The Sun Also Rises - Chapter 18

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Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Chapter eighteen. At noon, wewere all at the cafe. It was
crowded. We were eating shrimps anddrinking beer. The town was crowded.
Every street was full. Big motorcars from Burtz and San Sebastian kept driving
up and parking around the square.They brought people for the bullfight. Sightseeing

(00:22):
cars came up too. There wasone with twenty five English women in it.
They sat in the big white carand looked through their glasses at the
fiesta. The dancers were all quitedrunk. Was the last day of the
fiesta. The fiesta was solid andunbroken, but the motor cars and tourist
cars made little islands of onlookers.When the cars emptied, the onlookers were

(00:47):
absorbed into the crowd. He didnot see them again except as sport clothes
odd looking at a table among theclosely packed peasants in black smocks. The
fiesta absorbed even the Buritz England,so that you did not see them unless
you passed close to a table.All the time there was music in the
street. The drums kept on pounding, and the pipes were going Inside the

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cafes, men with their hands grippingthe table or on each other's shoulders were
singing the hard voice singing, herecomes Brett. Bill said, I looked
and saw her coming through the crowdin the square, walking her head up
as though the fiesta were being stagedin her honor, and she found it
pleasant and amusing. Hello you Chap, she said, I say, I

(01:34):
have a thirst. Get another bigbeer, Bill said to the waiter,
shrimps his code gone. Brett askedyes. Bill said he hired a car.
The beer came. Brett started tolift the glass mug and her hands
shook. She saw it and smiledand leaned forward and took a long sip.
Good beer, Very good, Isaid, I was nervous about Mike.

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I did not think he had slept. He must have been drinking all
the time, but he seemed tobe under control. I heard Coan had
hurt you, Jake, Brett said, no, knocked me out. That
was all I say. He did. Hurt Pedro Romero. Brett said,
he hurt him most badly. Howis he he'll be all right? He
won't go out of the room.Does he look badly? Very he was

(02:23):
really hurt. I told him Iwanted to pop out and see you.
Chaps for a minute. Is hegoing to fight? Rather? I'm going
with you if you don't mind.How's your boyfriend? Mike guessed he had
not listened to anything that Brett hadsaid. Brett's got a bullfighter. He
said she had a jew named Cone, but he turned out badly. Brett

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stood up. I'm not going tolisten to that sort of rot from you,
Michael. How's your boyfriend? Damnedwell? Brett said, watch him
this afternoon. Brett's got a bullfighter, Mike said, a beautiful bloody bullfighter.
Would you mind walking over with me. I want to talk to you,
Jake. Tell him all about yourbullfighter. Mike said, oh,

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to hell with your bullfighter. Hetipped the table so that all the beers
and the dish of shrimps went overin a crash. Come on, Brett
said, let's get out of this. In the crowd crossing the square,
I said, how is it.I'm not going to see him after lunch
until the fight. His people comein and dress him. They're very angry

(03:27):
about me, he says. Brettwas rating. She was happy, the
sun was out and the day wasbright. I feel altogether changed. Brett
said, you've no idea, Jake, anything you want me to do.
No, just go to the fightwith me. We'll see you at lunch.
No, I'm eating with him.We were standing under the arcade at

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the door of the hotel. Theywere carrying tables out and setting them up
under the arcade. Want to takea turn out to the park, Brett
asked, don't want to go upyet. I fancy he's sleeping. We
walked along past the theater and outof the square and along through the barracks
of the fair, moving with acrowd between the lines of booths. We

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came out on a cross street thatled to the Paseo de Sarasante. We
could see the crowd walking there,all the fashionably dressed people. They were
making the turn at the upper endof the park. Don't let's go there,
Brett said, I don't want staringat just now. We stood in
the sunlight was hot and good afterthe rain and the clouds from the sea.

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I hope the wind goes down,Brett said, it's very bad for
him, So do I. Hesays, the bulls are all right,
they're good. Is that suand fermeans? Brett looked at the yellow wall
of the chapel, yes, wherethe show started on Sunday. Let's go
and do you mind I'd rather liketo pray a little for him or something.

