The Sun Also Rises - Chapter 12

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Episode Transcript

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Chapter twelve. When I woke inthe morning, I went to the window
and looked out. It had clearedand there were no clouds on the mountains.
Outside. Under the window were somecarts and old diligence. The wood
of the roof cracked and split bythe weather. It must have been left
from the days before the motor buses. A goat hopped up on one of

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the carts and then to the roofof the diligence. He jerked his head
at the other goats below, andwhen I waved at him, he bound
it down. Bill was still sleeping, so I dressed, put on my
shoes outside in the hall, andwent downstairs. No one was stirring downstairs,
so I bolted the door and wentout. Was cool outside in the

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early morning, and the sun hadnot yet dried the dew that had come
when the wind died down. Ihunted around in the shed behind the inn
found a sort of mattic went downtoward the stream to try and dig some
whe wors for bait. The streamwas clear and shallow, but it did
not look trouty on the grassy bankwhere it was damp. I drove the

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matteck into the earth and loosened achunk of sod. There were worms underneath.
They slid out of sight as Ilifted the sod, and I dug
carefully and got a good many diggingat the edge of the damp ground.
I filled two empty tobacco tins withworms and sifted dirt on to them.

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The goats watched me dig. WhenI went back into the inn, the
woman was down in the kitchen,and I asked her to get coffee for
us, and that we wanted alunch. Bill was awake and sitting on
the edge of the bed. Isaw you out of the window, he
said, didn't want to interrupt you. What were you doing bearing your money?
You lazy bum? Been working forthe common good? Splendid I want

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you to do that every morning?Come on, I said, get up?
What I never get up? Heclimbed into bed and pulled the sheet
up to his chin. Try andargue me into getting up. I went
on looking for the tackle and puttingit all together in the tackle bag.
Aren't you interested? Bill asked,I'm going down and eat eat. Why

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didn't you say eat? I thoughtyou just wanted me to get up for
fun. Eat fine, now,you're reasonable. You go out and dig
some more worms and I'll be rightdown. Oh, go to hell,
work for the good of all.Bill stepped into his underclothes, show irony
and pity. I started out ofthe room with the tackle bag, the

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nets and in the rod case.Hey, come back. I put my
head in the door. Aren't yougoing to show a little irony and pity?
I thumbed my nose. That's notirony. As I went downstairs,
I heard Bill singing, irony andpity when you're feeling. Oh, give

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them irony, and give them pity. Oh, give them irony when they're
feeling just a little irony, justa little pity. He kept on singing
until he came downstairs. The tunewas the bells are ringing for me and
my gal. I was reading aweak old Spanish paper. What's all this
irony and pity? What don't youknow about irony and pity? No?

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Who got it up? Everybody?They're mad about it? In New York.
It's just like the frattalinis used tobe. The girl came in with
the coffee and buttered toast, orrather it was bread toasted and buttered.
Ask her if she's got any jam, Bill said, be ironical with her.

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Have you got any jam that's notironical? I wish I could talk
Spanish. The coffee was good andwe drank it out of big bowls.
The girl brought in a glass dishof raspberry jam. Thank you. Hey,
that's not the way, Bill said, Say something ironical, make some
crack about Prima de Rivera. Icould ask her what kind of jam they

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think they've gotten into in the riff? Poor, said Bill, very poor.
You can't do it, that's all. You don't understand irony. You
have no pity. Say something pitiful, Robert Kohane, not so bad.
That's better. Now, why iscone pitiful? Be ironic? He took

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a big gulp of coffee. Ah, hell, I said, it's too
early in the morning. There yougo, and you claim you want to
be a writer too. You're onlya newspaper man, an expatriated newspaper man.
You ought to be ironical the minuteyou get out of bed. You
ought to wake up with your mouthfull of pity. Go on, I
said, who did you get thisstuff from? Everybody? Don't you read?

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Don't you ever see anybody? Youknow what you are you're an expatriate.
Why don't you live in New thenyou'd know these things. What do
you want me to do? Comeover here and tell you. Every year
take some more coffee, I said, good coffee is good for you.
It's the caffeine in it. Caffeinewe are here. Caffeine puts a man

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on her horse and a woman inhis grave. You know what's the trouble
with you? You're an ex patriot, one of the worst type. Haven't
you heard that nobody that ever lefttheir own country ever wrote anything worth printing,
not even in the newspapers. Hedrank the coffee. You're an ex
patriot. You've lost touch with thesoil. You get precious. Fake European

