The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway - Ernest Hemingway [167]
“You call him that fellow?”
“We’re old friends,” said Harris.
“I see. You know George Shiras three. He must be very interesting.”
“He is. He’s about the most interesting man I know.”
“And do you know George Shiras two? Is he interesting too?”
“Oh, he’s not so interesting.”
“I should imagine he would be very interesting.”
“You know, a funny thing. He’s not so interesting. I’ve often wondered why.”
“H’m,” said the gentleman. “I should have thought any one in that family would be interesting.”
“Do you remember the panorama of the Sahara Desert?” Harris asked.
“The Sahara Desert? That was nearly fifteen years ago.”
“That’s right. That was one of my father’s favorites.”
“He doesn’t prefer the newer numbers?”
“He probably does. But he was very fond of the Sahara panorama.”
“It was excellent. But to me its artistic value far exceeded its scientific interest.”
“I don’t know,” said Harris. “The wind blowing all that sand and that Arab with his camel kneeling toward Mecca.”
“As I recall, the Arab was standing holding the camel.”
“You’re quite right,” said Harris. “I was thinking of Colonel Lawrence’s book.”
“Lawrence’s book deals with Arabia, I believe.”
“Absolutely,” said Harris. “It was the Arab reminded me of it.”
“He must be a very interesting young man.”
“I believe he is.”
“Do you know what he is doing now?”
“He’s in the Royal Air Force.”
“And why does he do that?”
“He likes it.”
“Do you know if he belongs to the National Geographic Society?”
“I wonder if he does.”
“He would make a very good member. He is the sort of person they want as a member. I would be very happy to nominate him if you think they would like to have him.”
“I think they would.”
“I have nominated a scientist from Vevey and a colleague of mine from Lausanne and they were both elected. I believe they would be very pleased if I nominated Colonel Lawrence.”
“It’s a splendid idea,” said Harris. “Do you come here to the café often?”
“I come here for coffee after dinner.”
“Are you in the University?”
“I am not active any longer.”
“I’m just waiting for the train,” said Harris. “I’m going up to Paris and sail from Havre for the States.”
“I have never been to America. But I would like to go very much. Perhaps I shall attend a meeting of the society some time. I would be very happy to meet your father.”
“I’m sure he would have liked to meet you but he died last year. Shot himself, oddly enough.”
“I am very truly sorry. I am sure his loss was a blow to science as well as to his family.”
“Science took it awfully well.”
“This is my card,” Harris said. “His initials were E. J. instead of E. D. I know he would have liked to know you.”
“It would have been a great pleasure.” The gentleman took out a card from the pocketbook and gave it to Harris. It read:
* * *
DR. SIGISMUND WYER, PH.D.
Member of the National Geographic
Society, Washington, D. C., U. S. A.
* * *
“I will keep it very carefully,” Harris said.
A Day’s Wait
HE CAME INTO THE ROOM TO SHUT THE windows while we were still in bed and I saw he looked ill. He was shivering, his face was white, and he walked slowly as though it ached to move.
“What’s the matter, Schatz?”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“You better go back to bed.”
“No. I’m all right.”
“You go to bed. I’ll see you when I’m dressed.”
But when I came downstairs he was dressed, sitting by the fire, looking a very sick and miserable boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead I knew he had a fever.
“You go up to bed,” I said, “you’re sick.”
“I’m all right,” he said.
When the doctor came he took the boy’s temperature.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“One hundred and two.”
Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different colored capsules with instructions for giving them. One was to bring down the fever, another a purgative, the third to overcome an acid condition. The germs of influenza can only exist in an acid condition, he explained. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above