The sun also rises
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    The sun also rises The sun also rises Document Transcript

    • ERNEST HEMINGWAYTHE SUNALSO RISESBOOK ICHAPTER IROBERT COHN was oncemiddleweight boxingchampion of Princeton. Donot think that I am verymuch impressed by thatas a boxing title, but itmeant a lot to Cohn. Hecared nothing for boxing,in fact he disliked it, buthe learned it painfully andthoroughly to counteractthe feeling of inferiority
    • and shyness he had felt onbeing treated as a Jew atPrinceton. There was a cer-tain inner comfort inknowing he could knock downanybody who was snooty tohim, although, being veryshy and a thoroughlynice boy, he never foughtexcept in the gym. He wasSpider Kellys star pupil.Spider Kelly taught all hisyoung gentlemen to box likefeatherweights, no matterwhether they weighed onehundred and five or twohundred and five pounds.But it seemed to fit Cohn.He was really very fast. Hewas so good that Spiderpromptly overmatched himand got his nosepermanently flattened.
    • This increased Cohnsdistaste for boxing, but itgave him a certainsatisfaction of somestrange sort, and itcertainly improved hisnose. In his last year atPrinceton he read too muchand took tc wearingspectacles. I never met anyone of his class who remem-bered him. They did noteven remember that he wasmiddle-weight boxingchampion.I mistrust all frank andsimple people, especiallywhen their stories holdtogether, and I always hada suspicion that perhapsRobert Cohn had never beenmiddleweight boxing
    • champion, and that perhapsa horse had stepped on hisface, or that maybe hismother had been frightenedor seen something, or thathe had,maybe, bumped intosomething as a young child,but I finally had somebodyverify the story fromSpicier Kelly. Spider Kellynot only remembered Cohn.He had often wondered whathad become of him.Robert Cohn was a member,through his father, of oneof therichest Jewish families inNew York, and through hismother ofone of the oldest. At themilitary school where heprepped for
    • Princeton, and played avery good end on thefootball team, noone had made him race-conscious. No one had evermade him feelhe was a Jew, and hence anydifferent from anybodyelse, untilhe went to Princeton. Hewas a nice boy, a friendlyboy, and veryshy, and it made himbitter. He took it out inboxing, and hecame out of Princeton withpainful self-consciousnessand the flat-tened nose, and was marriedby the first girl who wasnice to him.
    • He was married five years,had three children, lostmost of thefifty thousand dollars hisfather left him, thebalance of the estatehaving gone to his mother,hardened into a ratherunattractivemould under domesticunhappiness with a richwife; and justwhen he had made up hismind to leave his wife sheleft himand went off with aminiature-painter. As hehad been thinkingfor months about leavinghis wife and had not doneit because it
    • would be too cruel todeprive her of himself, herdeparture was avery healthful shock.The divorce was arrangedand Robert Cohn went out totheCoast. In California hefell among literary peopleand, as he stillTHE SUN 7 ALSO RISES 5had a little of the fiftythousand left, in a shorttime he was back-ing a review of the Arts.The review commencedpublication in
    • Carmel, California, andfinished in Provincetown,Massachusetts.By that time Cohn, who hadbeen regarded purely as anangel,and whose name had appearedon the editorial pagemerely as amember of the advisoryboard, had become the soleeditor. It washis money and he discoveredhe liked the authority ofediting. Hewas sorry when the maga/inebecame too expensive and hehad togive it up*By that time, though, hehad other things to worryabout. He
    • had been taken in hand by alady who hoped to rise withthemagazine. She was veryforceful, and Cohn neverhad a chance ofnot being taken in hand.Also he was sure that heloved her.When this lady saw that themagazine was not going torise, shebecame a little disgustedwith Cohn and decided thatshe mightas well get what there wasto get while there wasstill somethingavailable, so she urgedthat they go to Europe,where Cohn could
    • write. They came to Europe,where the lady had beeneducated,and stayed three years.During these three years,the first spent intravel, the last two inParis, Robert Cohn had twofriends, Brad-docks and myself. Braddockswas his literary friend. Iwas histennis friend.The lady who had him, hername was Frances, foundtowardthe end of the second yearthat her looks were going,and herattitude toward Robertchanged from one ofcareless possession and
    • exploitation to theabsolute determination thathe should marryher. During this timeRoberts mother had settledan allowance onhim, about three hundreddollars a month. During twoyears anda half I do not believethat Robert Cohn looked atanother woman.He was fairly happy, exceptthat, like many peopleliving inEurope, he would ratherhave been in America, andhe had dis-covered writing. He wrote anovel, and it was notreally such a
    • 6 THE SUN ALSO RISESbad novel as the criticslater called it, althoughit was a very poornovel. He read many books,played bridge, playedtennis, andboxed at a local gymnasium.I first became aware of hisladys attitude toward himone nightafter the three of us haddined together. We haddined at1Avenues and afterwardwent to the Cafe" deVersailles for coffee.We had several fines afterthe coffee, and I said Imust be going.
    • Cohn had been talking aboutthe two of us. going offsomewhereon a weekend trip. Hewanted to get out of townand get in agood walk. I suggested wefly to Strasbourg and walkup to SaintOdile, or somewhere orother in Alsace. "I know agirl in Stras-bourg who can show us thetown," I said.Somebody kicked me underthe table. I thought it wasacci-dental and went on : "Shesbeen there two years andknows every-
    • thing there is to knowabout the town. Shes aswell girl."I was kicked again underthe table and, looking, sawFrances,Roberts lady, her chinlifting and her facehardening."Hell," I said, "why go toStrasbourg? We could go upto Bruges,or to the Ardennes."Cohn looked relieved. I wasnot kicked again. I saidgood-nightand went out. Cohn said hewanted to buy a paper andwould walk
    • to the corner with me. "ForGods sake," he said, "whydid yousay that about that girl inStrasbourg for? Didnt yousee Frances?""No, why should I? If Iknow an American girl thatlives inStrasbourg what the hell isit to Frances?""It doesnt make anydifference. Any girl. Icouldnt go, thatwould be all.""Dont be silly.""You dont know Frances.Any girl at all. Didnt yousee the way
    • she looked?""Oh, well," I said, "letsgo to Senlis.""Dont get sore."THE SUN ALSO RISES 7"Im not sore. Senlis is agood place and we can stayat theGrand Cerf and take a hikein the woods and comehome.""Good, that will be fine.""Well, Ill see you to-morrow at the courts," Isaid.
    • "Good-night, Jake," hesaid, and started back tothe cafe"You forgot to get yourpaper," I said."Thats so." He walked withme up to the kiosque at thecor-ner. "You are not sore, areyou, Jake?" He turned withthe paperin his hand."No, why should I be?""Sec you at tennis," hesaid. 1 watched him walkback to the
    • cafe holding his paper. Irather liked him andevidently she ledhim quite a life.CHAPTER IITHAT winter Robert Cohnwent over to America withhis novel,and it was accepted by afairly good publisher. Hisgoing madean awful row I heard, and Ithink that was whereFrances losthim, because several womenwere nice to him in NewYork, and
    • when he came back he wasquite changed. He was moreenthu-siastic about America thanever, and he was not sosimple, and hewas not so nice. Thepublishers had praised hisnovel prettyhighly and it rather wentto his head. Then severalwomen hadput themselves out to benice to him, and hishorizons had allshifted. For four years hishorizon had been absolutelylimited tohis wife. For three years,or almost three years, hehad never seen
    • beyond Frances. I am surehe had never been in lovein his life.He had married on therebound from the rottentime he had incollege, and Frances tookhim on the rebound from hisdiscoverythat he had not beeneverything to his firstwife. He was not inlove yet but he realizedthat he was an attractivequantity towomen, and that the fact ofa woman caring for him andwantingto Jive with him was notsimply a divine miracle.This changed
    • 8THE SUN ALSO RISES 9him so that he was not sopleasant to have around.Also, playingfor higher stakes than hecould afford in some rathersteep bridgegames with his New Yorkconnections, he had heldcards andwon several hundreddollars. It made him rathervain of his bridgegame, and he talked severaltimes of how a man couldalwaysmake a living at bridge ifhe were ever forced to.
    • Then there was anotherthing. He had been readingW. H.Hudson. That sounds like aninnocent occupation, butCohn hadread and reread "The PurpleLand." "The Purple Land" isa verysinister book if read toolate in life. It recountssplendid imaginaryamorous adventures of aperfect English gentlemanin an intenselyromantic land, the sceneryof which is very welldescribed. For aman to take it at thirty-four as a guide-book towhat life holds is
    • about as safe as it wouldbe for a man of the sameage to enterWall Street direct from aFrench convent, equippedwith a com-plete set of the morepractical Alger books.Cohn, I believe, tookevery word of "The PurpleLand" as literally asthough it hadbeen an R. G. Dun report.You understand me, he madesomereservations, but on thewhole the book to him wassound. It wasall that was needed to sethim off. I did not realizethe extent to
    • which it had set him offuntil one day he came intomy office."Hello, Robert," I said."Did you come in to cheerme up?""Would you like to go toSouth America, Jake?" heasked."Why not?""I dont know. I neverwanted to go. Tooexpensive. You can seeall the South Americans youwant in Paris anyway.""Theyre not the real SouthAmericans."
    • "They look awfully real tome."I had a boat train to catchwith a weeks mail stories,and onlyhalf of them written."Do you know any dirt?" Iasked."Nc."1O THE SUN ALSO RISES"None of your exaltedconnections gettingdivorces?"
    • "No; listen, Jake. If Ihandled both our expenses,would yougo to South America withme?""Why me?""You can talk Spanish. Andit would be more fun withtwo otus.""No," I said, "I like thistown and I go to Spain inthe summer-time.""All my life Ive wanted togo on a trip like that,"Cohn said.
    • He sat down. "Ill be tooold before I can ever doit.""Dont be a fool," I said."You can go anywhere youwant.Youve got plenty ofmoney.""I know. But I cant getstarted.""Cheer up," I said. "Allcountries look just likethe movingpictures."But I felt sorry for him.He had it badly.
    • "I cant stand it to thinkmy life is going so fastand Im notreally living it.""Nobody ever lives theirlife all the way up exceptbull-fighters.""Im not interested inbull-fighters. Thats anabnormal life. 1want to go back in thecountry in South America.We could havea great trip.""Did you ever think aboutgoing to British EastAfrica to shoot?""No, I wouldnt like that."
    • "Id go there with you.""No; that doesnt interestme.""Thats because you neverread a book about it. Go onand reada book all full of loveaffairs with the beautifulshiny blackprincesses.""I want to go to SouthAmerica."lie had a hard, Jewish,stubborn streak."Come on down-stairs andhave a drink."
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 11"Arent you working?""No," I said. We went downthe stairs to the cafe onthe groundfloor. I had discoveredthat was the best way toget rid of friends.Once you had a drink allyou had to say was: "Well,Ive got toget back and get off somecables," and it was done.It is very im-portant to discovergraceful exits like that inthe newspaper busi-ness, where it is such animportant part of theethics that you
    • should never seem to beworking. Anyway, we wentdown-stairsto the bar and had awhiskey and soda. Cohnlooked at the bottlesin bins around the wall."This is a good place," hesaid."Theres a lot of liquor,"I agreed."Listen, Jake," he leanedforward on the bar. "Dontyou everget the feeling that allyour life is going by andyoure not takingadvantage of it? Do yourealize youve lived nearlyhalf the timeyou have to live already?"
    • "Yes, every once in awhile.""Do you know that in aboutthirty-five years morewell bedead?""What the hell, Robert," Isaid. "What the hell.""Im serious.""Its one thing I dontworry about," I said."You ought to.""Ive had plenty to worryabout one time or other.Im throughworrying."
    • "Well, I want to go toSouth America.""Listen, Robert, going toanother country doesntmake any dif-ference. Ive tried allthat. You cant get awayfrom yourself bymoving from one place toanother. Theres nothing tothat.""But youve never been toSouth America.""South America hell! If youwent there the way you feelnow itwould be exactly the same.This is a good town. Whydont you
    • start living your life inParis?"12 THE SUN ALSO RISESTm sick of Paris, and Imsick of the Quarter/"Stay away from theQuarter. Cruise around byyourself andsee what happens to you.""Nothing happens to me. Iwalked alone all one nightandnothing happened except abicycle cop stopped me andasked tosee my papers/
    • "Wasnt the town nice atnight?""I dont care for Paris/So there you were. I wassorry for him, but it wasnot a thingyou could do anythingabout, because right awayyou ran upagainst the twostubbornnesses: SouthAmerica could fix it andhe did not like Paris. Hegot the first idea out of abook, and Isuppose the second came outof a book too."Well," I said, "Ive gotto go up-stairs and get offsome cables."
    • "Do you really have to go?""Yes, Ive got to get thesecables off.""Do you mind if I come upand sit around the office?""No, come on up."He sat in the outer roomand read the papers, andthe Editorand Publisher and I workedhard for two hours. Then Isortedout the carbons, stamped ona by-line, put the stuff ina couple ofbig manila envelopes andrang for a boy to take themto the Gare
    • St. Lazare. I went out intothe other room and therewas RobertCohn asleep in the bigchair. He was asleep withhis head on hisarms. I did not like towake him up, but I wantedto lock theoffice and shove off. I putmy hand on his shoulder. Heshook hishead. "I cant do it," hesaid, and put his headdeeper into hisarms. "I cant do it.Nothing will make me doit.""Robert," I said, and shookhim by the shoulder. Helooked up.He smiled and blinked.
    • "Did I talk out loud justthen?""Something. But it wasntclear.""God, what a rotten dream!"THE SUN ALSO RISES 13"Did the typewriter put youto sleep?""Guess so. I didnt sleepall last night.""What was the matter?""Talking," he said.
    • I could picture it. I havea rotten habit of picturingthe bed-room scenes of my friends.We went out to the CafeNapolitain tohave an aperitif and watchthe evening crowd on theBoulevard.CHAPTER IIIIT was a warm spring nightand I sat at a table on theterrace ofthe Napolitain after Roberthad gone, watching it getdark and
    • the electric signs come on,and the red and green stop-and-gotraffic-signal, and thecrowd going by, and thehorse-cabs clippety-clopping along at the edgeof the solid taxi traffic,and the pouhsgoing by, singly and inpairs, looking for theevening meal. Iwatched a good-looking girlwalk past the table andwatched hergo up the street and lostsight of her, and watchedanother, andthen saw the first onecoming back again. She wentby once more
    • and I caught her eye, andshe came over and sat downat thetable. The waiter came up.Well, what will youdrink?" I asked."Pernod.""Thats not good for littlegirls.""Little girl yourself.Dites gar9on, un pernod.""A pernod for me, too.""Whats the matter?" sheasked. "Going on a party?"
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 1$"Sure. Arent you?"*1 dont know. You neverknow in this town.""Dont you like Paris?""No.""Why dont you go somewhereelse?""Isnt anywhere else.""Youre happy, all right.""Happy, hell!"Pernod is greenishimitation absinthe. Whenyou add vratcr it
    • turns milky. It tastes likelicorice and it has a gooduplift, but itdrops you just as far. Wesat and drank it, and thegirl lookedsullen."Well," I said, "are yougoing to buy me a dinner?"She grinned and I saw whyshe made a point of notlaughing.With her mouth closed shewas a rather pretty girl. Ipaid for thesaucers and we walked outto the street. I hailed ahorse-cab andthe driver pulled up at thecurb. Settled back in theslow, smoothly
    • rolling fiacre we moved upthe Avenue de lOpra,passed thelocked doors of the shops,their windows lighted, theAvenuebroad and shiny and almostdeserted. The cab passedthe NewYork Herald bureau with thewindow full of clocks."What are all the clocksfor?" she asked."They show the hour allover America.""Dont kid me."We turned off the Avenue upthe Rue des Pyramides,through
    • the traffic of the Rue deRivoli, and through a darkgate into theTuileries. She cuddledagainst me and I put my armaround her.She looked up to be kissed.She touched me with onehand and Iput her hand away."Never mind.""Whats the matter? Yousick?""Yes. wl6 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • "Everybodys sick. Imsick, too."We came out of theTuileries into the lightand crossed theSeine and then turned upthe Rue des Saints Peres."You oughtnt to drinkpcrnod if youre sick.""You neither.""It doesnt make anydifference with me. Itdoesnt make anydifference with a woman.""What are you called?""Georgette. How are youcalled?"
    • "Jacob.""Thats a Flemish name.""American too.""Youre not Flamand?""No, American.""Good, I detest Flamands."By this time we were at therestaurant. I called to thecocher tostop. We got out andGeorgette did not like thelooks of the place."This is no great thing ofa restaurant."
    • "No," I said. "Maybe youwould rather go to Foyots.Why dontyou keep the cab and goon?"I had picked her up becauseof a vague sentimental ideathatit would be nice to eatwith some one. It was along time since Ihad dined with a youle, andI had forgotten how dull itcould be.We went into therestaurant, passed MadameLavigne at thedesk and into a littleroom. Georgette cheered upa little underthe food.
    • "It isnt bad here," shesaid. "It isnt chic, butthe food is allright.""Better than you eat inLiege.""Brussels, you mean."We had another bottle ofwine and Georgette made ajoke. Shesmiled and showed all herbad teeth, and w ve touchedglasses.THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • "Youre not a bad type,"she said. "Its a shameyoure sick. We geton well. Whats the matterwith you, anyway?*"I got hurt in the war," Isaid."Oh, that dirty war."We would probably have goneon and discussed the warandagreed that it was inreality a calamity forcivilization, and per-haps would have been betteravoided. I was boredenough. Justthen from the other roomsome one called: "Barnes! Isay, Barnes!
    • Jacob Barnes!""Its a friend calling me,"I explained, and went out.There was Braddocks at abig table with a party:Cohn, FrancesClyne, Mrs. Braddocks,several people I did notknow."Youre coming to thedance, arent you?"Braddocks asked."What dance?""Why, the dancings. Dontyou know weve revivedthem?"Mrs. Braddocks put in.
    • "You must come, ^ake. Wereall going," Frances saidfrom theend of the table. She wastall and had a smile."Of course, hes coming,"Braddocks said. "Come inand havecoffee with us, Barnes.""Right.""And bring your friend,"said Mrs. Braddockslaughing. Shewas a Canadian and had alltheir easy social graces."Thanks, well be in," Isaid. I went back to thesmall room.
    • "Who are your friends?"Georgette asked."Writers and artists.""There are lots of those onthis side of the river.""Too many.""I think so. Still, some ofthem make money.""Oh, yes."We finished the meal andthe wine. "Come on," Isaid. "Weregoing to have coffee withthe others."
    • l8 THE SUN ALSO RISESGeorgette opened her bag,made a few passes at herface as shelooked in the littlemirror, re-defined her lipswith the lip-stick,and straightened her hat."Good," she said.We went into the room fullof people and Braddocks andthemen at his table stood up."I wish to present myfiancee, MademoiselleGeorgette Leblanc,"I said. Georgette smiledthat wonderful smile, andwe shook hands
    • all round."Are you related toGeorgette Leblanc, thesinger?" Mrs. Brad-docks asked."Connais pas," Georgetteanswered."But you have the samename," Mrs. Braddocksinsistedcordially."No," said Georgette. "Notat all. My name is Hobin.""But Mr. Barnes introducedyou as MademoiselleGeorgette
    • Leblanc. Surely he did,"insisted Mrs. Braddocks,who in the ex-citement of talking Frenchwas liable to have no ideawhat shewas saying."Hes a fool," Georgettesaid."Oh, it was a joke, then,"Mrs. Braddocks said.Tes," said Georgette. "Tolaugh at.""Did you hear that, Henry?"Mrs. Braddocks called downthetable to Braddocks. "Mr.Barnes introduced hisfiancee as Made-
    • moiselle Leblanc, and hername is actually Hobin.""Of course, darling.Mademoiselle Hobin, Iveknown her for avery long time.""Oh, Mademoiselle Hobin/ 1Frances Clyne called,speakingFrench very rapidly and notseeming so proud andastonished asMrs. Braddocks at itscoming out really French."Have you beenin Paris long? Do you likeit here? You love Paris, doyou not?"
    • "Whos she?" Georgetteturned to me. "Do I have totalk toher?"THE SUN ALSO RISESShe turned to Frances,sitting smiling, her handsfolded, herhead poised on her longneck, her lips pursed readyto start talk-ing again."No, I dont like Paris.Its expensive and dirty/"Really? I find it soextraordinarily clean. Oneof the cleanest
    • cities in all Europe/"I find it dirty.""How strange! But perhapsyou have not been here verylong."Tve been here longenough.""But it does have nicepeople in it. One mustgrant that."Georgette turned to me."You have nice friends."Frances was a little drunkand would have liked tohave kept
    • it up but the coffee came,and Lavigne with theliqueurs, andafter that we all went outand started for Braddockssdancing-club.The dancing-club was a balmusette in the Rue de laMontagneSainte Genevi&ve. Fivenights a week the workingpeople of thePantheon quarter dancedthere. One night a week itwas thedancing-club. On Mondaynights it was closed. Whenwe arrivedit was quite empty, exceptfor a policeman sittingnear the door,
    • the wife of the proprietorback of the zinc bar, andthe proprietorhimself. The daughter ofthe house came downstairsas we wentin. There were longbenches, and tables ranacross the room, andat the far end a dancing-floor."I wish people would comeearlier," Braddocks said.The daugh-ter came up and wanted toknow what we would drink.Theproprietor got up on a highstool beside the dancing-floor and
    • began to play theaccordion. He had a stringof bells around oneof his ankles and beat timewith his foot as he played.Every onedanced. It was hot and wecame off the floorperspiring."My God," Georgette said,"What a box to sweat in! 11"Its hot/"Hot, my God!"2O THE SUN ALSO RISES"Take off your hat/
    • "Thats a good idea."Some one asked Georgette todance, and I went over tothe bar.It was really very hot andthe accordion music waspleasant in thehot night. I drank a beer,standing in the doorway andgettingthe cool breath of windfrom the street. Two taxiswere comingdown the steep street. Theyboth stopped in front ofthe Bal. Acrowd of young men, some injerseys. and some in theirshirt-sleeves, got out. I couldsee their hands and newlywashed, wavy
    • hair in the light from thedoor. The policemanstanding by thedoor looked at me andsmiled. They came in. Asthey went in,under the light I saw whitehands, wavy hair, whitefaces, grimac-ing, gesturing, talking.With them was Brett. Shelooked verylovely and she was verymuch with them.One of them saw Georgetteand said: "I do declare.There isan actual harlot. Im goingto dance with her, Lett.You watch me/
    • The tall dark one, calledLett, said: "Dont you berash."The wavy blond oneanswered: "Dont you worry,dear." Andwith them was Brett.I was very angry. Somehowthey always made me angry.Iknow they are supposed tobe amusing, and you shouldbe tolerant,but I wanted to swing onone, any one, anything toshatter thatsuperior, simperingcomposure. Instead, Iwalked down the street
    • and had a beer at the barat the next Bal. The beerwas not goodand I had a worse cognac totake the taste out of mymouth. WhenI came back to the Balthere was a crowd on thefloor andGeorgette was dancing withthe tall blond youth, whodanced big-hippily, carrying his headon one side, his eyeslifted as he danced.As soon as the musicstopped another one of themasked her todance. She had been takenup by them. I knew thenthat theywould all dance with her.They are like that.
    • I sat down at a table. Cohnwas sitting there. Franceswasdancing. Mrs. Braddocksbrought up somebody andintroducedTHE SUN ALSO RISES 21him as Robert Prentiss. Hewas from New York by way ofChicago, and was a risingnew novelist. He had somesort of anEnglish accent. I asked himto have a drink."Thanks so much," he said,"Ive just had one/
    • "Have another.""Thanks, I will then."We got the daughter of thehouse over and each had afineIeau."Youre from Kansas City,they tell me," he said."Yes.""Do you find Parisamusing?""Yes.""Really?"
    • I was a little drunk. Notdrunk in any positive sensebut justenough to be careless."For Gods sake," I said,"yes. Dont you?""Oh, how charmingly you getangry," he said. "I wish Ihad thatfaculty."I got up and walked overtoward the dancing-floor.Mrs. Brad-docks followed me. "Dontbe cross with Robert," shesaid. "Hesstill only a child, youknow."
    • "I wasnt cross," I said."I just thought perhaps Iwas going tothrow up.""Your fiancee is having agreat success," Mrs.Braddocks lookedout on the floor whereGeorgette was dancing inthe arms of thetall, dark one, calledLett."Isnt she?" I said."Rather," said Mrs.Braddocks.Cohn came up. "Come on,Jake," he said, "have adrink." We
    • walked over to the bar."Whats the matter withyou? You seem allworked up over something?""Nothing. This whole showmakes me sick is all."Brett came up to the bar.22 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Hello, you chaps.""Hello, Brett," I said."Why arent you tight?""Never going to get tightany more. I say, give achap a brandyand soda."
    • She stood holding the glassand I saw Robert Cohnlooking ather. He looked a great dealas his compatriot must havelookedwhen he saw the promisedland. Cohn, of course, wasmuchyounger. But he had thatlook of eager, deservingexpectation.Brett was damned good-looking. She wore aslipover jerseysweater and a tweed skirt,and her hair was brushedback like aboys. She started allthat. She was built withcurves like the hull
    • of a racing yacht, and youmissed none of it with thatwool jersey."Its a fine crowd yourewith, Brett," I said."Arent they lovely? Andyou, my dear. Where did youget it?""At the Napolitain.""And have you had a lovelyevening?""Oh, priceless," I said.Brett laughed. "Its wrongof you, Jake. Its aninsult to all ofus. Look at Frances there,and Jo."
    • This for Cohns benefit."Its in restraint oftrade," Brett said. Shelaughed again."Youre wonderfully sober,"I said."Yes. Arent I? And whenones with the crowd Imwith, onecan drink in such safety,too."The music started andRobert Cohn said: "Will youdance thiswith me, Lady Brett?"
    • Brett smiled at him. "Ivepromised to dance this withJacob,"she laughed. "Youve a hellof a biblical name, Jake.""How about the next?" askedCohn."Were going," Brett said."Weve a date up atMontmartre."Dancing, I looked overBretts shoulder and sawCohn, stand-ing at the bar, stillwatching her."Youve made a new onethere," I said to her.
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 23"Dont talk about it. Poorchap. I never knew it tilljust now.""Oh, well," I said. "Isuppose you like to addthem up.""Dont talk like a fool.""You do.""Oh, well. What if I do?""Nothing," I said. We weredancing to the accordionand someone was playing the banjo.It was hot and I felthappy. We passed
    • close to Georgette dancingwith another one of them."What possessed you tobring her?""I dont know, I justbrought her.""Youre getting damnedromantic.""No, bored.""Now?""No, not now.""Lets get out of here.Shes well taken care of.""Do you want to?"
    • "Would I ask you if Ididnt want to?"We left the floor and Itook my coat off a hangeron the walland put it on. Brett stoodby the bar. Cohn wastalking to her. Istopped at the bar andasked them for an envelope.The patronnefound one. I took a fifty-franc note from my pocket,put it in theenvelope, sealed it, andhanded it to the patronne."If the girl I came withasks for me, will you giveher this?" I
    • said. "If she goes out withone of those gentlemen,will you savethis for me?""Cest entendu, Monsieur,"the patronne said. "You gonow?So early?""Yes," I said.We started out the door.Cohn was still talking toBrett. Shesaid good night and took myarm. "Good night, Cohn," Isaid.Outside in the street welooked for a taxi."Youre going to lose yourfifty francs," Brett said.
    • "Oh, yes."24 THE SUN ALSO RISES"No taxis.""We could walk up to thePantheon and get one.""Come on and well get adrink in the pub next doorand sendfor one.""You wouldnt walk acrossthe street.""Not if I could help it."
    • We went into the next barand I sent a waiter for ataxi."Well," I said, "were outaway from them."We stood against the tallzinc bar and did not talkand lookedOat each other. The waitercame and said the taxi wasoutside. Brettpressed my hand hard. Igave the waiter a franc andwe went out."Where should I tell him?"I asked.