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We went in through the heavy leatherdoor that moved very lightly. It
was dark inside. Many people werepraying. You saw them as your eyes
adjusted themselves to the half light.We knelt at one of the long wooden
benches. After a little while,I felt Brett stiffened beside me, and
so she was looking straight ahead.Come on, she whispered throatily. Let's

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get out of here. Makes medamn nervous. Outside in the hot brightness
of the street, Brette looked upat the tree tops in the wind.
The praying had not been much ofa success. Don't know why I get
so nervy in church, Brett said, never does me any good. We

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walked along. I'm damn bad fora religious atmosphere. Brett said, I've
their own type of face, youknow. Brett said, I'm not worried
about him at all. I justfeel happy about him good. I wish
the wind would drop, though it'sliable to go down by five o'clock.
Let's hope you might pray, Ilaughed. Never does me any good.

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I've never gotten anything I prayed for? Have you? Oh? Yes,
oh Rot, said Brett. Maybeit works for some people. Though you
don't look very religious, Jake,I'm pretty religious, oh Rot, said
Brett. Don't start proselytizing today.Today's going to be bad enough as it
is. It was the first timeI had seen her in the old,

(06:30):
happy, careless way since before shewent off with Kohn. We were back
again in front of the hotel.All the tables were set now, and
already several were filled with people eating. Do look after Mike, Brett said,
don't let him get too bad.Your friends have gone upstairs. The
German maitre d' hotel said in English. He was a continual easdropper. Brett

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turned to him. Thank you somuch. Have you anything else to say?
No, ma'am good, said Brett. Save us a table for three,
I said to the German. Hesmiled, his dirty, little pink
and white smile. Is Madame eatingher? No, Brett said, then
I think a table for two willbe enough. Don't talk to him,

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Brett said, Mike must have beenin bad shape. She said. On
the stairs we passed Montoya on thestairs he bowed and did not smile.
I'll see you at the cafe.Brett said, thank you so much,
Jake. We had stopped at thefloor our rooms were on. She went
straight down the hall and into Romero'sroom. She did not knock. She

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simply opened the door, went inand closed it behind her. I stood
in front of the door of Mike'sroom and knocked. There was no answer.
I tried the knob in it open. Inside the room was in great
disorder. All the bags were openedand clothing was strewn around. They were
empty bottles beside the bed. Mikelay on the bed, looking like a

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death mask of himself. He openedhis eyes and looked at me. Hello,
Jake, he said, very slowly. I'm getting a little sleep.
I wanted a little sleep for along time. Let me cover you over.
No, I'm quite warm. Don'tgo. I haven't gotten to sleep

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yet. You'll sleep, Mike.Don't worry. Boy, Brett's got a
bullfighter. Mike said, but herjew has gone away. He turned his
head and looked at me. Damngood thing. What Yes, Now go
to sleep, Mike. You oughtto get some sleep. I'm just starting.
I'm going to get a little sleep. He shut his eyes. I

(08:50):
went out of the room and turnedthe door too quietly. Bill was in
my room reading the paper. SeeMike, Yes, let's go and eat.
I won't eat downstairs with that Germanhead waiter. It was damn snotty.
When I was getting Mike up stairs, he was snotty to us too.
Let's go out and eat in thetown. We went down the stairs.

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On the stairs we passed a girlcoming up with a covered tray.
There goes Brett's lunch. Bill said, and the kids, I said.
Outside on the terrace under the arcade, the German head waiter came up.
His red cheeks were shiny. Hewas being polite. I have a table
for two for you, gentlemen,he said, go sit at it.

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Bill said. We went on outacross the street. We ate at a
restaurant in a side street off thesquare. They were all men eating in
the restaurant. It was full ofsmoke and drinking and singing. The food
was good, and so was thewine. We did not talk much.
Afterward. We went to the cafeand watched the fiesta come to the boiling

(10:00):
point. Brett came over soon afterlunch. She said she looked in the
room and that Mike was asleep.When the fiesta boiled over and toward the
bull ring, we went with thecrowd. Brett sat at the ringside between
Bill and me. Directly below uswas the kye Jean, the passageway between
the stands and the red fence ofthe behea. Behind us, the concrete

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stands filled solidly out in front beyondthe red fence. The sand of the
ring was smooth, rolled and yellow. It looked a little heavy from the
rain, but it was dry inthe sun and firm and smooth. The
sword handlers and bull ring servants downthe kye Jean, carrying on their shoulders
the wicker baskets of fighting capes andmuletas. They were blood stained and compactly

