim,” he said.

“You’ve got it. And a young person of that quality shouldn’t go on tending kids in New York—Gogmagogsville. Now, what I want to suggest is that she go to Washington.”

“And you’d like me to find her a job?”

“That wouldn’t be easy. She has a student visa, not a green card. I need to get her away from here.”

“Save her from the Haitian. I see. However, she may not want to be saved.’

“I’ll have to find out how she sees it. My hunch is that the Haitian episode is over and she’s ready for some higher education….”

“And that’s where I come in, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be light with me about this. I’m asking you to take me seriously. Remember what you said to me not long ago about my moral logic, worked out on my own feminine premises under my own power…. Now, I’ve never known you to talk through your hat on any real subject.”

She had been centered, unified, concentrated, heartened, oriented by his description of her, and she couldn’t let him withdraw any part of it.

“What I saw was what I said. Years of observation to back it. Does she want to come to Washington?”

“Well, Ithiel, I haven’t had an opportunity to ask her. But… so that you’ll understand me, I’ve come to love that girl. I’ve examined minutely every aspect of what probably happened, and I believe that the man stole the ring because their relationship was coming to an end. Their affair was about over. So he made her an accessory to the theft and she went with him only to get my emerald back.”

Ithiel said, “And why do you believe this… this scenario of yours—that she was through with him, and he was so cunning, and she had such a great sense of honor, or responsibility? All of it sounds more like
you
_ than like any sample of the general population.”

“But what I’m telling you,” she said with special emphasis, “is that Gina isn’t a sample from the population, and that I love her.”

“And you want us to meet. And she’ll come under my influence. She’ll fall in love with me. So you and I will increase our number. She’ll enlist with us. And she and I will cherish each other, and you will have the comfort of seeing me in safe hands, and this will be your blessing poured over the two of us.”

“Teddy, you’re making fun of me,” she said, but she knew perfectly well that he wasn’t making fun, that wasn’t where the accent fell, and his interpretation was more or less correct, as far as it went.

“We’ll never get each other out of trouble,” said Ithiel. “Not the amount of trouble we’re in. And even that is not so exceptional. And we all know what to expect. Only a few mavericks fight on. That’s you I’m speaking of. I like to think that I’m at home with what is real. Your idea of the real is different. Maybe it’s deeper than mine. Now, if your young lady has her own reasons for moving down here to Washington, I’ll be happy to meet her for your sake and talk to her. But the sort of arrangements that are ideal for your little children—play school, parties, and concerned teachers—can’t be extended to the rest of us.”

‘Oh, Teddy, I’m not such a fool as you take me for,” Clara said.

After this conversation, she drew up a memo pad to try to summarize Ithiel’s underlying view: The assumptions we make as to one another’s motives are so circumscribed, our understanding of the universe and its forces is so false, that the more we analyze, the more injury we do. She knew perfectly well that this memo, like all the others, would disappear. She’d ask herself, “What was I thinking after my talk with Teddy?” and she’d never see this paper anymore.

Now she had to arrange a meeting with Gina Wegman, and that turned out to be a difficult thing to do. She would never have anticipated that it would be so hard. She repeatedly called Gottschalk, who said he was in touch with Gina. He hadn’t actually seen her yet. He now had a midtown number for her and occasionally was able to reach her. “Have you said that I’d like a meeting?” said Clara. She thought, It’s shame. The poor kid is ashamed.

“She said she was extremely busy, and I believe there’s a plan for her to go home.”

“To Austria?”

“She speaks English okay, only I’m not getting a clear signal.”

Unkindly, Clara muttered that if he’d keep his glasses clean he’d see more. Also, to increase his importance and his fees, he was keeping information from her—or pretending that he had more information than he actually did have. “If you’d give me the number, I could try a direct call,” she said. “Now, is the young man with her, there in midtown?”

“That wouldn’t be my guess. I think she’s with friends, relatives, and I think she’s going back to Vienna real soon. I’ll give you her number, but before you call her, let me have a few hours more to get supplementary information for you.”