    • "Oh, tell him to drivearound."I told the driver to go tothe Pare Montsouris, andgot in, andslammed the door. Brett wasleaning back in the corner,her eyesclosed. I got in and satbeside her. The cab startedwith a jerk."Oh, darling, Ive been somiserable," Brett said.CHAPTER IV
    • THE taxi went up the hill,passed the lighted square,then on intothe dark, still climbing,then levelled out onto adark street behindSt. Etienne du Mont, wentsmoothly down the asphalt,passedthe trees and the standingbus at the Place de laContrescarpe,then turned onto thecobbles of the RueMouffetard. There werelighted bars and late openshops on each side of thestreet. Wewere sitting apart and wejolted close together goingdown the old
    • street. Bretts hat wasoff. Her head was back. Isaw her face in thelights from the opn shops,then it was dark, then Isaw her faceclearly as we came out onthe Avenue des Gobelins.The street wastorn up and men wereworking on the car-tracksby the light ofacetylene flares. Brettsface was white and the longline of herneck showed in the brightlight of the flares. Thestreet was darkagain and I kissed her. Ourlips were tight togetherand then she
    • turned away and pressedagainst the corner of theseat, as far awayas she could get. Her headwas down."Dont touch me," she said."Please dont touch me.""Whats the matter?"26 THE SUN ALSO RISES"I cant stand it.""Oh, Brett/"You mustnt. You mustknow. I cant stand it,thats all. Oh,
    • darling, pleaseunderstand!""Dont you love me?""Love you? I simply turnall to jelly when you touchme.""Isnt there anything wecan do about it?"She was sitting up now. Myarm was. around her and shewasleaning back against me,and we were quite calm. Shewas look-ing into my eyes with thatway she had of looking thatmade you
    • wonder whether she reallysaw out of her own eyes.They wouldlook on and on after everyone elses eyes in theworld would havestopped looking. She lookedas though there werenothing onearth she would not look atlike that, and really shewas afraid ofso many things."And theres not a damnthing we could do," I said."I dont know," she said."I dont want to go throughthat hellagain."
    • "Wed better keep away fromeach other.""But, darling, I have tosee you. It isnt all thatyou know.""No, but it always gets tobe.""Thats my fault. Dont wepay for all the things wedo,though?"She had been looking intomy eyes all the time. Hereyes haddifferent depths, sometimesthey seemed perfectly flat.Now youcould see all the way intothem.
    • "When I think of the hellIve put chaps through. Impayingfor it all now.""Dont talk like a fool," Isaid. "Besides, whathappened to meis supposed to be funny. Inever think about it.""Oh, no. Ill lay youdont""Well, lets shut up aboutit.""1 laughed about it too,myself, once." She wasntlooking at
    • THE SUN ALSO RISESme. "A friend of mybrothers came home thatway from Mons.It seemed like a hell of ajoke. Chaps never knowanything, dothey?""No," 1 said. "Nobody everknows anything."I was pretty well throughwith the subject. At onetime or an-other I had probablyconsidered it from most ofits various angles,including the one thatcertain injuries orimperfections are a sub-
    • ject of merriment whileremaining quite serious forthe personpossessing them."Its funny," I said. "Itsvery funny. And its a lotof fun, too,to be in love.""Do you think so?" her eyeslooked flat again."I dont mean fun that way.In a way its an enjoyablefeeling.""No," she said. "I thinkits hell on earth.""Its good to see eachother."
    • "No. I dont think it is.""Dont you want to?""I have to."We were sitting now liketwo strangers. On the rightwas thePare Montsouris. Therestaurant where they havethe pool of livetrout and where you can sitand look out over the parkwas closedand dark. The driver leanedhis head around."Where do you want to go?"I asked. Brett turned herheadaway.
    • "Oh, go to the Select""Caf6 Select," I told thedriver. "BoulevardMontparnasse."We drove straight down,turning around the Don deBelfort thatguards the passingMontrouge trams. Brettlooked straight ahead.On the Boulevard Raspail,with the lights ofMontparnasse insight, Brett said: "Wouldyou mind very much if Iasked you todo something?""Dont be silly.""Kiss me just once morebefore we get there."
    • 28 THE SUN ALSO RISESWhen the taxi stopped I gotout and paid. Brett cameout put-ting on her hat. She gaveme her hand as she steppeddown. Herhand was shaky. "I say, doI look too much of a mess?"She pulledher mans felt hat down andstarted in for the bar.Inside, againstthe bar and at tables, weremost of the crowd who hadbeen atthe dance.
    • "Hello, you chaps," Brettsaid. "Im going to have adrink.""Oh, Brett! Brett!" thelittle Greek portrait-painter, who calledhimself a duke, and whomeverybody called Zizi,pushed up toher. "I got something fineto tell you.""Hello, Zizi," Brett said."I want you to meet afriend," Zizi said. A fatman came up."Count Mippipopolous, meetmy friend Lady Ashley."
    • "How do you do?" saidBrett."Well, does your Ladyshiphave a good time here inParis?"asked Count Mippipopolous,who wore an elks tooth onhiswatch-chain."Rather," said Brett."Paris is a fine town allright," said the count."But I guessyou have pretty big doingsyourself over in London.""Oh, yes," said Brett."Enormous."
    • Braddocks called to me froma table. "Barnes," he said,"have adrink. That girl of yoursgot in a frightful row.""What about?""Something the patronnesdaughter said. A corkingrow. Shewas rather splendid, youknow. Showed her yellowcard and de-manded the patronnesdaughters too. I say itwas a row.""What finally happened?""Oh, some one took herhome. Not a bad-lookinggirl. Wonder-
    • ful command of the idiom.Do stay and have a drink.""No," I said. 1 must shoveoff. Seen Cohn?""He went home withFrances," Mrs. Braddock putin."Poor chap, he looksawfully down," Braddockssaid.THE SUN ALSO RISES 29"I dare say he is," saidMrs. Braddocks."I have to shove off," Isaid. "Good night."
    • I said good night to Brettat the bar. The count wasbuyingchampagne. "Will you take aglass of wine with us,sir?" he asked."No. Thanks awfully. I haveto go.""Really going?" Brettasked."Yes," I said. "Ive got arotten headache.""Ill see you to-morrow?""Come in at the office.""Hardly."
    • "Well, where will I seeyou?""Anywhere around fiveoclock.""Make it the other side oftown then.""Good. Ill be at theCrillon at five.""Try and be there," I said."Dont worry," Brett said."Ive never let you down,have I?""Heard from Mike?""Letter to-day."
    • "Good night, sir," said thecount.I went out onto thesidewalk and walked downtoward theBoulevard St. Michel,passed the tables of theRotonde, stillcrowded, looked across thestreet at the Dome, itstables runningout to the edge of thepavement. Some one waved atme from atable, I did not see who itwas and went on. I wantedto gethome. The BoulevardMontparnasse was deserted.Lavignes was
    • closed tight, and they werestacking the tables outsidethe Closeriedes Lilas. I passed Neysstatue standing among thenew-leavedchestnut-trees in the arc-light. There was a fadedpurple wreathleaning against the base. Istopped and read theinscription: fromthe Bonapartist Groups,some date; I forget. Helooked very fine,Marshal Ney in his top-boots, gesturing with hissword amongthe green new horse-chestnut leaves. My flatwas just across thestreet, a little way downthe Boulevard St. Michel.
    • 30 THE SUN ALSO RISESThere was a light in theconcierges room and Iknocked onthe door and she gave me mymail, I wished her goodnightand went up-stairs. Therewere two letters and somepapers. Ilooked at them under thegas-light in the dining-room. The let-ters were from the States.One was a bank statement.It showed abalance of $2432.60. I gotout my check-book anddeducted four
    • checks drawn since thefirst of the month, anddiscovered I hada balance of $1832.60. Iwrote this on the back ofthe statement.The other letter was awedding announcement. Mr.and Mrs.Aloysius Kirby announce themarriage of their daughterKath-erine I knew neither thegirl nor the man she wasmarrying.They must be circularizingthe town. It was a funnyname. I feltsure I could rememberanybody with a name likeAloysius. It was
    • a good Catholic name. Therewas a crest on theannouncement.Like Zizi the Greek duke.And that count. The countwas funny.Brett had a title, too.Lady Ashley. To hell withBrett. To hellwith you, Lady Ashley.I lit the lamp beside thebed, turned off the gas,and openedthe wide windows. The bedwas far back from thewindows, and Isat with the windows openand undressed by the bed.Outside anight train, running on thestreet-car tracks, went bycarrying vege-
    • tables to the markets. Theywere noisy at night whenyou couldnot sleep. Undressing, Ilooked at myself in themirror of the bigarmoire beside the bed.That was a typically Frenchway to fur-nish a room. Practical,too, I suppose. Of all theways to bewounded. I suppose it wasfunny. I put on my pajamasand gotinto bed. I had the twobull-fight papers, and Itook their wrap-pers off. One was orange.The other yellow. Theywould both
    • have the same news, sowhichever I read firstwould spoil theother. Le Toril was thebetter paper, so I startedto read it. I readit all the way through,including the PetiteCorrespondance andthe Cornigrams. I blew outthe lamp. Perhaps I wouldbe able tosleep.THE SUN ALSO RISES 31My head started to work.The old grievance. Well, itwas a rot-
    • ten way to be wounded andflying on a joke front likethe Italian.In the Italian hospital wewere going to form asociety. It had afunny name in Italian. Iwonder what became of theothers, theItalians. That was in theOspedale Maggiore inMilano, PadiglionePonte, The next buildingwas the Padiglione Zonda.There was astatue of Ponte, or maybeit was Zonda. That waswhere the liaisoncolonel came to visit me.That was funny. That wasabout the
    • first funny thing. I wasall bandaged up. But theyhad told himabout it. Then he made thatwonderful speech: "You, aforeigner,an Englishman" (anyforeigner was anEnglishman) "have givenmore than your life." Whata speech! I would like tohave itilluminated to hang in theoffice. He never laughed.He was put-ting himself in my place, Iguess. "Che mala fortuna!Che malafortuna!"I never used to realize it,I guess. I try and play italong and
    • just not make trouble forpeople. Probably I neverwould havehad any trouble if I hadntrun into Brett when theyshipped meto England. I suppose sheonly wanted what shecouldnt have.Well, people were that way.To hell with people. TheCatholicChurch had an awfully goodway of handling all that.Good ad-vice, anyway. Not to thinkabout it. Oh, it was swelladvice. Tryand take it sometime. Tryand take it.I lay awake thinking and mymind jumping around. Then I
    • couldnt keep away from it,and I started to thinkabout Brettand all the rest of it wentaway. I was thinking aboutBrett andmy mind stopped jumpingaround and started to go insort ofsmooth waves. Then all of asudden I started to cry.Then aftera while it was better and Ilay in bed and listened totheheavy trams go by and waydown the street, and then Iwent tosleep.I woke up. There was a rowgoing on outside. Ilistened and I
    • thought I recognized avoice. I put on a dressing-gown and wentTHE SUN ALSO RISESto the door. The conciergewas talking down-stairs.She was veryangry. I heard my name andcalled down the stairs."Is that you, MonsieurBarnes: 1 " the conciergecalled."Yes. Its me.""Theres a species of womanhere whos waked the whole
    • street up. What kind of adirty business at this timeof night! Shesays she must see you. Ivetold her youre asleep."Then I heard Bretts voice.Half asleep I had been sureit wasGeorgette. I dont knowwhy. She could not haveknown myaddress."Will you send her up,please?"Brett came up the stairs. Isaw she was quite drunk."Sillything to do," she said."Make an awful row. I say,you werent
    • asleep, were you?""What did you think I wasdoing?""Dont know. What time isit?"I looked at the clock. Itwas half-past four. "Had noidea whathour it was," Brett said."I say, can a chap sitdown? Dont becross, darling. Just leftthe count. He brought mehere.""Whats he like?" I wasgetting brandy and soda andglasses.
    • "Just a little," saidBrett. "Dont try and makeme drunk. Thecount? Oh, rather. Hesquite one of us.""Is he a count?""Heres how. I rather thinkso, you know. Deserves tobe, any-how. Knows hells ownamount about people. Dontknow wherehe got it all. Owns a chainof sweetshops in theStates.**She sipped at her glass."Think he called it achain. Something like that.Linked them
    • all up. Told me a littleabout it. Damnedinteresting. Hes one ofus, though. Oh, quite. Nodoubt. One can alwaystell."She took another drink."How do I buck on about allthis? You dont mind, doyou?Hes putting up for Zizi,you know."THE SUN ALSO RISES 33"Is Zizi really a duke,too?"
    • "I shouldnt wonder. Greek,you know. Rotten painter. Iratherliked the count.""Where did you go withhim?""Oh, everywhere. He justbrought me here now.Offered meten thousand dollars to goto Biarritz with him. Howmuch is thatin pounds?""Around two thousand.""Lot of money. I told him Icouldnt do it. He wasawfully
    • nice about it. Told him Iknew too many people inBiarritz."Brett laughed."I say, you are slow on theup-take," she said. I hadonly sippedmy brandy and soda. I tooka long drink."Thats better. Veryfunny," Brett said. "Thenhe wanted me togo to Cannes with him. Toldhim I knew too many peopleinCannes. Monte Carlo. Toldhim I knew too many peoplein
    • Monte Carlo. Told him Iknew too many peopleeverywhere.Quite true, too. So I askedhim to bring me here."She looked at me, her handon the table, her glassraised."Dont look like that," shesaid. "Told him I was inlove withyou. True, too. Dont looklike that. He was damn niceabout it.Wants to drive us out todinner to-morrow night.Like to go?""Why not?""Id better go now/ 1
    • "Why?""Just wanted to see you.Damned silly idea. Want toget dressedand come down? Hes got thecar just up the street/"The count?""Himself. And a chauffeurin livery. Going to driveme aroundand have breakfast in theBois. Hampers. Got it allat Zellis.Dozen bottles of Mumms.Tempt you?""I have to work in themorning," I said. "Im toofar behind
    • you now to catch up and beany fun."34 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Dont be an ass.""Cant do it.""Right. Send him a tendermessage?""Anything. Absolutely.""Good night, darling.""Dont be sentimental.""You make me ill."
    • We kissed good night andBrett shivered. "Id bettergo," shesaid. "Good night,darling.""You dont have to go.""Yes."We kissed again on thestairs and as I called forthe cordon theconcierge mutteredsomething behind her door.I went back up-stairs and from the openwindow watched Brettwalking up thestreet to the big limousinedrawn up to the curb underthe arc-
    • light. She got in and itstarted off. I turnedaround. On the tablewas an empty glass and aglass half-full of brandyand soda. Itook them both out to thekitchen and poured thehalf-full glassdown the sink. I turned offthe gas in the dining-room,kicked offmy slippers sitting on thebed, and got into bed. Thiswas Brett,that I had felt like cryingabout. Then I thought ofher walkingup the street and steppinginto the car, as I had lastseen her,
    • and of course in a littlewhile I felt like hellagain. It is awfullyeasy to be hard-boiledabout everything in thedaytime, but atnight it is another thing.CHAPTER VIN the morning I walkeddown the Boulevard to therue Soufflotfor coffee and brioche. Itwas a fine morning. Thehorse-chestnuttrees in the Luxembourggardens were in bloom.There was the
    • pleasant early-morningfeeling of a hot day. Iread the papers withthe coffee and then smokeda cigarette. The flower-women werecoming up from the marketand arranging their dailystock. Stu-dents went by going up tothe law school, or down tothe Sor-bonne. The Boulevard wasbusy with trams and peoplegoing towork. I got on an S bus androde down to the Madeleine,standingon the back platform. Fromthe Madeleine I walkedalong the
    • Boulevard des Capucines tothe Opra, and up to myoffice. Ipassed the man with thejumping frogs and the manwith theboxer toys. I stepped asideto avoid walking into thethread withwhich his girl assistantmanipulated the boxers. Shewas standinglooking away, the thread inher folded hands. The manwas urgingtwo tourists to buy. Threemore tourists had stoppedand werewatching. I walked onbehind a man who waspushing a roller
    • that printed the nameCINZANO on the sidewalk indamp3536 THE SUN ALSO RISESletters. All along peoplewere going to work. It feltpleasant to begoing to work. I walkedacross the avenue andturned in to myoffice.Up-stairs in the office Iread the French morningpapers,
    • smoked, and then sat at thetypewriter and got off agoodmornings work. At elevenoclock I went over to theQuai dOrsayin a taxi and went in andsat with about a dozencorrespondents,while the foreign-officemouthpiece, a yqungNouvelle RevueFran^aise diplomat in horn-rimmed spectacles, talkedand answeredquestions for half an hour.The President of theCouncil was inLyons making a speech, or,rather he was on his wayback. Sev-
    • eral people asked questionsto hear themselves talk andthere werea couple of questions askedby news service men whowanted toknow the answers. There wasno news. I shared a taxiback fromthe Quai dOrsay withWoolsey and Krum."What do you do nights,Jake?" asked Krum. "I neversee youaround/"Oh, Im over in theQuarter/"Im coming over somenight. The Dingo. Thatsthe great
    • place, isnt it?""Yes. That, or this newdive, The Select.""Ive meant to get over,"said Krum. "You know how itis,though, with a wife andkids.""Playing any tennis?"Woolsey asked."Well, no," said Krum. "Icant say Ive played anythis year.Ive tried to get away, butSundays its always rained,and thecourts are so damnedcrowded."
    • "The Englishmen all haveSaturday off," Woolseysaid."Lucky beggars," said Krum."Well, Ill tell you. Someday Imnot going to be working foran agency. Then Ill haveplenty oftime to get out in thecountry.""Thats the thing to do.Live out in the country andhave alittle car."THE SUN ALSO RISES 37
    • "Ive been thinking someabout getting a car nextyear."I banged on the glass. Thechauffeur stopped. "Heresmystreet/ 1 1 said. "Come inand have a drink/ 1"Thanks, old man/ Krumsaid. Woolsey shook hishead. "Ivegot to file that line hegot off this morning/I put a two-franc piece inKrums hand."Youre crazy, Jake/ hesaid. "This is on me/
    • "Its all on the office,anyway/"Nope. I want to get it."I waved good-by. Krum puthis head out. "See you atthe lunchon Wednesday/"You bet/I went to the office in theelevator. Robert Cohn waswaitingfor me. "Hello, Jake," hesaid. "Going out to lunch?""Yes. Let me see if thereis anything new/"Where will we eat?"
    • "Anywhere."I was looking over my desk."Where do you want to eat?""How about Wetzels?Theyve got good horsdoeuvres."In the restaurant weordered hors doeuvres andbeer. Thesommelier brought the beer,tall, beaded on the outsideof thesteins, and cold. Therewere a dozen differentdishes of horsdoeuvres."Have any fun last night?"I asked*
    • "No. I dont think so.""Hows the writing going?""Rotten. I cant get thissecond book going.""That happens toeverybody.""Oh, Im sure of that. Itgets me worried, though.""Thought any more aboutgoing to South America?""I mean that.""Well, why dont you startoff?""Frances."
    • 38 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Well," I said, "take herwith you.""She wouldnt like it. Thatisnt the sort of thing shelikes. Shelikes a lot of peoplearound.""Tell her to go to hell.""I cant. Ive got certainobligations to her."He shoved the slicedcucumbers away and took apickledherring.
    • "What do you know aboutLady Brett Ashley, Jake?""Her names Lady Ashley.Bretts her own name. Shesa nicegirl," I said. "Shesgetting a divorce and shesgoing to marryMike Campbell. Hes over inScotland now. Why?""Shes a remarkablyattractive woman.""Isnt she?""Theres a certain qualityabout her, a certainfineness. Sheseems to be absolutely fineand straight."
    • "Shes very nice.""I dont know how todescribe the quality," Cohnsaid. "I sup-pose its breeding.""You sound as though youliked her pretty well.""I do. I shouldnt wonderif I were in love withher.""Shes a drunk," I said."Shes in love with MikeCampbell,and shes going to marryhim. Hes going to be richas hell someday."
    • "I dont believe shellever marry him.""Why not?""I dont know. I just dontbelieve it. Have you knownher along time?""Yes," I said. "She was aV. A. D. in a hospital Iwas in duringthe war.""She must have been just akid then.""Shes thirty-four now.""When did she marryAshley?"
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 39"During the war. Her owntrue love had just kickedoff withthe dysentery.""You talk sort of bitter.""Sorry. I didnt mean to. Iwas just trying to give youthe facts.""I dont believe she wouldmarry anybody she didntlove.""Well," I said. "Shes doneit twice.""I dont believe it."
    • "Well," I said, "dont askme a lot of fool questionsif youdont like the answers.""I didnt ask you that.""You asked me what I knewabout Brett Ashley.""I didnt ask you to insulther.""Oh, go to hell."He stood up from the tablehis face white, and stoodtherewhite and angry behind thelittle plates of horsdceuvres.
    • "Sit down," I said. "Dontbe a fool.""Youve got to take thatback.""Oh, cut out the prep-school stuff.""Take it back.""Sure. Anything. I neverheard of Brett Ashley.Hows that?""No. Not that. About megoing to hell.""Oh, dont go to hell," Isaid. "Stick around. Werejust startinglunch."
    • Cohn smiled again and satdown. He seemed glad to sitdown.What the hell would he havedone if he hadnt sat down?"Yousay such damned insultingthings, Jake.""Im sorry. Ive got anasty tongue. I never meanit when I saynasty things.""I know it," Cohn said."Youre really about thebest friend Ihave, Jake."God help you, I thought."Forget what I said," Isaid out loud.Tm sorry/
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES"Its all right. Its fine.I was just sore for aminute.""Good. Lets get somethingelse to eat."After we finished the lunchwe walked up to the Caf6 delaPaix and had coffee. Icould feel Cohn wanted tobring up Brettagain, but I held him offit. We talked about onething and an-other, and I left him tocome to the office.
    • CHAPTER VIAT five oclock I was inthe Hotel Crillon waitingfor Brett. Shewas not there, so I satdown and wrote someletters. They werenot very good letters but Ihoped their being onCrillon stationerywould help them. Brett didnot turn up, so aboutquarter to six Iwent down to the bar andhad a Jack Rose with Georgethe bar-
    • man. Brett had not been inthe bar either, and so Ilooked for herupstairs on my way out, andtook a taxi to the CafeSelect. Crossingthe Seine I saw a string ofbarges being towed emptydown thecurrent, riding high, thebargemen at the sweeps asthey cametoward the bridge. Theriver looked nice. It wasalways pleasantcrossing bridges in Paris.The taxi rounded the statueof the inventor of thesemaphoreengaged in doing same, andturned up the BoulevardRaspail, and
    • I sat back to let that partof the ride pass. TheBoulevard Raspailalways made dull riding. Itwas like a certain stretchon theP.L.M. betweenFontainebleau and Montereauthat always mademe feel bored and dead anddull until it was over. Isuppose it issome association of ideasthat makes those deadplaces in a journey.There are other streets inParis as ugly as theBoulevard Raspail.41
    • 42 THE SUN ALSO RISESIt is a street I do notmind walking down at all.But I cannotstand to ride along it.Perhaps I had readsomething about it once.That was the way RobertCohn was about all ofParis. I wonderedwhere Cohn got thatincapacity to enjoy Paris.Possibly fromMencken. Mencken hatesParis, I believe. So manyyoung menget their likes anddislikes from Mencken.The taxi stopped in frontof the Rotonde. No matterwhat cafe"
    • in Montparnasse you ask ataxi-driver tojbring you tofrom theright bank of the river,they always take you to theRotonde. Tenyears from now it willprobably be the Dome. Itwas near enough,anyway. I walked past thesad tables of the Rotondeto the Select.There were a few peopleinside at the bar, andoutside, alone, satHarvey Stone. He had a pileof saucers in front of him,and heneeded a shave."Sit down," said Harvey,"Ive been looking foryou."
    • "Whats the matter?""Nothing. Just looking foryou.""Been out to the races?""No. Not since Sunday.""What do you hear from theStates?""Nothing. Absolutelynothing/"Whats the matter?""I dont know. Im throughwith them. Im absolutelythroughwith them."
    • He leaned forward andlooked me in the eye."Do you want to knowsomething, Jake?""Yes.""I havent had anything toeat for five days."I figured rapidly back inmy mind. It was three daysago thatHarvey had won two hundredfrancs from me shakingpoker dicein the New York Bar.Whats the matter?"
    • "No money. Money hasntcome," he paused. "I tellyou itsTHE SUN ALSO RISES 43strange, Jake. When Imlike this I just want to bealone. I wantto stay in my own room. Imlike a cat/ 1I felt in my pocket."Would a hundred help youany, Harvey?""Yes/ 1"Come on. Lets go andeat."
    • "Theres no hurry. Have adrink/ 1"Better eat.""No. When I get like this Idont care whether I eat ornot/We had a drink. Harveyadded my saucer to his ownpile."Do you know Mencken,Harvey?""Yes. Why?""Whats he like?"
    • "Hes all right. He sayssome pretty funny things.Last time Ihad dinner with him wetalked about Hoffcnheimer.The troubleis/ he said, hes a gartersnapper/ Thats not bad.""Thats not bad.""Hes through now," Harveywent on. "Hes writtenabout allthe things he knows, andnow hes on all the thingshe doesntknow.""I guess hes all right," Isaid. "I just cant readhim."
    • "Oh, nobody reads him now,"Harvey said, "except thepeoplethat used to read theAlexander HamiltonInstitute/"Well," I said. "That was agood thing, too.""Sure," said Harvey. So wesat and thought deeply fora while."Have another port?""All right," said Harvey."There conies Cohn," Isaid. Robert Cohn wascrossing thestreet.
    • "That moron," said Harvey.Cohn came up to our table."Hello, you bums," he said."Hello, Robert," Harveysaid. "I was just tellingJake here thatyoure a moron/ 1THE SUN ALSO RISES"What do you mean?""Tell us right off. Dontthink. What would yourather doif you could do anythingyou wanted?"Cohn started to consider.
    • "Dont think. Bring itright out.""I dont know," Cohn said."Whats it all about,anyway?""I mean what would yourather do. What comes intoyour headfirst. No matter how sillyit is.""I dont know," Cohn said."I think Id rather playfootballagain with what I knowabout handling myself,now."
    • "I misjudged you," Harveysaid. "Youre not a moron.Youreonly a case of arresteddevelopment.""Youre awfully funny,Harvey," Cohn said. "Someday some-body will push your facein."Harvey Stone laughed. "Youthink so. They wont,though. Be-cause it wouldnt make anydifference to me. Im not afighter.""It would make a differenceto you if anybody did it."
    • "No, it wouldnt. Thatswhere you make your bigmistake.Because youre notintelligent.""Cut it out about me.""Sure," said Harvey. "Itdoesnt make any differenceto me.You dont mean anything tome.""Come on, Harvey," I said."Have another porto.""No," he said. "Im goingup the street and eat. Seeyou later,Jake."
    • He walked out and up thestreet. I watched himcrossing thestreet through the taxis,small, heavy, slowly sureof himself in thetraffic."He always gets me sore,"Cohn said. "I cant standhim.""I like him," I said. "Imfond of him. You dont wantto getsore at him.""I know it," Cohn said. "Hejust gets on my nerves. 1Write this afternoon?"
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 45"No. I couldnt get itgoing. Its harder to dothan my first book.Im having a hard timehandling it."The sort of healthy conceitthat he had when hereturned fromAmerica early in the springwas gone. Then he had beensure ofhis work, only with thesepersonal longings foradventure. Nowthe surcness was gone.Somehow I feel I have notshown Robert
    • Cohn clearly. The reason isthat until he fell in lovewith Brett,I never heard him make oneremark that would, in anyway, de-tach him from other people.He was nice to watch on thetennis-court, he had a good body,and he kept it in shape; hehandledhis cards well at bridge,and he had a funny sort ofundergraduatequality about him. If hewere in a crowd nothing hesaid stoodout. He wore what used tobe called polo shirts atschool, and
    • may be called that still,but he was notprofessionally youthful.I do not believe he thoughtabout his clothes much.Externally hehad been formed atPrinceton. Internally hehad been mouldedby the two women who hadtrained him. He had a nice,boyishsort of cheerfulness thathad never been trained outof him, andI probably have not broughtit out. He loved to win attennis. Heprobably loved to win asmuch as Lenglen, forinstance. On the
    • other hand, he was notangry at being beaten. Whenhe fell inlove with Brett his tennisgame went all to pieces.People beat himwho had never had a chancewith him. He was very niceabout it.Anyhow, we were sitting onthe terrace of the Caf6Select, andHarvey Stone had justcrossed the street."Come on up to the Lilas,"I said."I have a date.""What time?"
    • "Frances is coming here atseven-fifteen."There she is."Frances Clyne was comingtoward us from across thestreet. Shewas a very tall girl whowalked with a great deal ofmovement.She waved and smiled. Wewatched her cross thestreet.46 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Hello/* she said, "Im soglad youre here, Jake.Ive been want-ing to talk to you."