(10:48):
folded and packed in the baskets.The sword handlers opened the heavy leather sword
cases, so the red wrapped hiltsof the sheaf of swords showed. As
the leather case leaned against the fence. They unfolded the dark stained red flannel
of the muletas and fixed batons inthem to spread the stuff and give the

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matador something to hold. Brett watchedit all. She was absorbed in the
professional details. He's his name stenciledon all the capes and mulettas. She
said, Why do they call themmulettas. I don't know. I wonder
if they ever laundered them. Idon't think so. It might spoil the

(11:30):
color. The blood must stiffen them. Bill send funny, Brett said,
how one doesn't mind the blood.Below in the narrow passage of the Kaye
Jean, these sword handlers arranged everything. All the seats were full. Above,
all the boxes were full. Therewas not an empty seat except in
the President's box. When he camein. The fight would start. Across

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the smooth sand and the high doorwaythat led into the corrals. The bullfi
were standing, their arms furled intheir capes, talking, waiting for the
signal to march in across the arena. Brett was watching them with the glasses.
Here would you like to look?I looked through the glasses and saw

(12:15):
the three matadors. Romero was inthe center, the La Monty on his
left, Marcial on his right.Back of them were their people, and
behind the banderie Eiros. Back inthe passageway and in the open space of
the corral, I saw the piccadors. Romero was wearing a black suit.
His tricornered hat was low down overhis eyes. I could not see his

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face clearly under the hat, butit looked badly marked. He was looking
straight ahead. Marciollo was smoking acigarette, gautedly, holding it in his
hand. Belmonte looked ahead, hisface wan and yellow, his long wolf
jaw out. He was looking atnothing. Neither he nor Romero seemed to

(13:01):
have anything in common with the others. They're all alone. The President came
in. There was hand clapping aboveus and the grand stand, and I
handed the glasses to Brett. Therewas applause. The music started. Brett
looked through the glasses. Here takethem, she said. Through the glasses,

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I saw Belmonte speak to Romero.Marciel straightened up and dropped his cigarette
and looking straight ahead. Their headsback, there were free arms swinging.
The three matadors walked out. Behindthem came all the procession, opening out,
all striding its step, all thecapes furled, everybody with free arms
swinging, and behind rode the picadors, their picks rising like lances. Behind

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all came the two trains of mulesand the bullering servants. The Montadors bowed,
holding their hats on before the President'sbox, and then came over to
the bajeera below us. Pedro Romerotook off his heavy gold brocaded cape and
handed it over the fence to asword handler. He said something to the

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sword handler. Close below us,we saw Romero's lips were puffed, both
eyes were discolored. His face wasdiscolored and swollen. The sword handler took
the cape, looked up at Brett, and came over to us and handed
up the cape. Spread it outin front of you, I said.
Brett leaned forward. The cape washeavy and smoothly, stiff with gold.

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The sword handler looked back, shookhis head and said something. A man
beside me leaned over toward Brett.He doesn't want you to spread it.
He said, you should fold itand keep it in your lap. Brett
folded the heavy cape. Romero didnot look up at us. He was
speaking to Belmonte. Belmonte had senthis former cape over to some friends.

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He looked across at them and smiledhis wolf smile that was only with the
mouth. Romero leaned over the pajeraand asked for the water jug The sword
handler brought it, and Romero pouredwater over the purcal of his fighting cake
and then scuffed the lower folds inthe sand with his slippered foot. What's
that for, Brett asked to giveit weight in the wind, his face

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looks bad. Bill said, hefeels very badly. Brett said he should
be in bed. The first bullwas Belmontes. Belmonte was very good,
but because he got thirty thousand pesetasand people had stayed in line all night
to buy tickets to see him,the crowd demanded that he should be more
than very good. Belmont's great attractionis working close to the bull. In

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bullfighting, they speak of the terrainof the bull and the terrain of the
bull fighter. As long as abull fighter stays in his own terrain,
he is comparatively safe. Every timehe enters into the terrain of the bull,
he is in great danger. Belmonteand his best days, worked always
in the terrain of the bull.This way he gave the sensation of coming

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tragedy. People went to the quaritato see Belmonte, to be given tragic
sensations, and perhaps to see thedeath of Balmonte. Fifteen years ago,
they said, if you wanted tosee Belmonte, you should go quickly while
he was still alive. Since then, he has killed more than a thousand
bulls. When he retired, thelegend grew up about how his bull fighting

