Counterparts

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Story nine of Dubliner's. This LibriVox recording is in the
public domain. Counterparts. The bell rang furiously, and when Miss
Parker went to the tube, a furious voice called out
in a piercing North of Ireland accent, Send Farrington. Here.
Miss Parker returned to her machine, saying to a man

(00:21):
who was writing at a desk, mister Elaine monteu upstairs.
The man muttered blasshom under his breath, and pushed back
his chair to stand up. When he stood up, he
was tall and of great bulk. He had a hanging face,
dark wine colored, with fair eyebrows and mustache. His eyes
bulged forward slightly, and the whites of them were dirty.

(00:45):
He lifted up the counter ran, passing by the clients,
went out of the office with a heavy step. He
went heavily upstairs until he came to the second landing,
where a door bore a brass plate with the inscription
mister Elaine. Here he halted, puffing with labor and vexation
and knocked The shrill voice cried come in. The man

(01:07):
entered mister Elaine's room simultaneously. Mister Elaine, a little man
wearing gold rimmed glasses and a clean shaven face shot
his head up over a pile of documents. The head
itself was so pink and hairless it seemed like a
large egg reposing on the papers. Mister Elaine did not
lose a moment. Farrington, what is the meaning of this?

(01:30):
Why am I always to complain of you? May I
ask you why you haven't made a copy of that
contract between Bodley and Kirwin. I told you it must
be ready by four o'clock. But mister Shelley said, sir.
Mister Shelley said, sir, kindly attent to what I say,
and not to what mister Shelley says. Sir, you have
always some excuse or another for shirking work. Let me

(01:53):
tell you that if the contract is not copied before
this evening, I lay the matter before mister Crosbie, dear Hermin.
I yes, sir, do you hear me? Now? I and
another little matter. I might as well be talking to
the wall as talking to you. Understand once for all
that you get a half hour for your lunch and

(02:13):
not an hour and a half. How many courses do
you want? I'd like to know? Do you mind me? I? Yes, sir,
mister Elaine bent his head again upon his pile of papers.
The man stared fixedly at the polished skull which directed
the affairs of Crosbie and Elane, gaging its fragility. A
spasm of rage gripped his throat for a few moments

(02:34):
and then passed, leaving after it a sharp sensation of thirst.
The man recognized the sensation and felt that he must
have a good night's drinking. The middle of the month
was past, and if he could get a copy done
in time, mister Elaine might give him an order on
the cashier. He stood still, gazing fixedly at the head
upon the pile of papers. Suddenly, mister Elaine began to

(02:57):
upset all the papers, searching for something. Then, as if
he had been unaware of the man's presence till that moment,
he shut up his head again, saying, hey, are you
going to stand there all d upon my word? Find?
And you take things easy? I was waiting to see
very good. You needn't wait to see. Go downstairs and
do your work. The man walked heavily towards the door,

(03:20):
and as he went out of the room, he heard
mister Elaine cry after him that if the contract was
not copied by evening, mister Crosby would hear of the matter.
He returned to his desk in the lower office and
counted the sheets which remained to be copied. He took
up his pen and dipped it in the ink, but
he continued to stare stupidly at the last words he
had written. In no case shall the said Bernard Bodley

(03:42):
be The evening was falling, and in a few minutes
they would be lighting the gas. Then he could write.
He felt that he must slake the thirst in his throat.
He stood up from his desk, and, lifting the counter
as before, passed out of the office. As he was
passing out, the chief clerk looked at him inquiringly. It's
all right, mister Shelley, said the man, pointing with his

(04:04):
finger to indicate the objective of his journey. The chief
clerk glanced at the hat rack, but seeing the row complete,
offered no remark. As soon as he was on the landing,
the man pulled a shepherd's plaid cap out of his pocket,
put it on his head, and ran quickly down the
rickety stairs from the street door. He walked on furtively

(04:25):
on the inner side of the path towards the corner,
and all at once dived into a doorway. He was
now safe in the dark snug of O'Neill's shop, and
filling up the little window that looked into the bar
with his inflamed face the color of dark wine or
dark meat, he called out here, pat give us a
gp like a good fellow. The curate brought him a