“Fine,” said Clara, and as soon as Gottschalk was off the line she dialed Gina. She reached her at once. As simple as that.

“Oh, Mrs. Velde. I meant to call you,” said Gina. “I was a little put off by that Mr. Gottschalk. He’s a detective, and I worried about your attitude, that you thought it was a police matter.”

“He’s not police at all, he’s strictly private. I needed to find out. I would never have threatened. I wanted to know where you were. The man’s a moron. Never mind about him. Is it true, Gina, that you’re going to Vienna?”

The young woman said, “Tonight, Lufthansa. Via Munich.”

“Without seeing me? Why, that’s not possible. I must have made you angry. But it’s not anger that I feel toward you; just the opposite. And we have to meet before you leave. You must be rushed with last-minute things.” Horrified to be losing her, and dilated with heat and breath, her heart swelling suddenly she was hardly able to speak because of the emotional stoppage of her throat. “Won’t you make some time for me, Gina? There’s so much to work out, so much between us. Why the rush home?”

“And I would very much like to see you, Mrs. Velde. The hurry is my engagement and marriage.”

Clara wildly guessed, She’s pregnant. “Are you marrying Frederic?” she said. It was a charged question, nearly a prayer: Don’t let her be as crazy as that. Gina was not prepared to answer. She seemed to be considering. But presently she said, “I wouldn’t have to go to Vienna, in that case. My fiance is a man from my father’s bank.”

Whether or not to explain herself must have been the issue. Explanations, in Clara’s opinion, should be made. Gina had been wavering, but now she agreed, she decided to see Clara after all. Yes, she was going to do it. “Some friends are giving me a cocktail send-off. That’s on Madison in the low Seventies. Maybe half an hour beforehand?… In your way, you
were
_ very kind,” Clara heard the girl saying.

“Let’s make it at the Westbury, then. When? At four o’clock.” Kind, in my way… Signifying what? She feels I was crude. But these side issues could be dealt with later. Right now Clara’s appointment with Dr. Gladstone must be canceled. Since the fee would have to be paid notwithstanding, he’d have an hour to think deep analytic thoughts, ponder identity problems, Clara told herself with more than a drop of hatred. Was there anybody who was somebody? How was a man like Gladstone to know! Plumbers was what Ithiel called these Gladstone types. He was fond of reminding her that he had quit analysis because nobody was able to tell him what it took to be Ithiel Regler. This sounded haughty, but actually it was the only reasonable thing. It was no more than true. It applied to her as well.

That she should be so firm and assertive was strange, seeing that she was in a fever, trying to regulate an outflow of mingled soiled emotions. In the cab—one of ten thousand cars creeping uptown—she leaned her long neck backward to relieve it of the weight of her head and to control the wildness of her mind, threatened with panic. These gridlocks on Madison Avenue, these absolutely unnecessary mobs, the vehicles that didn’t have to be here, carrying idle shoppers or old people with no urgent purpose except to break out of confinement or go and scold someone. Clara was suffocated by this stalling and delay. She exploded engines in her mind, got out at corners and pulled down stoplights with terrible strength. Five of the thirty minutes Gina could give her were already down the drain. Two blocks from the Westbury, she could no longer bear the traffic, and she got out and trotted the rest of the way, the insides of her knees rubbing together as they always did when she was in a rush.

She passed through the four-quartered door into the lobby and there was Gina Wegman just getting up from the tall chair, and how beautiful the girl looked in her round black glossy straw hat with a half veil dropped onto the bridge of her nose. She certainly wasn’t gotten up to look contrite, in a dress that showed off her bust and the full lines of her bottom. On the other hand, she wasn’t defiant, either. Lively, yes, and brilliant too. She approached Clara with an affectionate gesture so that when they kissed on the cheek Clara captured part of what a passionate man might feel toward a girl like this.

Clara, as she blamed her lateness on the rush hour, was at the same instant dissatisfied with the dress she had put on that day—those big flowers were a mistake, a bad call, and belonged in her poor-judgment closet.