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had been, and when he cameout of retirement, the public were disappointed
because no real man could work asclose to the bulls as Beaumonte was supposed
to have done, not, ofcourse, even Belmonte. Also. Belmonte
imposed conditions and insisted that his bullshould not be too large nor too dangerously
armed with horns, and so theelement that was necessary to give the sensation

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a tragedy was not there. Andthe public, who wanted three times as
much from Belmonte, who was sickwith a fistula, as Belmonte had ever
been able to give, felt defraudedand cheated. And Belmonte's jaw came further
out in contempt, and his faceturned yellower, and he moved with greater

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difficulty as his pain increased, andfinally the crowd were actively against him,
and he was utterly contemptuous and indifferent. He meant to have a great afternoon,
and instead it was an afternoon ofsneers, shouted insults, and finally
a volley of cushions and pieces ofbread and vegetables thrown down at him in
the plaza where he had had hisgreatest triumphs. His jaw only went further

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out. Sometimes he turned to smilethat tooth, long jawed, lipless smile
when he was called something particularly insulting. And always the pain that any movement
produced grew stronger and stronger, untilfinally his yellow face was parchment color,
and after a second bull was deadand the throwing of bread and cushions was
over. After he had saluted thepresident with the same wolf jawn's smile and

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contemptuous eyes, and handed his swordover the pajera to be white and put
back in its case, he passedthrough into the Kaye Jean and leaned on
the behera Belois, his hat onhis arms, not seeing, not hearing
anything, only going through his pain. When he looked up, finally he

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asked for a drink of water.He swallowed a little, rinsed his mouth,
spat the water, took his cape, and went back into the ring.
Because they were against Belmonte, thepublic were for Romero. From the
moment he left the bajera and wenttoward the bolt, they applauded him.
Belmonte watched Romero, too, watchedhim, always without seeming to He paid

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no attention to Marcial. Marcial wasthe sort of thing he knew all about.
He'd come out of retirement to competewith Marcial, knowing it was a
competition gained in advance. He hadexpected to compete with Marcial and the other
stars of the decadence of bull fighting, and he knew that the sincerity of
his own bull fighting would be soset off by the false esthetics of the

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bull fighters at the decadent period thathe would have only to be in the
ring. His return from retirement hadbeen spoiled by Romero. Romero did always
smoothly, calmly, and beautifully whathe Belmonte could only bring himself to do.
Now, Sometimes the crowd felt it, even the people from Burtz,

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even the American ambassador saw it.Finally was a competition that Belmonte would not
enter because it would lead only toa bad horn wound or death. Belmonte
was no longer well enough. Heno longer had his greatest moments in the
bull ring. He was not surethat that there were any great moments.

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Things were not the same, andnow life only came and flashes. He
had flashes of the old greatness withhis bulls, but they were not of
value because he had discounted them inadvance, when he had picked the bulls
out for their safety, getting outof a motor and leaning on a fence
looking over at the herd on theranch of his friend the bull breed.

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So he had two small, manageablebulls without much horns. And when he
felt the greatness again coming, justa little of it through the pain that
was always with him, it hadbeen discounted and sold in advance, and
it did not give him a goodfeeling. It was the greatness, but
it did not make bull fighting wonderfulto him any more. Pedro Romero had

(20:45):
the greatness. He loved bull fighting, and I think he loved the bulls,
and I think he loved Brett.Everything of which he could control the
locality he did in front of herall that afternoon. Never once did he
look up. He made it strongerthat way, and did it for himself
too as well as for her,because he did not look up to ask

(21:07):
if it pleased. He did itall for himself inside, and it strengthened
him. And yet he did itfor her too, But he did not
do it for her at any lossto himself. He gained by it all
through the afternoon. His first keepday was directly below us. The three
matadors take the bull in turn aftereach charge he makes at A picador l

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Monte was the first, Marcial wasthe second. Then came Romero. The
three of them were standing at theleft of the horse. The picador,
his hat down over his eyes,the shaft of his pick angling sharply toward
the bull, kicked him the spursand held them, and with the reins
in his left hand, walked thehorse forward toward the bull. The bull

