Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [115]
He went out, then, and Mildred was left alone. After a few minutes, the little fat woman came in, found a piece of music, sat down at the piano, and began to play it. She played it loud, and 'then played it again, and again, and each time she played it was louder and stifi louder. That went on perhaps a half hour, and Mildred still sat there. Then Mr. Treviso came back and motioned the little fat woman out of the room. He strode up and down for a few minutes, frowning hard, then went over and closed the door. Then he sat down near Mildred, and touched her knee with a long, bony forefinger, "Why you want dees girl back? Tell me that?"
"Mr. Treviso, you mistake my motives. I—"
"No mistake, no mistake at all. I tell Veda, well you pretty lucky, kid, somebody else pay a bill now. And she, she got no idea at all, hey? Don't know who to call up, say thanks, sure is swell, how you like to see me again, hey?"
"Well that wasn't my idea, Mr. Treviso, but I'm sure, if Veda did happen to guess who was paying the bill, and called up about it, I could find it in my heart to—"
"Listen, you. I tell you one t'ing. Is make no difference to me who pay. But I say to you: you want to 'ear dees girl sing, you buy a ticket. You pay a 'buck. You pay two bucks. If a ticket cost eight eighty, O.K. you pay eight eighty, but don't you try to 'ear dees girl free. Because maybe cost you more than a whole Metropolitan Grand Opera is wort'."
"This is not a question of money."
"No by God, sure is not. You go to a zoo, hey? See little snake? Is come from India, is all red, yellow, black, ver' pretty little snake. You take 'ome, hey? Make little pet, like puppy dog? No—you got more sense. I tell you, is same wit' dees Veda. You buy ticket, you look at a little snake, but you no take home. No."
"Are you insinuating that my daughter is a snake?"
"No—is a coloratura soprano, is much worse. A little snake, love mamma, do what papa tells, maybe, but a coloratura soprano, love nobody but own goddam self. Is son-bitchbast', worse than all a snake in a world. Madame, you leave dees girl alone."
As Mildred sat blinking, trying to get adjusted to the wholly unexpected turn the interview had taken, Mr. Treviso took another turn around the room, then apparently became more interested in his subject than he had intended. He sat down now, his eyes shining with that Latin glare that had so upset her on her first visit. Tapping her knee again, he said: "Dees girl, she is coloratura, inside, outside, all over."
"What is a coloratura soprano?"
"Madame, is special fancy breed, like blue Persian cat. Come once in a lifetime, sing all a trill, a staccato ha-ha-ha, cadenza, a tough stuff—"
"Oh, now I understand."
"Cost like 'ell. If is real coloratura, bring more dough to a grand opera house than big wop tenor. And dees girl, is coloratura, even a bones is coloratura. First, must know all a rich pipple. No rich, no good."
"She always associated with nice people."
"Nice maybe, but must be rich. All coloratura, they got, 'ow you say?—da gimmies. Always take, never give. O.K., you spend plenty money on dees girl, what she do for you?"
"She's a mere child. She can't be expected to—"
"So—she do nothing for you. Look."
Mr. Treviso tapped Mildred's knee again, grinned. "She even twiddle Ia valiere all a coloratura, sit back like a duchess twiddle a la valiere." And he gave a startling imitation of Veda, sitting haughtily erect in her chair, twiddling the ornament of her neck chain.
"She's done that since she was a little girl!"
"Yes—is a funny part."
Warming up now, Mr. Treviso went on: "All a coloratura crazy for rich pipple, all take no give, all act like a duchess, all twiddle a la valiere, all a same, every one. All borrow ten t'ousand bucks, go to Italy, study voice,