The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway [66]
"I've kept them out of four fights," Edna said. "You've got to help me."
Bill's face was red.
"Come back in, Edna," he said. "Go on in there and dance with Mike."
"It's silly," Edna said. "There'll just be another row."
"Damned Biarritz swine," Bill said.
"Come on," Mike said. "After all, it's a pub. They can't occupy a whole pub."
"Good old Mike," Bill said. "Damned English swine come here and insult Mike and try and spoil the fiesta."
"They're so bloody," Mike said. "I hate the English."
"They can't insult Mike," Bill said. "Mike is a swell fellow. They can't insult Mike. I won't stand it. Who cares if he is a damn bankrupt?" His voice broke.
"Who cares?" Mike said. "I don't care. Jake doesn't care. Do you care?"
"No," Edna said. "Are you a bankrupt?"
"Of course I am. You don't care, do you, Bill?"
Bill put his arm around Mike's shoulder.
"I wish to hell I was a bankrupt. I'd show those bastards."
"They're just English," Mike said. "It never makes any difference what the English say."
"The dirty swine," Bill said. "I'm going to clean them out."
"Bill," Edna looked at me. "Please don't go in again, Bill. They're so stupid."
"That's it," said Mike. "They're stupid. I knew that was what it was."
"They can't say things like that about Mike," Bill said.
"Do you know them?" I asked Mike.
"No. I never saw them. They say they know me."
"I won't stand it," Bill said.
"Come on. Let's go over to the Suizo," I said.
"They're a bunch of Edna's friends from Biarritz," Bill said.
"They're simply stupid," Edna said.
"One of them's Charley Blackman, from Chicago," Bill said.
"I was never in Chicago," Mike said.
Edna started to laugh and could not stop.
"Take me away from here," she said, "you bankrupts."
"What kind of a row was it?" I asked Edna. We were walking across the square to the Suizo. Bill was gone.
"I don't know what happened, but some one had the police called to keep Mike out of the back room. There were some people that had known Mike at Cannes. What's the matter with Mike?"
"Probably he owes them money," I said. "That's what people usually get bitter about."
In front of the ticket-booths out in the square there were two lines of people waiting. They were sitting on chairs or crouched on the ground with blankets and newspapers around them. They were waiting for the wickets to open in the morning to buy tickets for the bull-fight. The night was clearing and the moon was out. Some of the people in the line were sleeping.
At the Café Suizo we had just sat down and ordered Fundador when Robert Cohn came up.
"Where's Brett?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"She was with you."
"She must have gone to bed."
"She's not."
"I don't know where she is."
His face was sallow under the light. He was standing up.
"Tell me where she is."
"Sit down," I said. "I don't know where she is."
"The hell you don't!"
"You can shut your face."
"Tell me where Brett is."
"I'll not tell you a damn thing."
"You know where she is."
"If I did I wouldn't tell you."
"Oh, go to hell, Cohn," Mike called from the table. "Brett's gone off with the bull-fighter chap. They're on their honeymoon."
"You shut up."
"Oh, go to hell!" Mike said languidly.
"Is that where she is?" Cohn turned to me.
"Go to hell!"
"She was with you. Is that where she is?"
"Go to hell!"
"I'll make you tell me"—he stepped forward—"you damned pimp."
I swung at him and he ducked. I saw his face duck sideways in the light. He hit me and I sat down on the pavement. As I started to get on my feet he hit me twice. I went down backward under a table. I tried to get up and felt I did not have any legs. I felt I must get on my feet and try and hit him. Mike helped me up. Some one poured a carafe of water on my head. Mike had an arm around me, and I found I was sitting on a chair. Mike was pulling at my ears.
"I say, you were cold," Mike said.
"Where the hell were you?"
"Oh, I was around."
"You didn't want to mix in it?"
"He knocked Mike down, too," Edna said.
"He didn't knock me out," Mike said. "I just lay there."
"Does this happen every night