U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [129]
"No, I have reliable information that Lenine and Trotsky have split and the monarchy wil be restored in Russia inside of three months." When they finished the first bottle of champagne, Mr. Rasmussen ordered an-other. By the time the café closed Eveline's ears were ring-ing. "Let's make a night of it," Mr. Rasmussen was saying. They went in a taxicab up to Montmartre to L'Abbaye where there was dancing and singing and uniforms every-where and everything was hung with the flags of the Al ies. J.W. asked Eveline to dance with him first and Eleanor looked a little sour when she had to go off in the arms of Mr. Rasmussen who danced very badly indeed. Eveline and J.W. talked about the music of Rameau and J.W.
said again that he would have liked to have lived in the times of the court at Versail es. But Eveline said what could be more exciting than to be in Paris right now with al the map of Europe being remade right under their noses, and J.W. said perhaps she was right. They agreed that the orchestra was too bad to dance to.
Next dance Eveline danced with Mr. Rasmussen who
told her how handsome she was and said he needed a good
-303-woman in his life; that he'd spent al his life out in the bush grubbing around for gold or testing specimens of shale and that he was sick of it, and if Wilson now was going to let the British bul doze him into giving them the world's future supply of oil when we'd won the war for them, he was through. "But can't you do something about it, can't you put your ideas before the public, Mr. Ras-mussen?" said Eveline, leaning a little against him; Eveline had a crazy champagneglass spinning in her head.
"That's Moorehouse's job not mine, and there isn't any public since the war. The public'l damn wel do what it's told, and besides like God Almighty it's far away . . . what we've got to do is make a few key men understand the situation. Moorehouse is the key to the key men."
"And who's the key to Moorehouse?" asked Eveline reck-lessly. The music had stopped.
"Wish to heaven I knew," said Rasmussen soberly in a low voice. "You're not, are you?" Eveline shook her head with a tightlipped smile like Eleanor's.
When they'd eaten onion soup and some cold meat
J.W. said, "Let's go up to the top of the hil and make Freddy play us some songs." "I thought you didn't like it up there," said Eleanor. "I don't, my dear," said J.W.,
"but I like those old French songs." Eleanor looked cross and sleepy. Eveline wished she and Mr. Rasmussen would go home; she felt if she could only talk to J.W. alone, he'd be so interesting.
Freddy's was almost empty; it was chil y in there. They didn't have any champagne and nobody drank the liqueurs they ordered. Mr. Rasmussen said Freddy looked like an old prospector he'd known out in the Sangre de Cristo mountains and began to tel a long story about Death Val ey that nobody listened to. They were al chil y and sleepy and silent, going back across Paris in the old mouldysmel ing twocylinder taxi. J.W. wanted a cup of
-304-coffee, but there didn't seem to be anywhere open where he could get it. Next day Mr. Rasmussen cal ed Eveline up at her.
office to ask her to eat lunch with him and she was hard put to it to find an excuse not to go. After that Mr. Ras-mussen seemed to be everywhere she went, sending her flowers and theatre tickets, coming around with automobiles to take her riding, sending her little blue pneumatiques ful of tender messages. Eleanor teased her about her new Romeo. Then Paul Johnson turned up in Paris, having gotten himself into the Sorbonne detachment, and used to come around to her place on the rue de Bussy in the late afternoons and sit watching her silently and lugubriously. He and Mr. Rasmussen would sit there talking about wheat and the stockyards, while Eveline dressed to go out with somebody else, usual y Eleanor and J.W. Eveline could see that J.W. always liked to have her along as wel as Eleanor when they went out in the evenings; it was just that wel dressed American girls were rare in Paris at that time, she told herself,