(04:46):
glass of plain porter. The man drank it at a
gulp and asked for a carroway seed. He put his
penny on the counter, and, leaving the curate to grope
for it in the gloom, retreated out of the snug
as furtively as he had entered it. Darkness, accompanied by
a thick fog, was gaining upon the dusk of February,
and the lamps in Eustace Street had been lit. The

(05:08):
man went up by the houses until he reached the
door of the office, wondering whether he could finish his
copy in time. On the stairs, a moist, pungent odor
of perfumes saluted his nose. Evidently Miss Delacour had come
in while he was out at O'Neills. He crammed his
cap back again into his pocket, and re entered the
office assuming an air of absent mindedness. Mister Elaine has

(05:31):
been calling for you, said the chief clerk severely. Where
were you? The man glanced at the two clients who
were standing at the counter, as if to intimate that
their presence prevented him from answering. As the clients were
both mailed, the chief clerk allowed himself a laugh. I
know that game, he said, five times on one day
is a little bit. Well, you'd better look sharp and

(05:53):
get a copy of our correspondence in the Delacour case
for mister Elaine. This address in the presence of a
public His run up upstairs and the porter he had
gupped down so hastily confused the man, and as he
sat down at his desk to get what was required,
he realized how hopeless was the task of finishing his
copy of the contract Before half past five. The dark,

(06:15):
damp night was coming, and he longed to spend it
in the bars drinking with his friends. Amid the glare
of gas and the clatter of glasses, he got out
the Delacour correspondence and passed out of the office. He
hoped mister Elaine would not discover that the last two
letters were missing. The moist, pungent perfume lay all the
way up to mister Lelaine's room. Miss Delacour was a

(06:37):
middle aged woman of Jewish appearance. Mister Elaine was said
to be sweet on her more on her money. She
came to the office often and stayed a long time.
When she came, she was sitting beside his desk, now
in an aroma of perfumes, smoothing the handle of her
umbrella and nodding the great black feather in her hat.
Mister Elaine had swiveled his chair round to see her,

(07:00):
thrown his right foot jauntily upon his left knee. The
man put the correspondence on the desk and bowed respectfully,
but neither mister Elaine nor miss Delacour took any notice
of his bow. Mister Elaine tapped a finger on the
correspondence and then flicked it towards him, as if to say,
that's all right, you can go. The man returned to

(07:20):
the lower office and sat down again at his desk.
He stared intently at the incomplete phrase in no case
shall the said Bernard Bodley be, and thought how strange
it was that the last three words began with the
same letter. The chief clerk began to hurry Miss Parker,
saying she would never have the letters typed in time
for post. The man listened to the clicking of the

(07:42):
machine for a few minutes, and then set to work
to finish his copy. But his head was not clear,
and his mind wandered away to the glare and rattle
of the public house. It was a night for hot punches.
He struggled on with his copy, but when the clock
struck five, he had still fourteen pages to write. Blast it.
He couldn't finish it in time. He longed to execrate aloud,

(08:06):
to bring his fist down on something violently. He was
so enraged that he wrote Bernard Bernard instead of Bernard
Bodley and had to begin again on a clean sheet.
He felt strong enough to clear out the whole off
a single handed. His body ached to do something, to
rush out and revel in violence. All the indignities of
his life enraged him. Could he ask the cashier privately

(08:30):
for an advance? No, the cashier was no good, No
damn good. He wouldn't give an advance. He knew where
he would meet the boys, Leonard, and O'Halloran and Nosey Flynn.
The barometer of his emotional nature was set for a
spell of riot. His imagination had so abstracted him that
his name was called twice before he answered. Mister Elaine

(08:53):
and Miss Delacour were standing outside the counter, and all
the clerks had turned round in anticipation of something. The
man got up from his desk. Mister Elaine began a
tirail of abuse, saying that two letters were missing. The
man answered that he knew nothing about them, that he
had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued. It was
so bitter and violent that the man could hardly restrain

(09:16):
his fist from descending upon the head of the mannikin
before him. I know nothing about any other two letters,
he said, stupidly. Ye know nothing. Of course you know nothing,
said mister Elaine. Tell me, he added, glancing first for
approval to the lady beside him. Do ye take me
for a fool? Do you think me and not a fool?