    • "Hello, Frances," saidCohn. He smiled."Why, hello, Robert. Areyou here?" She went on,talkingrapidly. "Ive had thedarndest time. This one"shaking her headat Cohn "didnt come homefor lunch.""I wasnt supposed to.""Oh, I know. But you didntsay anything about it tothe cook.Then I had a date myself,and Paula wasnt at heroffice. I went
    • to the Ritz and waited forher, and she never came,and of courseI didnt have enough moneyto lunch at the Ritz ""What did you do?""Oh, went out, of course."She spoke in a sort ofimitation joy-ful manner. "I always keepmy appointments. No onekeeps theirs,nowadays. I ought to knowbetter. How are you, Jake,anyway?""Fine.""That was a fine girl youhad at the dance, and thenwent off
    • With that Brett one.""Dont you like her?" Cohnasked."I think shes perfectlycharming. Dont you?"Cohn said nothing."Look, Jake. I want to talkwith you. Would you comeoverwith me to the Dome? Youllstay here, wont you,Robert? Comeon, Jake."We crossed the BoulevardMontparnasse and sat downat a table.A boy came up with the PansTimes, and I bought one and
    • opened it."Whats the matter,Frances?""Oh, nothing," she said,"except that he wants toleave me.""How do you mean?""Oh, he told every one thatwe were going to bemarried, andI told my mother and everyone, and now he doesntwant todo it."THE SUN ALSO RISES 47
    • "Whats the matter?""Hes decided he hasntlived enough. I knew itwould happenwhen he went to New York/She looked up, very bright-eyed and trying to talkinconsequen-tially."I wouldnt marry him if hedoesnt want to. Of courseIwouldnt. I wouldnt marryhim now for anything. Butit doesseem to me to be a littlelate now, after wevewaited three years,and Ive just gotten mydivorce/
    • I said nothing."We were going to celebrateso, and instead weve justhadscenes. Its so childish.We have dreadful scenes,and he cries andbegs me to be reasonable,but he says he just cantdo it.""Its rotten luck.""I should say it is rottenluck. Ive wasted two yearsand a halfon him now. And I dontknow now if any man willever want
    • to marry me. Two years agoI could have marriedanybody Iwanted, down at Cannes. Allthe old ones that wanted tomarrysomebody chic and settledown were crazy about me.Now I dontthink I could get anybody.""Sure, you could marryanybody.""No, I dont believe it.And Im fond of him, too.And Id liketo have children. I alwaysthought wed havechildren."
    • She looked at me verybrightly. "I never likedchildren much,but I dont want to thinkIll never have them. Ialways thoughtId have them and then likethem.""Hes got children.""Oh, yes. Hes gotchildren, and hes gotmoney, and hes gota rich mother, and heswritten a book, and nobodywill publishmy stuff, nobody at all. Itisnt bad, either. And Ihavent got anymoney at all. I could havehad alimony, but I got thedivorce the
    • quickest way."She looked at me again verybrightly.THE SUN ALSO RISES"It isnt right. Its myown fault and its not,too. I ought to haveknown better. And when Itell him he just cries andsays he cantmarry. Why cant he marry?Id be a good wife. Imeasy to getalong with. I leave himalone. It doesnt do anygood.""Its a rotten shame."
    • "Yes, it is a rotten shame.But theres no use talkingabout it, isthere? Come on, lets goback to the cafe.""And of course there isntanything I can do.""No. Just dont let himknow I talked to you. Iknow what hewants." Now for the firsttime she dropped herbright, terriblycheerful manner. "He wantsto go back to New Yorkalone, andbe there when his bookcomes out so when a lot oflittle chickens
    • like it. Thats what hewants.""Maybe they wont like it.I dont think hes thatway. Really.""You dont know him like Ido, Jake. Thats what hewants todo. I know it. I know it.Thats why he doesnt wantto marry. Hewants to have a big triumphthis fall all by himself.""Want to go back to thecafe?""Yes. Come on."
    • We got up from the tablethey had never brought us adrinkand started across thestreet toward the Select,where Cohn satsmiling at us from behindthe marble-topped table."Well, what are you smilingat?" Frances asked him."Feelpretty happy?""I was smiling at you andJake with your secrets.""Oh, what Ive told Jakeisnt any secret. Everybodywill knowit soon enough. I onlywanted to give Jake adecent version."
    • "What was it? About yourgoing to England?""Yes, about my going toEngland. Oh, Jake! I forgotto tell you.Im going to England.""Isnt that fine!""Yes, thats the way itsdone in the very besifamilies. Robertssending me. Hes going togive me two hundred poundsand thenTHE SUN ALSO RISES 49
    • Im going to visit friends.Wont it be lovely? Thefriends dontknow about it, yet/She turned to Cohn andsmiled at him. He was notsmiling now."You were only going togive me a hundred pounds,werentyou, Robert? But I made himgive me two hundred. Hesreallyvery generous. Arent you,Robert?"I do not know how peoplecould say such terriblethings to
    • Robert Cohn. There arepeople to whom you couldnot say in-sulting things. They giveyou a feeling that theworld would bedestroyed, would actuallybe destroyed before youreyes, if yousaid certain things. Buthere was Cohn taking itall. Here it was,all going on right beforeme, and I did not even feelan impulseto try and stop it. Andthis was friendly joking towhat went onlater."How can you say suchthings, Frances?" Cohninterrupted.
    • "Listen to him. Im goingto England. Im going tovisit friends.Ever visit friends thatdidnt want you? Oh,theyll have to takeme, all right. How do youdo, my dear? Such a longtime sinceweve seen you. And how isyour dear mother? Yes, howis mydear mother? She put allher money into French warbonds. Yes,she did. Probably the onlyperson in the world thatdid. And whatabout Robert? or else verycareful talking aroundRobert. Tou
    • must be most careful not tomention him, my dear. PoorFranceshas had a most unfortunateexperience. Wont it befun, Robert?Dont you think it will befun, Jake?"She turned to me with thatterribly bright smile. Itwas verysatisfactory to her to havean audience for this."And where are you going tobe, Robert? Its my ownfault, allright. Perfectly my ownfault. When I made you getrid of your
    • little secretary on themagazine I ought to haveknown youd getrid of me the same way.Jake doesnt know aboutthat. Should Itell him?""Shut up, Frances, forGods sake/50 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Yes, Til tell him. Roberthad a little secretary onthe magazine,Just the sweetest littlething in the world, and hethought she
    • was wonderful, and then Icame along and he thought Iwaspretty wonderful, too. So Imade him get rid of her,and he hadbrought her to Provincetownfrom Carmel when he movedthemagazine, and he didnteven pay her fare back tothe coast. Allto please me. He thought Iwas pretty fine, then.Didnt you,Robert?"You mustnt misunderstand,Jake, it was absolutelyplatonicwith the secretary. Noteven platonic. Nothing atall, really. It
    • was just that she was sonice. And he did that justto please me.Well, I suppose that wethat live by the swordshall perish by thesword. Isnt that literary,though? You want toremember thatfor your next book, Robert."You know Robert is goingto get material for a newbook.Arent you, Robert? Thatswhy hes leaving me. Hesdecided Idont film well. You see,he was so busy all the timethat we wereliving together, writing onthis book, that he doesntremember
    • anything about us. So nowhes going out and get somenewmaterial. Well, I hope hegets something frightfullyinteresting."Listen, Robert, dear. Letme tell you something. Youwontmind, will you? Dont havescenes with your youngladies. Trynot to. Because you canthave scenes without crying,and thenyou pity yourself so muchyou cant remember what theotherpersons said. Youll neverbe able to remember anyconversa-
    • tions that way. Just tryand be calm. I know itsawfully hard. Butremember, its forliterature. We all ought tomake sacrifices forliterature. Look at me. Imgoing to England without aprotest.All for literature. We mustall help young writers.Dont youthink so, Jake? But yourenot a young writer. Areyou, Robert?Youre thirty-four. Still,I suppose that is young fora great writer.Look at Hardy. Look atAnatole France. He justdied a little while
    • ago. Robert doesnt thinkhes any good, though. Someof hisTHE SUN ALSO RISES $1French friends told him. Hedoesnt read French verywell him-self. He wasnt a goodwriter like you are, washe, Robert? Do youthink he ever had to go andlook for material? What doyou sup-pose he said to hismistresses when he wouldntmarry them? Iwonder if he cried, too?Oh, Ive just thought ofsomething." She
    • put her gloved hand up toher lips. "1 know the realreason whyRobert wont marry me,Jake. Its just come to me.Theyve sentit to me in a vision in theCaf6 Select. Isnt itmystic? Some daytheyll put a tablet up.Like at Lourdes. Do youwant to hear,Robert? Ill tell you. Itsso simple. I wonder why Inever thoughtabout it. Why, you see,Roberts always wanted tohave a mistress,and if he doesnt marry me,why, then hes had one. Shewas his
    • mistress for over twoyears. See how it is? Andif he marries me,like hes always promisedhe would, that would be theend of allthe romance. Dont youthink thats bright of meto figure thatout? Its true, too. Lookat him and see if its not.Where are yougoing, Jake?"Ive got to go in and seeHarvey Stone a minute."Colin looked up as I wentin. His face was white. Whydid hesit there? Why did he keepon taking it like that?
    • As I stood against the barlooking out I could seethem throughthe window. Frances wastalking on to him, smilingbrightly,looking into his face eachtime she asked: "Isnt itso, Robert?" Ormaybe she did not ask thatnow. Perhaps she saidsomething else.I told the barman I did notwant anything to drink andwent outthrough the side door. As Iwent out the door I lookedbackthrough the two thicknessesof glass and saw themsitting there.
    • She was still talking tohim. I went down a sidestreet to theBoulevard Raspail. A taxicame along and I got in andgave thedriver the address of myflat.CHAPTER VIIAs I started up the stairsthe concierge knocked onthe glass ofthe door of her lodge, andas I stopped she came out.She hadsome letters and atelegram.
    • "Here is the post. Andthere was a lady here tosee you.""Did she leave a card?""No. She was with agentleman. It was the onewho was herelast night. In the end Ifind she is very nice.""Was she with a friend ofmine?""I dont know. He was neverhere before. He was verylarge.Very, very large. She wasvery nice. Very, very nice.Last night
    • she was, perhaps, a little"She put her head on onehand androcked it up and down. Tilspeak perfectly frankly,MonsieurBarnes. Last night I foundher not so gentille. Lastnight I formedanother idea of her. Butlisten to what I tell you.She is tres, tresgentille. She is of verygood family. It is a thingyou can see.""They did not leave anyword?""Yes. They said they wouldbe back in an hour."
    • "Send them up when theycome/THE SUN ALSO RISES 53"Yes, Monsieur Barnes. Andthat lady, that lady thereis someone. An eccentric, perhaps,but quelquune,quelquune!"The concierge, before shebecame a concierge, hadowned adrink-selling concession atthe Paris race-courses. Herlife-worklay in the pelouse, but shekept an eye on the peopleof the pesage,
    • and she took great pride intelling me which of myguests werewell brought up, which wereof good family, who weresports-men, a French wordpronounced with the accenton the men. Theonly trouble was thatpeople who did not fallinto any of thosethree categories were veryliable to be told there wasno one home,chez Barnes. One of myfriends, an extremelyunderfed-lookingpainter, who was obviouslyto Madame Duzinell neitherwell
    • brought up, of good family,nor a sportsman, wrote me aletterasking if I could get him apass to get by theconcierge so hecould come up and see meoccasionally in theevenings.I went up to the flatwondering what Brett haddone to theconcierge. The wire was acable from Bill Gorton,saying he wasarriving on the France. Iput the mail on the table,went back tothe bedroom, undressed andhad a shower. I was rubbingdown
    • when I heard the door-bellpull. I put on a bathrobeand slippersand went to the door. Itwas Brett. Back of her wasthe count. Hewas holding a great bunchof roses."Hello, darling/ 1 saidBrett. "Arent you going tolet us in?""Come on. I was justbathing.""Arent you the fortunateman. Bathing.""Only a shower. Sit down,Count Mippipopolous. Whatwillyou drink?"
    • "I dont know whether youlike flowers, sir," thecount said,"but I took the liberty ofjust bringing these roses.""Here, give them to me."Brett took them. "Get mesome waterin this, Jake." I filledthe big earthenware jugwith water in thekitchen, and Brett put theroses in it, and placedthem in thecentre of the dining-roomtable.54 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • 1 say. We have had a day.""You dont rememberanything about a date withme at theCrillon?""No. Did we have one? Imust have been blind.""You were quite drunk, mydear," said the count."Wasnt I, though? And thecounts been a brick,absolutely.""Youve got hells own dragwith the concierge now.""I ought to have. Gave hertwo hundred francs."
    • "Dont be a damned fool.""His," she said, and noddedat the count."I thought we ought to giveher a little something forlast night.It was very late.""Hes wonderful," Brettsaid. "He rememberseverything thatshappened.""So do you, my dear.""Fancy," said Brett. "Whodwant to? I say, Jake, do weget adrink?"
    • "You get it while I go inand dress. You know whereit is.""Rather."While I dressed I heardBrett put down glasses andthen asiphon, and then heard themtalking. I dressed slowly,sitting onthe bed. I felt tired andpretty rotten. Brett camein the room, aglass in her hand, and saton the bed."Whats the matter,darling? Do you feelrocky?"
    • She kissed me coolly on theforehead."Oh, Brett, I love you somuch.""Darling," she said. Then:"Do you want me to send himaway?""No. Hes nice.""Ill send him away/"No, dont.""Yes, Ill send him away/"You cant just like that."THE SUN ALSO RISES 55
    • "Cant I, though? You stayhere. Hes mad about me, Itell you."She was gone out of theroom. I lay face down onthe bed. 1was having a bad time. Iheard them talking but Idid not listen.Brett came in and sat onthe bed."Poor old darling/ Shestroked my head."What did you say to him?"I was lying with my faceawayfrom her. I did not want tosee her.
    • "Sent him for champagne. Heloves to go for champagne."Then later: "Do you feelbetter, darling? Is thehead anybetter?""Its better/ 1"Lie quiet. Hes gone tothe other side of town.""Couldnt we live together,Brett? Couldnt we justlive to-gether?""I dont think so. Id justtromper you with everybody.Youcouldnt stand it."
    • "I stand it now.""That would be different.Its my fault, Jake. Itsthe way Immade.""Couldnt we go off in thecountry for a while?""It wouldnt be any good.Ill go if you like. But Icouldnt livequietly in the country. Notwith my own true love.""I know.""Isnt it rotten? Thereisnt any use my tellingyou I love you.""You know I love you."
    • "Lets not talk. Talkingsall bilge. Im going awayfrom you,and then Michaels comingback.""Why are you going away?""Better for you. Better forme/"When are you going?""Soon as I can.""Where?""San Sebastian."56 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • "Cant we go together?""No. That would be a hellof an idea after wed justtalked itout.""We never agreed.""Oh, you know as well as Ido. Dont be obstinate,darling.""Oh, sure," I said. "I knowyoure right. Im just low,and when
    • Im low I talk like afool."I sat up, leaned over,found my shoes beside thebed and putthem on. I stood up."Dont look like that,darling.""How do you want me tolook?""Oh, dont be a fool. Imgoing away to-morrow.""To-morrow?""Yes. Didnt I say so? Iam."
    • "Lets have a drink, then.The count will be back.""Yes. He should be back.You know hes extraordinaryaboutbuying champagne. It meansany amount to him."We went into the dining-room. I took up the brandybottle andpoured Brett a drink andone for myself. There was aring at thebell-pull. I went to thedoor and there was thecount. Behind himwas the chauffeur carryinga basket of champagne.
    • "Where should I have himput it, sir?" asked thecount."In the kitchen," Brettsaid."Put it in there, Henry,"the count motioned. "Now godownand get the ice." He stoodlooking after the basketinside thekitchen door. "I thinkyoull find thats verygood wine," he said."I know we dont get muchof a chance to judge goodwine in theStates now, but I got thisfrom a friend of minethats in thebusiness."
    • "Oh, you always have someone in the trade," Brettsaid."This fellow raises thegrapes. Hes got thousandsof acres ofthem."THE SUN ALSO RISES 57"Whats his name?" askedBrett. "Veuve Cliquot?""No," said the count."Mumms. Hes a baron.""Isnt it wonderful," saidBrett. "We all have titles.Why havent
    • you a title, Jake?"I assure you, sir," thecount put his hand on myarm. "It neverdoes a man any good. Mostof the time it costs youmoney.""Oh, I dont know. Itsdamned useful sometimes,"Brett said."Ive never known it to dome any good.""You havent used itproperly. Ive had hellsown amount ofcredit on mine."
    • "Do sit down, count," Isaid. "Let me take thatstick."The count was looking atBrett across the tableunder the gas-light. She was smoking acigarette and flicking theashes on therug. She saw me notice it."I say, Jake, I dont wantto ruin yourrugs. Cant you give a chapan ash-tray?"I found some ash-trays andspread them around. Thechauffeurcame up with a bucket fullof salted ice. "Put twobottles in it,Henry," the count called.
    • "Anything else, sir?""No. Wait down in the car."He turned to Brett and tome."Well want to ride out tothe Bois for dinner?""If you like," Brett said."I couldnt eat a thing.""I always like a goodmeal," said the count."Should I bring the winein, sir?" asked thechauffeur."Yes. Bring it in, Henry,"said the count. He took outa heavy
    • pigskin cigar-case andoffered it to me. "Like totry a real Ameri-can cigar?""Thanks," I said. Tilfinish the cigarette."He cut off the end of hiscigar with a gold cutter hewore onone end of his watch-chain."I like a cigar to reallydraw," said the count."Half the cigarsyou smoke dont draw."58 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • He lit the cigar, puffed atit, looking across thetable at Brett."And when youre divorced,Lady Ashley, then you wonthavea title/"No. What a pity/"No," said the count. "Youdont need a title. You gotclass allover you.""Thanks. Awfully decent ofyou.""Im not joking you," thecount blew a cloud ofsmoke. "You got
    • the most class of anybody Iever seen. You got it.Thats all.""Nice of you," said Brett."Mummy would be pleased.Couldntyou write it out, and Illsend it in a letter toher.""Id tell her, too," saidthe count. "Im not jokingyou. I neverjoke people. Joke peopleand you make enemies.Thats what 1always say.""Youre right," Brett said."Youre terribly right. Ialways joke
    • people and I havent afriend in the world. ExceptJake here/"You dont joke him.""Thats it.""Do you, now?" asked thecount. "Do you joke him?"Brett looked at me andwrinkled up the corners ofher eyes."No," she said. "I wouldntjoke him.""See," said the count. "Youdont joke him."
    • "This is a hell of a dulltalk," Brett said. "Howabout some ofthat champagne?"The count reached down andtwirled the bottles in theshinybucket. "It isnt cold,yet. Youre alwaysdrinking, my dear. Whydont you just talk?""Ive talked too ruddymuch. Ive talked myselfall out to Jake/ 1"I should like to hear youreally talk, my dear. Whenyou talkto me you never finish yoursentences at all."
    • "Leave em for you tofinish. Let any one finishthem as theylike.""It is a very interestingsystem/ the count reacheddown andTHE SUN ALSO RISES 59gave the bottles a twirl."Still I would like to hearyou talk sometime."
    • "Isnt he a fool?" Brettasked."Now," the count brought upa bottle. "I think this iscool."I brought a towel and hewiped the bottle dry andheld it up."I like to drink champagnefrom magnums. The wine isbetterbut it would have been toohard to cool." He held thebottle,looking at it. I put outthe glasses."I say. You might open it,"Brett suggested.
    • "Yes, my dear. Now Illopen it."It was amazing champagne."I say that is wine," Brettheld up her glass. "Weought to toastsomething. Heres toroyalty/""This wine is too good fortoast-drinking, my dear.You dontwant to mix emotions upwith a wine like that. Youlose the taste."Bretts glass was empty."You ought to write a bookon wines, count," I said.
    • "Mr. Barnes," answered thecount, "all I want out ofwines is toenjoy them.""Lets enjoy a little moreof this," Brett pushed herglass for-ward. The count poured verycarefully. "There, my dear.Nowyou enjoy that slowly, andthen you can get drunk.""Drunk? Drunk?""My dear, you are charmingwhen you are drunk.""Listen to the man."
    • "Mr. Barnes," the countpoured my glass full. "Sheis the onlylady I have ever known whowas as charming when shewas drunkas when she was sober.""You havent been aroundmuch, have you?""Yes, my dear. I have beenaround very much. I havebeenaround a very great deal/"Drink your wine," saidBrett. "Weve all beenaround. I daresay Jake here has seen asmuch as you have."
    • 6O THE SUN ALSO RISES"My dear, I am sure Mr.Barnes has seen a lot.Dont think 1dont think so, sir. I haveseen a lot, too.""Of course you have, mydear," Brett said. "I wasonly ragging.""I have been in seven warsand four revolutions," thecountsaid."Soldiering?" Brett asked."Sometimes, my dear. And Ihave got arrow wounds. Haveyou
    • ever seen arrow wounds?""Lets have a look atthem."The count stood up,unbuttoned his vest, andopened his shirt.He pulled up the undershirtonto his chest and stood,his chestblack, and big stomachmuscles bulging under thelight."You see them?"Below the line where hisribs stopped were tworaised whitewelts. "See on the backwhere they come out." Abovethe small
    • of the back were the sametwo scars, raised as thickas a finger."I say. Those aresomething.""Clean through."The count was tucking inhis shirt."Where did you get those?"I asked."In Abyssinia. When I wastwenty-one years old.""What were you doing?"asked Brett. "Were you inthe army?"
    • "I was on a business trip,my dear.""I told you he was one ofus. Didnt I?" Brett turnedto me.1 love you, count. Yourea darling.""You make me very happy, mydear. But it isnt true.""Dont be an ass.""You see, Mr. Barnes, it isbecause I have lived verymuch thatnow I can enjoy everythingso well. Dont you find itlike that?""Yes. Absolutely."
    • "I know," said the count."That is the secret. Youmust get toknow the values."THE SUN ALSO RISES 6l"Doesnt anything everhappen to your values?"Brett asked."No. Not any more.""Never fall in love?""Always," said the count."I am always in love.""What does that do to yourvalues?"
    • "That, too, has got a placein my values.""You havent any values.Youre dead, thats all.""No, my dear. Youre notright. Im not dead atall."We drank three bottles ofthe champagne and the countleftthe basket in my kitchen.We dined at a restaurant inthe Bois.It was a good dinner. Foodhad an excellent place inthe countsvalues. So did wine. Thecount was in fine formduring the meal.
    • So was Brett. It was a goodparty."Where would you like togo?" asked the count afterdinner.We were the only peopleleft in the restaurant. Thetwo waiterswere standing over againstthe door. They wanted to gohome."We might go up on thehill," Brett said. "Haventwe had asplendid party?"The count was beaming. Hewas very happy.
    • "You are very nice people,"he said. He was smoking acigaragain. "Why dont you getmarried, you two?""We want to lead our ownlives," I said."We have our careers,"Brett said. "Come on. Letsget out ofthis.""Have another brandy," thecount said."Get it on the hill.""No. Have it here where itis quiet."
    • "You and your quiet," saidBrett. "What is it men feelaboutquiet?""We like it," said thecount. "Like you likenoise, my dear.""All right," said Brett."Lets have one.""Sommelier!" the countcalled.62 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Yes, sir.""What is the oldest brandyyou have?"
    • "Eighteen eleven, sir.""Bring us a bottle.""I say. Dont beostentatious. Call him off,Jake.""Listen, my dear. I getmore value for my money inold brandythan in any otherantiquities.""Got many antiquities?""I got a houseful."Finally we went up toMontmartre. Inside Zellisit was
    • crowded, smoky, and noisy.The music hit you as youwent in.Brett and I danced. It wasso crowded we could barelymove. Thenigger drummer waved atBrett. We were caught inthe jam, danc-ing in one place in frontof him."Hahre you?""Great.""Thaats good."He was all teeth and lips."Hes a great friend ofmine," Brett said. "Damngood drum-
    • mer."The music stopped and westarted toward the tablewhere thecount sat. Then the musicstarted again and wedanced. I lookedat the count. He wassitting at the tablesmoking a cigar. Themusic stopped again."Lets go over."Brett started toward thetable. The music startedand again we
    • danced, tight in the crowd."You are a rotten dancer,Jake. Michaels the bestdancer Iknow.""Hes splendid.""Hes got his points.""I like him," I said. "Imdamned fond of him."THE SUN ALSO RISES 63"Im going to marry him,"Brett said. "Funny. Ihavent thoughtabout him for a week/
    • "Dont you write him?""Not I. Never writeletters.""Ill bet he writes toyou.""Rather. Damned goodletters, too.""When are you going to getmarried?""How do I know? As soon aswe can get the divorce.Michaelstrying to get his mother toput up for it.""Could I help you?"
    • "Dont be an ass. Michaelspeople have loads ofmoney."The music stopped. Wewalked over to the table.The countstood up."Very nice," he said. "Youlooked very, very nice.""Dont you dance, count?" Iasked."No. Im too old.""Oh, come off it," Brettsaid."My dear, I would do it ifI would enjoy it. I enjoyto watch
    • you dance.""Splendid," Brett said."Ill dance again for yousome time. I say.What about your littlefriend, Zizi?""Let me tell you. I supportthat boy, but I dont wantto havehim around.""He is rather hard.""You know I think thatboys got a future. Butpersonally Idont want him around.""Jakes rather the sameway."
    • "He gives me the willys.""Well," the count shruggedhis shoulders. "About hisfuture youcant ever tell. Anyhow,his father was a greatfriend of my father.""Come on. Lets dance/Brett said.We danced. It was crowdedand close.64 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Oh, darling," Brett said,Tm so miserable."
    • I had that feeling of goingthrough something that hasall hap-pened before. "You werehappy a minute ago."The drummer shouted: "Youcant two time ""Its all gone.""Whats the matter?""I dont know. I just feelterribly."" " the drummer chanted.Then turned to his sticks."Want to go?"
    • IJiadjthe_fecJing as in anightmare of it all beingsomethingrepeated, something I hadbeen through and that now Imust gothrough, again."~ " the drummer sangsoftly."Lets go," said Brett."You dont mind."" " the drummer shouted andgrinned at Brett."All right," I said. We gotout from the crowd. Brettwent to thedressing-room.
    • "Brett wants to go," I saidto the count. He nodded."Does she?Thats fine. You take thecar. Im going to stay herefor a while,Mr. Barnes."We shook hands."It was a wonderful time,"I said. "I wish you wouldlet me getthis." I took a note out ofmy pocket."Mr. Barnes, dont beridiculous," the countsaid.Brett came over with herwrap on. She kissed thecount and
    • put her hand on hisshoulder to keep him fromstanding up. Aswe went out the door Ilooked back and there werethree girls athis table. We got into thebig car. Brett gave thechauffeur theaddress of her hotel."No, dont come up," shesaid at the hotel. She hadrung andthe door was unlatched."Really?""No. Please."THE SUN ALSO RISES 65
    • "Good night, Brett," Isaid. "Im sorry you feelrotten.""Good night, Jake. Goodnight, darling. I wont seeyou again."We kissed standing at thedoor. She pushed me away.We kissedagain. "Oh, dont!" Brettsaid.She turned quickly and wentinto the hotel. Thechauffeurdrove me around to my flat.I gave him twenty francsand hetouched his cap and said:"Good night, sir," anddrove off. I rang
    • the bell. The door openedand I went up-stairs andwent to bed.BOOK IICHAPTER VIIII DID not see Brett againuntil she came back fromSan Sebastian.One card came from her fromthere. It had a picture oftheConcha, and said: "Darling.Very quiet and healthy.Love to all
    • the chaps. BRETT."Nor did I see Robert Cohnagain. I heard Frances hadleft forEngland and I had a notefrom Cohn saying he wasgoing outin the country for a coupleof weeks, he did not knowwhere, butthat he wanted to hold meto the fishing-trip inSpain we hadtalked about last winter. Icould reach him always, hewrote,through his bankers.Brett was gone, I was notbothered by Cohnstroubles, I rather
    • enjoyed not having to playtennis, there was plenty ofwork to do,I went often to the races,dined with friends, and putin someextra time at the officegetting things ahead so Icould leave it incharge of my secretary whenBill Gorton and I shouldshove offto Spain the end of June.Bill Gorton arrived, put upa couple ofdays at the flat and wentoff to Vienna. He was verycheerful andsaid the States werewonderful. New York waswonderful. There69
    • 70 THE SUN ALSO RISEShad been a grand theatricalseason and a whole crop ofgreatyoung light heavyweights.Any one of them was a goodprospectto grow up, put on weightand trim Dempsey. Bill wasveryhappy. He had made a lot ofmoney on his last book, andwasgoing to make a lot more.We had a good time while hewas inParis, and then he went offto Vienna. He was comingback in
    • three weeks and we wouldleave for Spain to get insome fishingand go to the fiesta atPamplona. He wrote thatVienna was won-derful. Then a card fromBudapest: "Jake, Budapestis wonderful."Then I got a wire: "Back onMonday."Monday evening he turned upat the flat. I heard histaxi stopand went to the window andcalled to him; he waved andstartedup-stairs carrying hisbags. I met him on thestairs, and took oneof the bags.
    • "Well," I said, "I hear youhad a wonderful trip.""Wonderful," he said."Budapest is absolutelywonderful.""How about Vienna?""Not so good, Jake. Not sogood. It seemed better thanit was.""How do you mean?" I wasgetting glasses and asiphon.Tight, Jake. I was tight.""Thats strange. Betterhave a drink."
    • Bill rubbed his forehead."Remarkable thing," hesaid. "Dontknow how it happened.Suddenly it happened.""Last long?""Four days, Jake. Lastedjust four days.""Where did you go?""Dont remember. Wrote youa post-card. Remember thatper-fectly.""Do anything else?""Not so sure. Possible.""Go on. Tell me about it."