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was watching, seemingly he watched thewhite horse, but really he watched the
triangular steel point of the pick.Romero, watching, saw the bull start
to turn his head. He didnot want to charge. Romero flicked his
cape, so the color caught thebull's eye. The bull charged with the
reflex, charged and found not theflash of color, but a white horse,

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and a man leaned far over thehorse shot the steel point of the
long hickory shaft into the hump ofmuscle on the bull's shoulder and pulled his
horse sideways as he pivoted on thepick, making a wound, enforcing the
iron into the bull's shoulder, makinghim bleed for Belmonte. The bull did
not insist under the iron. Hedid not really want to get at the

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horse. He turned and the groupbroke apart and Romero was taking him out
with his cape. He took himout softly and smoothly, and then stopped
and, standing squarely in front ofthe bull, offered him the cape.
The bull's tail went up and hecharged, and Romero moved his arms ahead
of the bull, wheeling his feetfirm. The damp and mud weighted cape

(23:00):
swung open and full as a sailfills, and Romero pivot it with it
just ahead of the bull. Theend of the pass, they were facing
each other again. Romero smiled,The bull wanted it again, and Romero's
cape filled again, this time onthe other side. Each time, he
let the bull pass so close thatthe man and the bull, and the

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cape that filled and pivoted ahead ofthe bull wore all one. Sharply etched
mass was also slow and so controlled, was as though he were rocking the
bull to sleep. He made forveronicas like that, and finished with a
half veronica that turned his back onthe bull and came away toward the applause,
his hand on his hip, hiscape on his arm, and the

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bull watching his back, going awayin his own bulls. He was perfect.
His first bull did not see well. After the first two passes with
a cape, Romero knew exactly howbad the vision was. In pair,
he worked accordingly. It was notbrilliant bull fighting. It was only perfect
bull fighting. The crowd wanted thebull changed. They made a great row.

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Nothing very fine could happen with abull that could not see the lores,
But the president would not order himreplaced. Why don't they change him,
Brett asked. They'd paid for him. They don't want to lose their
money. It's hardly fair to Romero. Watch how he handles a bull that
can't see the color the sort ofthing I don't like to see. Was

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not nice to watch if you caredanything about the person who was doing it
with a bull who could not seethe colors of the capes or the scarlet
flannel of the Muleta. Romero hadto make the bull consent with his body.
He had to get so close thatthe bull saw his body. It
would start for it and then shiftthe bulls charged to the flannel and finish
out the pass in the classic manner. The Burrit's crowd did not like it.

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They thought Romero was afraid and thatwas why he gave that little side
step each time as he transferred thebull's charge from his own body to the
flannel. They preferred Belmonte's imitation ofhimself or Marcial's imitation of Belmonte. There
were three of them in the rowbehind us. What's he afraid of?

(25:17):
The bull? For the bull?So dummy only goes after the cloth.
He's just a young bull fighter.He hasn't learned it yet. But I
thought he was fine with the capebefore. Probably he's nervous. Now.
Out in the center of the ringall alone, Romero was going on with
the same thing, getting so closethat the bull could see him plainly offering

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the body, offering it again,a little closer, the bull watching dully,
then so close that the bull thoughthe had him offering again, and
finally drawing the charge, and thenjust before the horns came, giving the
bull the red cloth to follow witha little, almost imperceptible jerk that so
offended the critical judgment of the ritzbull fight experts. He's going to kill

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now, I said to Brett.The bull's still strong. He wouldn't wear
himself out. Out in the centerof the ring, Romero profiled in front
of the bull, drew the swordout from the folds of the mulepa,
rose on his toes and sighted alongthe blade. The bull charged. As
Romero charged, Romero's left hand droppedthe muletta over the bull's muzzle to blind

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him. His left shoulder went forwardbetween the horns as the sword went in,
and for just an instant he andthe bull were won. Romero way
out over the bull, the rightarm extended high up to where the hilt
of the sword had gone in betweenthe bull's shoulders. Then the figure was
broken. It was a little joltas Romero came clear, and then he

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was standing one hand up facing thebull, his shirt ripped out from under
his sleeve, the white blowing inthe wind in the bull, the red
sword hilt tight between his shoulders,his head going down, and his legs
settling there he goes Bill said.Romero was close enough so the bull could
see him. His hand still up, he spoke to the bull. The