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standards have ruined you. You drinkyourself to death. You've become obsessed by
sex. You spend all your timetalking, not working. You are an
ex patriot. See you hang aroundcafes. It sounds like a swell life.
I said, when do I work? You don't work. One group
claims women's support you. Another groupclaims you're impotent. No, I said,

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I just had an accident. Nevermention that. Bill said, that's
the sort of thing that can't bespoken of. That's what you ought to
work up into a mystery like Henry'sbicycle. He had been going splendidly,
but he stopped. I was afraidhe thought he had hurt me with that
crack about being impotent. I wantedto start him again. It wasn't a

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bicycle, I said. He wasriding horseback. I heard it was a
tricycle. Well, I said,A plain, A sort of like a
tricycle. The joystick works the sameway, but you don't pedal it.
No, I said, I guessyou don't pedal it. Let's lay off
that. Bill said, all right, I was just standing up for the

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tricycle. I think he's a goodrider too. Bill said, And you're
a hell of a good guy.Anybody ever tell you you are a good
guy. I'm not a good guy. Listen, you're a hell of a
good guy, and I'm fonder ofyou than anybody on earth. I couldn't
tell you that in New York.It mean I was a faggot. That
was what the Civil War was about. Abraham Lincoln was a faggot. He

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was in love with General Grant,so was Jefferson Davis. Lincoln just freed
the slaves on a bet. Thedread Scott case was framed by the Anti
Saloon League. Sex explains it allthe colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady are lesbians
under their skin. He stopped,want to hear some more? Shoot?
I said, I don't know anymore. Tell you some more at lunch,

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old Bill, I said, youbum. We packed the lunch and
two bottles of wine in the rucksackand Bill put it on. I carried
the rod case and the landing netsslung over my back. We started up
the road and then went across themeadow and found a path that crossed the
fields and went toward the woods onthe slope of the first hill. We

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walked across the fields on the sandypath. The fields were rolling and grassy,
and the grass was short from thesheep grazing. The cattle were up
in the hills. We heard theirbells in the woods. The path crossed
a stream on a foot log.The log was surfaced off and there was
a sapling bent across for a railin the flat pool beside the stream Tadpole

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spot at the sand We went upa steep bank and across the rolling fields.
Looking back we saw brigette white housesand red roofs, and the white
road with the truck going along it, and the dust rising. Beyond the
fields, we crossed another faster flowingstream. A sandy road led down to
the ford and beyond into the woods. The path crossed the stream on another

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foot log. Below the ford,enjoined the road and we went into the
woods. Was at beech wood,and the trees were very old. The
roots bulked above the ground and thebranches were twisted. We walked on the
road between the thick trunks of theold beeches, and the sunlight came through
the leaves in light patches on thegrass. The trees were big and the

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foliage was thick, but it wasnot gloomy. There was no undergrowth,
only the smooth grass, very greenand fresh, and the big gray trees
well spaced, as though it werea park. This is country, Bill
said. The road went up thehill and we got into a thick woods,
and the road kept on climbing.Sometimes it dipped down, but rose

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against steeply. All the time weheard the cattle and the woods. Finally,
the road came out on the topof the hills. We were on
the top of the height of theland that was the highest part of the
range of wooded hills we had seenfrom Burgette. There were wild strawberries growing
on the sunny side of the ridgeand a little clearing in the trees ahead.

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The road came out of the forestand went along the shoulder of the
ridge of hills. The hills aheadwere not wooded, and there were great
feats fields of yellow gorse. Wayoff we saw the steep bluffs, dark
with trees and jutting with gray stonethat marked the course of the Irati River.
We have to follow this road alongthe ridge, cross these hills,

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go through the woods on the farhills, and come down to the Irati
Valley. I pointed out to Bill. That's a hell of a height.
It's too far to go and fishand come back the same day comfortably.
Comfortably that's a nice word. We'llhave to go like hell to get there
and back and have any fishing atall. It was a long walk,

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and the country was very fine,but we were tired when we came down
the steep road that led out ofthe wooded hills into the valley of the
Rio de la Fabrica. The roadcame out from the shadow of the woods
into the hot sun. Ahead wasa river valley. Beyond the river was
a steep hill. There was afield of buckwheed on the hill. We

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saw white house under some trees onthe hillside. It was very hot,
and we stopped under some trees besidea dam that crossed the river. Bill
put the pack against one of thetrees and we jointed up the rods,
put on the reels, tied onleaders, and got ready to fish.
You're sure this thing has trout init the last it's full of them.

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I'm going to fish a fly.You got any McGuinty's. There's some in
there. You're going to fish bait? Yeah, I'm going to fish the
dam here. Well, I'll takethe fly book. Then he tied on
a fly. Where'd I better goup? Or down? Down is the
best? There are plenty up abovetoo. Bill went down the bank.