    • "Cant remember. Tell youanything I could remember.""Go on. Take that drink andremember."THE SUN ALSO RISES Jl"Might remember a little/Bill said. "Remembersomethingabout a prize-fight.Enormous Vienna prize-fight. Had a nigger init. Remember the niggerperfectly.""Go on."
    • "Wonderful nigger. Lookedlike Tiger Flowers, onlyfour timesas big. All of a suddeneverybody started to throwthings. Notme. Niggerd just knockedlocal boy down. Nigger putup hisglove. Wanted to make aspeech. Awful noble-lookingnigger.Started to make a speech.Then local white boy hithim. Then heknocked white boy cold.Then everybody commenced tothrowchairs. Nigger went homewith us in our car.Couldnt get his
    • clothes. Wore my coat.Remember the whole thingnow. Bigsporting evening.""What happened?""Loaned the nigger someclothes and went aroundwith him totry and get his money.Claimed nigger owed themmoney on ac-count of wrecking hall.Wonder who translated? Wasit me?""Probably it wasnt you.""Youre right. Wasnt me atall. Was another fellow.Think we
    • called him the localHarvard man. Remember himnow. Studyingmusic.""Howd you come out?""Not so good, Jake.Injustice everywhere.Promoter claimednigger promised let localboy stay. Claimed niggerviolated con-tract. Cant knock outVienna boy in Vienna. MyGod, Mister
    • Gorton/ said nigger, 1didnt do nothing in therefor forty min-utes but try and let himstay. That white boy mustaruptured him-self swinging at me. Inever did hit him/ ""Did you get any money?""No money, Jake. All wecould get was niggersclothes. Some-body took his watch, too.Splendid nigger. Bigmistake to havecome to Vienna. Not sogood, Jake. Not so good.""What became of thenigger?"
    • 72 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Went back to Cologne.Lives there. Married. Got afamily.Going to write me a letterand send me the money Iloaned him.Wonderful nigger. Hope Igave him the rightaddress.""You probably did.""Well, anyway, lets eat,"said Bill. "Unless you wantme to tellyou some more travelstories.""Go on."
    • "Lets eat."We went down-stairs and outonto the Boulevard St.Michelin the warm June evening."Where will we go?""Want to eat on theisland?""Sure."We walked down theBoulevard. At the junctureof the RueDenfert-Rochereau with theBoulevard is a statue oftwo men inflowing robes.
    • "I know who they are." Billeyed the monument."Gentlemenwho invented pharmacy.Dont try and fool me onParis."We went on."Heres a taxidermists,"Bill said. "Want to buyanything? Nicestuffed dog?""Come on," I said. "Yourepie-eyed.""Pretty nice stuffed dogs,"Bill said. "Certainlybrighten upyour flat.""Come on."
    • "Just one stuffed dog. Ican take em or leave emalone. Butlisten, Jake. Just onestuffed dog.""Come on.""Mean everything in theworld to you after youbought it.Simple exchange of values.You give them money. Theygive youa stuffed dog.""Well get one on the wayback."THE SUN ALSO RISES 73
    • "All right. Have it yourown way. Road to hell pavedwith un-bought stuffed dogs. Not myfault."We went on."Howd you feel that wayabout dogs so sudden?""Always felt that way aboutdogs. Always been a greatlover ofstuffed animals."We stopped and had a drink."Certainly like to drink,"Bill said. "You ought totry it sometimes, Jake."
    • "Youre about a hundred andforty-four ahead of me.""Ought not to daunt you.Never be daunted. Secret ofmysuccess. Never beendaunted. Never been dauntedin public.""Where were you drinking?""Stopped at the Crillon.George made me a couple ofJackRoses. Georges a greatman. Know the secret of hissuccess? Neverbeen daunted.""Youll be daunted afterabout three more pernods."
    • "Not in public. If I beginto feel daunted Ill go offby myself.Im like a cat that way.""When did you see HarveyStone?""At the Crillon. Harvey wasjust a little daunted.Hadnt eatenfor three days. Doesnt eatany more. Just goes offlike a cat. Prettysad.""Hes all right.""Splendid. Wish he wouldntkeep going off like a cat,though.Makes me nervous."
    • "Whatll we do to-night?""Doesnt make anydifference. Only lets notget daunted. Sup-pose they got any hard-boiled eggs here? If theyhad hard-boiledeggs here we wouldnt haveto go all the way down tothe islandto eat.""Nix," I said. "Were goingto have a regular meal."
    • 74 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Just a suggestion/ saidBill. "Want to start now?""Come on."We started on again downthe Boulevard. A horse-cabpassedus. Bill looked at it."See that horse-cab? Goingto have that horse-cabstuffed foryou for Christmas. Going togive all my friends stuffedanimals.Im a nature-writer."
    • A taxi passed, some one init waved, then banged forthe driverto stop. The taxi backed upto the curb. In it wasBrett."Beautiful lady," saidBill. "Going to kidnap us.""Hullo!" Brett said."Hullo!""This is Bill Gorton. LadyAshley."Brett smiled at Bill. "Isay Im just back. Haventbathed even.Michael comes in to-night."
    • "Good. Come on and eat withus, and well all go tomeet him.""Must clean myself.""Oh, rot! Come on.""Must bathe. He doesnt getin till nine.""Come and have a drink,then, before you bathe.""Might do that. Now yourenot talking rot."We got in the taxi. Thedriver looked around."Stop at the nearestbistro," I said.
    • "We might as well go to theCloserie," Brett said. "Icant drinkthese rotten brandies.""Closerie des Lilas."Brett turned to Bill."Have you been in thispestilential city long?""Just got in to-day fromBudapest.""How was Budapest?"Wonderful. Budapest waswonderful.""Ask him about Vienna."
    • "Vienna," said Bill, "is astrange city/THE SUN ALSO RISES 75"Very much like Paris/Brett smiled at him,wrinkling the cor-ners of her eyes."Exactly," Bill said. "Verymuch like Paris at thismoment.""You have a good start."Sitting out on the terracesof the Lilas Brett ordereda whiskey
    • and soda, I took one, too,and Bill took anotherpernod."How are you, Jake?""Great," I said. "Ive hada good time."Brett looked at me. "I wasa fool to go away," shesaid. "Onesan ass to leave Paris.""Did you have a good time?""Oh, all right.Interesting. Notfrightfully amusing.""See anybody?"
    • "No, hardly anybody, Inever went out.""Didnt you swim?""No. Didnt do a thing.""Sounds like Vienna," Billsaid.Brett wrinkled up thecorners of her eyes at him."So thats the way it wasin Vienna.""It was like everything inVienna."Brett smiled at him again."Youve a nice friend,Jake."
    • "Hes all right," I said."Hes a taxidermist.""That was in anothercountry," Bill said. "Andbesides all theanimals were dead.""One more," Brett said,"and I must run. Do sendthe waiterfor a taxi.""Theres a line of them.Right out in front.""Good."We had the drink and putBrett into her taxi.
    • "Mind youre at the Selectaround ten. Make him come.Mi-chael will be there."76 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Well be there/ 1 Billsaid* The taxi started andBrett waved."Quite a girl," Bill said."Shes damned nice. WhosMichael?""The man shes going tomarry.""Well, well," Bill said."Thats always just thestage I meet any-
    • body. Whatll I send them?Think theyd like a coupleof stuffedrace-horses?""We better eat.""Is she really Ladysomething or other?" Billasked in the taxion our way down to the HeSaint Louis."Oh, yes. In the stud-bookand everything.""Well, well."We ate dinner at MadameLecomtes restaurant on thefar side
    • of the island. It wascrowded with Americans andwe had to standup and wait for a place.Some one had put it in theAmericanWomens Club list as aquaint restaurant on theParis quais asyet untouched by Americans,so we had to wait forty-five minutesfor a table. Bill had eatenat the restaurant in 1918,and right afterthe armistice, and MadameLecomte made a great fussover seeinghim*"Doesnt get us a table,though," Bill said. "Grandwoman,
    • though."We had a good meal, a roastchicken, new green beans,mashedpotatoes, a salad, and someapple-pie and cheese."Youve got the world hereall right," Bill said toMadameLecomte. She raised herhand. "Oh, my God!""Youll be rich.""I hope so."After the coffee and a finewe got the bill, chalked upthe same
    • as ever on a slate, thatwas doubtless one of the"quaint" features,paid it, shook hands, andwent out."You never come here anymore, Monsieur Barnes,"MadameLecomte said."Too many compatriots/THE SUN ALSO RISES 77"Come at lunch-time. Itsnot crowded then/"Good. Ill be down soon/
    • We walked along under thetrees that grew out overthe riveron the Quai dOrlans sideof the island. Across theriver werethe broken walls of oldhouses that were being torndown."Theyre going to cut astreet through.""They would," Bill said.We walked on and circledthe island. The river wasdark anda bateau mouche went by,all bright with lights,going fast arid
    • quiet up and out of sightunder the bridge. Down theriver wasNotre Dame squattingagainst the night sky. Wecrossed to theleft bank of the Seine bythe wooden foot-bridge fromthe Quai deBethune, and stopped on thebridge and looked down theriver atNotre Dame. Standing on thebridge the island lookeddark, thehouses were high againstthe sky, and the trees wereshadows."Its pretty grand," Billsaid. "God, I love to getback."
    • We leaned on the woodenrail of the bridge andlooked up theriver to the lights of thebig bridges. Below thewater was smoothand black. It made no soundagainst the piles of thebridge. A manand a girl passed us. Theywere walking with theirarms aroundeach other.We crossed the bridge andwalked up the Rue duCardinalLemoine. It was steepwalking, and we went allthe way up tothe Place Contrescarpe. Thearc-light shone through theleaves
    • of the trees in the square,and underneath the treeswas an S busready to start. Music cameout of the door of theNegre Joyeux.Through the window of theCaf6 Aux Amateurs I saw thelongzinc bar. Outside on theterrace working people weredrinking.In the open kitchen of theAmateurs a girl was cookingpotato-chips in oil. There was aniron pot of stew. The girlladled someonto a plate for an old manwho stood holding a bottleof red winein one hand.
    • "Want to have a drink?"78 THE SUN ALSO RISES"No/ said Bill 1 dontneed it."We turned to the right offthe Place Contrescarpe,walkingalong smooth narrow streetswith high old houses onboth sides.Some of the houses juttedout toward the street.Others were cutback. We came onto the Ruedu Pot de Per and followedit along
    • until it brought us to therigid north and south ofthe Rue SaintJacques and then walkedsouth, past Val de Gr&ce,set back be-hind the courtyard and theiron fence r to theBoulevard du PortRoyal."What do you want to do? 1 I asked. "Go up to thecaf andsee Brett and Mike? 1"Why not?"We walked along Port Royaluntil it becameMontparnasse, and
    • then on past the Lilas,Lavignes, and all thelittle cafes, Damoys,crossed the street to theRotonde, past its lightsand tables to theSelect.Michael came toward us fromthe tables. He was tannedandhealthy-looking."Hel-lo, Jake," he said."Hel-lo! Hel-lo! How areyou, old lad?""You look very fit, Mike.""Oh, I am. Im frightfullyfit. Ive done nothing butwalk. Walk
    • all day long. One drink aday with my mother at tea."Bill had gone into the bar.He was standing talkingwith Brett,who was sitting on a highstool, her legs crossed.She had no stock-ings on."Its good to see you,Jake," Michael said. "Im alittle tight youknow. Amazing, isnt it?Did you see my nose?"There was a patch of driedblood on the bridge of hisnose.
    • "An old ladys bags didthat," Mike said. "Ireached up to helpher with them and they fellon me."Brett gestured at him fromthe bar with her cigarette-holder andwrinkled the corners of hereyes."An old lady," said Mike."Her bags fell on me. Letsgo inTHE SUN ALSO RISES 79and see Brett. I say, sheis a piece. You are alovely lady, Brett.
    • Where did you get thathat?""Chap bought it for me.Dont you like it?""Its a dreadful hat. Doget a good hat.""Oh, weve so much moneynow," Brett said. "I say,haventyou met Bill yet? You are alovely host, Jake."She turned to Mike. "Thisis Bill Gorton. Thisdrunkard isMike Campbell. Mr. Campbellis an undischargedbankrupt."
    • "Arent I, though? You knowI met my ex-partneryesterday inLondon. Chap who did mein.""What did he say?""Bought me a drink. Ithought I might as welltake it. I say,Brett, you are a lovelypiece. Dont you thinkshes beautiful?""Beautiful. With thisnose?""Its a lovely nose. Go on,point it at me. Isnt she alovelypiece?"
    • "Couldnt we have kept theman in Scotland?""I say, Brett, lets turnin early.""Dont be indecent,Michael. Remember there areladies atthis bar/"Isnt she a lovely piece?Dont you think so, Jake?"Theres a fight to-night,"Bill said. "Like to go?""Fight," said Mike. "Whosfighting?""Ledoux and somebody."
    • "Hes very good, Ledoux,"Mike said. "Id like to seeit, rather"he was making an effort topull himself together "butI cantgo. I had a date with thisthing here. I say, Brett,do get a newhat."Brett pulled the felt hatdown far over one eye andsmiled outfrom under it. "You two runalong to the fight. Illhave to be tak-ing Mr. Campbell homedirectly.""Im not tight," Mike said."Perhaps just a little. Isay, Brett, you
    • are a lovely piece."8O THE SUN ALSO RISES"Go on to the fight," Brettsaid. "Mr. Campbellsgetting diffi-cult. What are theseoutbursts of affection,Michael?""I say, you are a lovelypiece."We said good night. "Imsorry I cant go," Mikesaid. Brettlaughed. I looked back fromthe door. Mike had one handon the
    • bar and was leaning towardBrett, talking. Brett waslooking athim quite coolly, but thecorners of her eyes weresmiling.Outside on the pavement Isaid: "Do you want to go tothefight?""Sure," said Bill. "If wedont have to walk.""Mike was pretty excitedabout his girl friend," Isaid in thetaxi."Well," said Bill. "Youcant blame him such a hellof a lot."
    • CHAPTER IXTHE Ledoux-Kid Francisfight was the night of the2oth of June.It was a good fight. Themorning after the fight Ihad a letterfrom Robert Cohn, writtenfrom Hendaye. He was havinga veryquiet time, he said,bathing, playing some golfand much bridge.Hendaye had a splendidbeach, but he was anxiousto start on
    • the fishing-trip. Whenwould I be down? If I wouldbuy him adouble-tapered line hewould pay me when I camedown.That same morning I wroteCohn from the office thatBill andI would leave Paris on the25th unless I wired himotherwise,and would meet him atBayonne, where we could geta bus overthe mountains to Pamplona.The same evening aboutsevenoclock I stopped in at theSelect to see Michael andBrett. They
    • were not there, and I wentover to the Dingo. Theywere insidesitting at the bar."Hello, darling." Brett putout her hand."Hello, Jake," Mike said."I understand I was tightlast night.""Werent you, though,"Brett said. "Disgracefulbusiness."8l82 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • "Look," said Mike, "when doyou go down to Spain? Wouldyou mind if we came downwith you?""It would be grand/"You wouldnt mind, really?Ive been at Pamplona, youknow.Bretts mad to go. Youresure we wouldnt just be abloodyruisance?""Dont talk like a fool/"Im a little tight, youknow. I wouldnt ask youlike this if IWerent. Youre sure youdont mind?"
    • "Oh, shut up, Michael,"Brett said. "How can theman sayhed mind now? Ill ask himlater/"But you dont mind, doyou?""Dont ask that againunless you want to make mesore. Billand I go down on themorning of the 25th.""By the way, where isBill?" Brett asked."Hes out at Chantillydining with some people.""Hes a good chap."
    • "Splendid chap," said Mike."He is, you know.""You dont remember him,"Brett said."I do. Remember himperfectly. Look, Jake,well come downthe night of the 25th.Brett cant get up in themorning.""Indeed not!""If our money comes andyoure sure you dontmind.""It will come, all right.Ill see to that."
    • "Tell me what tackle tosend for.""Get two or three rods withreels, and lines, and someflies.""I wont fish," Brett putin."Get two rods, then, andBill wont have to buyone.""Right," said Mike. Tilsend a wire to the keeper.""Wont it be splendid,"Brett said. "Spain! We willhave fun/"The 25th. When is that?"
    • "Saturday.""We +vill have to getready."THE SUN ALSO RISES 83"I say," said Mike, Tmgoing to the barbers.""I must bathe," said Brett."Walk up to the hotel withme, Jake.Be a good chap.""We have got the loveliesthotel," Mike said. "I thinkits abrothel!"
    • "We left our bags here atthe Dingo when we got in,and theyasked us at this hotel ifwe wanted a room for theafternoon only.Seemed frightfully pleasedwe were going to stay allnight.""I believe its a brothel,"Mike said. "And I shouldknow.""Oh, shut it and go and getyour hair cut."Mike went out. Brett and Isat on at the bar."Have another?""Might."
    • "I needed that," Brettsaid.We walked up the RueDelambre."I havent seen you sinceIve been back," Brettsaid."No.""How are you, Jake?""Fine."Brett looked at me. "Isay," she said, "is RobertCohn going onthis trip?""Yes. Why?"
    • "Dont you think it will bea bit rough on him?""Why should it?""Who did you think I wentdown to San Sebastianwith?""Congratulations," I said.We walked along."What did you say thatfor?""I dont know. What wouldyou like me to say?"We walked along and turneda corner.
    • "He behaved rather well,too. He gets a littledull.""Does he?""I rather thought it wouldbe good for him."84 THE SUN ALSO RISES"You might take up socialservice.""Dont be nasty.""I wont.""Didnt you really know?"
    • "No," I said. "I guess Ididnt think about it.""Do you think it will betoo rough on him?""Thats up to him," I said."Tell him youre coming. Hecanalways not come.""Ill write him and givehim a chance to pull out ofit."I did not see Brett againuntil the night of the 24thof June."Did you hear from Cohn?""Rather. Hes keen aboutit."
    • "My God!""I thought it was ratherodd myself.""Says he cant wait to seeme.""Does he think yourecoming alone?""No. I told him we were allcoming down together.Michaeland ah.""Hes wonderful.""Isnt he?"
    • They expected their moneythe next day. We arrangedto meetat Pamplona. They would godirectly to San Sebastianand takethe train from there. Wewould all meet at theMontoya in Pam-plona. If they did not turnup on Monday at the latestwe wouldgo on ahead up to Burguetein the mountains, to startfishing.There was a bus toBurguete. I wrote out anitinerary so theycould follow us.Bill and I took the morningtrain from the GaredOrsay. It was
    • a lovely day, not too hot,and the country wasbeautiful from thestart. We went back intothe diner and hadbreakfast. Leavingthe dining-car I asked theconductor for tickets forthe firstservice.THE SUN ALSO RISES 85"Nothing until the fifth.""Whats this?"There were never more thantwo servings of lunch onthat
    • train, and always plenty ofplaces for both of them."Theyre all reserved," thedining-car conductor said."Therewill be a fifth service atthree-thirty.""This is serious," I saidto Bill."Give him ten francs.""Here," I said. "We want toeat in the first service/The conductor put the tenfrancs in his pocket."Thank you," he said. "Iwould advise you gentlemento get
    • some sandwiches. All theplaces for the first fourservices werereserved at the office ofthe company.""Youll go a long way,brother," Bill said to himin English."I suppose if Id given youfive francs you would haveadvised usto jump off the train.""Comment?""Go to hell!" said Bill."Get the sandwiches madeand a bottleof wine. You tell him,Jake."
    • "And send it up to the nextcar." I described where wewere,In our compartment were aman and his wife and theiryoungson."I suppose youreAmericans, arent you?" theman asked."Having a good trip?""Wonderful," said Bill."Thats what you want todo. Travel while youreyoung.Mother and I always wantedto get over, but we had towait awhile."
    • "You could have come overten years ago, if youdwanted to,"the wife said. "What youalways said was: SeeAmerica first!I will say weve seen agood deal, take it one wayand another.""Say, theres plenty ofAmericans on this train,"the husband86 THE SUN ALSO RISESsaid. "Theyve got sevencars of them from Dayton,Ohio. Theyve
    • been on a pilgrimage toRome, and now theyre goingdown toBiarritz and Lourdes.""So, thats what they are.Pilgrims. Goddam Puritans,"Bill said."What part of the Statesyou boys from?""Kansas City," I said."Hes from Chicago.""You both going toBiarritz?""No. Were going fishing inSpain ."-
    • "Well, I never cared forit, myself. Theres plentythat do outwhere I come from, though.We got some of the bestfishing inthe State of Montana. Ivebeen out with the boys, butI nevercared for it any.""Mighty little fishing youdid on them trips," hiswife said.He winked at us."You know how the ladiesare. If theres a jug goesalong, or acase of beer, they thinkits hell and damnation."
    • "Thats the way men are,"his wife said to us. Shesmoothed hercomfortable lap. "I votedagainst prohibition toplease him, andbecause I like a littlebeer in the house, and thenhe talks thatway. Its a wonder theyever find any one to marrythem.""Say," said Bill, "do youknow that gang of PilgrimFathershave cornered the dining-car until half past threethis after-noon?"
    • "How do you mean? Theycant do a thing likethat.""You try and get seats.""Well, mother, it looks asthough we better go backand getanother breakfast."She stood up andstraightened her dress."Will you boys keep an eyeon our things? Come on,Hubert."They all three went up tothe wagon restaurant. Alittle while
    • after they were gone asteward went throughannouncing thefirst service, andpilgrims, with theirpriests, commenced filingTHE SUN ALSO RISES 87down the corridor. Ourfriend and his family didnot come back.A waiter passed in thecorridor with oursandwiches and the bottleof Chablis, and we calledhim in."Youre going to work to-day," I said.
    • He nodded his head. "Theystart now, at ten-thirty.""When do we eat?""Huh! When do I eat?"He left two glasses for thebottle, and we paid him forthe sand-wiches and tipped him."Ill get the plates/ hesaid, "or bring them withyou."We ate the sandwiches anddrank the Chablis andwatched thecountry out of the window.The grain was justbeginning to ripen
    • and the fields were full ofpoppies. The pasturelandwas green,and there were fine trees,and sometimes big riversand chateauxoff in the trees.At Tours we got off andbought another bottle ofwine, andwhen we got back in thecompartment the gentlemanfrom Mon-tana and his wife and hisson, Hubert, were sittingcomfortably."Is there good swimming inBiarritz?" asked Hubert.
    • "That boys just crazy tillhe can get in the water,"his mothersaid. "Its pretty hard onyoungsters travelling.""Theres good swimming," Isaid. "But its dangerouswhen itsrough.""Did you get a meal?" Billasked."We sure did. We set rightthere when they started tocome in,and they must have justthought we were in theparty. One ofthe waiters said somethingto us in French, and thenthey just
    • sent three of them back."They thought we weresnappers, all right," theman said. "Itcertainly shows you thepower of the CatholicChurch. Its a pityyou boys aint Catholics.You could get a meal, then,all right.""I am," I said. "Thatswhat makes me so sore."THE SUN ALSO RISESFinally at a quarter pastfour we had lunch. Bill hadbeen
    • lather difficult at thelast. He buttonholed apriest who wascoming back with one of thereturning streams ofpilgrims."When do us Protestants geta chance to eat, father?""I dont know anythingabout it. Havent you gottickets?""Its enough to make a manjoin the Klan," Bill said.The priestlooked back at him.Inside the dining-car thewaiters served the fifthsuccessive
    • table dhdte meal. Thewaiter who served us wassoaked through.His white jacket was purpleunder the arms."He must drink a lot ofwine.""Or wear purpleundershirts.""Lets ask him.""No. Hes too tired."The train stopped for halfan hour at Bordeaux and wewentout through the station fora little walk. There wasnot time to
    • get in to the town.Afterward we passed throughthe Landes andwatched the sun set. Therewere wide fire-gaps cutthrough thepines, and you could lookup them like avenues andsee woodedhills way off. About seven-thirty we had dinner andwatched thecountry through the openwindow in the diner. It wasall sandypine country full ofheather. There were littleclearings withhouses in them, and once ina while we passed asawmill. It got
    • dark and we could feel thecountry hot and sandy anddark out-side of the window, andabout nine oclock we gotinto Bayonne.The man and his wife andHubert all shook hands withus. Theywere going on to LaNegresseto change for Biarritz."Well, I hope you have lotsof luck," he said."Be careful about thosebull-fights.""Maybe well see you atBiarritz," Hubert said.
    • We got off with our bagsand rod-cases and passedthrough thedark station and out to thelights and the line of cabsand hotelTHE SUN ALSO RISESbuses. There, standing withthe hotel runners, wasRobert Cohn.He did not see us at first.Then he started forward."Hello, Jake. Have a goodtrip?""Fine," I said. "This isBill Gorton."
    • "How are you?""Come on," said Robert."Ive got a cab." He was alittle near-sighted. I had nevernoticed it before. He waslooking at Bill,trying to make him out. Hewas shy, too."Well go up to my hotel.Its all right. Its quitenice."We got into the cab, andthe cabman put the bags upon theseat beside him and climbedup and cracked his whip,and wedrove over the dark bridgeand into the town.
    • "Im awfully glad to meetyou," Robert said to Bill."Ive heardso much about you from Jakeand Ive read your books.Did youget my line, Jake?"The cab stopped in front ofthe hotel and we all gotout andwent in. It was a nicehotel, and the people atthe desk were verycheerful, and we each had agood small room.CHAPTER X
    • Lsr the morning it wasbright, and they weresprinkling the streetsof the town, and we all hadbreakfast in a cafe.Bayonne is a nicetown. It is like a veryclean Spanish town and itis on a big river.Already, so early in themorning, it was very hot onthe bridgeacross the river. We walkedout 011 the bridge and thentook awalk through the town.I was not at all sureMikes rods would come fromScotland in
    • time, so we hunted a tacklestore and finally bought arod for Billup-stairs over a drygoodsstore. The man who sold thetackle wasout, and we had to wait forhim to come back. Finallyhe came in,and we bought a pretty goodrod cheap, and two landing-nets.We went out into the streetagain and took a look atthecathedral. Cohn made someremark about it being avery goodexample of something orother, I forget what. Itseemed like a
    • nice cathedral, nice anddim, like Spanish churches.Then wewent up past the old fortand out to the localSyndicat dInitiativeoffice, where the bus wassupposed to start from.There they toldus the bus service did notstart until the ist ofJuly. We found outQOTHE SUN ALSO RISES 9!at the tourist office whatwe ought to pay for amotor-car to
    • Pamplona and hired one at abig garage just around thecornerfrom the Municipal Theatrefor four hundred francs.The car wasto pick us up at the hotelin forty minutes, and westopped at thecaf6 on the square where wehad eaten breakfast, andhad a beer.It was hot, but the townhad a cool, fresh, early-morning smell andit was pleasant sitting inthe cafe, A breeze startedto blow, andyou could feel that the aircame from the sea. Therewere pigeons
    • out in the square, and thehouses were a yellow, sun-baked color,and I did not want to leavethe cafe. But we had to goto thehotel to get our bagspacked and pay the bill. Wepaid for thebeers, we matched and Ithink Cohn paid, and wentup to thehotel. It was only sixteenfrancs apiece for Bill andme, with tenper cent added for theservice, and we had thebags sent downand waited for Robert Cohn.While we were waiting I sawa
    • cockroach on the parquetfloor that must have beenat least threeinches long. I pointed himout to Bill and then put myshoe onhim. We agreed he must havejust come in from thegarden. Itwas really an awfully cleanhotel.Cohn came down, finally,and we all went out to thecar. Itwas a big, closed car, witha driver in a white dusterwith bluecollar and cuffs, and wehad him put the back of thecar down.
    • He piled in the bags and westarted off up the streetand out ofthe town. We passed somelovely gardens and had agood lookback at the town, and thenwe were out in the country,green androlling, and the roadclimbing all the time. Wepassed lots ofBasques with oxen, orcattle, hauling carts alongthe road, andnice farmhouses, low roofs,and all white-plastered. Inthe Basquecountry the land all looksvery rich and green and thehouses and
    • villages look well-off andclean. Every village had apelota courtand on some of them kidswere playing in the hotsun. Therewere signs on the walls ofthe churches saying it wasforbiddento play pelota againstthem, and the houses in thevillages had92 THE SUN ALSO RISESred tiled roofs, and thenthe road turned off andcommenced toclimb and we were going wayup close along a hillside,with a
    • valley below and hillsstretched off back towardthe sea. Youcouldnt see the sea. Itwas too far away. You couldsee only hillsand more hills, and youknew where the sea was.We crossed the Spanishfrontier. There was alittle stream and abridge, and Spanishcarabineers, with patent-leather Bonapartehats, and short guns ontheir backs, on one side,and on the otherfat Frenchmen in kepis andmustaches. They only openedone
    • bag and took the passportsin and looked at them.There was ageneral store and inn oneach side of the line. Thechauffeur hadto go in and fill out somepapers about the car and wegot outand went over to the streamto see if there were anytrout. Billtried to talk some Spanishto one of the carabineers,but it did notgo very well. Robert Cohnasked, pointing with hisfinger, if therewere any trout in thestream, and the carabineersaid yes, but notmany.
