The Beautiful and Damned - F. Scott Fitzgerald [102]
Nevertheless, PARAMORE enters the room with a certain air of arriving for the evening.
Tana is answering a question.
TANA: (Grinning with ingratiation) Gone to Inn for dinnah. Be back half-hour. Gone since ha' past six.
PARAMORE: (Regarding the glasses on the table) Have they company?
TANA: Yes. Company. Mistah Caramel, Mistah and Missays Barnes, Miss Kane, all stay here.
PARAMORE: I see. (Kindly) They've been having a spree, I see.
TANA: I no un'stan'.
PARAMORE: They've been having a fling.
TANA: Yes, they have drink. Oh, many, many, many drink.
PARAMORE: (Receding delicately from the subject) "Didn't I hear the sounds of music as I approached the house"?
TANA:(With a spasmodic giggle)Yes, I play.
PARAMORE: One of the Japanese instruments.
(He is quite obviously a subscriber to the "National Geographic Magazine.")
TANA: I play flu-u-ute, Japanese flu-u-ute.
PARAMORE: What song were you playing? One of your Japanese melodies?
TANA:(His brow undergoing preposterous contraction) I play train song. How you call?—railroad song. So call in my countree. Like train. It go so-o-o; that mean whistle; train start. Then go so-o-o; that mean train go. Go like that. Vera nice song in my countree. Children song.
PARAMORE: It sounded very nice. (It is apparent at this point that only a gigantic effort at control restrains Tana from rushing up-stairs for his post cards, including the six made in America.)
TANA: I fix high-ball for gentleman?
PARAMORE: "No, thanks. I don't use it". (He smiles.)
(TANA withdraws into the kitchen, leaving the intervening door slightly ajar. From the crevice there suddenly issues again the melody of the Japanese train song—this time not a practice, surely, but a performance, a lusty, spirited performance.
The phone rings. TANA, absorbed in his harmonics, gives no heed, so PARAMORE takes up the receiver.)
PARAMORE: Hello.... Yes.... No, he's not here now, but he'll be back any moment.... Butterworth? Hello, I didn't quite catch the name.... Hello, hello, hello. Hello! ... Huh!
(The phone obstinately refuses to yield up any more sound. Paramore replaces the receiver.
At this point the taxi motif re-enters, wafting with it a second young man; he carries a suitcase and opens the front door without ringing the bell.)
MAURY: (In the hall) "Oh, Anthony! Yoho"! (He comes into the large room and sees PARAMORE) How do?
PARAMORE: (Gazing at him with gathering intensity) Is this—is this Maury Noble?
MAURY: "That's it". (He advances, smiling, and holding out his hand) How are you, old boy? Haven't seen you for years.
(He has vaguely associated the face with Harvard, but is not even positive about that. The name, if he ever knew it, he has long since forgotten. However, with a fine sensitiveness and an equally commendable charity PARAMORE recognizes the fact and tactfully relieves the situation.)
PARAMORE: You've forgotten Fred Paramore? We were both in old Unc Robert's history class.
MAURY: No, I haven't, Unc—I mean Fred. Fred was—I mean Unc was a great old fellow, wasn't he?
PARAMORE: (Nodding his head humorously several times) Great old character. Great old character.
MAURY: (After a short pause) Yes—he was. Where's Anthony?
PARAMORE: The Japanese servant told me he was at some inn. Having dinner, I suppose.
MAURY: (Looking at his watch) Gone long?
PARAMORE: I guess so. The Japanese told me they'd be back shortly.
MAURY: Suppose we have a drink.
PARAMORE: No, thanks. I don't use it. (He smiles.)
MAURY: Mind if I do? (Yawning as he helps himself from a bottle) What have you been doing since you left college?
PARAMORE: Oh, many things. I've led a very active life. Knocked