(09:39):
The man glanced from the lady's face to the little
egg shaped head and back again, and almost before he
was aware of it, his tongue had found a felicitous moment.
I don't think, sir, He said that that's a fair
question to put to me. There was a pause in
the very breathing of the clerks. Every one was astounded.
The author of the will no less than his neighbor's,

(10:02):
and Miss Delacour, who was a stout, amiable person, began
to smile broadly. Mister Elaine flushed to the hue of
a wild rose, and his mouth twisted with the dwarf's passion.
He shook his fist in the man's face till it
seemed to vibrate like the knob of some electric machine.
You impertinent, ruffian, You impertinent ruffian. I'll make short work

(10:25):
of you. Wait till you see you'll apologize to me
for your impertinence, or you quit the office. Instanter, You
quit this office, I'm telling you are you'll apologize to me.
He stood in the doorway opposite the office, watching to
see if the cashier would come out alone. All the
clerks passed out, and finally the cashier came out with
the chief clerk. It is no use trying to say

(10:47):
a word to him. When he was with the chief clerk.
The man felt that his position was bad enough. He
had been obliged to offer an abject apology to mister
Elaine for his impertinence. But he knew what a hornet's
nest the office would be for him. He could remember
the way in which mister Elaine had hounded a little
peque out of the office in order to make room
for his own nephew. He felt savage and thirsty and revengeful,

(11:10):
annoyed with himself and with every one else. Mister Elaine
would never give him an hour's rest. His life would
be a hell to him. He had made a proper
fool of himself this time. Could he not keep his
tongue in his cheek. But they had never pulled together
from the first, he and mister Elaine ever since the
day mister Elaine had overheard him mimicking his North of
Ireland accent to amuse Higgins and miss Parker. That had

(11:33):
been the beginning of it. He might have tried Higgins
for the money, which Higgins never had anything for himself,
a man with two establishments to keep up. Of course,
he couldn't. He felt his great body again aching for
the comfort of the public house. The fog had begun
to chill him, and he wondered could he touch Pat
and O'Neills. He could not touch him for more than

(11:54):
a bob. Not a bob was no use. Yet he
must get money somewhere or other. He had spent his
last penny for the g P, and soon it would
be too late for getting money anywhere. Suddenly, as he
was fingering his watch chain, he thought of Terry Kelly's
pawn office in Fleet Street. That was the dart. Why

(12:14):
didn't he think of it sooner? He went through the
narrow valley of Temple Bar, quickly muttering to himself that
they could all go to hell, because he was going
to have a good night of it. The clerk and
Terry Kelly set a crown, but the consigner held out
for six shillings, and in the end the six shillings
was allowed him. Literally, he came out of the pawn office,

(12:34):
joyfully making a little cylinder of the coins between his
thumb and fingers. In Westmoreland Street, the foot paths were
crowded with young men and women returning from business, and
ragged urchins ran here and there yelling out the names
of the evening editions. The man passed through the crowd,
looking on the spectacle generally with proud satisfaction, and staring

(12:56):
masterfully at the office girl's. His head was full of
the noises of tramgongs and swishing trolleys, and his nose
already sniffed the curling fumes of punch. As he walked on,
he preconsidered the terms in which he would narrate the
incident to the boys. So I just looked at him coolly,
you know, I looked at horror. Then I looked back

(13:17):
at him again. Take my time, you know. Oh, I
don't think that's a fair question to put to me,
says he Nosey Flynn was sitting up in his usual
corner of davy Burns, and when he heard the story,
he stood Farrington a half one, saying it was as
smart a thing as ever he heard. Farrington stood a
drink in his turn. After a while O'Halloran and Paddy