    • I asked him if he everfished, and he said no,that he didntcare for it.Just then an old man withlong, sunburned hair andbeard,and clothes that looked asthough they were made ofgunny-sacking, came striding upto the bridge. He wascarrying a longstaff, and he had a kidslung on his back, tied bythe four legs,the head hanging down.The carabineer waved himback with his sword. Theman
    • turned without sayinganything, and started backup the whiteroad into Spain."Whats the matter with theold one?" I asked."He hasnt got anypassport."I offered the guard acigarette. He took it andthanked me."What will he do?" I asked.The guard spat in the dust."Oh, hell just wade acrossthe stream."
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 93"Do you have muchsmuggling?""Oh/ he said, "they gothrough/The chauffeur came out,folding up the papers andputtingthem in the inside pocketof his coat. We all got inthe car andit started up the whitedusty road into Spain. Fora while thecountry was much as it hadbeen; then, climbing allthe time, we
    • crossed the top of a Col,the road winding back andforth onitself, and then it wasreally Spain. There werelong brownmountains and a few pinesand far-off forests ofbeech-trees onsome of the mountainsides.The road went along thesummit ofthe Col and then droppeddown, and the driver had tohonk, andslow up, and turn out toavoid running into twodonkeys thatwere sleeping in the road.We came clown out of themountains
    • and through an oak forest,and there were white cattlegrazing inthe forest. Down belowthere were grassy plainsand clear streams,and then we crossed astream and went through agloomy littlevillage, and started toclimb again. We climbed upand up andcrossed another high Coland turned along it, andthe roadran down to the right, andwe saw a whole new range ofmoun-tains off to the south, allbrown and baked-looking andfurrowedin strange shapes.
    • After a while we came outof the mountains, and thereweretrees along both sides ofthe road, and a stream andripe fields ofgrain, and the road wenton, very white and straightahead, andthen lifted to a littlerise, and off on the leftwas a hill with anold castle, with buildingsclose around it and a fieldof grain goingright up to the walls andshifting in the wind. I wasup in frontwith the driver and Iturned around. Robert Cohnwas asleep,
    • but Bill looked and noddedhis head. Then we crossed awideplain, and there was a bigriver off on the rightshining in the sunfrom between the line oftrees, and away off youcould see theplateau of Pamplona risingout of the plain, and thewalls of thecity, and the great browncathedral, and the brokenskyline of the94 THE SUN ALSO RISESother churches. In back ofthe plateau were themountains, and
    • every way you looked therewere other mountains, andahead theroad stretched out whiteacross the plain goingtoward Pamplona.We came into the town onthe other side of theplateau, theroad slanting up steeplyand dustily with shade-trees on both sides,and then levelling outthrough the new part oftown they arebuilding up outside the oldwalls. We passed the bull-ring, highand white and concrete-looking in the sun, andthen came into
    • the big square by a sidestreet and stopped in frontof the HotelMontoya.The driver helped us downwith the bags. There was acrowdof kids watching the car,and the square was hot, andthe treeswere green, and the flagshung on their staffs, andit was good toget out of the sun andunder the shade of thearcade that runs allthe way around the square.Montoya was glad to see us,and shookhands and gave us goodrooms looking out on thesquare, and
    • then we washed and cleanedup and went down-stairs inthedining-room for lunch. Thedriver stayed for lunch,too, andafterward we paid him andhe started back to Bayonne.There are two dining-roomsin the Montoya. One isupstairson the second floor andlooks out on the square.The other isdown one floor below thelevel of the square and hasa door thatopens on the back streetthat the bulls pass alongwhen they run
    • through the streets earlyin the morning on their wayto the ring.It is always cool in thedown-stairs dining-room andwe had a verygood lunch. The first mealin Spain was always a shockwith thehors doeuvres, an eggcourse, two meat courses,vegetables, salad,and dessert and fruit. Youhave to drink plenty ofwine to get itall down. Robert Cohn triedto say he did not want anyof thesecond meat course, but wewould not interpret forhim, and so
    • the waitress brought himsomething else as areplacement, a plateof cold meats, I think.Cohn had been rathernervous ever sincewe had met at Bayonne. Hedid not know whether weknew BrettTHE SUN ALSO RISES 95had been with him at SanSebastian, and it made himratherawkward."Well," I said, "Brett andMike ought to get in to-night."
    • "Im not sure theyllcome," Cohn said."Why not?" Bill said. "Ofcourse theyll come.""Theyre always late," Isaid."I rather think theyre notcoming," Robert Cohn said.He said it with an air ofsuperior knowledge thatirritated bothof us."Ill bet you fifty pesetastheyre here to-night,"Bill said. Healways bets when he isangered, and so he usuallybets foolishly.
    • "Ill take it," Cohn said."Good. You remember it,Jake. Fiftypesetas.""Ill remember it myself,"Bill said. I saw he wasangry andwanted to smooth him down."Its a sure thing theyllcome," I said. "But maybenot to-night.""Want to call it off?" Cohnasked."No. Why should I? Make ita hundred if you like."
    • "All right. Ill takethat.""Thats enough," I said."Or youll have to make abook andgive me some of it.""Im satisfied," Cohn said.He smiled. "Youll probablywin itback at bridge, anyway.""You havent got it yet,"Bill said.We went out to walk aroundunder the arcade to theCafe"Iruna for coffee. Cohn saidhe was going over and get ashave.
    • "Say," Bill said to me,"have I got any chance onthat bet?""Youve got a rottenchance. Theyve never beenon time any-where. If their moneydoesnt come its a cinchthey wont get into-night.""I was sorry as soon as Iopened my mouth. But I hadto callhim. Hes all right, Iguess, but where does heget this inside96 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • stuff? Mike and Brett fixedit up with us about comingdownhere."I saw Cohn coming overacross the square."Here he comes.""Well, let him not getsuperior and Jewish.""The barber shops closed,"Cohn said. "Its not opentill four."We had coffee at the Iruna,sitting in comfortablewicker chairslooking out from the coolof the arcade .at the bigsquare. After a
    • while Bill went to writesome letters and Cohn wentover to thebarber-shop. It was stillclosed, so he decided to goup to the hoteland get a bath, and I satout in front of the cafeand then wentfor a walk in the town. Itwas very hot, but I kept onthe shadyside of the streets andwent through the market andhad a goodtime seeing the town again.I went to the Ayuntamientoandfound the old gentleman whosubscribes for the bull-fight tickets
    • for me every year, and hehad gotten the money I senthim fromParis and renewed mysubscriptions, so that wasall set. He was thearchivist, and all thearchives of the town werein his office. Thathas nothing to do with thestory. Anyway, his officehad a greenbaize door and a big woodendoor, and when I went out Ilefthim sitting among thearchives that covered allthe walls, and Ishut both the doors, and asI went out of the buildinginto thestreet the porter stoppedme to brush off my coat.
    • "You must have been in amotor-car," he said.The back of the collar andthe upper part of theshoulderswere gray with dust."From Bayonne.""Well, well," he said. "Iknew you were in a motor-car fromthe way the dust was." So Igave him two copper coins.At the end of the street Isaw the cathedral andwalked up to-ward it. The first time Iever saw it I thought thefaade was
    • ugly but I liked it now. Iwent inside. It was dim anddark andTHE SUN ALSO RISES 97the pillars went high up,and there were peoplepraying, and itsmelt of incense, and therewere some wonderful bigwindows. Iknelt and started to prayand prayed for everybody Ithought of,Brett and Mike and Bill andRobert Cohn and myself, andall thebull-fighters, separatelyfor the ones I liked, andlumping all the
    • rest, then I prayed formyself again, and while Iwas praying formyself I found I wasgetting sleepy, so I prayedthat the bull-fights would be good, andthat it would be a finefiesta, and thatwe would get some fishing.I wondered if there wasanything elseI might pray for, and Ithought I would like tohave some money,so I prayed that I wouldmake a lot of money, andthen I startedto think how I would makeit, and thinking of makingmoney re-
    • minded me of the count, andI started wondering aboutwhere hewas, and regretting Ihadnt seen him since thatnight in Mont-martre, and about somethingfunny Brett told me abouthim, andas all the time I waskneeling with my foreheadon the wood infront of me, and wasthinking of myself aspraying, I was a littleashamed, and regretted thatI was such a rottenCatholic, butrealized there was nothingI could do about it, atleast for a
    • while, and maybe never, butthat anyway it was a grandreligion,and I only wished I feltreligious and maybe I wouldthe nexttime; and then I was out inthe hot sun on the steps ofthecathedral, and theforefingers and the thumbof my right handwere still damp, and I feltthem dry in the sun. Thesunlight washot and hard, and I crossedover beside some buildings,andwalked back along side-streets to the hotel.
    • At dinner that night wefound that Robert Cohn hadtaken abath, had had a shave and ahaircut and a shampoo, andsome-thing put on his hairafterward to make it staydown. He wasnervous, and I did not tryto help him any. The trainwas due inat nine oclock from SanSebastian, and, if Brettand Mike werecoming, they would be onit. At twenty minutes tonine we were98 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • not half through dinner.Robert Cohn got up from thetable andsaid he would go to thestation. I said I would gowith him,just to devil him. Billsaid he would be damned ifhe would leavehis dinner. I said we wouldbe right back.We walked to the station. Iwas enjoying Cohnsnervousness.I hoped Brett would be onthe train. At the stationthe train waslate, and we sat on abaggage-truck and waitedoutside in the
    • dark. I have never seen aman in civil life asnervous as RobertCohn nor as eager. I wasenjoying it. It was lousyto enjoy it,but I felt lousy. Cohn hada wonderful quality ofbringing outthe worst in anybody.After a while we heard thetrain-whistle way off belowon theother side of the plateau,and then we saw theheadlight comingup the hill. We went insidethe station and stood witha crowd ofpeople just back of thegates, and the train camein and stopped,
    • and everybody startedcoming out through thegates.They were not in the crowd.We waited till everybodyhadgone through and out of thestation and gotten intobuses, ortaken cabs, or were walkingwith their friends orrelatives throughthe dark into the town."I knew they wouldntcome," Robert said. We weregoingback to the hotel."I thought they might," Isaid.
    • Bill was eating fruit whenwe came in and finishing abottleof wine."Didnt come, eh?""No.""Do you mind if I give youthat hundred pesetas in themorn-ing, Cohn?" Bill asked. "Ihavent changed any moneyhere yet.""Oh, forget about it,"Robert Cohn said. "Letsbet on some-thing else. Can you bet onbull-fights?"
    • "You could," Bill said,"but you dont need to."THE SUN ALSO RISES 99"It would be like bettingon the war," I said. "Youdont needany economic interest.""Im very curious to seethem/ Robert said.Montoya came up to ourtable. He had a telegram inhis hand."Its for you." He handedit to me.It read: "Stopped night SanSebastian."
    • "Its from them," I said. Iput it in my pocket.Ordinarily Ishould have handed it over."Theyve stopped over inSan Sebastian," I said."Send theirregards to you."Why I felt that impulse todevil him I do not know. OfcourseI do know. I was blind,unforgivingly jealous ofwhat had hap-pened to him. The fact thatI took it as a matter ofcourse didnot alter that any. Icertainly did hate him. Ido not think I ever
    • really hated him until hehad that little spell ofsuperiority atlunch that and when he wentthrough all that barbering.So Iput the telegram in mypocket. The telegram cameto me, anyway."Well," I said. "We oughtto pull out on the noon busforBurguete. They can followus if they get in to-morrownight."There were only two trainsup from San Sebastian, anearlymorning train and the onewe had just met.
    • "That sounds like a goodidea," Cohn said."The sooner we get on thestream the better.""Its all one to me when westart," Bill said. "Thesooner thebetter."We sat in the Iruna for awhile and had coffee andthen took alittle walk out to thebull-ring and across thefield and under thetrees at the edge of thecliff and looked down atthe river in thedark, and I turned inearly. Bill and Cohn stayedout in the caf
    • quite late, I believe,because I was asleep whenthey came in.In the morning I boughtthree tickets for the busto Burguete.It was scheduled to leaveat two oclock. There wasnothing1OO THE SUN ALSO RISESearlier. I was sitting overat the Iruna reading thepapers when Isaw Robert Cohn comingacross the square. He cameup to thetable and sat down in oneof the wicker chairs.
    • "This is a comfortablecafe," he said. "Did youhave a goodnight, Jake?""I slept like a log.""I didnt sleep very well.Bill and I were out late,too.""Where were you?""Here. And after it shut wewent over to that othercafe Theold man there speaks Germanand English.""The Cafe" Suizo."
    • "Thats it. He seems like anice old fellow. I thinkits a bettercafe than this one.""Its not so good in thedaytime," I said. "Too hot.By the way,I got the bus tickets.""Im not going up to-day.You and Bill go on ahead.""Ive got your ticket.""Give it to me. Ill getthe money back."Its five pesetas."Robert Cohn took out asilver five-peseta pieceand gave it
    • to me."I ought to stay," he said."You see Im afraid theressomesort of misunderstanding.""Why," I said. "They maynot come here for three orfour daysnow if they start onparties at San Sebastian.""Thats just it," saidRobert. "Im afraid theyexpected to meetme at San Sebastian, andthats why they stoppedover.""What makes you thinkthat?"
    • "Well, I wrote suggestingit to Brett."Why in hell didnt youstay there and meet them,then?" Istarted to say, but Istopped. I thought thatidea would come tohim by itself, but I do notbelieve it ever did.He was being confidentialnow and it was giving himpleasureTHE SUN ALSO RISES 1O1to be able to talk with theunderstanding that I knewthere was
    • something between him andBrett."Well, Bill and I will goup right after lunch/ Isaid."I wish I could go. Wevebeen looking forward tothis fishingall winter/ He was beingsentimental about it. "ButI ought tostay. I really ought. Assoon as they come Illbring them right up.""Lets find Bill.""I want to go over to thebarber-shop.""See you at lunch."
    • I found Bill up in hisroom. He was shaving."Oh, yes, he told me allabout it last night," Billsaid. "Hes agreat little confider. Hesaid he had a date withBrett at SanSebastian.""The lying bastard!""Oh, no/ said Bill. "Dontget sore. Dont get sore atthis stageof the trip. How did youever happen to know thisfellow,anyway?""Dont rub it in."
    • Bill looked around, half-shaved, and then went ontalking intothe mirror while helathered his face."Didnt you send him with aletter to me in New Yorklastwinter? Thank God, Im atravelling man. Havent yougot somemore Jewish friends youcould bring along?" Herubbed his chinwith his thumb, looked atit, and then startedscraping again."Youve got some fine onesyourself."
    • "Oh, yes. Ive got somedarbs. But not alongside ofthis RobertCohn. The funny thing ishes nice, too. I like him.But hes justso awful.""He can be damn nice.""I know it. Thats theterrible part."I laughed."Yes. Go on and laugh,"said Bill. "You werent outwith himlast night until twooclock/
    • 1O2 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Was he very bad?""Awful. Whats all thisabout him and Brett,anyway? Did sheever have anything to dowith him?"He raised his chin up andpulled it from side toside."Sure. She went down to SanSebastian with him.""What a damn-fool thing todo. Why did she do that?""She wanted to get out oftown and she cant goanywhere
    • alone. She said she thoughtit would be good for him.""What bloody-fool thingspeople do. Why didnt shego offwith some of her ownpeople? Or you?" he slurredthat over"or me? Why not me?" Helooked at his facecarefully in the glass,put a big dab of lather oneach cheek-bone. "Its anhonestface. Its a face any womanwould be safe with.""Shed never seen it.""She should have. All womenshould see it. Its a facethat
    • ought to be thrown on everyscreen in the country.Every womanought to be given a copy ofthis face as she leaves thealtar.Mothers should tell theirdaughters about this face.My son" hepointed the razor at me "gowest with this face andgrow upwith the country."He ducked down to the bowl,rinsed his face with coldwater,put on some alcohol, andthen looked at himselfcarefully in theglass, pulling down hislong upper lip.
    • "My God!" he said, "isntit an awful face?"He looked in the glass."And as for this RobertCohn," Bill said, "he makesme sick,and he can go to hell, andIm damn glad hes stayinghere so wewont have him fishing withus.""Youre damn right.""Were going trout-fishing.Were going trout-fishingin theIrati River, and weregoing to get tight now atlunch on the
    • wine of the country, andthen take a swell busride.""Come on. Lets go over tothe Iruna and start," Isaid.CHAPTER XIIT was baking hot in thesquare when we came outafter lunchwith our bags and the rod-case to go to Burguete.People were ontop of the bus, and otherswere climbing up a ladder.Bill went up
    • and Robert sat beside Billto save a place for me, andI went backin the hotel to get acouple of bottles of wineto take with us.When I came out the bus wascrowded. Men and women weresitting on all the baggageand boxes on top, and thewomen allhad their fans going in thesun. It certainly was hot.Robertclimbed down and I fittedinto the place he had savedon the onewooden seat that ran acrossthe top.Robert Cohn stood in theshade of the arcade waitingfor us
    • to start. A Basque with abig leather wine-bag in hislap lay acrossthe top of the bus in frontof our seat, leaning backagainst ourlegs. He offered the wine-skin to Bill and to me, andwhen I tippedit up to drink he imitatedthe sound of a klaxonmotor-horn sowell and so suddenly that Ispilled some of the wine,and every-body laughed. He apologizedand made me take anotherdrink.He made the klaxon again alittle later, and it fooledme the103
    • 104 THE SUN ALSO RISESsecond time. He was verygood at it. The Basquesliked it. Theman next to Bill wastalking to him in Spanishand Bill was notgetting it, so he offeredthe man one of the bottlesof wine. Theman waved it away. He saidit was too hot and he haddrunktoo much at lunch. WhenBill offered the bottle thesecond timehe took a long drink, andthen the bottle went allover that part
    • of the bus. Every one tooka drink very politely, andthen theymade us cork it up and putit away. They all wanted usto drinkfrom their leather wine-bottles. They were peasantsgoing up intothe hills.Finally, after a couplemore false klaxons, the busstarted, andRobert Cohn waved good-byto us, and all the Basqueswavedgood-by to him. As soon aswe started out on the roadoutside oftown it was cool. It feltnice riding high up andclose under the
    • trees. The bus went quitefast and made a goodbreeze, and aswe went out along the roadwith the dust powdering thetreesand down the hill, we had afine view, back through thetrees, ofthe town rising up from thebluff above the river. TheBasquelying against my kneespointed out the view withthe neck of thewine-bottle, and winked atus. He nodded his head."Pretty nice, eh?""These Basques are swellpeople," Bill said.
    • The Basque lying against mylegs was tanned the colorofsaddle-leather. He wore ablack smock like all therest. There werewrinkles in his tannedneck. He turned around andoffered hiswine-bag to Bill. Billhanded him one of ourbottles. The Basquewagged a forefinger at himand handed the bottle back,slappingin the cork with the palmof his hand. He shoved thewine-bag up."Arriba! Arriba!" he said."Lift it up."
    • Bill raised the wine-skinand let the stream of winespurt outand into his mouth, hishead tipped back. When hestopped drink-ing and tipped the leatherbottle down a few drops randown hischin.THE SUN ALSO RISES 105"No! No!" several Basquessaid. "Not like that/ Onesnatchedthe bottle away from theowner, who was himselfabout to give a
    • demonstration. He was ayoung fellow and he heldthe wine-bottle at full arms lengthand raised it high up,squeezing theleather bag with his handso the stream of winehissed into hismouth. He held the bag outthere, the wine making aflat, hardtrajectory into his mouth,and he kept on swallowingsmoothlyand regularly."Hey!" the owner of thebottle shouted. "Whose wineis that?"
    • The drinker waggled hislittle finger at him andsmiled at uswith his eyes. Then he bitthe stream off sharp, madea quick liftwith the wine-bag andlowered it down to theowner. He winkedat us. The owner shook thewine-skin sadly.We passed through a townand stopped in front of theposada,and the driver took onseveral packages. Then westarted on again,and outside the town theroad commenced to mount. Wewere go-
    • ing through farming countrywith rocky hills thatsloped downinto the fields. The grain-fields went up thehillsides. Now as wewent higher there was awind blowing the grain. Theroad waswhite and dusty, and thedust rose under the wheelsand hungin the air behind us. Theroad climbed up into thehills and leftthe rich grain-fieldsbelow. Now there were onlypatches of grainon the bare hillsides andon each side of the water-courses. We
    • turned sharply out to theside of the road to giveroom to pass toa long string of six mules,following one after theother, haul-ing a high-hooded wagonloaded with freight. Thewagon andthe mules were covered withdust. Close behind wasanother stringof mules and another wagon.This was loaded withlumber, andthe arriero driving themules leaned back and puton the thickwooden brakes as we passed.Up here the country wasquite
    • barren and the hills wererocky and hard-baked clayfurrowed bythe rain.We came around a curve intoa town, and on both sidesopened.1O6 THE SUN ALSO RISESout a sudden green valley.A stream went through thecentre ofthe town and fields ofgrapes touched the houses.The bus stopped in front ofa posada and many of thepas-
    • sengers got down, and a lotof the baggage wasunstrapped fromthe roof from under the bigtarpaulins and lifted down.Bill and Igot down and went into theposada. There was a low,dark roomwith saddles and harness,and hay-forks made of whitewood, andclusters of canvas rope-soled shoes and hams andslabs of bacon andwhite garlics and longsausages hanging from theroof. It wascool and dusky, and westood in front of a longwooden counter
    • with two women behind itserving drinks. Behind themwereshelves stacked withsupplies and goods.We each had an aguardienteand paid forty centimes forthetwo drinks. I gave thewoman fifty centimes tomake a tip, andshe gave me back the copperpiece, thinking I hadmisunderstoodthe price.Two of our Basques came inand insisted on buying adrink.So they bought a drink andthen we bought a drink, andthen
    • they slapped us on the backand bought another drink.Then webought, and then we allwent out into the sunlightand the heat,and climbed back on top ofthe bus. There was plentyof roomnow for every one to sit onthe seat, and the Basquewho hadbeen lying on the tin roofnow sat between us. Thewoman whohad been serving drinkscame out wiping her handson her apronand talked to somebodyinside the bus. Then thedriver came out
    • swinging two flat leathermail-pouches and climbedup, and every-body waving we started off.The road left the greenvalley at once, and we wereup in thehills again. Bill and thewine-bottle Basque werehaving a con-versation. A man leanedover from the other side ofthe seat andasked in English: "YoureAmericans? 1"Sure."THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • "I been there," he said."Forty years ago."He was an old man, as brownas the others, with thestubbleof a white beard."How was it?""What you say?""How was America?""Oh, I was in California.It was fine.""Why did you leave?""What you say?""Why did you come backhere?"
    • "Oh! I come back to getmarried. I was going to goback but mywife she dont like totravel. Where you from?""Kansas City.""I been there," he said. "Ibeen in Chicago, St. Louis,KansasCity, Denver, Los Angeles,Salt Lake City."He named them carefully."How long were you over?""Fifteen years. Then I comeback and got married.""Have a drink?"
    • "All right," he said. "Youcant get this in America,eh?""Theres plenty if you canpay for it.""What you come over herefor?""Were going to the fiestaat Pamplona.""You like the bull-fights?""Sure. Dont you?""Yes," he said. "I guess Ilike them."Then after a little:
    • "Where you go now?""Up to Burguete to fish.""Well," he said, "I hopeyou catch something."He shook hands and turnedaround to the back seatagain. Theother Basques had beenimpressed. He sat backcomfortably and1O8 THE SUN ALSO RISESsmiled at me when I turnedaround to look at thecountry* But
    • the effort of talkingAmerican seemed to havetired him. He didnot say anything afterthat.The bus climbed steadily upthe road. The country wasbar-ren and rocks stuck upthrough the clay. There wasno grassbeside the road. Lookingback we could see thecountry spread outbelow. Far back the fieldswere squares of green andbrown onthe hillsides. Making thehorizon were the brownmountains.
    • They were strangely shaped.As we climbed higher thehorizonkept changing. As the busground slowly up the roadwe could seeother mountains coming upin the south. Then the roadcameover the crest, flattenedout, and went into aforest. It was aforest of cork oaks, andthe sun came through thetrees in patches,and there were cattlegrazing back in the trees.We went throughthe forest and the roadcame out and turned along arise of land,
    • and out ahead of us was arolling green plain, withdark moun-tains beyond it. These werenot like the brown, heat-baked moun-tains we had left behind.These were wooded and therewereclouds coming down fromthem. The green plainstretched off. Itwas cut by fences and thewhite of the road showedthrough thetrunks of a double line oftrees that crossed theplain towardthe north. As we came tothe edge of the rise we sawthe red
    • roofs and white houses ofBurguete ahead strung outon the plain,and away off on theshoulder of the first darkmountain was thegray metal-sheathed roof ofthe monastery ofRoncesvalles.Theres Roncevaux," Isaid."Where?""Way off there where themountain starts/"Its cold up here," Billsaid.
    • "Its high," I said. "Itmust be twelve hundredmetres/"Its awful cold," Billsaid.The bus levelled down ontothe straight l:ne of roadthat ranto Burgnete. We passed acrossroads and crossed abridge over ATHE SUN ALSO RISES 1OQstream* The houses ofBurguete were along bothsides of the
    • road. There were no side-streets. We passed thechurch and theschool-yard, and the busstopped. We got down andthe driverhanded down our bags andthe rod-case. A carabineerin hiscocked hat and yellowleather cross-straps cameup."Whats in there?" hepointed to the rod-case.I opened it and showed him.He asked to see our fishingper-mits and I got them out. Helooked at the date and thenwavedus on
    • "Is that all right?" Iasked."Yes. Of course."We went up the street, pastthe whitewashed stonehouses,families sitting in theirdoorways watching us, tothe inn.The fat woman who ran theinn came out from thekitchenand shook hands with us.She took off herspectacles, wiped them,and put them on again. Itwas cold in the inn and thewind was
    • starting to blow outside.The woman sent a girl up-stairs with usto show the room. Therewere two beds, a washstand,a clothes-chest, and a big, framedsteel-engraving of NuestraSefiora deRoncesvalles. The wind wasblowing against theshutters. Theroom was on the north sideof the inn. We washed, putonsweaters, and came down-stairs into the dining-room. It had astone floor, low ceiling,and was oak-panelled. Theshutters wereall up and it was so coldyou could see your breath.
    • "My God!" said Bill. "Itcant be this cold to-morrow. Im notgoing to wade a stream inthis weather."There was an upright pianoin the far corner of theroom be-yond the wooden tables andBill went over and startedto play."I got to keep warm," hesaid.I went out to find thewoman and ask her how muchthe roomand board was. She put herhands under her apron andlooked
    • away from me."Twelve pesetas. 1 11O THE SUN ALSO RISES"Why, we only paid that inPamplona/ 1She did not say anything,just took off her glassesand wipedthem on her apron."Thats too much/ I said."We didnt pay more thanthat at abig hotel/"Weve put in a bathroom/
    • "Havent you got anythingcheaper?*"Not in the summer. Now isthe big season/ 1We were the only people inthe inn. Well, I thought,its only afew days."Is the wine included?""Oh, yes.""Well," I said. "Its allright."I went back to Bill. Heblew his breath at me toshow how cold
    • it was, and went onplaying. I sat at one ofthe tables and lookedat the pictures on thewall. There was one panelof rabbits, dead,one of pheasants, alsodead, and one panel of deadducks. Thepanels were all dark andsmoky-looking. There was acupboardfull of liqueur bottles. Ilooked at them all. Billwas still playing."How about a hot rumpunch?" he said. "Thisisnt going to keepme warm permanently."I went out and told thewoman what a rum punch wasand
    • how to make it. In a fewminutes a girl brought astone pitcher,steaming, into the room.Bill came over from thepiano and wedrank the hot punch andlistened to the wind."There isnt too much rumin that."I went over to the cupboardand brought the rum bottleandpoured a half-tumblerfulinto the pitcher."Direct action," said Bill."It beats legislation."The girl came in and laidthe table for supper.
    • "It blows like hell uphere," Bill said.The girl brought in a bigbowl of hot vegetable soupand thewine. We had fried troutafterward and some sort ofa stew and aTHE SUN ALSO RISES 111big bowl full of wildstrawberries. We did notlose money onthe wine, and the girl wasshy but nice about bringingit. The oldwoman looked in once andcounted the empty bottles.
    • After supper we went up-stairs and smoked and readin bed tokeep warm. Once in thenight I woke and heard thewind blow-ing. It felt good to bewarm and in bed.CHAPTER XIIWHEN I woke in the morningI went to the window andlookedout. It had cleared andthere were no clouds on themountains.
