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.Then, as the hope and the music could not be altogether silenced, he threw himself with his muddy shoes on the fine rayon bedspread and scraped his body on it as he wailed aloud.Next morning he could not go to work as his fit had left him exhausted and hoarse.But at noon when the Judge sent him a covered tray of fresh vegetable soup with piping hot cornsticks and a lemony dessert, he was sufficiently recovered to eat the food slowly, languidly.glad with the feeling-sick feeling and eating the cornsticks with his little finger delicately crooked.He stayed home a week and somebody else's cooking and the rest restored him.But his smooth, round face hardened and, although he did not think consciously about that cheating creep of a Madame Anderson after a while, he yearned to rob as he had been robbed.The first of that fall was the happiest time Jester had ever known.At first lifted by the wings of song, his passion now had quieted to friendship.Sherman was in his home every day, and the security of constant presence alters passion which is fed by jeopardy and the dread of change, of loss.Sherman was at his house every day and there was no reason to believe it would not go on forever.True, Sherman went out of his way to insult him, which wounded Jester.But as the weeks passed he had learned not to let the wounding remarks be felt too deeply or too long; indeed, he was learning to defend himself.Hard as it was for Jester to make up jazzy hurtful remarks, he was learning to do it.Furthermore he was learning to understand Sherman, and understanding which conflicts with the ruthless violence of passion leads to both pity and love.Nevertheless, when Sherman was away that week, Jester was a little bit relieved; he did not have to be on his P's and Q's every instant and could relax without the fear of having to defend his pride at any moment.Another element of their relationship was Jester's dim awareness that he was the chosen one; that he was the one that Sherman used to lash out against when he wanted to lash out against the world.For Jester knew dimly that fury is unleashed more freely against those you are most close to.so close that there is the trust that anger and ugliness will be forgiven.Jester, himself, would be angry only with his grandfather as a child.his fits of head-banging temper were directed only toward his grandfather—not Verily, Paul, or anybody else—for he knew that his grandfather would forgive and love.So while Sherman's wounding remarks were certainly no blessing, he sensed in them a kind of trust for which he was grateful.He had bought the score of Tristan, and when Sherman was away it was a relief to practice it without fear of belittling wisecracks.However, when his grandfather roamed the house like a lost soul and almost couldn't eat, Jester was concerned."I just don't see what you see in Sherman Pew.""That boy's a jewel, a veritable treasure," the Judge said placidly.His voice changed when he added, "Besides, it's not a short time I've known the boy and I feel responsible for him.""Responsible how?""It's because of me that the boy is an orphan.""I don't dig it," Jester protested."Don't talk in riddles.""It's too sorry a business to be discussed, especially between you and me."Jester answered, "Anything I despise is for somebody to tell just half a story, work up a person's interest and then don't go on.""Well, forget it," his grandfather said.He added with a glib addendum that Jester knew was only a sort of camouflage to the truth, "After all, he was the colored caddy who saved my life when I was flailing and drowning in the golf pond.""That's just a detail and not the real truth.""Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," the Judge said in a maddening voice.Deprived of the joys and the busyness of Sherman, the Judge wanted to rope in Jester, who was too busy with his own life and school to be roped in.Jester would not read immortal poetry, or play poker, and even the correspondence did not interest Jester a hoot.So the sadness and tedium returned to the Judge.After the manifold interests and activities of those months, solitaire bored him and he had read every speck of all the issues of the Ladies' Home Journal and McCall's."Tell me," Jester said suddenly, "since you imply you know so much about Sherman Pew, did you ever know his mother?""Unfortunately, I did.""Why don't you tell Sherman who she is.Naturally he wants to know.""That is a pure case where ignorance is bliss.""One time you say knowledge is power and another time you say ignorance is bliss.Which side are you on? Anyway I don't believe a particle in any of those old saws."Absentmindedly Jester was tearing up the spongy rubber ball the Judge used to exercise his left hand."Some people think it's the act of a weakling.to commit suicide.and other people think it takes a lot of guts to do it.I still wonder why my father did it.And an all-around athlete, graduated with all honors from the University of Georgia, why did he do it?""It was just a fleeting depression," the Judge said, copying J.T.Malone's words of consolation."It doesn't seem an all-around athlete thing to do."While his grandfather carefully laid out the cards for a game of solitaire, Jester wandered to the piano.He began to play Tristan, his eyes half closed and his body swaying.He had already inscribed the score:For my dear friend Sherman PewEver faithfully,John Jester ClaneThe music gave Jester goose pimples, it was so violent yet shimmering.Nothing pleased Jester more than giving a fine present to Sherman, whom he loved.On the third day of Sherman's absence Jester picked some mums and autumn leaves from his garden and bore them proudly to the lane.He put the flowers in an iced-tea pitcher.He hovered over Sherman as though he was dying, which annoyed Sherman.Sherman lay languidly on the bed and when Jester was arranging the flowers he said in a sassy, languid voice: "Have you ever stopped to consider how much your face resembles a baby's behind?"Jester was too shocked to take it in, let alone reply."Innocent, dopey, the very living image of a baby's behind.""I'm not innocent," Jester protested."You certainly are.It shows in your dopey face."Jester, like all young things, was a great one for gilding the lily.Hidden in his bouquet of flowers was a jar of caviar which he had bought from the A & P that morning; now with the violence and insolence of this new attack he did not know what to do with the hidden caviar which Sherman claimed to eat by the ton-fulls.Since his flowers had been set so peculiarly at nought.not a word of thanks or even an appreciative look.Jester did wonder what to do with the hidden caviar, for he could not stand to be humiliated further.He hid the caviar in his hip pocket.So he had to sit gingerly in a sideways position.Sherman, with pretty flowers in the room which he appreciated but didn't bother to thank Jester for or mention, well fed with somebody else's cooking, and rested, felt well enough to tease Jester.(Little did he know that he had already teased himself out of a jar of genuine caviar which he would have displayed in the most conspicuous shelf in the frigidaire for many months before serving it to his most distinguished guests.)"You look like you have tertiary syphilis," Sherman said as a starter."Like what?""When you sit wonkensided like that it's a sure sign of syphilis.""I'm just sitting on a jar."Sherman did not ask why he was sitting on a jar and naturally Jester did not volunteer.Sherman only wisecracked: "Sitting on a jar.a slop jar?""Don't be so crude.""People in France sit like that a lot of times on account of they have syphilis.""How do you know?""Because in my brief stint in the service I was in France."Jester suspected this was one of Sherman's lies but said nothing."When I was in France I fell in love with this French girl [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]