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Take a worm? Can No?I don't want one. If they won't
take a fly, I'll just flickit around. Bill was down below watching
the stream. Say he called upagainst the noise of the dam, how
about putting the wine in that springup the road, I shouted, Bill
waved his hand and started down thestream. I found the two wine bottles

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in the pack and carried them upthe road to where the water of a
spring float out of an iron pipe. It was a board over the spring,
and I lifted it up, and, knocking the quarks firmly into the
bottles, lowered them down into thewater. It was so cold my hand
and wrist felt numbed. I putback the slab of wood and hoped nobody

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would find the wine. I gotmy rod that was leaning against the tree,
took the bait can and landing net, and walked out into the dam
was built to provide a head ofwater for driving logs. The gate was
up, and I sat on oneof the square timbers and watched the smooth
apron of water before the river tumbledinto the falls. In the white water

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at the foot of the dam,it was deep. As I baited up,
a trout shot up out of thewhite water into the falls and was
carried down. Before I could finishbaiting, other trout jumped at the falls,
making the same lovely arc, disappearinginto the water that was thundering down.
I put on a good sized sinkerand dropped into the white water close

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to the edge of the timbers ofthe dam. I did not feel the
first trout strike. When I startedto pull up, I felt that I
had one, and brought him,fighting and bending the rod almost double,
out of the boiling water at thefoot of the falls, and swung him
up and onto the dam. Hewas a good trout, and I banged
his head against the timber so thathe quivered out straight, and then slipped

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him into my bag. While Ihad him on, several trout had jumped
at the falls. As soon asI bade it up and dropped in again.
I hooked another and brought him inthe same way. In a little
while I had six. They wereall about the same size. I laid
them out side by side, alltheir heads pointing the same way, and

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looked at them. They were beautifullycolored in firm and hard from the cold
water. It was a hot day, so I slit them all and shucked
out the insides, gills and all, and tossed them over across the river.
I took the trout ashore, washedthem in the cold, smoothly heavy
water above the dam, and thenpicked some ferns and packed them all in

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the bag three trout on a layerof ferns, then another layer of ferns,
then three more trout, and thencovered them with ferns. They looked
nice in the ferns. And nowthe bag was bulky, and I put
it in the shade to the tree. It was very hot on the dam,
so I put my worm can inthe shade with the bag, got

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a book out of the pack,and settled down under the tree to read
until Bills should come up for lunch. So a little passed noon, and
there was not much shade, butI sat against the trunk of two of
the trees that grew together and read. The book was something by A.
E. W. Mason, andI was reading a wonderful story about a

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man who had been frozen in theout helps, then fallen into a glacier
and disappeared, And his bride wasgoing to wait twenty four years exactly for
his body to come out on themoraine, while their true love waited too.
And they were still waiting when Billcame up, get any, he
asked. He had his rod inhis bag and his net all in one
hand. You was sweating. Ihadn't heard him come up because of the

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noise from the dam. Six,What did you get? Bill sat down,
opened his bag, laid out abig trout on the grass. He
took up three more, each onea little bigger than the last, and
laid them side by side in theshade from the tree. His face was
sweaty and happy. How are yourssmaller? Let's see them, they're packed?

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How big are they really? They'reall about the size of your smallest
You're not holding out on me.I wish I were. Get them all
on worms? Yes, you lazybum. Bill put the trout in the
bag and started for the river,swinging the open bag. He was white
from the waist down, and Iknew he must have been waiting the stream.

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I walked up the road and gotout the two bottles of wine.
They were cold, moisture beated onthe bottles as I walked back to the
trees. I spread the lunch ona newspaper and uncorked one of the bottles
and leaned the other against a tree. Bill came up, drying his hands,
his bag plumped with ferns. Let'ssee that bottle, he said.

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He pulled the cork and tipped upthe bottle and drank Ooh, that makes
my eyes ache. Let's try it. The wine was icy cold and tasted
faintly rusty. That's not such filthywine, Bill said. The cold helps
it. I said. We unwrappedthe little parcels of lunch. Chicken.