(13:38):
Leonard came in and the story was repeated to them.
O'Halloran stood tailors of malt hot all round and told
the story of the retort he had made to the
chief clerk when he was in Canons of Founds the street.
But as The retort was after the manner of the
liberal shepherds in the Ecologues, yet to admit that it
was not as clever as Farrington's retort. At this Farrington

(14:00):
the boys to polish off that and have another, just
as they were naming their poisons. Who should come in
but Higgins, of course, he had to join him with
the others. The men asked them to give his version
of it, and he did so with great vivacity, for
the sight of five small hot whiskies was very exhilarating.
Everyone roared laughing when he showed the way in which

(14:21):
mister Elaine shook his fist in Farrington's face. Then he
imitated Farrington saying, and here was my knabs, as cool
as you please, while Farrington looked at the company out
of his heavy dirty eyes, smiling and at times drawing
forth stray drops of liquor from his mustache with the
aid of his lower lip. When that round was over,

(14:42):
there was a pause. O'Halloran had money, but neither of
the other two seemed to have any, so the whole
party left the shop somewhat regretfully. At the corner of
Duke Street, Higgins and Nosey Flynn beveled off to the
left while the other three turned back towards the city.
Rain was drizzling down on the cold streets, and when
they reached the Ballast office, Farrington suggested the Scotch House.

(15:06):
The bar was full of men and loud with the
noise of tongues and glasses. The three men pushed past
the whining match cellars at the door and formed a
little party at the corner of the counter. They began
to exchange stories. Leonard introduced them to a young fellow
named Weathers, who was performing at Nativoli as an acrobat
and knock about artiste. Farrington stood a drink all round.

(15:29):
Weather said he would take a small irish and a pollinarus. Farrington,
who had definite notions of what was what, asked the
boys would they have an apollinaris too, but the boys
told Tim to make theirs hot. The talk became theatrical.
O'Halloran stood around, and then Farrington stood another round Weathers,
protesting that the hospitality was too irish. He promised to

(15:51):
get them in behind the scenes and introduced them to
some nice girls. O'Halloran said that he and Leonard would go,
but that Farrington wouldn't go because he was a married man,
and Farrington's heavy, dirty eyes leered at the company in
token that he understood he was being chaffed. Weathers made
them all have just one little tincture at his expense,

(16:11):
and promised to meet them later on at Mulligan's in
Pool Bay Street. When the Scotch house closed, they went
round to Mulligan's. They went into the parlor at the back,
and o'halloman ordered small hot specials all round. They were
all beginning to feel mellow. Farrington was just standing another
round when Weathers came back. Much to Farrington's relief, he

(16:32):
drank a glass of bitter this time. Funds were getting low,
but they had enough to keep them going. Presently, two
young women with big hats and a young man in
a check suit came in and sat at a table
close by. Weathers saluted them and told the company that
they were out of the tivoli. Farrington's eyes wandered at
every moment in the direction of one of the young women.

(16:55):
There was something striking in her appearance. An immense scarf
of peacock blue muslin was round round her hat and
knotted in a great bow under her chin, and she
wore bright yellow gloves reaching to the elbow. Founding gazed
admiringly at the plump arm, which she moved very often
and with much grace. And when after a little time

(17:16):
she answered his gaze, he admired still more her large,
dark brown eyes. The oblique staring expression in them fascinated him.
She glanced at him once or twice, and when the
party was leaving the room, she brushed against his chair
and said, oh, pardon, in a London accent. He watched

(17:36):
her leave the room in the hope that she would
look back at him, but he was disappointed. He cursed
his want of money, and cursed all the rounds he
had stood, particularly all the whiskies and the pollenaris which
he had stood. To Weathers, if there was one thing
he hated, it was a sponge. He was so angry
that he lost count of the conversation of his friends.
When Paddy Leonard called him, he found that they were

(17:58):
talking about feats of strain. Weathers was showing his biceps
muscle to the company and boasting so much that the
other two had called on Farrington to appoll the national honor.
Farrington pulled up his sleeve accordingly and showed his biceps
muscle to the company. The two arms were examined and compared,
and finally it was agreed to have a trial of strength.