    • Outside under the windowwere some carts and an olddiligence,the wood of the roofcracked and split by theweather. It musthave been left from thedays before the motor-buses. A goathopped up on one of thecarts and then to the roofof thediligence. He jerked hishead at the other goatsbelow and when Iwaved at him he boundeddown.Bill was still sleeping, soI dressed, put on my shoesoutside in
    • the hall, and went down-stairs. No one was stirringdown-stairs, soI unbolted the door andwent out. It was cooloutside in the earlymorning and the sun had notyet dried the dew that hadcomewhen the wind died down. Ihunted around in the shedbehindthe inn and found a sort ofmattock, and went downtoward thestream to try and dig someworms for bait. The streamwas clearand shallow but it did notlook trouty. On the grassybank where
    • it was damp I drove themattock into the earth andloosened achunk of sod. There wereworms underneath. They slidout of112THE SUN ALSO RISES 113sight as I lifted the sodand I dug carefully and gota good many.Digging at the edge of thedamp ground I filled twoemptytobacco-tins with worms andsifted dirt onto them. Thegoatswatched me dig.
    • When I went back into theinn the woman was down inthekitchen, and I asked her toget coffee for us, and thatwe wanteda lunch. Bill was awake andsitting on the edge of thebed."I saw you out of thewindow/ 1 he said. "Didntwant to in-terrupt you. What were youdoing? Burying yourmoney ?""You lazy bum!""Been working for thecommon good? Splendid. Iwant you to
    • do that every morning/"Come on/ I said. "Getup/"What? Get up? I never getup/He climbed into bed andpulled the sheet up to hischin."Try and argue me intogetting up/I went on looking for thetackle and putting it alltogether inthe tackle-bag."Arent you interested?"Bill asked.
    • "Im going down and eat.""Eat? Why didnt you sayeat? I thought you justwanted meto get up for fun. Eat?Fine. Now yourereasonable. You go outand dig some more worms andIll be right down.""Oh, go to hell!""Work for the good of all."Bill stepped into hisunderclothes."Show irony and pity."I started out of the roomwith the tackle-bag, thenets, and therod-case.
    • "Hey! come back!"I put my head in the door."Arent you going to show alittle irony and pity?"1 thumbed my nose."Thats not irony."114 THE SUN ALSO RISESAs I went down-stairs Iheard Bill singing, "Ironyand Pity.When youre feeling . * .Oh, Give them Irony andGive them
    • Pity. Oh, give them Irony.When theyre feeling ...Just a littleirony. Just a little pity .. ." He kept on singinguntil he camedown-stairs. The tune was:"The Bells are Ringing forMe ando omy Gal." I was reading aweek-old Spanish paper."Whats all this irony andpity?""What? Dont you know aboutIrony and Pity?""No. Who got it up?"
    • "Everybody. Theyre madabout it in New York. Itsjust likethe Fratellinis used tobe."The girl came in with thecoffee and buttered toast.Or, rather,it was bread toasted andbuttered."Ask her if shes got anyjam," Bill said. "Beironical with her.""Have you got any jam?""Thats not ironical. Iwish I could talk Spanish."
    • The coffee was good and wedrank it out of big bowls.Thegirl brought in a glassdish of raspberry jam."Thank you.""Hey! thats not the way,"Bill said. "Say somethingironical.Make some crack about Primede Rivera.""I could ask her what kindof a jam they think theyvegotteninto in the Riff.""Poor," said Bill. "Verypoor. You cant do it.Thats all. You
    • dont understand irony. Youhave no pity. Say somethingpitiful.""Robert Cohn.""Not so bad. Thats better.Now why is Cohn pitiful? Be99ironic.He took a big gulp ofcoffee."Aw, hell!" I said. "Itstoo early in the morning."
    • "There you go. And youclaim you want to be awriter, too.Youre only a newspaperman. An expatriatednewspaper man.THE SUN ALSO RISES 1You ought to be ironicalthe minute you get out ofbed. You oughtto wake up with your mouthfull of pity.""Go on," I said. "Who didyou get this stuff from?""Everybody. Dont you read?Dont you ever see anybody?
    • You know what you are?Youre an expatriate. Whydont youlive in New York? Thenyoud know these things.What do youwant me to do? Come overhere and tell you everyyear?""Take some more coffee," Isaid."Good. Coffee is good foryou. Its the caffeine init. Caffeine,we are here. Caffeine putsa man on her horse and awoman inhis grave. You know whatsthe trouble with you?Youre an
    • expatriate. One of theworst type. Havent youheard that? No-body that ever left theirown country ever wroteanything worthprinting. Not even in thenewspapers."He drank the coffee."Youre an expatriate.Youve lost touch with thesoil. You getprecious. Fake Europeanstandards have ruined you.You drinkyourself to death. Youbecome obsessed by sex. Youspend all yourtime talking, not working.You are an expatriate, see?You hang
    • around cafeV"It sounds like a swelllife," I said. When do Iwork?""You dont work. One groupclaims women support you.An-other group claims youreimpotent.""No," I said. "I just hadan accident.""Never mention that," Billsaid. "Thats the sort ofthing thatcant be spoken of. Thatswhat you ought to work upinto amystery. Like Henrysbicycle."
    • He had been goingsplendidly, but he stopped.I was afraid hethought he had hurt me withthat crack about beingimpotent. )wanted to start him again."It wasnt a bicycle," Isaid. "He was ridinghorseback.""I heard it was atricycle."Il6 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Well," I said. "A plane issort of like a tricycle.The joystick
    • works ihe same way.""But you dont pedal it.""No," I said, "I guess youdont pedal it.""Lets lay off that," Billsaid."All right. I was juststanding up for thetricycle.""I think hes a goodwriter, too," Bill said."And youre a hellof a good guy. Anybody evertell you you were a goodguy?""Im not a good guy."
    • "Listen. Youre a hell of agood guy, and Im fonder ofyou thananybody on earth. Icouldnt tell you that inNew York. Itd meanI was a faggot. That waswhat the Civil War wasabout. AbrahamLincoln was a faggot. Hewas in love with GeneralGrant. So wasJefferson Davis. Lincolnjust freed the slaves on abet. The DredScott case was framed bythe Anti-Saloon League. Sexexplainsit all. The Colonels Ladyand Judy OGrady areLesbians undertheir skin."
    • He stopped."Want to heai some more?""Shoot," I said."I dont know any more.Tel! you sonic more atlunch.""Old Bill," I said."You bum!"We packed the lunch and twobottles of wine in therucksack,and Bill put it on. Icarried the rod-case andthe landing-netsslung over my back. Westarted up the road andthen went across
    • a meadow and found a paththat crossed the fields andwenttoward the woods on theslope of the first hill. Wewalked acrossthe fields on the sandypath. The fields wererolling and grassyand the grass was shortfrom the sheep grazing. Thecattle wereup in the hills. We heardtheir bells in the woods.The path crossed a streamon a foot-log. The log wassurfacedoff, and there was asapling bent across for arail. In the flat pool
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES liybeside the stream tadpolesspotted the sand. We wentup a steepbank and across the rollingfields. Looking back we sawBurguete,white houses and red roofs,and the white road with atruclc goingalong it and the dustrising.Beyond the fields wecrossed another faster-flowing stream. Asandy road led down to theford and beyond into thewoods. The
    • path crossed the stream onanother foot-log below theford, andjoined the road, and wewent into the woods.It was a beech wood and thetrees were very old. Theirrootsbulked above the ground andthe branches were twisted.Wewalked on the road betweenthe thick trunks of the oldbeechesand the sunlight camethrough the leaves in lightpatches on thegrass. The trees were big,and the foliage was thickbut it was not
    • gloomy. There was noundergrowth, only thesmooth grass, verygreen and fresh, and thebig gray trees well spacedas though itwere a park."This is country/ Billsaid.The road went up a hill andwe got into thick woods,and theroad kept on climbing.Sometimes it dipped downbut rose againsteeply. All the time weheard the cattle in thewoods. Finally,the road came out on thetop of the hills. We wereon the top of
    • the height of land that wasthe highest part of therange ofwooded hills we had seenfrom Burguete. There werewild straw-berries growing on thesunny side of the ridge ina little clearingin the trees.Ahead the road came out ofthe forest and went alongtheshoulder of the ridge ofhills. The hills ahead werenot wooded,and there were great fieldsof yellow gorse. Way off wesaw thesteep bluffs, dark withtrees and jutting with graystone, that
    • marked the course of theIrati River."We have to follow thisroad along the ridge, crossthese hills,go through the woods on thefar hills, and come down tothe Irativalley/ I pointed out toBill.Il8 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Thats a hell of a hike/ 1"Its too far to go andfish and come hack the sameday, com-fortably/ 1
    • "Comfortably* Thats a niceword. Well have to go likehellto get there and back andhave any fishing at all."It was a long walk and thecountry was very fine, butwe weretired when we came down thesteep road that led out ofthewooded hills into thevalley of the Rio de laFabrica.The road came out from theshadow of the woods intothe hotsun. Ahead was a river-valley. Beyond the riverwas a steep hill.
    • There was a field ofbuckwheat on the hill. Wesaw a white houseunder some trees on thehillside. It was very hotand we stoppedunder some trees beside adam that crossed the river.Bill put the pack againstone of the trees and wejointed upthe rods, put on the reels,tied on leaders, and gotready to fish."Youre sure this thing hastrout in it?" Bill asked."Its full of them.""Im going to fish a fly.You got any McGintys?"
    • "Theres some in there.""You going to fish bait?""Yeah. Im going to fishthe dam here.""Well, Ill take the fly-book, then." He tied on afly. "WheredI better go? Up or down?""Down is the best. Theyreplenty up above, too."Bill went down the bank."Take a worm can.""No, I dont want one. Ifthey wont take a fly Illjust Hick it
    • around."Bill was down belowwatching the stream."Say," he called up againstthe noise of the dam. "Howaboutputting the wine in thatspring up the road?""All right," I shouted.Bill waved his hand andstarted downthe stream. I found the twowine-bottles in the pack,and carriedTHE SUN ALSO RISES
    • them up the road to wherethe water of a springflowed out of aniron pipe. There was aboard over the spring and Ilifted it and,knocking the corks firmlyinto the bottles, loweredthem down intothe water. It was so coldmy hand and wrist feltnumbed. I putback the slab of wood, andhoped nobody would find thewine.I got my rod that wasleaning against the tree,took the bait-can and landing-net, andwalked out onto the dam. Itwas built to
    • provide a head of water fordriving logs. The gate wasup, and Isat on one of the squaredtimbers and watched thesmooth apronof water before the rivertumbled into the falls. Inthe white waterat the foot of the dam itwas deep. As I baited up, atrout shot upout of the white water intothe falls and was carrieddown. BeforeI could finish baiting,another trout jumped at thefalls, makingthe same lovely arc anddisappearing into the waterthat was
    • thundering down. I put on agood-sized sinker anddropped intothe white water close tothe edge of the timbers ofthe dam.I did not feel the firsttrout strike. When Istarted to pull upI felt that I had one andbrought him, fighting andbending therod almost double, out ofthe boiling water at thefoot of the falls,and swung him up and ontothe dam. He was a goodtrout, and Ibanged his head against thetimber so that he quiveredout
    • straight, and then slippedhim into my bag.While I had him on, severaltrout had jumped at thefalls. Assoon as I baited up anddropped in again I hookedanother andbrought him in the sameway. In a little while Ihad six. Theywere all about the samesize. I laid them out, sideby side, all theirheads pointing the sameway, and looked at them.They werebeautifully colored andfirm and hard from the coldwater. It
    • was a hot day, so I slitthem all and shucked outthe insides, gillsand all, and tossed themover across the river. Itook the troutashore, washed them in thecold, smoothly heavy waterabovethe dam, and then pickedsome ferns and packed themall in thebag, three trout on a layerof ferns, then anotherlayer of ferns,12O THE SUN ALSO RISESthen three more trout, andthen covered them withferns. They
    • looked nice in the ferns,and now the bag was bulky,and I putit in the shade of thetree.It was very hot on the dam,so I put my worm-can in theshadewith the bag, and got abook out of the pack andsettled downunder the tree to readuntil Bill should come upfor lunch.It was a little past noonand there was not muchshade, but Isat against the trunk oftwo of the trees that grewtogether, and
    • read. The book wassomething by A. E. W.Mason, and I wasreading a wonderful storyabout a man who had beenfrozen inthe Alps and then falleninto a glacier anddisappeared, and hisbride was going to waittwenty-four years exactlyfor his body tocome out on the moraine,while her true love waitedtoo, and theywere still waiting whenBill came up."Get any?" he asked. He hadhis rod and his bag and hisnet
    • all in one hand, and he wassweating. I hadnt heardhim comeup, because of the noisefrom the dam."Six. What did you get?"Bill sat down, opened uphis bag, laid a big trouton the grass.He took out three more,each one a little biggerthan the last,^5CJand laid them side by sidein the shade from the tree.His facewas sweaty and happy."How are yours?"
    • "Smaller.""Lets see them."Theyre packed.""How big are they really?""Theyre all about the sizeof your smallest.""Youre not holding out onme?""I wish I were.""Get them all on worms?""Yes."
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 121"You lazy bum!"Bill put the trout in thebag and started for theriver, swingingthe open bag. He was wetfrom the waist down and Iknew hemust have been wading thestream.I walked up the road andgot out the two bottles ofwine. Theywere cold. Moisture beadedon the bottles as I walkedback to thetrees. I spread the lunchon a newspaper, anduncorked one of
    • the bottles and leaned theother against a tree. Billcame up dry-ing his hands, his bagplump with ferns."Lets see that bottle," hesaid. He pulled the cork,and tippedup the bottle and drank."Whew! That makes my eyesache.""Lets try it."The wine was icy cold andtasted faintly rusty."Thats not such filthywine," Bill said."The cold helps it," Isaid.
    • We unwrapped the littleparcels of lunch."Chicken.""Theres hard-boiled eggs.""Find any salt?""First the egg," said Bill."Then the chicken. EvenBryan couldsec that.""Hes dead. I read it inthe paper yesterday.""No. Not really?"Tes. Bryans dead."
    • Bill laid down the egg hewas peeling."Gentlemen," he said, andunwrapped a drumstick froma pieceof newspaper. "I reversethe order. For Bryanssake. As a tributeto the Great Commoner.First the chicken; then theegg.""Wonder what day Godcreated the chicken?""Oh," said Bill, suckingthe drumstick, "how shouldwe know?We should not question. Ourstay on earth is not forlong. Let us
    • rejoice and believe andgive thanks."122 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Eat an egg/Bill gestured with thedrumstick in one hand andthe bottle ofwine in the other."Let us rejoice in ourblessings. Let us utilizethe fowls of theair. Let us utilize theproduct of the vine. Willyou utilize a little,brother?""After you, brother."
    • Bill took a long drink."Utilize a little,brother," he handed me thebottle. "Let us notdoubt, brother. Let us notpry into the holy mysteriesof the hen-coop with simian fingers.Let us accept on faith andsimply sayI want you to join with mein saying What shall wesay,brother?" He pointed thedrumstick at me and wenton. "Let metell you. We will say, andI for one am proud to sayand I want
    • you to say with me, on yourknees, brother. Let no manbeashamed to kneel here inthe great out-of-doors.Remember thewoods were Gods firsttemples. Let us kneel andsay: Dont eatthat, Lady thats Mencken.""Here," I said. "Utilize alittle of this."We uncorked the otherbottle."Whats the matter?" Isaid. "Didnt you likeBryan?"
    • "I loved Bryan," said Bill."We were like brothers.""Where did you know him?""He and Mencken and I allwent to Holy Crosstogether.""And Frankie Fritsch.""Its a lie. FrankieFritsch went to Fordham.""Well," I said, "I went toLoyola with BishopManning.""Its a lie," Bill said. "Iwent to Loyola with BishopManningmyself."
    • "Youre cock-eyed," I said."On wine?""Why not?"THE SUN ALSO RISES 123"Its the humidity," Billsaid. "They ought to takethis damnhumidity away.""Have another shot.""Is this all weve got?""Only the two bottles."
    • "Do you know what you are?"Bill looked at the bottleaffec-tionately."No," I said."Youre in the pay of theAnti-Saloon League.""I went to Notre Dame withWayne B. Wheeler.""Its a lie," said Bill. "Iwent to Austin BusinessCollege withWayne B. Wheeler. He wasclass president.""Well," I said, "the saloonmust go."
    • "Youre right there, oldclassmate," Bill said. "Thesaloon mustgo, and I will take it withme.""Youre cock-eyed.""On wine?""On wine.""Well, maybe I am.""Want to take a nap?""All right."We lay with our heads inthe shade and looked upinto thetrees.
    • "You asleep?""No," Bill said. "I wasthinking."I shut my eyes. It feltgood lying on the ground."Say," Bill said, "whatabout this Brett business?""What about it?""Were you ever in love withher?""Sure.""For how long?""Off and on for a hell of along time/
    • 124 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Oh, hell!" Bill said. Tmsorry, fella.""Its all right," I said."I dont give a damn anymore.""Really?""Really. Only Id a hell ofa lot rather not talk aboutit.""You arent sore I askedyou?""Why the hell should I be?"
    • "Im going to sleep," Billsaid. He put a newspaperover hisface."Listen, Jake," he said,"are you really aCatholic?""Technically.""What does that mean?""I dont know.""All right, Ill go tosleep now," he said. "Dontkeep me awakeby talking so much."I went to sleep, too. WhenI woke up Bill was packingthe
    • rucksack. It was late inthe afternoon and theshadow from the-trees was long and went outover the dam. I was stifffrom sleep-ing on the ground."What did you do? Wake up?"Bill asked. "Why didnt youspend the night?" Istretched and rubbed myeyes."I had a lovely dream,"Bill said. "I dontremember what it wasabout, but it was a lovelydream.""I dont think I dreamt."
    • "You ought to dream," Billsaid. "All our biggestbusiness men^j CJCJhave been dreamers. Look atFord. Look at PresidentCoolidge.Look at Rockefeller. Lookat Jo Davidson."I disjointed my rod andBills and packed them inthe rod-case.I put the reels in thetackle-bag. Bill had packedthe rucksackand we put one of thetrout-bags in. I carriedthe other.
    • "Well," said Bill, "have wegot everything?"The worms.""Your worms. Put them inthere."THE SUN ALSO RISES 125He had the pack on his backand I put the worm-cans inoneof the outside flappockets."You got everything now?"I looked around on thegrass at the foot of theelm-trees.
    • "Yes."We started up the road intothe woods. It was a longwalkhome to Burguete, and itwas dark when we came downacross thefields to the road, andalong the road between thehouses of thetown, their windowslighted, to the inn.We stayed five days atBurguete and had goodfishing. Thenights were cold and thedays were hot, and therewas always a
    • breeze even in the heat ofthe day. It was hot enoughso that itfelt good to wade in a coldstream, and the sun driedyou whenyou came out and sat on thebank. We found a streamwith apool deep enough to swimin. In the evenings weplayed three-handed bridge with anEnglishman named Harris,who hadwalked over from Saint JeanPied de Port and wasstopping atthe inn for the fishing. Hewas very pleasant and wentwith us
    • twice to the Irati River.There was no word fromRobert Cohnnor from Brett and Mike.CHAPTER XIIIONE morning I went down tobreakfast and theEnglishman,Harris, was already at thetable. He was reading thepaper throughspectacles. He looked upand smiled."Good morning/ 1 he said."Letter for you. I stoppedat the post
    • and they gave it me withmine."The letter was at my placeat the table, leaningagainst acoffee-cup. Harris wasreading the paper again. Iopened theletter. It had beenforwarded from Pamplona. Itwas dated SanSebastian, Sunday:DEAR JAKE,We got here Friday, Brettpassed out on the train, sobroughther here for 3 days restwith old friends of ours.We go to Mon-
    • toya Hotel PamplonaTuesday, arriving at Idont know whathour. Will you send a noteby the bus to tell us whatto do to rejoinyou all on Wednesday. Allour love and sorry to belate, but Brettwas really done in and willbe quite all right by Tues.and is prac-tically so now. I know herso well and try to lookafter her butits not so easy. Love toall the chaps,MICHAEL*126
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 12J"What day of the week isit?" I asked Harris."Wednesday, I think. Yes,quite. Wednesday. Wonderfulhowone loses track of the daysup here in the mountains/"Yes. WeVe been here nearlya week.""I hope youre not thinkingof leaving?""Yes. Well go in on theafternoon bus, Im afraid."
    • "What a rotten business. Ihad hoped wed all haveanother goat the Irati together.""We have to go intoPamplona. Were meetingpeople there.""What rotten luck for me.Weve had a jolly time hereat Bur-guete.""Come on in to Pamplona. Wecan play some bridge there,andtheres going to be adamned fine fiesta.""Id like to. Awfully niceof you to ask me. Id beststop on
    • here, though. Ive not muchmore time to fish.""You want those big ones inthe Irati.""I say, I do, you know.Theyre enormous troutthere.""Id like to try them oncemore.""Do. Stop over another day.Be a good chap.""We really have to get intotown," I said."What a pity."
    • After breakfast Bill and Iwere sitting warming in thesun ona bench out in front of theinn and talking it over. Isaw a girlcoming up the road from thecentre of the town. Shestopped infront of us and took atelegram out of the leatherwallet that hungagainst her skirt."Por ustedes?"I looked at it. The addresswas: "Barnes, Burguete.""Yes. Its for us."
    • She brought out a book forme to sign, and I gave hera coupleof coppers. The telegramwas in Spanish: "VengoJueves Cohn."I handed it to Bill,"What does the word Cohnmean?" he esVed.128 THE SUN ALSO RISES"What a lousy telegram!" Isaid. "He could send tenwords forthe same price. 1 comeThursday. That gives you alot of dope,doesnt it?"
    • "It gives you all the dopethats of interest toCohn.""Were going in, anyway," Isaid. "Theres no usetrying to moveBrett and Mike out here andback before the fiesta.Should weanswer it?""We might as well," saidBill. "Theres no need forus to besnooty."We walked up to the post-office and asked for atelegraphblank.
    • "What will we say?" Billasked."Arriving to-night.Thats enough."We paid for the message andwalked back to the inn.Harriswas there and the three ofus walked up toRoncesvalles. We wentthrough the monastery."Its a remarkable place,"Harris said, when we cameout. "Butyou know Im not much onthose sort of places.""Me either," Bill said.
    • "Its a remarkable place,though," Harris said. "Iwouldnt nothave seen it. Id beenintending coming up eachday.""It isnt the same asfishing, though, is it?"Bill asked. He likedHarris."I say not."We were standing in frontof the old chapel of themonastery."Isnt that a pub acrossthe way?" Harris asked. "Ordo my eyesdeceive me?"
    • "It has the look of a pub,"Bill said."It looks to me like apub," I said."I say," said Harris,"lets utilize it." He hadtaken up utilizingfrom Bill.We had a bottle of wineapiece. Harris would notlet us pay.THE SUN ALSO RISESHe talked Spanish quitewell, and the innkeeperwould not takeour money.
    • "I say. You dont know whatits meant to me to haveyou chapsup here.""Weve had a grand time,Harris."Harris was a little tight."I say. Really you dontknow how much it means.Ive not hadmuch fun since the war.""Well fish together again,some time. Dont you forgetit,Harris.""We must. We have had sucha jolly good time."
    • "How about another bottlearound?""Jolly good idea," saidHarris."This is mine," said Bill."Or we dont drink it.""I wish youd let me payfor it. It does give mepleasure, youknow.""This is going to give mepleasure," Bill said.The innkeeper brought inthe fourth bottle. We hadkept thesame glasses. Harris liftedhis glass.
    • "I say. You know this doesutilize well."Bill slapped him on theback."Good old Harris.""I say. You know my nameisnt really Harris. ItsWilson-Harris. All one name. Witha hyphen, you know.""Good old Wilson-Harris,"Bill said. "We call youHarris be-cause were so fond ofyou."
    • "I say, Barnes. You dontknow what this all means tome.""Come on and utilizeanother glass," I said."Barnes. Really, Barnes,you cant know. Thatsall.""Drink up, Harris."We walked back down theroad from Roncesvalles withHarrisbetween us. We had lunch atthe inn and Harris wentwith us130 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • to the bus. He gave us hiscard, with his address inLondon andhis club and his businessaddress, and as we got onthe bus hehanded us each an envelope.I opened mine and therewere adozen flies in it. Harrishad tied them himself. Hetied all hisown flies."I say, Harris" I began."No, no!" he said. He wasclimbing down from the bus."Theyre not first-rateflies at all. I onlythought if you fished
    • them some time it mightremind you of what a goodtime we had/The bus started. Harrisstood in front of the post-office. Hewaved. As we started alongthe road he turned andwalked backtoward the inn."Say, wasnt that Harrisnice?" Bill said."I think he really did havea good time.""Harris? You bet he did/"I wish hed come intoPamplona."
    • "He wanted to fish.""Yes. You couldnt tell howEnglish would mix with eachother,anyway/"I suppose not."We got into Pamplona latein the afternoon and thebus stoppedin front of the HotelMontoya. Out in the plazathey were string-ing electric-light wires tolight the plaza for thefiesta. A few kidscame up when the busstopped, and a customsofficer for the town
    • made all the people gettingdown from the bus opentheir bun-dles on the sidewalk. Wewent into the hotel and onthe stairsI met Montoya. He shookhands with us, smiling inhis embar-rassed way."Tour friends are here," hesaid."Mr. Campbell?""Yes. Mr. Cohn and Mr.Campbell and Lady Ashley."He smiled as though therewere something I would hearabout*
    • "When did they get in?"THE SUN ALSO RISES"Yesterday. Ive saved youthe rooms you had/"Thats fine. Did you giveMr. Campbell the room ontheplaza?""Yes. All the rooms welooked at.""Where are our friendsnow?""I think they went to thepelota."
    • "And how about the bulls?"Montoya smiled. "To-night,"he said. "To-night at sevenoclockthey bring in the Villarbulls, and to-morrow comethe Miuras.Do you all go down?""Oh, yes. Theyve neverseen a desencajonada."Montoya put his hand on myshoulder.Til see you there."He smiled again. He alwayssmiled as though bull-fighting were
    • a very special secretbetween the two of us; arather shocking butreally very deep secretthat we knew about. Healways smiled asthough there were somethinglewd about the secret tooutsiders,but that it was somethingthat we understood. Itwould not doto expose it to people whowould not understand."Your friend, is heaficionado, too?" Montoyasmiled at Bill."Yes. He came all the wayfrom New York to see theSanFermines."
    • "Yes?" Montoya politelydisbelieved. "But hes notaficionadolike you."He put his hand on myshoulder againembarrassedly.Tes," I said. "Hes a realaficionado.""But hes not aficionadolike you are."Aficion means passion. Anaficionado is one who ispassionateabout the bull-fights. Allthe good bull-fightersstayed at Montoyas
    • hotel; that is, those withaficion stayed there. Thecommercialbull-fighters stayed once,perhaps, and then did notcome back.The good ones came eachyear. In Montoyas roomwere theirphotographs. Thephotographs were dedicatedto Juanito Montoya132 THE SUN ALSO RISESor to his sister. Thephotographs of bull-fighters Montoya hadreally believed in wereframed* Photographs ofbull-fighters who
    • had been without aficionMontoya kept in a drawer ofhis desk.They often had the mostflattering inscriptions.But they did notmean anything. One dayMontoya took them all outand droppedthem in the waste-basket.He did not want themaround.We often talked about bullsand bull-fighters. I hadstopped atthe Montoya for severalyears. We never talked forvery long ata time. It was simply thepleasure of discoveringwhat we each
    • felt. Men would come infrom distant towns andbefore they leftPamplona stop and talk fora few minutes with Montoyaaboutbulls. These men wereaficionados. Those who wereaficionadoscould always get rooms evenwhen the hotel was full.Montoyaintroduced me to some ofthem. They were always verypolite atfirst, and it amused themvery much that I should bean Ameri-can. Somehow it was takenfor granted that anAmerican could
    • not have aficion. He mightsimulate it or confuse itwith excitement, but he could notreally have it. When theysaw that I hadaficion, and there was nopassword, no set questionsthat couldbring it out, rather it wasa sort of oral spiritualexamination withthe questions always alittle on the defensive andnever apparent,there was this sameembarrassed putting thehand on the shoulder,or a "Buen hombre." Butnearly always there was theactual touch-
    • ing. It seemed as thoughthey wanted to touch you tomake itcertain.Montoya could forgiveanything of a bull-fighterwho hadaficion. He could forgiveattacks of nerves, panic,bad unexplain-able actions, all sorts oflapses. For one who hadaficion he couldforgive anything. At oncehe forgave me all myfriends. Withouthis ever saying anythingthey were simply a littlesomethingshameful between us, likethe spilling open of thehorses in bull-
    • fighting.THE SUN ALSO RISES 133Bill had gone upstairs aswe came in, and I found himwashingand changing in his room."Well/* he said, "talk alot of Spanish?""He was telling me aboutthe bulls coming intonight/"Lets find the gang and godown.""All right. Theyllprobably be at the cafe?
