Читать книгу The Beautiful and Damned / Прекрасные и обреченные. Уровень 4 - Френсис Скотт Фицджеральд, Френсис Фицджеральд - Страница 7

At seven Anthony and his friend Maury Noble are sitting at a corner table on the cool roof. Maury Noble is like a large slender cat. His eyes are narrow, his hair is smooth and flat. This is the man whom Anthony considers his best friend. This is the only man whom he admires and envies.

They are glad to see each other now. They are drawing a relaxation from each other’s presence, a serenity. They are engaged in one of those conversations that only men under thirty indulge in.

ANTHONY: Seven o’clock. Where’s the Caramel? (Impatiently.) Still writing? I’m hungry.

MAURY: He’s got a new name for his novel. “The Demon Lover “ – not bad, eh?

ANTHONY (interested): “The Demon Lover”? No – not bad! Not bad at all – do you think?

MAURY: Rather good. What time did you say?

ANTHONY: Seven.

MAURY: He drove me crazy the other day.

ANTHONY: How?

MAURY: That habit of taking notes.

ANTHONY: Me, too. One day I said something that he considered important but he forgot it. So he said, “Can’t you try to concentrate?” And I said, “How do I remember?”

MAURY (laughs noiselessly.)

ANTHONY: Do you remember him in college? He was just swallowing every writer, one after another, every idea, every character.

MAURY: Let’s order.

ANTHONY: Sure. Let’s order. I told him -

MAURY: Here he comes. (He lifts his finger as a claw.) Here you are, Caramel.

Richard Caramel is short and fair. He has yellowish eyes. When he reaches the table he shakes hands[11]with Anthony and Maury. He is one of those men who invariably shake hands, even with people whom they have seen an hour before.

ANTHONY: Hello, Caramel. Glad you’re here.

MAURY: You’re late. We’ve been talking about you.

DICK (looking at Anthony): What did you say? Tell me and I’ll write it down. I cut three thousand words out of Part One this afternoon.

MAURY: And I poured alcohol into my stomach.

DICK: I don’t doubt it. I bet you have been sitting here for an hour talking about liquor.

ANTHONY: So what?

DICK: Are you going to the theatre?

MAURY: Yes. We intend to spend the evening thinking over of life’s problems. The thing is called “The Woman.”

ANTHONY: My God! Is it?

DICK (As though talking to himself): I think – that when I’ve done another novel and a play, and maybe a book of short stories, I’ll do a musical comedy.

MAURY: I know – with intellectual lyrics that no one will listen to.

ANTHONY: Why write? The very attempt is purposeless.

DICK: Well, I believe that every one in America should accept a very rigid system of morals – Roman Catholicism, for instance.

(Here the soup arrives and Maury’s words were lost.)