Humboldt's Gift (1976 Pulitzer Prize) - Saul Bellow [190]
“You sent her away?”
“Before you get sore, remember that I’m giving a cocktail party on the France. I’m a little pressed for time.”
“What’s the Western get-up about?” said Renata.
“Well, I thought it would be a good idea to look more American, like a guy from the heartland. I felt I should show that I had nothing to do with the liberal media and the Eastern Establishment.”
“You’ll pretend to take those fellows from the Third World seriously,” I said, “and then you’ll write them up as vulgarians, imbeciles, blackmailers, and killers.”
“No, there’s a serious side to it,” said Thaxter. “I plan to avoid out-and-out satire. This question has its serious side. I want to examine them not just as soldier-demagogues and bad-boy buffoons but also as leaders defying the West. I want to say something about their resentment over the failure of civilization to lead the world beyond technology and banking. I intend to analyze the crisis of values—”
“Don’t tamper with that stuff. Stay away from the values, Thaxter. I’d better give you a few words of advice. First of all, don’t push forward, don’t intrude yourself into these interviews, and don’t ask long questions. Secondly, don’t fool around with these dictators and stay away from competitive games. If you play backgammon or ping-pong or bridge with them you’ll get carried away—you’ll be sunk. You don’t know Thaxter,” I said to Renata, “until you’ve seen him with a cue in his hand or a paddle or a racquet or golf club. He’s vicious, he leaps, he cheats, he gets fiery in the face, and he’ll trounce everybody without pity, man woman or child—are you getting a big advance?”
He was prepared, of course, for such a question.
“Not bad, considering. But there are so many liens against me in California that my lawyers have advised me to take monthly installments, not a lump sum, so I’m drawing five hundred a month.”
The Palm Court was silent, the musicians were taking their break. Renata, reaching under the table, began to rub my leg. She took my foot into her lap and slipped off the loafer, stroking my sole and caressing the instep. Presently she applied the foot to herself, unremittingly sensual, secretly making love to me— or to herself with me. This had happened before, at dinner parties where the company annoyed or bored her. She was wearing the beautiful velour hat copied from the Syndics of Amsterdam, under it the dreaming white face, full toward the bottom, expressed its amusement, it affection, its comment upon my relations with Thaxter, its enjoyment of secrecy. How easy and natural she made everything seem—goodness, badness, lustful-ness. I envied her this. At the same time I didn’t really believe that it was all so very natural or easy. I suspected—no, I actually knew better.
“So if you’re thinking about payment, I haven’t got anything to give you on account,” said Thaxter. “Instead I’m going to do better by you. I’m here to make a practical proposal. You and I should do that cultural Baedeker of Europe. There’s an idea that really turns my editor on. Stewart really went for it. Frankly, your name is important in a deal like this. But I’d organize the whole project. You know I have a talent for that. And you wouldn’t have a thing to worry about. I’d definitely be the junior partner and you’d get fifty thousand bucks on signing. All you have to do is put down your name.”
Renata didn’t seem to hear our conversation. She entirely missed the mention of the fifty thousand dollars. She had now left us, as it were, and was pressing me closer and closer. Her need was strong. She was gross, brilliant, endearing, and if she had to suffer fools she knew what measures to take to compensate herself. I loved her for this. The conversation meantime continued. I was glad to hear that I could still command big advances.
Thaxter was not an especially observant man. He entirely missed what Renata was doing, the dilation of her eyes and the biological seriousness in which her fine joke ended. She went from fun to mirth to happiness and finally to a climax, her body straightening in the French