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bull gathered himself, then his headwent forward and he went over slowly,
then all over, suddenly four feetin the air. They handed the sword
to Romero, and carrying it bladedown, the muletta in his other hand,
he walked over to in front ofthe President's box, bowed, straightened
and came over to the bahera andhanded over the sword and muletta. Bad

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one, said the sword handler.He made me sweat, said Romero.
He wiped off his face. Thesword handler handed him the water jug.
Romero wiped his lips. It hurthim to drink out of the jug.
He did not look up at us. Marcial had a big day. They
were still applauding him when Romero's lastbull came in. It was the bull

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that had sprinted out and killed theman in the morning run. During Romero's
first bull, his hurt face hadbeen very noticeable. Everything he did showed
him all The concentration of the awkwardlydelicate working with a bull that could not
see well brought it out. Thefight with Kohane had not touched his spirit,

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but his face had been smashed andhis body hurt. He was wiping
all that out. Now, eachthing that he did with this bull wiped
that out a little cleaner. Wasa good bull, a big bull,
and with horns, and it turnedand recharged easily, and surely he was
what Romero wanted in bulls. Whenhe had finished his work with a mulette

(28:37):
and was ready to kill, thecrowd made him go on. They did
not want the bull killed, yetthey did not want it to be over.
Romero went on. It was likea coarse and bull fighting. All
the passes he linked up, allcompleted, all slow, templed and smooth.
There were no tricks and no mystifications. There was no brusqueness, and

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each pass as it reached the summitgave you a sudden ache inside. The
crowd did not want it ever tobe finished. The bull was squared on
all four feet to be killed,and Romero killed directly below us. He
killed not as he had been forcedto by the last bull, but as
he wanted to. He profiled directlyin front of the bull, drew the

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sword out of the folds of themuletta, and sighted along the blade.
The bull watched him. Romero spoketo the bull and tapped one of his
feet. The bull charged, andRomero waited for the charge. The muletta
held low, sighting along the blade, his feet firm, and without taking
a step forward, he became onewith the bull. The sword was in

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high between the shoulders. The bullhad followed the low slung flannel that disappeared
as Romero lurched clear to the left. It was over. The bull tried
to go forward, his legs commencedto settle. He swung from side to
side, hesitated, then went downon his knees, and Romero's older brother
leaned forward behind him and drove ashort knife into the bull's neck at the

(30:08):
base of the horns. The firsttime he missed, he drove the knife
in again, and the bull wentover, twitching and ridging. Romero's brother,
holding the bull's horn in one handthe knife in the other, looked
up at the President's box. Handkerchiefswere waving all over the bull room.
The president looked down from the boxand waved his handkerchief. The brother cut

(30:33):
the notched black ear from the deadbull and trotted over with it to Romero.
The bull lay heavy and black onthe sand, his tongue out.
Boys were running toward him from allparts of the arena, making a little
circle around him. They were startingto dance around the bull. Romero took
the ear from his brother and heldit up toward the president. The president

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bowed, and Romero, running toget ahead of the crowd, came toward
us us. He leaned up againstthe behera and gave the ear to Brett.
He nodded his head and smiled.The crowd were all about him.
Brett held down the cape. Youliked it, Romero called. Brett.
Did not say anything. They lookedat each other and smiled. Brett had

(31:17):
the ear in her hand. Don'tget bloody, Romero said, and grinned.
The crowd wanted him. Several boysshouted at Brett. The crowd was
the boys, the dancers, andthe drunks. Romero turned and tried to
get through the crowd. They're allaround him, tried to lift him and
put him on their shoulders. Hefought and twisted away and started running in

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the midst of them toward the exit. He did not want to be carried
on people's shoulders, but they heldhim and lifted him. Was uncomfortable,
and his legs were sprattled, andhis body was very sore. They were
lifting him and all running toward thegate. Yet his hand on somebody's shoulder.
He looked around at us apologetically.The crowd running went out the gate

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with him. We all three wentback to the hotel. Brett went upstairs.
Bill and I sat in the downstairsdining room and ate some hard boiled
eggs and drank several bottles of beer. Belmonte came down in his street clothes
with his manager and two other men. They sat at the next table and
ate. Belmonte ate very little.They were leaving on the seven o'clock train