    • "Have you got tickets?""Yes. I got them for allthe unloadings.""Whats it like?" He waspulling his cheek beforethe glass,looking to see if therewere unshaved patches underthe line ofthe jaw."Its pretty good," I said."They let the bulls out ofthe cagesone at a time, and theyhave steers in the corralto receive themand keep them fromfighting, and the bullstear in at the steers
    • and the steers run aroundlike old maids trying toquiet themdown.""Do they ever gore thesteers?""Sure. Sometimes they goright after them and killthem.""Cant the steers doanything?""No. Theyre trying to makefriends.""What do they have them infor?"
    • "To quiet down the bullsand keep them from breakingtheirhorns against the stonewalls, or goring eachother.""Must be swell being asteer."We went down the stairs andout of the door and walkedacrossthe square toward the caf6Iruna. There were twolonely lookingticket-houses standing inthe square. Their windows,marked SOL,SOL Y SOMBRA, and SOMBRA,were shut. They would notopen
    • until the day before thefiesta.Across the square the whitewicker tables and chairs oftheIruna extended out beyondthe Arcade to the edge ofthe street.I looked for Brett and Mikeat the tables. There theywere. Brett134 THE SUN ALSO RISESand Mike and Robert Cohn.Brett was wearing a Basqueberet.So was Mike. Robert Cohnwas bare-headed and wearinghis spec-
    • tacles. Brett saw us comingand waved. Her eyescrinkled up aswe came up to the table."Hello, you chaps!" shecalled.Brett was happy. Mike had away of getting an intensityoffeeling into shaking hands.Robert Cohn shook handsbecause wewere back."Where the hell have youbeen?" I asked."I brought them up here,"Cohn said.
    • "What rot," Brett said."Wed have gotten hereearlier if youhadnt come.""Youd never have gottenhere.""What rot! You chaps arebrown. Look at Bill.""Did you get good fishing?"Mike asked. "We wanted tojoinyou.""It wasnt bad. We missedyou.""I wanted to come," Cohnsaid, "but I thought Iought to bringthem."
    • "You bring us. What rot.""Was it really good?" Mikeasked. "Did you take many?""Some days we took a dozenapiece. There was anEnglishmanup there/"Named Harris," Bill said."Ever know him, Mike? Hewas inthe war, too.""Fortunate fellow," Mikesaid. "What times we had.How Iwish those dear days wereback.""Dont be an ass."
    • "Were you in the war,Mike?" Cohn asked."Was I not.""He was a verydistinguished soldier,"Brett said. "Tell themabout the time your horsebolted down Piccadilly.""Ill not. Ive told thatfour times."THE SUN ALSO RISES 135"You never told me/ 1Robert Colin said.
    • Til not tell that story.It reflects discredit onme.""Tell them about yourmedals/*Til not. That storyreflects great discredit onme.""What storys that?""Brett will tell you. Shetells all the stories thatreflect discrediton me."
    • "Go on. Tell it, Brett.""Should i?"Til tell it myself.""What medals have you got,Mike?""I havent got any medals.""You must have some.""I suppose Ive the usualmedals. But I never sent infor them.One time there was thiswopping big dinner and thePrince ofWales was to be there, andthe cards said medals willbe worn.
    • So naturally I had nomedals, and I stopped at mytailors and hewas impressed by theinvitation, and I thoughtthats a good pieceof business, and I said tohim : Touve got to fix meup with somemedals/ He said: Whatmedals, sir? And I said:Oh, any medals.Just give me a few medals/So he said: What medalshave you,sir? And I said : Howshould I know? Did hethink I spent all mytime reading the bloodygazette? Just give me agood lot. Pick
    • them out yourself/ So hegot me some medals, youknow, minia-ture medals, and handed methe box, and I put it in mypocketand forgot it. Well, I wentto the dinner, and it wasthe nighttheyd shot Henry Wilson,so the Prince didnt comeand theKing didnt come, and noone wore any medals, andall thesecoves were busy taking offtheir medals, and I hadmine in mypocket."He stopped for us to laugh."Is that all?"
    • "Thats all. Perhaps Ididnt tell it right."136 THE SUN ALSO RISES"You didnt," said Brett."But no matter."We were all laughing."Ah, yes," said Mike. "Iknow now. It was a damndull dinner,and I couldnt stick it, soI left. Later on in theevening I foundthe box in my pocket.Whats this? I said.Medals? Bloody mili-
    • tary medals? So I cut themall off their backing youknow, theyput them on a strip andgave them all around. Gaveone to eachgirl. Form of souvenir.They thought I was hellsown shakes of asoldier. Give away medalsin a night club. Dashingfellow.""Tell the rest," Brettsaid."Dont you think that wasfunny?" Mike asked. We werealllaughing. "It was. I swearit was. Any rate, my tailorwrote me
    • and wanted the medals back.Sent a man around. Kept onwrit-ing for months. Seems somechap had left them to becleaned.Frightfully military cove.Set hells own store bythem." Mikepaused. "Rotten luck forthe tailor," he said."You dont mean it," Billsaid. "I should think itwould havebeen grand for the tailor.""Frightfully good tailor.Never believe it to see menow," Mikesaid. "I used to pay him ahundred pounds a year justto keep him
    • quiet. So he wouldnt sendme any bills. Frightfulblow to himwhen I went bankrupt. Itwas right after the medals.Gave hisletters rather a bittertone.""How did you go bankrupt?"Bill asked."Two ways," Mike said."Gradually and thensuddenly.""What brought it on?""Friends," said Mike. "Ihad a lot of friends. Falsefriends. Then
    • I had creditors, too.Probably had more creditorsthan anybodyin England.""Tell them about in thecourt," Brett said."I dont remember," Mikesaid. "I was just a littletight.""Tight!" Brett exclaimed."You were blind!"THE SUN ALSO RISES 137"Extraordinary thing," Mikesaid. "Met my formerpartner the
    • other day. Offered to buyme a drink.""Tell them about yourlearned counsel," Brettsaid."I will not," Mike said."My learned counsel wasblind, too.I say this is a gloomysubject. Are we going downand see thesebulls unloaded or not?""Lets go down."We called the waiter, paid,and started to walk throughthetown. I started off walkingwith Brett, but Robert Cohncame up
    • and joined her on the otherside. The three of uswalked along,past the Ayuntamiento withthe banners hung from thebalcony,down past the market anddown past the steep streetthat led tothe bridge across the Arga.There were many peoplewalking togo and see the bulls, andcarriages drove down thehill and acrossthe bridge, the drivers,the horses, and the whipsrising above thewalking people in thestreet. Across the bridgewe turned up a
    • road to the corrals. Wepassed a wine-shop with asign in thewindow: Good Wine 30Centimes A Liter."Thats where well go whenfunds get low," Brett said.The woman standing in thedoor of the wine-shoplooked atus as we passed. She calledto some one in the houseand threegirls came to the windowand stared. They werestaring at Brett.At the gate of the corralstwo men took tickets fromthe people
    • that went in. We went inthrough the gate. Therewere treesinside and a low, stonehouse. At the far end wasthe stone wallof the corrals, withapertures in the stone thatwere like loop-holes running all along theface of each corral. Aladder led up tothe top of the wall, andpeople were climbing up theladder andspreading down to stand onthe walls that separatedthe two cor-rals. As we came up theladder, walking across thegrass under the
    • trees, we passed the big,gray painted cages with thebulls in them.There was one bull in eachtravelling-box. They hadcome by138 THE SUN ALSO RISEStrain from a bull-breedingranch in Castile, and hadbeen un-loaded off flat-cars at thestation and brought up hereto be let outof their cages into thecorrals. Each cage wasstencilled with thename and the brand of thebull-breeder.
    • We climbed up and found aplace on the wall lookingdowninto the corral. The stonewalls were whitewashed, andthere wasstraw on the ground andwooden feed-boxes andwater-troughsset against the wall."Look up there/ I said.Beyond the river rose theplateau of the town. Allalong theold walls and rampartspeople were standing. Thethree lines offortifications made threeblack lines of people.Above the walls
    • there were heads in thewindows of the houses. Atthe far end ofthe plateau boys hadclimbed into the trees."They must think somethingis going to happen," Brettsaid."They want to see thebulls/Mike and Bill were on theother wall across the pitof the corral.They waved to us. Peoplewho had come late werestanding be-hind us, pressing againstus when other peoplecrowded them.
    • "Why dont they start?"Robert Cohn asked.A single mule was hitchedto one of the cages anddragged itup against the gate in thecorral wall. The men shovedand liftedit with crowbars intoposition against the gate.Men were stand-ing on the wall ready topull up the gate of thecorral and thenthe gate of the cage. Atthe other end of the corrala gate openedand two steers came in,swaying their heads andtrotting, their lean
    • flanks swinging. They stoodtogether at the far end,their headstoward the gate where thebull would enter."They dont look happy,"Brett said.The men on top of the wallleaned back and pulled upthedoor of the corral. Thenthey pulled up the door ofthe cage.I leaned way over the walland tried to see into thecage. Itwas dark. Some one rappedon the cage with an ironbar. Inside
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 139something seemed toexplode. The bull, strikinginto the woodfrom side to side with hishorns, made a great noise.Then I saw adark muzzle and the shadowof horns, and then, with aclatteringon the wood in the hollowbox, the bull charged andcame outinto the corral, skiddingwith his forefeet in thestraw as hestopped, his head up, thegreat hump of muscle on hisneck
    • swollen tight, his bodymuscles quivering as helooked up at thecrowd on the stone walls.The two steers backed awayagainst thewall, their heads sunken,their eyes watching thebull.The bull saw them andcharged. A man shouted frombehindone of the boxes andslapped his hat against theplanks, and thebull, before he reached thesteer, turned, gatheredhimself andcharged where the man hadbeen, trying to reach himbehind the
    • planks with a half-dozenquick, searching driveswith the righthorn."My God, isnt hebeautiful?" Brett said. Wewere lookingright down on him."Look how he knows how touse his horns/ I said.Hes got aleft and a right just likea boxer/"Not really?""You watch."It goes too fast."
    • "Wait. Therell be anotherone in a minute/They had backed up anothercage into the entrance. Inthe farcorner a man, from behindone of the plank shelters,attractedthe bull, and while thebull was facing away thegate was pulledup and a second bull cameout into the corral.He charged straight for thesteers and two men ran outfrombehind the planks andshouted, to turn him. Hedid not change
    • his direction and the menshouted: "Hah! Hah! Toro!"and wavedtheir arms; the two steersturned sideways to take theshock, andthe bull drove into one ofthe steers."Dont look," I said toBrett. She was watching,fascinated*THE SUN ALSO RISES"Fine," I said. "If itdoesnt buck you.""I saw it," she said. "Isaw him shift from his leftto his right
    • horn.""Damn good!"The steer was down now, hisneck stretched out, hisheadtwisted, he lay the way hehad fallen. Suddenly thebull left offand made for the othersteer which had beenstanding at the farend, his head swinging,watching it alL The steerran awkwardlyand the bull caught him,hooked hirri lightly in theflank, andthen turned away and lookedup at the crowd on thewalls, his
    • crest of muscle rising. Thesteer came up to him andmade asthough to nose at him andthe bull hookedperfunctorily. Thenext time he nosed at thesteer and then the two ofthem trottedover to the other bull.When the next bull cameout, all three, the twobulls and thesteer, stood together,their heads side by side,their horns againstthe newcomer. In a fewminutes the steer pickedthe new bull up,quieted him down, and madehim one of the herd. Whenthe
    • last two bulls had beenunloaded the herd were alltogether.The steer who had beengored had gotten to hisfeet and stoodagainst the stone wall.None of the bulls came nearhim, and hedid not attempt to join theherd.We climbed down from thewall with the crowd, andhad a lastlook at the bulls throughthe loopholes in the wallof the corral.They were all quiet now,their heads down. We got acarriage
    • outside and rode up to thecaf6. Mike and Bill came inhalf anhour later. They hadstopped on the way forseveral drinks.We were sitting in thecafe."Thats an extraordinarybusiness," Brett said."Will those last ones fightas well as the first?"Robert Cohnasked. "They seemed toquiet down awfully fast.""They all know each other,"I said. "Theyre onlydangerous
    • when theyre alone, or onlytwo or three of themtogether."THE SUN ALSO RISES 14!"What do you mean,dangerous?" Bill said.They all lookeddangerous to me/ 1"They only want to killwhen theyre alone. Ofcourse, if youwent in there youdprobably detach one of themfrom the herd,and hed be dangerous."
    • "Thats too complicated,"Bill said. "Dont you everdetach mefrom the herd, Mike.""I say," Mike said, "theywere fine bulls, werentthey? Did yousee their horns?""Did I not," said Brett. "Ihad no idea what they werelike.""Did you see the one hitthat steer?" Mike asked."That wasextraordinary.""Its no life being asteer," Robert Cohn said.
    • "Dont you think so?" Mikesaid. "I would have thoughtyoudloved being a steer,Robert.""What do you mean, Mike?""They lead such a quietlife. They never sayanything andtheyre always hangingabout so."We were embarrassed. Billlaughed. Robert Cohn wasangry.Mike went on talking."I should think youd loveit. Youd never have to saya word.
    • Come on, Robert. Do saysomething. Dont just sitthere.""I said something, Mike.Dont you remember? Aboutthesteers.""Oh, say something more.Say something funny. Cantyou seewere all having a goodtime here?""Come off it, Michael.Youre drunk," Brett said.
    • "Im not drunk. Im quiteserious. Is Robert Cohngoing to fol-low Brett around like asteer all the time?""Shut up, Michael. Try andshow a little breeding.""Breeding be damned. Whohas any breeding, anyway,exceptthe bulls? Arent the bullslovely? Dont you likethem, Bill? Whydont you say something,Robert? Dont sit therelooking like a142 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • bloody funeral. What ifBrett did sleep with you?Shes slept withlots of better people thanyou.""Shut up," Cohn said. Hestood up. "Shut up, Mike.""Oh, dont stand up and actas though you were going tohitme. That wont make anydifference to me. Tell me,Robert. Whydo you follow Brett aroundlike a poor bloody steer?Dont youknow youre not wanted? Iknow when Im not wanted.Why
    • dont you know when yourenot wanted? You came downtoSan Sebastian where youwerent wanted, andfollowed Brettaround like a bloody steer.Do you think thats right?""Shut up. Youre drunk.""Perhaps I am drunk. Whyarent you drunk? Why dontyouever get drunk, Robert? Youknow you didnt have a goodtimeat San Sebastian becausenone of our friends wouldinvite youon any of the parties. Youcant blame them hardly.Can you?
    • I asked them to. Theywouldnt do it. You cantblame them, now.Can you? Now, answer me.Can you blame them?""Go to hell, Mike.""I cant blame them. Canyou blame them? Why do youfollowBrett around? Havent youany manners? How do youthink itmakes me feel?""Youre a splendid one totalk about manners," Brettsaid."Youve such lovelymanners."
    • "Come on, Robert," Billsaid."What do you follow heraround for?"Bill stood up and took holdof Cohn."Dont go," Mike said."Robert Cohns going to buya drink."Bill went off with Cohn.Cohns face was sallow.Mike went ontalking. I sat and listenedfor a while. Brett lookeddisgusted."I say, Michael, you mightnot be such a bloody ass,"she in-
    • terrupted. "Im not sayinghes not right, you know."She turnedto me.THE SUN ALSO RISES 143The emotion left Mikesvoice. We were all friendstogether."Im not so damn drunk as Isounded," he said."I know youre not," Brettsaid."Were none of us sober," Isaid.
    • "I didnt say anything Ididnt mean.""But you put it so badly,"Brett laughed."He was an ass, though. Hecame down to San Sebastianwherehe damn well wasnt wanted.He hung around Brett andjustlooked at her. It made medamned well sick.""He did behave very badly,"Brett said."Mark you. Bretts hadaffairs with men before.She tells me all
    • about everything. She gaveme this chap Cohns lettersto read.I wouldnt read them.""Damned noble of you.""No, listen, Jake. Brettsgone off with men. But theywerentever Jews, and they didntcome and hang aboutafterward.""Damned good chaps," Brettsaid. "Its all rot to talkabout it.Michael and I understandeach other.""She gave me Robert Cohnsletters. I wouldnt readthem."
    • "You wouldnt read anyletters, darling. Youwouldnt readmine.""I cant read letters,"Mike said. "Funny, isntit?""You cant read anything.""No. Youre wrong there. Iread quite a bit. I readwhen Imat home.""Youll be writing next,"Brett said. "Come on,Michael. Dobuck up. Youve got to gothrough with this thingnow. Hes here.
    • Dont spoil the fiesta.""Well, let him behave,then.""Hell behave. Ill tellhim.""You tell him, Jake. Tellhim either he must behaveor getout."144 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Yes," I said, "it would benice for me to tell him/
    • "Look, Brett. Tell Jakewhat Robert calls you. Thatis perfect,you know/"Oh, no. I cant.""Go on. Were all friends.Arent we all friends,Jake?""I cant tell him. Its tooridiculous."Til tell him.""You wont, Michael. Dontbe an ass.""He calls her Circe," Mikesaid. "He claims she turnsmen into
    • swine. Damn good. I wish Iwere one of these literarychaps.""Hed be good, you know,"Brett said. "He writes agoodletter.""I know," I said. "He wroteme from San Sebastian.""That was nothing," Brettsaid. "He can write adamned amus-ing letter.""She made me write that.She was supposed to beill.""I damned well was, too."
    • "Come on," I said, "we mustgo in and eat.""How should I meet Cohn?"Mike said."Just act as though nothinghad happened.""Its quite all right withme," Mike said. "Im notembarrassed/ 1"If he says anything, justsay you were tight.""Quite. And the funny thingis I think I was tight.""Come on," Brett said. "Arethese poisonous things paidfor?
    • I must bathe beforedinner."We walked across thesquare. It was dark and allaround thesquare were the lights fromthe cafes under thearcades. Wewalked across the gravelunder the trees to thehotel.They went up-stairs and Istopped to speak withMontoya."Well, how did you like thebulls?" he asked."Good. They were nicebulls."
    • "Theyre all right" Montoyashook his head "but theyrenottoo good."THE SUN ALSO RISES 145"What didnt you like aboutthem?""I dont know. They justdidnt give me the feelingthat theywere so good.""I know what you mean.""Theyre all right.""Yes. Theyre all right."
    • "How did your friends likethem?""Fine.""Good," Montoya said.I went up-stairs. Bill wasin his room standing on thebalconylooking out at the square.I stood beside him."Wheres Cohn?""Up-stairs in his room.""How does he feel?""Like hell, naturally. Mikewas awful. Hes terriblewhen hestight."
    • "He wasnt so tight.""The hell he wasnt. I knowwhat we had before we cametothe cafe.""He sobered up afterward.""Good. He was terrible. Idont like Cohn, God knows,and Ithink it was a silly trickfor him to go down to SanSebastian, butnobody has any business totalk like Mike.""Howd you like the bulls?""Grand. Its grand the waythey bring them out"
    • "To-morrow come theMiuras.""When does the fiestastart?""Day after to-morrow.""Weve got to keep Mikefrom getting so tight. Thatkind ofstuff is terrible.""Wed better get cleaned upfor supper.""Yes. That will be apleasant meal.""Wont it?"
    • 146 THE SUN ALSO RISESAs a matter of fact, supperwas a pleasant meal. Brettwore ablack, sleeveless eveningdress. She looked quitebeautiful. Mikeacted as though nothing hadhappened. I had to go upand bringRobert Cohn down. He wasreserved and formal, andhis facewas still taut and sallow,but he cheered up finally.He could notstop looking at Brett. Itseemed to make him happy.It must have
    • been pleasant for him tosee her looking so lovely,and know hehad been away with her andthat every one knew it.They couldnot take that away fromhim. Bill was very funny.So wasMichael. They were goodtogether.It was like certain dinnersI remember from the war.Therewas much wine, an ignoredtension, and a feeling ofthings com-ing that you could notprevent happening. Underthe wine I lost
    • the disgusted feeling andwas happy. It seemed theywere allsuch nice people.CHAPTER XIVI DO not know what time Igot to bed. I rememberundressing,putting on a bathrobe, andstanding out on thebalcony. I knewI was quite drunk, and whenI came in I put on thelight overthe head of the bed andstarted to read. I wasreading a book
    • by Turgenieff. Probably Iread the same two pagesover severaltimes. It was one of thestories in "A SportsmansSketches." Ihad read it before, but itseemed quite new. Thecountry becamevery clear and the feelingof pressure in my headseemed toloosen. I was very drunkand I did not want to shutmy eyes be-cause the room would goround and round. If I kepton readingthat feeling would pass.I heard Brett and RobertCohn come up the stairs.Cohn said
    • good night outside the doorand went on up to his room.I heardBrett go into the room nextdoor. Mike was already inbed. Hehad come in with me an hourbefore. He woke as she camein,and they talked together. Iheard them laugh. I turnedoff thelight and tried to go tosleep. It was not necessaryto read anymore. I could shut my eyeswithout getting thewheeling sensa-148 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • tion. But I could notsleep. There is no reasonwhy because it isdark you should look atthings differently fromwhen it is light.The hell there isnt!I figured that all outonce, and for six months Inever slept withthe electric light off.That was another brightidea. To hell withwomen, anyway. To hell withyou, Brett Ashley.Women made such swellfriends. Awfully swell. Inthe firstplace, you had to be inlove with a woman to have abasis of
    • friendship. I had beenhaving Brett for a friend.I had not beenthinking about her side ofit. I had been gettingsomething fornothing. That only delayedthe presentation of thebill. The billalways came. That was oneof the swell things youcould count on.I thought I had paid foreverything. Not like thewoman paysand pays and pays. No ideaof retribution orpunishment. Justexchange of values. Yougave up something and gotsomething
    • else. Or you worked forsomething. You paid someway for every-thing that was any good. Ipaid my way into enoughthings that Iliked, so that I had a goodtime. Either you paid bylearningabout them, or byexperience, or by takingchances, or by money.Enjoying living waslearning to get yourmoneys worth andknowing when you had it.You could get your moneysworth.The world was a good placeto buy in. It seemed like afine
    • philosophy. In five years,I thought, it will seemjust as silly asall the other finephilosophies Ive had.Perhaps that wasnt true,though. Perhaps as you wentalongyou did learn something. Idid not care what it wasall about. AllI wanted to know was how tolive in it. Maybe if youfound outhow to live in it youlearned from that what itwas all about.I wished Mike would notbehave so terribly to Cohn,though.
    • Mike was a bad drunk. Brettwas a good drunk. Bill wasa gooddrunk. Cohn was neverdrunk. Mike was unpleasantafter hepassed a certain point. Iliked to see him hurt Cohn*I wished heTHE SUN ALSO RISES 149would not do it, though,because afterward it mademe disgustedat myself. That wasmorality; things that madeyou disgustedafterward. No, that must beimmorality. That was alarge state-
    • ment. What a lot of bilge Icould think up at night.What rot, Icould hear Brett say it.What rot! When you werewith Englishyou got into the habit ofusing English expressionsin your think-ing The English spokenlanguage the upper classes,anyway-must have fewer words thanthe Eskimo. Of course Ididnt knowanything about the Eskimo.Maybe the Eskimo was a finelanguage. Say the Cherokee.I didnt know anythingabout theCherokee, either. TheEnglish talked withinflected phrases. One
    • phrase to mean everything.I liked them, though. Iliked the waythey talked. Take Harris.Still Harris was not theupper classes.I turned on the light againand read. I read theTurgenieff. Iknew that now, reading itin the oversensitized stateof my mindafter much too much brandy,I would remember itsomewhere, andafterward it would seem asthough it had reallyhappened to me.I would always have it.That was another good thingyou paid for
    • and then had. Some timealong toward daylight Iwent to sleep.The next two days inPamplona were quiet, andthere were nomore rows. The town wasgetting ready for thefiesta. Workmenput up the gate-posts thatwere to shut off the sidestreets whenthe bulls were releasedfrom the corrals and camerunning throughthe streets in the morningon their way to the ring.The work-men dug holes and fitted inthe timbers, each timbernumbered
    • for its regular place. Outon the plateau beyond thetown em-ployees of the bull-ringexercised picador horses,galloping themstiff-legged on the hard,sun-baked fields behind thebull-ring.The big gate of the bull-ring was open, and insidethe amphi-theatre was being swept.The ring was rolled andsprinkled, andcarpenters replacedweakened or cracked planksin the barrera.THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • Standing at the edge of thesmooth rolled sand youcould lookup in the empty stands andsee old women sweeping outtheboxes.Outside, the fence that ledfrom the last street of thetown tothe entrance of the bull-ring was already in placeand made along pen; the crowd wouldcome running down with thebullsbehind them on the morningof the day of the firstbull-fight.Out across the plain, wherethe horse and cattle fairwould be,
    • some gypsies had campedunder the trees. The wineand aguar-diente sellers were puttingup their booths. One boothadvertisedANIS DEL TORO. The clothsign hung against theplanks in thehot sun. In the big squarethat was the centre of thetown therewas no change yet. We satin the white wicker chairson the ter-rasse of the caf6 andwatched the motor-busescome in and unloadpeasants from the countrycoming in to the market,and we
    • watched the buses fill upand start out with peasantssitting withtheir saddle-bags full ofthe things they had boughtin the town.The tall gray motor-buseswere the only life of thesquare exceptfor the pigeons and the manwith a hose who sprinkledthegravelled square andwatered the streets.In the evening was thepaseo. For an hour afterdinner everyone, all the good-lookinggirls, the officers fromthe garrison, all
    • the fashionable people ofthe town, walked in thestreet on oneside of the square whilethe cafe tables filled withthe regularafter-dinner crowd.During the morning Iusually sat in the caf6 andread theMadrid papers and thenwalked in the town or outinto the coun-try. Sometimes Bill wentalong. Sometimes he wrotein his room.Robert Cohn spent themornings studying Spanishor trying to geta shave at the barber-shop.Brett and Mike never got upuntil
    • noon. We all had a vermouthat the cafe. It was a quietlife and noone was drunk. I went tochurch a couple of times,once withBrett. She said she wantedto hear me go toconfession, but I toldTHE SUN ALSO RISES 151her that not only was itimpossible but it was notas interestingas it sounded, and,besides, it would be in alanguage she did notknow. We met Cohn as wecame out of church, andalthough it
    • was obvious he had followedus, yet he was verypleasant and nice,and we all three went for awalk out to the gypsy camp,and Bretthad her fortune told.It was a good morning,there were high whiteclouds above themountains. It had rained alittle in the night and itwas fresh andcool on the plateau, andthere was a wonderful view.We all feltgood and we felt healthy,and I felt quite friendlyto Cohn. Youcould not be upset aboutanything on a day likethat.
    • That was the last daybefore the fiesta.CHAPTER XVAT noon of Sunday, the 6thof July, the fiestaexploded. There isno other way to describeit. People had been comingin all dayfrom the country, but theywere assimilated in thetown and youdid not notice them. Thesquare was as quiet in thehot sun as
    • on any other day. Thepeasants were in theoutlying wine-shops.There they were drinking,getting ready for thefiesta. They hadcome in so recently fromthe plains and the hillsthat it wasnecessary that they maketheir shifting in valuesgradually. Theycould not start in payingcaf prices. They got theirmoneys worthin the wine-shops. Moneystill had a definite valuein hoursworked and bushels of grainsold. Late in the fiesta itwould notmatter what they paid, norwhere they bought.
