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By Root 6058 0

I, too, felt red in the face. Cantabile, on the other hand, was peculiarly white. He breathed the air as if he were stealing it. He had a look of eagerness and of distemper. The Thunderbird, puffing fumes, was beginning to block traffic. Because I had been immersed for much of the day in Humboldt’s life and because Humboldt had in turn been immersed in T. S. Eliot, I thought as he might have done of the violet hour when the human engine waits like a taxi throbbing, waiting. But I cut this out. The moment required my full presence. I made quick introductions left and right: “Mrs. Palomino Mr. Thaxter—and Cantabile.”

“Hurry, quick, jump in,” said Cantabile, a man to be obeyed.

I wasn’t having any of this. “No,” I said. “We’ve got lots to discuss and I’d just as soon walk two blocks to the Mailers Building than be stuck in traffic with you.”

“For Christ’s sake get in the car.” He had been stooping over me. But then he cried this out so loud that he jerked himself straight.

Polly lifted her pleasant face. She enjoyed it all. Her straight hair, Japanese in texture but very red and cut like a fall, showed thick and even against her green loden coat. The pleasant cheeks meant that one could be sexually pleasant with Polly. It would gratify, it would be a success. Why was it that some men knew how to find women who naturally pleased and could be pleased? By their cheeks and smiles, even I could identify them—after they had been found. Meantime bits of snow fell from the gray invisibility that lay upon the skyscrapers and something like soft thunder occurred behind us. This might have been sonic boom or jet noise over the lake, for thunder meant warmth and the chill was biting at our reddened faces. In this deepening dusky gray the lake surface would be pearly, and its polar fringe had formed early this winter, white—soiled but white. In the matter of natural beauty Chicago had its piece of the action despite the fact that its over-all historical destiny made it materially coarse, the air coarse, the soil coarse. The trouble was that such pearly water with its arctic edging and the gray air snowing could not be appreciated while these Cantabiles were carrying on, pushing me toward the Thunderbird and gesturing with the finest of fox-hunter’s gloves. Nevertheless, one goes to a concert to think one’s thoughts against the fine background of chamber music and one may make similar use of a Cantabile. A man who had been for years closely shut up and sifting his inmost self with painful iteration, deciding that the human future depended on his spiritual explorations, frustrated utterly in all his efforts to reach an understanding with those representatives of modern intellect whom he had tried to reach, deciding instead to follow the threads of spirit he had found within himself to see where they might lead, found a peculiar stimulus in a fellow like this Cantabile fellow.

“Let’s go!” he bawled at me.

“No. Mr. Thaxter and I have our own business to discuss.”

“Oh, there’s time for that—plenty of time,” said Thaxter.

“And what about the fish knives? Suddenly you’re not so keen on the fish knives,” I said to Thaxter.

Cantabile’s voice was jagged and high with exasperation. “I’m trying to do you some good, Charlie! Fifteen minutes of your time is all, and then I’ll whip you back to the Mailers Building for these fucking knives. How’d you do in court, pal? I know how you did! They’ve got a case full of nice clean bottles waiting for your blood. You already look drained. You’ve got a damn haggard look. You’ve aged ten years since lunchtime. But I’ve got the answer for you and I’ll prove it. Charlie, ten grand today will get you fifteen by Thursday—if not, I’ll let you beat me on the head with the bat I used on your Mercedes. I’ve got Stronson waiting. He needs cash badly.”

“I want no part of that. I’m not a juice man,” I said.

“Don’t be stupid. We’ve got to move fast.”

I glanced at Polly. She had warned me against Cantabile and Stronson and I checked silently with her. Her smile confirmed the caution she had given me. But she was