(18:20):
The table was cleared and the two men rested their
elbows on it, clasping hands. When Paddy Leonard said go,
each was to try to bring down the other's hand
on to the table. Farrington looked very serious and determined.
The trial began. After about thirty seconds, Weathers brought his
opponent's hands slowly down on to the table. Farrington's dark

(18:41):
wine colored face flushed darker, still with anger and humiliation
at having been defeated by such a stripling. You're not
to put the weight to your body behind it. Playfair,
he said, It was not plain fair, said the other.
Come on again, the two best our tree. The trial
began again. The veins stood out on Farrington's forehead, and

(19:04):
the pallor of Weather's complexion changed to peeny. The hands
and arms trembled under the stress. After a long struggle,
Weathers again brought his opponent's hands slowly on to the table.
There was a murmur of applause from the spectators. The curate,
who was standing beside the table, nodded his red head
towards the victor and said, with stupid familiarity. Ah, that's

(19:28):
the knack. What the hell do you know about it?
Said Farrington, fiercely, turning on the man. What do you
put in your gab for? Sh said O'Halloran, observing the
violent expression on Farrington's face. Pony up, boys, We'll have
just one little smahan more and then we be off.
A very sullen faced man stood at the corner of

(19:48):
a colonell bridge, waiting for the little Sandy Mount tram
to take him home. He was full of smoldering anger
and revengefulness. He felt humiliated and discontented. He did not
even feel and he had only twopence in his pocket.
He cursed everything he had done for himself at the office,
pawned his watch, spent all his money, and he had

(20:09):
not even got drunk. He began to feel thirsty again
and longed to be back again in the hot Reeking
public house. He lost his reputation as a strong man,
having been defeated twice by a mere boy. His heart
swelled with fury, and when he thought of the woman
in the big hat, who had brushed against him and said,
pardon his fury nearly choked him. His tram let him

(20:34):
down at Shelbourne Road, and he steered his great body
along the shadow of the wall of the barracks. He
loathes returning to his home. When he went in by
the side door, he found the kitchen empty and the
kitchen fire nearly out. He bawled upstairs. Aida. Aida, His
wife was a little, sharp faced woman who bullied her

(20:54):
husband when he was sober, and was bullied by him
when he was drunk. They had five children. A little
boy came running down the stairs. Who is that? Said
the man, peering through the darkness. Me, Pa, who are
you Charlie? No, Pa, Tom, where's your mother? She's out
at the chapel. That's right. Did you think of leaving

(21:17):
any dinner for me? Yes, Polly, light the lamp. What
do you mean by having the place in darkness? Have
the other children in bed? The man sat down heavily
on one of the chairs while the little boy lit
the lamp. He began to mimic his son's flat accent,
saying half to himself, at the chapel, At the chapel,
if your place. When the lamp was lit, he banged

(21:39):
his fist on the table and shouted, what's from my dinner?
I'm going to cook it, pa, said the little boy.
The man jumped up furiously and pointed to the fire.
On that fire, you let the fire out, By God,
I'll teach you to do that again. He took a
step to the door and seized the walking stick, which
was standing behind it. I'll teach you to let the

(22:01):
fire out, he said, rolling up his sleeve in order
to give his arm free play. The little boy cried,
oh Pa, and ran whimpering round the table, but the
man followed him and caught him by the coat. The
little boy looked wildly about him, but, seeing no way
of escape, fell upon his knees. Now you'll let the
foil out the next time, said the man, striking at

(22:22):
him vigorously with a stick. Take that, your little whelp.
The boy uttered a squeal of pain as the stick
cut his tie. He clasped his hands together in the
air and his voice shook with fright. No, Pa, he cried,
don't beat me, pa, And I'll oh won't say a
hail Mary for you, I'll say a hell Mary for
your pa, If you don't beat me, don't say I

(22:43):
Hail Mary. End of story. Nine counterparts