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There's hard boiled eggs. Find anysalt. First the eggs, said Bill,
Then the chicken. Even brine couldsee that he's dead. I read
it in the paper yesterday. No, not really, yes, Brian's dead.
Bill laid down the egg he waspeeling. Gentlemen, he said,
An unwrapped a drumstick from a pieceof newspaper. I reversed the order for

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Brian's sake, as a tribute tothe great commoner. First the chicken,
then the egg. Wonder what dayGod created the chicken, oh, said
Bill, sucking the drumstick. Howshould we know? We should not question?
Our stay on earth is not forlong. Let us rejoice and believe
and give thanks. Eat an egg. Bill gestured with the drumstick in one

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hand, in the bottle of onein the other. Let us rejoice in
our blessings. Let us utilize thefowls of the air, let us utilize
the product of the vine. Willyou utilize a little brother. After you,
brother, Bill took a long drink. Utilize a little brother. He
handed me the bottle. Let usnot doubt, brother, Let us not

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pry into the holy mysteries of thehencoop with simeon fingers. Let us accept
on faith and simply say, Iwant you to join with me and sing.
What shall we say? Brother?He pointed to the drumstick at me
and went on, let me tellyou. We will say, And I,
for one am proud to say,and I want you to say with

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me on your knees. Brother,Let no man be ashamed to kneel here
in the grate out of doors.Remember the woods were God's first temples.
Let us kneel and say, don'teat that lady. That's Mankin here,
I said, utilize a little ofthis. We encork the other bottle.
What's the matter, I said.Didn't you like Brian? I loved Brian,

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said Bill. We were like brothers. Where did you know him?
He and Mankin and I went toholly Cross together, And Frankie Frich it's
a lie. Frankie Frich went tofort him well, I said, I
went to Loyola with Bishop Manning it'sa lie. Bill said. I went
to Loyola with Bishop Manning myself.Your cock guide, I said, on

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wine? Why not? It's thehumidity. Bill said, they ought to
take this damn humidity away. Haveanother shot? Is this all? We've
got? Only the two bottles?Do you know what you are? Bill
looked at the bottle affectionately. No, I said, you're in the pay
of the anti saloon league. Iwent to Notre Dame with Wayne B.

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Wheeler. It's a lie, saidBill. I went to Austin Business College
with Wayne B. Wheeler. Hewas class president. Well, I said,
the saloon must go. You're rightthere, old classmate. Bill said,
the saloon must go, and Iwill take it with me, your
cock guide on wine, on wine? Well, maybe I am want to

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take a nap, all right.We lay with our heads in the shade
and looked up into the tree.You will sleep, no, Bill said,
I was thinking. I shut myeyes and felt good lying on the
ground. Save. Bill said,what about this Brett business? What about
it? Were you ever in lovewith her? Sure? For how long?

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Off? And on for a hellof a long time? Oh?
Hell, Bill said, I'm sorry, fellow, It's all right. I
said, I don't give a damnany more, really, really, only
i'd a hell of a lot rathernot talk about it. You aren't so
or, I asked you, whythe hell should I be? I'm going
to sleep, Bill said. Heput a newspaper over his face. Listen.

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Jakie said, are you really aCatholic? Technically? What does that
mean? I don't know. Allright, I'll go to sleep now,
he said, don't keep me awakeby talking too much. I went to
sleep too. When I woke up, Bill was packing the rucksack. Was
late in the afternoon, and theshadow from the trees was long and went

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out over the dam. I wasstiff from sleeping on the ground. What
did you do? Wake up?Bill asked, why didn't you spend the
night? I stretched and rubbed myeyes. I had a lovely dream,
Bill said, I don't remember whatit was about, but it was a
lovely dream. I don't think Idreamt. You ought to dream. Bill
said, all our biggest business menhave been dreamers. Look at Forward,

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look at President Coolidge, look atRockefeller, look at Joe Davidson. I
disjointed at my rod and Bill's andpacked them in the rod case. I
put the reels in the tackle bag. Bill had packed the rucksack, and
we put one of the trout bagsin. I carried the other. Well,
said Bill, have we got everything? The worms? Your worms?

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Put them in there. He hadthe pack on his back, and I
put the worm cans in one ofthe outside flat pockets. You got everything
now, I looked around on thegrass at the foot of the elm trees.
Yes. We started up the roadinto the woods. So long walk
home to Burgette. And it wasdark when we came down across the fields
to the road, and along theroad between the houses of the town the

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windows lighted to the inn. Westayed five days at Burgette and had good
fishing. The nights were cold andthe days were hot. There was always
a breeze even in the heat ofthe day. It was hot enough so
that it felt good to wait ina cold stream, and the sun drives
you. When you came out andsat on the bank. We found a

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stream with a pool deep enough toswim in. In the evenings, we
played three hand a bridge with anEnglishman named Harris, who had walked over
from Saint Jean Pierre to Port andwas stopping at the inn for the fishing.
It was very pleasant. Went withus twice to the Irrati River.
There was no word from Robert Conenor from Breton Mike. End of chapter twelve.