(32:23):
for Barcelona. Belmonte wore a bluestriped shirt and a dark suit, and
ate soft boiled eggs. The othersate a big meal. Belmonte did not
talk, He only answered questions.Bill was tired after the bull fight,
so was I. We both tooka bull fight very hard. We sat

(32:45):
and ate the eggs, and Iwatched Belmonti and the people at his table.
The men with him were tough lookingand businesslike. Come on over to
the cafe. Bill said, Iwant an absent. Was the last day
of the fiesta. Outside it wasbeginning to be cloudy again. The square
was full of people, and thefireworks experts were making up their set pieces

(33:07):
for the night and covering them overwith beech branches. Boys were watching.
We passed stands of rockets with longbamboo stems. Outside the cafe, there
was a great crowd. The musicand the dancing were going on. The
giants and the dwarfs were passing.Where's Edna, I asked Bill. I

(33:28):
don't know. We watched the beginningof the evening of the last night at
the fiesta. The absente made everythingseem better. I drank it without sugar
in the dripping glass, and itwas pleasantly bitter. I feel sorry about
Cone, Bill said, yet anawful time. Oh to hell with Cone,
I said, where do you supposehe went up to Paris? What

(33:52):
do you suppose he'll do? Ohto hell with him? What do you
suppose he'll do? Pick up withhis old girl? Probably who was his
old girl? Somebody named Francis.We had another absent. When do you
go back, I asked, tomorrow. After a little while, Bill said,

(34:13):
well, it was a swell fiesta. Yes, I said, something
doing all the time. You wouldn'tbelieve it. It's like a wonderful nightmare.
Sure, I said, I'd believeanything, including nightmares. What's the
matter? Feel low lows? Hell? Have another absent here, waiter,

(34:34):
another absent for this Senor. Ifeel like hell, I said. Drink
that, said Bill, Drink itslow. It was beginning to get dark.
The fiesta was going on. Ibegan to feel drunk, but I
did not feel any better. Howdo you feel? I feel like hell?
Have another? It won't do anygood. Try it. You can't

(34:55):
tell. Maybe this is the onethat gets it. He waiter, another
absent for the Senor. I pouredthe water directly into it and stirred it
instead of letting it drip. Billput in a lump of ice. I
stirred the ice around with a spoon, and the brownish, cloudy mixture.
How is it fine? Don't drinkit fast? That way will make you

(35:19):
sick. I sat down the glass. I've not meant to drink it fast.
I feel tight. You ought to, that's what you want? It,
wasn't it? Sure? Get tight? Get over your damned depression.
Well I'm tight? Is that whatyou want. Sit down. I won't
sit down. I said, I'mgoing over to the hotel. I was
very drunk. I was drunker thanI ever remember having been at the hotel.

(35:45):
I went upstairs. Brett's door wasopen. I put my head in
the room. Mike was sitting onthe bed. He waved a bottle,
Jake. He said, come in, Jake. I went in and sat
down. The room was unstable unlessI looked at some fixed point. Brett,
you know she's gone off with abull fighter chap. No. Yes,

(36:07):
she looked for you to say goodbye. They went on the seven
o'clock train. Did they bad thingto do? Mike said, she shouldn't
have done it. No, havea drink. Wait while I ring for
some beer. I'm drunk, Isaid, I'm going in and lie down.
Are you blind? I was blindmyself. Yes, I said,

(36:28):
I'm blind. Well bung oh,Mike said, get some sleep, old
Jake. I went out the doorand into my own room and lay on
the bed. The bed went sailingoff, and I sat up in bed
and looked at the wall to makeit stop. Outside in the square,
the fiesta was going on. Didnot mean anything. Later, Bill and
Mike came in to get me togo down and eat with them. I

(36:51):
pretended to be asleep. He's asleep. Better let him alone. He's blind
as a tick, Mike said.They went out. I got up and
went to the balcony and looked outat the dancing in the square. The
world was not wheeling any more.It was just very clear and bright and
inclined to blur at the edges.I washed, brushed my hair. I

(37:15):
looked strange to myself in the glass, and went downstairs to the dining room.
Here he is, said Bill,Good old Jake. I knew you
wouldn't pass out. Hello, youold drunk, Mike said. I got
hungry and woke up, eat somesoup. Bill said. The three of
us sat at the table, andit seemed as though about six people were

(37:36):
missing. End of Chapter eighteen.