They sat down in the cocktail lounge. At once one of those smothering New York waiters was upon them. Clara wasted no time on him. She ordered a Campari, and as he wrote down the drinks, she said, “Bring them and then don’t bother us; we have to cover lots of ground.” Then she leaned toward Gina—two heads of fine hair, each with its distinct design. The girl put up her veil. “Now, Gina…
tell me,”
_ said Clara.

“The ring looks wonderful on your hand. I’m glad to see it there.”

No longer the au pair girl waiting to be spoken to, she held herself like a different person—equal-equal, and more. It was a great thing she had done in America.

“How did you get it into the house?”

“Where did you find it?” asked Gina.

“What does
that mean?”
_ Clara wanted to know. In her surprise, she fell back on the country girl’s simpleminded flat tone of challenge and suspicion. “It was on my night table.”

“Yes. Okay then,” said Gina.

“One thing I feel terrible about is the hard assignment I gave you. Just about impossible,” said Clara. “The alternative was to turn the case over to the police. I suppose you know by now that Frederic has a criminal record—no serious crimes, but they had him on Rikers Island and in the Bronx jail. That would have made trouble, an investigation would have been hard on you, and I wouldn’t do that.” She lowered her hand to her legs and felt the startling prominence of the muscles at the knee.

Gina did not look embarrassed by this mention of Rikers Island. She must have taken a decision not to be.

Clara never would find out what the affair with Frederic was about. Gina went no further than to acknowledge that her boyfriend had taken the ring. “He said he was walking around the apartment…” Imagine, a man like that, lewd and klepto, at large in her home! “He saw the ring, so he put it in his pocket, not even thinking. I said it was given to you by someone you loved, who loved you”—so she definitely
did
_ understand about the love!—“and I felt responsible because it was me that brought Frederic into the house.”

“That made him look blank, I suppose.”

“He said that people on Park Avenue didn’t understand anything. They didn’t like trouble and relied on security to protect them. Once you got past the security arrangements in the lobby, why, they were just as helpless as chickens. Lucky if they weren’t killed. No idea of defense.”

Clara’s gaze was clear and sober. Her upturned nose added dryness to her look. She said, “I have to agree. In my own place I didn’t feel that I should lock away the valuables. But he may be right about Park Avenue. This is a class of people that won’t think and can’t admit. So it is lucky that somebody more vicious than Frederic didn’t get in. Maybe Haitians are more lighthearted than some others in Harlem or the Bronx.”

“Your class of Park Avenue people?”

“Yes,” said Clara. She looked great-eyed again, grimly thinking, My God, what will my kids be up against! “I should thank the man for only stealing, I suppose.”

“We have no time to talk about this side of it,” said Gina.

These minutes in the bar seemed to be going according to Gina’s deliberate plan. Frederic was not to be discussed. Suddenly Clara’s impulse was to come down hard on Gina. Why, she was like the carnal woman in the Book of Proverbs who eats and drinks and wipes away all signs of lust with her napkin. But she couldn’t sustain this critical impulse. Who could say how the girl got sucked in and how she managed, or what she had to do to recover the ring from such a fellow. I
owe
_ her. Also, with the kids she was trustworthy. Now then, what are we looking at here? There is some pride in this Gina. She stood up to the New York scene, a young upper-class Vienna girl. There
is
_ a certain vainglory playing through. It’s false to do the carnal woman number on her. Let’s not get so Old Testament. My regular Christmas card from Attica is still arriving. Before marrying this man from Daddy’s bank the girl owed herself some excitement, and Gogmagogsville is the ideal place for it. Dr. Gladstone might have pointed out that Clara’s thoughts were taking on a hostile color—envious of youth, perhaps. She didn’t think so. Nobody, but nobody, can withstand modern temptations. (Try and print your personal currency, and see what you can get for it.) She still felt that her affection for the girl was not misplaced. “Are you sure you want to go flying back—would you think of staying?”