The Adventures of Augie March - Saul Bellow [237]
is just one of those old-time journalists who don't see any difference between one government and the next." She misunderstood me. "He's not so terribly old."; "He should make a deal and go back to testify." "That's not what he aims to do," she said. "No? Don't tell me he's going to try to run away? Where to?" "I can't tell. It wouldn't be fair." "To South America? He's wacky if he thinks he can. And that will make the thing serious, if they have to chase him. Why, he's small fry." "No, he thinks it was a very serious thing." "And what do you think?" "I think I've had about enough," she said. She looked with her wide swimming eye-surfaces in which the lanterns from the garden were changed entirely into the lights of her meaning. "He wants me to come with him." "No! Down to Guatemala, Venezuela. Where--?" "That's one thing I don't want to say, even though I trust you." "But on what? Does he have money socked away? No, he wouldn't have. You'd be on the beach with him somewhere. He probably hopes you love him that much. Do you?" "Oh--not that much, no," she said as if it was something she hoped to find the degree of. I suppose she had to say she loved him somewhat, to give herself character. Why, that po6r, bony, dopey skull and romantic jumping-jack of an Oliver! I saw his imaginary luck of money and car and love collapsing, and was bitter for him in a kind of fleeting way. I caught a glimpse of her ingratitude too, but I couldn't for long see anything to her discredit. Before her, hid in the trees from the crackling party, I felt something happen to me that drew upon my character in the most vital part, where I couldn't prevent. "The party is supposed to be just a cover-up," she said. "He went out to take the car down the road and hide it, and then he's coming back for me. He says the cops are ready to arrest us." "Oh, he is loony," I said with fresh conviction. "How far does he expect to get in that red convertible?" "In the morning he's going to ditch it. He's really serious. He's carrying a gun. And he has gone a little crazy. He was pointing it at me this afternoon. He says I want to two-time him." "That poor fool! He thinks he's a big-league fugitive. You'll have to get away from him. How did you ever get into a fix like this?" I knew this was a foolish question to put to her. She couldn't tell me. About some paths of life either you guess or you never know, because you can't be told. Yes, it was very foolish; but then I was aware of many wrong things said and done which I nevertheless couldn't stop. "Well, I've known him for quite a while. He was likable, and he had lots of money." "Oh, all right, you don't have to tell me." She said, "Didn't you come to Mexico in something like the way I did?" So that was what she thought we had in common. "I came because I was in love." "Well, she is so lovely that of course that's a difference. But all the same," she said with a sudden shrewdness and frankness--and I might have known it was there--"it's her house, isn't it, and all the things are hers? What have you got of your own?" "What have I got?" "You don't have anything, do you?" Of course I wasn't going to be such a hypocrite as to argue with her and put on a face, as though I had never in all the world given a momentary thought, not even a one, to the matter of money. For what was that stuff in my pockets, that assorted dough, my winnings, the rainbow foreign currencies I had raked in at the Chinaman's? Even czarist rubles had been thrown in the pot, for which I blamed those Cossack singers. Don't worry, I had been mindful of money, all right, so I knew what she was talking about. "I do have something," I said. "I can lend you enough to get away on. Don't you have any money at all?" At this moment of our conversation we were very close together in understanding. "I have a bank account in New York. But what good does that do me now? I can give you a check for the pesos you lend me. There's no money I can lay my hands on right away. I'd have to go to Mexico City and wire from Wells Fargo to the bank." "No, I don't want a check."