    • Now on the day of thestarting of the fiesta ofSan Ferminthey had been in the wine-shops of the narrow streetsof the townsince early morning. Goingdown the streets in themorning onthe way to mass in thecathedral, I heard themsinging throughthe open doors of theshops. They were warmingup. There were152THE SUN ALSO RISES 153
    • many people at the elevenoclock mass. San Fermin isalso areligious festival.I walked down the hill fromthe cathedral and up thestreet tothe cafe on the square. Itwas a little before noon.Robert Cohnand Bill were sitting atone of the tables. Themarble-topped tablesand the white wicker chairswere gone. They werereplaced bycast-iron tables and severefolding chairs. The caf6was like abattleship stripped foraction. To-day the waitersdid not leave you
    • alone all morning to readwithout asking if youwanted to ordersomething. A waiter came upas soon as I sat down."What are you drinking?" Iasked Bill and Robert."Sherry," Cohn said."Jerez," I said to thewaiter.Before the waiter broughtthe sherry the rocket thatannouncedthe fiesta went up in thesquare. It burst and therewas a grayball of smoke high up abovethe Theatre Gayarre, acrosson the
    • other side of the plaza.The ball of smoke hung inthe sky like ashrapnel burst, and as Iwatched, another rocketcame up to it,trickling smoke in thebright sunlight. I saw thebright flash as itburst and another littlecloud of smoke appeared. Bythe time thesecond rocket had burstthere were so many peoplein the arcade,that had been empty aminute before, that thewaiter, holding thebottle high up over hishead, could hardly getthrough the crowd
    • to our table. People werecoming into the square fromall sides,and down the street weheard the pipes and thefifes and thedrums coming. They wereplaying the riau-riaumusic, the pipesshrill and the drumspounding, and behind themcame the menand boys dancing. When thefifers stopped they allcrouched downin the street, and when thereed-pipes and the fifesshrilled, andthe flat, dry, hollow drumstapped it out again, theyall went up in
    • the air dancing. In thecrowd you saw only theheads and shouldersof the dancers going up anddown.154 THE SUN ALSO RISESIn the square a man, bentover, was playing on areed-pipe, anda crowd of children werefollowing him shouting, andpullingat his clothes. He came outof the square, the childrenfollowinghim, and piped them pastthe cafe" and down a sidestreet. We saw
    • his blank pockmarked faceas he went by, piping, thechildrenclose behind him shoutingand pulling at him."He must be the villageidiot," Bill said. "My God!look atthat!"Down the street camedancers. The street wassolid withdancers, all men. They wereall dancing in time behindtheir ownfifers and drummers. Theywere a club of some sort,and all woreworkmens blue smocks, andred handkerchiefs aroundtheir
    • necks, and carried a greatbanner on two poles. Thebannerdanced up and down withthem as they came downsurroundedby the crowd."Hurray for Wine! Hurrayfor the Foreigners!" waspainted onthe banner."Where are the foreigners?"Robert Cohn asked."Were the foreigners,"Bill said.All the time rockets weregoing up. The cafe" tableswere all
    • full now. The square wasemptying of people and thecrowd wasfilling the cafes."Wheres Brett and Mike?"Bill asked."Ill go and get them,"Cohn said."Bring them here."The fiesta was reallystarted. It kept up day andnight for sevendays. The dancing kept up,the drinking kept up, thenoise wenton. The things thathappened could only havehappened during a
    • fiesta. Everything becamequite unreal finally and itseemed asthough nothing could haveany consequences. It seemedout ofplace to think ofconsequences during thefiesta. All during thefiesta you had the feeling,even when it was quiet,that you had toTHE SUN ALSO RISES 155shout any remark to make itheard. It was the samefeeling aboutany action. It was a fiestaand it went on for sevendays.
    • That afternoon was the bigreligious procession. SanFerminwas translated from onechurch to another. In theprocession wereall the dignitaries, civiland religious. We could notsee them be-cause the crowd was toogreat. Ahead of the formalprocessionand behind it danced theriau-riau dancers. Therewas one massof yellow shirts dancing upand down in the crowd. Allwe couldsee of the processionthrough the closely pressedpeople that
    • crowded all the sidestreets and curbs were thegreat giants, cigar-store Indians, thirty feethigh, Moors, a King andQueen, whirlingand waltzing solemnly tothe riau-riau.They were all standingoutside the chapel whereSan Ferminand the dignitaries hadpassed in, leaving a guardof soldiers, thegiants, with the men whodanced in them standingbeside theirresting frames, and thedwarfs moving with theirwhacking blad-
    • ders through the crowd. Westarted inside and therewas a smellof incense and peoplefiling back into thechurch, but Brett wasstopped just inside thedoor because she had nohat, so we wentout again and along thestreet that ran back fromthe chapel intotown. The street was linedon both sides with peoplekeepingtheir place at the curb forthe return of theprocession. Somedancers formed a circlearound Brett and started todance. They
    • wore big wreaths of whitegarlics around their necks.They tookBill and me by the arms andput us in the circle. Billstarted todance, too. They were allchanting. Brett wanted todance butthey did not want her to.They wanted her as an imageto dancearound. When the song endedwith the sharp riau-riaultheyrushed us into a wine-shop.We stood at the counter.They had Brett seated on awine-cask. It was dark in thewine-shop and full of mensinging, hard-
    • voiced singing. Back of thecounter they drew the winefrom156 THE SUN ALSO RISEScasks. I put down money forthe wine, but one of themen pickedit up and put it back in mypocket."I want a leather wine-bottle/ Bill said."Theres a place down thestreet/ I said. Til goget a couple/
    • The dancers did not want meto go out. Three of themwere sit-ting on the high wine-caskbeside Brett, teaching herto drink outof the wine-skins. They hadhung a wreath of garlicsaround herneck. Some one insisted ongiving her a glass.Somebody wasteaching Bill a song.Singing it into his ear.Beating time on Billsback.I explained to them that Iwould be back. Outside inthe streetI went down the streetlooking for the shop thatmade leather
    • wine-bottles. The crowd waspacked on the sidewalks andmanyof the shops wereshuttered, and I could notfind it. I walked asfar as the church, lookingon both sides of thestreet. Then Iasked a man and he took meby the arm and led me toit. Theshutters were up but thedoor was open.Inside it smelled of freshtanned leather and hot tar.A manwas stencilling completedwine-skins. They hung fromthe roof
    • in bunches. He took onedown, blew it up, screwedthe nozzletight, and then jumped onit."See! It doesnt leak.""I want another one, too. Abig one."He took down a big one thatwould hold a gallon ormore, fromthe roof. He blew it up,his cheeks puffing ahead ofthe wine-skin, and stood on the botaholding on to a chair."What are you going to do?Sell them in Bayonne?"
    • "No. Drink out of them."He slapped me on the back."Good man. Eight pesetasfor the two. The lowestprice."The man who was stencillingthe new ones and tossingtheminto a pile stopped."Its true," he said."Eight pesetas is cheap."THE SUN ALSO RISESI paid and went out andalong the street back tothe wine-shop.
    • It was darker than everinside and very crowded. Idid not seeBrett and Bill, and someone said they were in theback room. Atthe counter the girl filledthe two wine-skins for me.One heldtwo litres. The other heldfive litres. Filling themboth cost threepesetas sixty centimos.Some one at the counter,that I had neverseen before, tried to payfor the wine, but I finallypaid for it my-self. The man who hadwanted to pay then boughtme a drink.
    • He would not let me buy onein return, but said hewould take arinse of the mouth from thenew wine-bag. He tipped thebigfive-litre bag up andsqueezed it so the winehissed against theback of his throat."All right," he said, andhanded back the bag.In the back room Brett andBill were sitting onbarrels sur-rounded by the dancers.Everybody had his arms oneverybodyelses shoulders, and theywere all singing. Mike wassitting at a
    • table with several men intheir shirt-sleeves, eatingfrom a bowl oftuna fish, chopped onionsand vinegar. They were alldrinkingwine and mopping up the oiland vinegar with pieces ofbread."Hello, Jake. Hello!" Mikecalled. "Come here. I wantyou tomeet my friends. Were allhaving an hors-doeuvre/ 1I was introduced to thepeople at the table. Theysupplied theirnames to Mike and sent fora fork for me.
    • "Stop eating their dinner,Michael," Brett shoutedfrom thewine-barrels."I dont want to eat upyour meal," I said whensome onehanded me a fork."Eat," he said. "What doyou think its here for?"I unscrewed the nozzle ofthe big wine-bottle andhanded itaround. Every one took adrink, tipping the wine-skin at armslength.
    • Outside, above the singing,we could hear the music oftheprocession going by.158 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Isnt that theprocession?" Mike asked."Nada," some one said."Its nothing. Drink up.Lift the bottle.""Where did they find you?"I asked Mike."Some one brought me here,"Mike said. "They said youwerehere."
    • "Wheres Cohn?""Hes passed out," Brettcalled. Theyve put himaway some-where.""Where is he?""I dont know.""How should we know," Billsaid. "I think hes dead.""Hes not dead," Mike said."I know hes not dead. Hesjustpassed out on Anis delMono."
    • As he said Anis del Monoone of the men at the tablelookedup, brought out a bottlefrom inside his smock, andhanded itto me."No," I said. "No, thanks!""Yes. Yes. Arriba! Up withthe bottle!"I took a drink. It tastedof licorice and warmed allthe way. Icould feel it warming in mystomach."Where the hell is Cohn?"
    • "I dont know," Mike said."Ill ask. Where is thedrunkencomrade?" he asked inSpanish."You want to see him?""Yes," I said."Not me," said Mike. "Thisgent."The Anis del Mono man wipedhis mouth and stood up."Come on."In a back room Robert Cohnwas sleeping quietly onsome
    • wine-casks. It was almosttoo dark to see his face.They had cov-ered him with a coat andanother coat was foldedunder his head.Around his neck and on hischest was a big wreath oftwistedgarlics.THE SUN ALSO RISES"Let him sleep," the manwhispered. "Hes allright."Two hours later Cohnappeared. He came into thefront room
    • still with the wreath ofgarlics around his neck.The Spaniardsshouted when he came in.Cohn wiped his eyes andgrinned."I must have beensleeping," he said."Oh, not at all," Brettsaid."You were only dead," Billsaid."Arent we going to go andhave some supper?" Cohnasked."Do you want to eat?""Yes. Why not? Im hungry."
    • "Eat those garlics,Robert," Mike said. "I say.Do eat thosegarlics."Cohn stood there. His sleephad made him quite allright."Do lets go and eat,"Brett said. "I must get abath.""Come on," Bill said."Lets translate Brett tothe hotel."We said good-bye to manypeople and shook hands withmanypeople and went out.Outside it was dark.
    • "What time is it do yousuppose?" Cohn asked."Its to-morrow," Mikesaid. "Youve been asleeptwo days.""No," said Cohn, "what timeis it?""Its ten oclock.""What a lot weve drunk.""You mean what a lot wevedrunk. You went to sleep."Going down the dark streetsto the hotel we saw thesky-
    • rockets going up in thesquare. Down the sidestreets that led tothe square we saw thesquare solid with people,those in thecentre all dancing.It was a big meal at thehotel. It was the firstmeal of the pricesbeing doubled for thefiesta, and there wereseveral new courses.After the dinner we wereout in the town. I rememberresolvingthat I would stay up allnight to watch the bulls gothrough thestreets at six oclock inthe morning, and being sosleepy that I
    • went to bed around fouroclock. The others stayedup.l6o THE SUN ALSO RISESMy own room was locked andI could not find the key,so Iwent up-stairs and slept onone of the beds in Cohnsroom. Thefiesta was going on outsidein the night, but I was toosleepy forit to keep me awake. When Iwoke it was the sound ofthe rocketexploding that announcedthe release of the bullsfrom the cor-
    • rals at the edge of town.They would race through thestreets andout to the bull-ring. I hadbeen sleeping heavily and Iwokefeeling I was too late. Iput on a coat of Cohns andwent out onthe balcony. Down below thenarrow street was empty.All thebalconies were crowded withpeople. Suddenly a crowdcame downthe street. They were allrunning, packed closetogether. Theypassed along and up thestreet toward the bull-ringand behind
    • them came more men runningfaster, and then somestragglerswho were really running.Behind them was a littlebare space, andthen the bulls galloping,tossing their heads up anddown. It allwent out of sight aroundthe corner. One man fell,rolled to thegutter, and lay quiet. Butthe bulls went right on anddid notnotice him. They were allrunning together.After they went out ofsight a great roar camefrom the bull-
    • ring. It kept on. Thenfinally the pop of therocket that meantthe bulls had gottenthrough the people in thering and into thecorrals. I went back in theroom and got into bed. Ihad beenstanding on the stonebalcony in bare feet. Iknew our crowdmust have all been out atthe bull-ring. Back in bed,I went tosleep.Cohn woke me when he camein. He started to undressandwent over and closed thewindow because the peopleon the
    • balcony of the house justacross the street werelooking in."Did you see the show?" Iasked."Yes. We were all there/"Anybody get hurt?""One of the bulls got intothe crowd in the ring andtossed sixor eight people/THE SUN ALSO RISES l6l"How did Brett like it?"
    • "It was all so sudden therewasnt any time for it tobotheranybody. 1 "I wish Id been up.""We didnt know where youwere. We went to your roombutit was locked.""Where did you stay up?""We danced at some club.""I got sleepy," I said."My gosh! Im sleepy now,"Cohn said. "Doesnt thisthing everstop?"
    • "Not for a week."Bill opened the door andput his head in."Where were you, Jake?""I saw them go through fromthe balcony. How was it?""Grand.""Where you going?""To sleep."No one was up before noon.We ate at tables set outunder thearcade. The town was fullof people. We had to waitfor a table.
    • After lunch we went over tothe Irufia. It had filledup, and asthe time for the bull-fightcame it got fuller, and thetables werecrowded closer. There was aclose, crowded hum thatcame everyday before the bull-fight.The cafe did not make thissame noiseat any other time, nomatter how crowded it was.This hum wenton, and we were in it and apart of it.I had taken six seats forall the fights. Three ofthem were
    • barreras, the first row atthe ring-side, and threewere sobrepuertos,seats with wooden backs,half-way up theamphitheatre. Mikethought Brett had best sithigh up for her first time,and Cohnwanted to sit with them.Bill and I were going tosit in thebarreras, and I gave theextra ticket to a waiter tosell. Bill saidsomething to Cohn aboutwhat to do and how to lookso hel62 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • would not mind the horses.Bill had seen one season ofbull-fights."Im not worried about howIll stand it. Im onlyafraid I maybe bored," Cohn said."You think so?""Dont look at the horses,after the bull hits them,"I said toBrett. "Watch the chargeand see the picador try andkeep thebull off, but then dontlook again until the horseis dead if itsbeen hit."
    • "Im a little nervy aboutit," Brett said. "Imworried whetherIll be able to go throughwith it all right.""Youll be all right.Theres nothing but thathorse part thatwill bother you, andtheyre only in for a fewminutes with eachbull. Just dont watch whenits bad.""Shell be all right," Mikesaid. "Ill look afterher/"I dont think youll bebored," Bill said.
    • "Im going over to thehotel to get the glassesand the wine-skin/I said. "See you back here.Dont get cock-eyed.""Ill come along," Billsaid. Brett smiled at us.We walked around throughthe arcade to avoid theheat of thesquare."That Cohn gets me," Billsaid. "Hes got this Jewishsuperiorityso strong that he thinksthe only emotion hell getout of the fightwill be being bored."
    • "Well watch him with theglasses," I said."Oh, to hell with him!""He spends a lot of timethere.""I want him to stay there."In the hotel on the stairswe met Montoya."Come on," said Montoya."Do you want to meet PedroRomero?""Fine," said Bill. "Letsgo see him."We followed Montoya up aflight and down thecorridor.
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 163"Hes in room numbereight," Montoya explained."Hes gettingdressed for the bull-fight/Montoya knocked on the doorand opened it. It was agloomyroom with a little lightcoming in from the windowon the nar-row street. There were twobeds separated by amonastic partition.The electric light was on.The boy stood very straightand un-
    • smiling in his bull-fighting clothes. Hisjacket hung over the backof a chair. They were justfinishing winding his sash.His blackhair shone under theelectric light. He wore awhite linen shirtand the sword-handlerfinished his sash and stoodup and steppedback. Pedro Romero nodded,seeming very far away anddignifiedwhen we shook hands.Montoya said somethingabout what greataficionados we were, andthat we wanted to wish himluck.
    • Romero listened veryseriously. Then he turnedto me. He was thebest-looking boy I haveever seen."You go to the bull-fight,"he said in English."You know English," I said,feeling like an idiot."No," he answered, andsmiled.One of three men who hadbeen sitting on the bedscame upana asked us if we spokeFrench. "Would you like meto inter-
    • pret for you? Is thereanything you would like toask PedroRomero?"We thanked him. What wasthere that you would liketo ask?The boy was nineteen yearsold, alone except for hissword-handler, and the threehangers-on, and the bull-fight was to com-mence in twenty minutes. Wewished him "Mucha suerte,"shookhands, and went out. He wasstanding, straight andhandsome andaltogether by himself,alone in the room with thehangers-on
    • as we shut the door."Hes a fine boy, dont youthink so?" Montoya asked."Hes a good-looking kid,"I said."He looks like a torero,"Montoya said. "He has thetype.""Hes a fine boy."164 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Well see how he is in thering/ Montoya said.
    • We found the big leatherwine-bottle leaning againstthe wallin my room, took it and thefield-glasses, locked thedoor, and wentdown-stairs.It was a good bull-fight.Bill and I were veryexcited aboutPedro Romero. Montoya wassitting about ten placesaway. AfterRomero had killed his firstbull Montoya caught my eyeandnodded his head. This was areal one. There had notbeen a realone for a long time. Of theother two* matadors, onewas very
    • fair and the other waspassable. But there was nocomparisonwith Romero, althoughneither of his bulls wasmuch.Several times during thebull-fight I looked up atMike andBrett and Cohn, with theglasses. They seemed to beall right.Brett did not look upset.All three were leaningforward on theconcrete railing in frontof them."Let me take the glasses/Bill said.
    • "Docs Cohn look bored?" Iasked."That kike!"Outside the ring, after thebull-fight was over, youcould notmove in the crowd. We couldnot make our way throughbut hadto be moved with the wholething, slowly, as aglacier, back totown. We had that disturbedemotional feeling thatalways comesafter a bull-fight, and thefeeling of elation thatcomes after a goodbull-fight. The fiesta wasgoing on. The drums poundedand the
    • pipe music was shrill, andeverywhere the flow of thecrowd wasbroken by patches ofdancers. The dancers werein a crowd, soyou did not see theintricate play of the feet.All you saw was theheads and shoulders goingup and down, up and down.Finally,we got out of the crowd andmade for the cafe. Thewaiter savedchairs for the others, andwe each ordered an absintheand watchedthe crowd in the square andthe dancers."What do you suppose thatdance is?" Bill asked.
    • "Its a sort of jota."THE SUN ALSO RISES 165"Theyre not all the same/Bill said. "They dancedifferentlyto all the differenttunes/"Its swell dancing/In front of us on a clearpart of the street acompany of boyswere dancing. The stepswere very intricate andtheir faces were
    • intent and concentrated.They all looked down whiletheydanced. Their rope-soledshoes tapped and spatted onthe pave-ment. The toes touched. Theheels touched. The balls ofthe feettouched. Then the musicbroke wildly and the stepwas finishedand they were all dancingon up the street"Here come the gentry/Bill said.They were crossing thestreet."Hello, men," I said.
    • "Hello, gents!" said Brett."You saved us seats? Hownice.""I say," Mike said, "thatRomero whatshisname issomebody.Am I wrong?""Oh, isnt he lovely,"Brett said. "And thosegreen trousers.""Brett never took her eyesoff them.""I say, I must borrow yourglasses to-morrow.""How did it go?"
    • "Wonderfully! Simplyperfect. I say, it is aspectacle!""How about the horses?""I couldnt help looking atthem.""She couldnt take her eyesoff them," Mike said."Shes anextraordinary wench.""They do have some ratherawful things happen tothem,"Brett said. "I couldntlook away, though.""Did you feel all right?"
    • "I didnt feel badly atall.""Robert Cohn did," Mike putin. "You were quite green,Robert.""The first horse did botherme," Cohn said."You werent bored, wereyou?" asked Bill.l66 THE SUN ALSO RISESCohn laughed."No. I wasnt bored. I wishyoud forgive me that."
    • "Its all right," Billsaid, "so long as youwerent bored.""He didnt look bored,"Mike said. "I thought hewas goingto be sick.""I never felt that bad. Itwas just for a minute.""I thought he was going tobe sick. You werent bored,wereyou, Robert?""Let up on that, Mike. Isaid I was sorry I saidit.""He was, you know. He waspositively green."
    • "Oh, shove it along,Michael.""You mustnt ever get boredat your first bull-fight,Robert,"Mike said. "It might makesuch a mess.""Oh, shove it along,Michael," Brett said."He said Brett was asadist," Mike said."Bretts not a sadist.Shes just a lovely,healthy wench.""Are you a sadist, Brett?"I asked."Hope not."
    • "He said Brett was a sadistjust because she has agood, healthystomach.""Wont be healthy long."Bill got Mike started onsomething else than Cohn.The waiterbrought the absintheglasses."Did you really like it?"Bill asked Cohn."No, I cant say I likedit. I think its awonderful show.""Gad, yes! What aspectacle!" Brett said.
    • "I wish they didnt havethe horse part," Cohn said."Theyre not important,"Bill said. "After a whileyou nevernotice anythingdisgusting.""It is a bit strong just atthe start," Brett said."Theres a dread-ful moment for me just whenthe bull starts for thehorse.""The bulls were fine," Cohnsaid."They were very good," Mikesaid.
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 167"I want to sit down below,next time/ 1 Brett drankfrom herglass of absinthe*"She wants to see the bull-fighters close by/ Mikesaid."They are something/ Brettsaid, "That Romero lad isjust achild/"Hes a damned good-lookingboy/ I said. "When we wereupin his room I never saw abetter-looking kid."
    • "How old do you suppose heis?""Nineteen or twenty/"Just imagine it."The bull-fight on thesecond day was much betterthan on thefirst. Brett sat betweenMike and me at the barrera,and Bill andCohn went up above. Romerowas the whole show. I donot thinkBrett saw any other bull-fighter. No one else dideither, exceptthe hard-shelledtechnicians. It was allRomero. There were two
    • other matadors, but theydid not count. I sat besideBrett and ex-plained to Brett what itwas all about. I told herabout watchingthe bull, not the horse,when the bulls charged thepicadors, andgot her to watching thepicador place the point ofhis pic so thatshe saw what it was allabout, so that it becamemore somethingthat was going on with adefinite end, and less of aspectacle withunexplained horrors. I hadher watch how Romero tookthe bull
    • away from a fallen horsewith his cape, and how heheld him withthe cape and turned him,smoothly and suavely, neverwastingthe bull. She saw howRomero avoided everybrusque movementand saved his bulls for thelast when he wanted them,not windedand discomposed butsmoothly worn down. She sawhow closeRomero always worked to thebull, and I pointed out toher thetricks the other bull-fighters used to make itlook as though they
    • were working closely. Shesaw why she liked Romeroscape-workand why she did not likethe others.Romero never made anycontortions, always it wasstraight andpure and natural in line.The others twistedthemselves like cork-l68 THE SUN ALSO RISESscrews, their elbowsraised, and leaned againstthe flanks of thebull after his horns hadpassed, to give a fakedlook of danger.
    • Afterward, all that wasfaked turned bad and gavean unpleasantfeeling. Romeros bull-fighting gave real emotion,because he keptthe absolute purity of linein his movements and alwaysquietlyand calmly let the hornspass him close each time.He did not haveto emphasize theircloseness. Brett saw howsomething that wasbeautiful done close to thebull was ridiculous if itwere done alittle way off. I told herhow since the* death ofJoselito all the
    • bull-fighters had beendeveloping a technic thatsimulated thisappearance of danger inorder to give a fakeemotional feeling,while the bull-fighter wasreally safe. Romero had theold thing,the holding of his purityof line through the maximumof ex-posure, while he dominatedthe bull by making himrealize he wasunattainable, while heprepared him for thekilling."Ive never seen him do anawkward thing," Brett said.
    • "You wont until he getsfrightened," I said."Hell never befrightened," Mike said. "Heknows too damnedmuch.""He knew everything when hestarted. The others canteverlearn what he was bornwith.""And God, what looks,"Brett said."I believe, you know, thatshes falling in love withthis bull-fighter chap," Mike said."I wouldnt be surprised."
    • "Be a good chap, Jake.Dont tell her anythingmore about him.Tell her how they beattheir old mothers.""Tell me what drunks theyare.""Oh, frightful," Mike said."Drunk all day and spendall theirtime beating their poor oldmothers.""He looks that way," Brettsaid."Doesnt he?" I said.
    • They had hitched the mulesto the dead bull and thenthe whipsTHE SUN ALSO RISES 169cracked, the men ran, andthe mules, strainingforward, their legspushing, broke into agallop, and the bull, onehorn up, his headon its side, swept a swathsmoothly across the sandand out thered gate."This next is the lastone/
    • "Not really/ 1 Brett said.She leaned forward on thebarrera.Romero waved his picadorsto their places, thenstood, his capeagainst his chest, lookingacross the ring to wherethe bull wouldcome out.After it was over we wentout and were pressed tightin thecrowd."These bull-fights are hellon one," Brett said. Tmlimp as arag."
    • "Oh, youll get a drink,"Mike said.The next day Pedro Romerodid not fight. It was Miurabulls,and a very bad bull-fight.The next day there was nobull-fightscheduled. But all day andall night the fiesta kepton.CHAPTER XVIIN the morning it wasraining. A fog had comeover the moun-
    • tains from the sea. Youcould not see the tops ofthe mountains.The plateau was dull andgloomy, and the shapes ofthe trees andthe houses were changed. Iwalked out beyond the townto lookat the weather. The badweather was coming over themountainsfrom the sea*The flags in the squarehung wet from the whitepoles and thebanners were wet and hungdamp against the front ofthe houses,and in between the steadydrizzle the rain came downand drove
    • every one under the arcadesand made pools of water inthesquare, and the streets wetand dark and deserted; yetthe fiestakept up without any pause.It was only driven undercover.The covered seats of thebull-ring had been crowdedwithpeople sitting out of therain watching the concourseof Basqueand Navarrais dancers andsingers, and afterward theVal Carlosdancers in their costumesdanced down the street inthe rain, the
    • drums sounding hollow anddamp, and the chiefs of thebandsriding ahead on their big,heavy-footed horses, theircostumes wet,170THE SUN ALSO RISES iyithe horses 5 coats wet inthe rain. The crowd was inthe cafs andthe dancers came in, too,and sat, their tight-woundwhite legsunder the tables, shakingthe water from their belledcaps, and
    • spreading their red andpurple jackets over thechairs to dry.It was raining hardoutside.I left the crowd in thecafd and went over to thehotel to getshaved for dinner. I wasshaving in my room whenthere was aknock on the door."Come in," I calledMontoya walked in."How are you?" he said."Fine," I said."No bulls to-day."
    • "No," I said, "nothing butrain.""Where are your friends?""Over at the Iruiia."Montoya smiled hisembarrassed smile."Look," he said. "Do youknow the Americanambassador?""Yes," I said. "Everybodyknows the Americanambassador.*"Hes here in town, now.""Yes," I said. "Everybodysseen them."
    • "Ive seen them, too,"Montoya said. He didnt sayanything. Iwent on shaving."Sit down," I said. "Let mesend for a drink/ 1"No, I have to go."I finished shaving and putmy face down into the bowlandwashed it with cold water.Montoya was standing therelookingmore embarrassed."Look," he said. "Ive justhad a message from them atthe
    • Grand Hotel that they wantPedro Romero and MarcialLalandato come over for coffee to-night after dinner.""Well," I said, "it canthurt Marcial any.""Marcial has been in SanSebastian all day. He droveover in aTHE SUN ALSO RISEScar this morning withMarquez. I dont thinktheyll be backto-night."
    • Montoya stood embarrassed.He wanted me to saysomething."Dont give Romero themessage," I said."You think so?""Absolutely."Montoya was very pleased."I wanted to ask youbecause you were anAmerican," he said."Thats what Id do.""Look," said Montoya."People take a boy likethat. They dont
    • know what hes worth. Theydont know what he means.Anyforeigner can flatter him.They start this Grand Hotelbusiness,and in one year theyrethrough.""Like Algabeno," I said.Tes, like Algabeno.""Theyre a fine lot," Isaid. "Theres one Americanwoman downhere now that collectsbull-fighters.""I know. They only want theyoung ones."
    • "Yes," I said. "The oldones get fat.""Or crazy like Gallo.""Well," I said, "its easy.All you have to do is notgive him themessage.""Hes such a fine boy,"said Montoya. "He ought tostay withhis own people. Heshouldnt mix in thatstuff.""Wont you have a drink?" Iasked."No," said Montoya, "I haveto go." He went out.
    • I went down-stairs and outthe door and took a walkaroundthrough the arcades aroundthe square. It was stillraining. Ilooked in at the Irufia forthe gang and they were notthere, so Iwalked on around the squareand back to the hotel. Theywereeating dinner in the down-stairs dining-room.They were well ahead of meand it was no use trying tocatchthem. Bill was buying shoe-shines for Mike. Bootblacksopened
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 173the street door and eachone Bill called over andstarted to workon Mike."This is the eleventh timemy boots have beenpolished/ Mikesaid. "I say, Bill is anass/The bootblacks hadevidently spread the reportAnother camein."Limpia botas?" he said toBill.
    • "No," said Bill "For thisSenor."The bootblack knelt downbeside the one at work andstartedon Mikes free shoe thatshone already in theelectric light."Bills a yell oflaughter," Mike said.I was drinking red wine,and so far behind them thatI felt alittle uncomfortable aboutall this shoe-shining. Ilooked aroundthe room. At the next tablewas Pedro Romero. He stoodup when
    • I nodded, and asked me tocome over and meet afriend. His tablewas beside ours, almosttouching. I met the friend,a Madrid bull-fight critic, a little manwith a drawn face. I toldRomero howmuch I liked his work, andhe was very pleased. WetalkedSpanish and the critic knewa little French. I reachedto ourtable for my wine-bottle,but the critic took my arm.Romerolaughed."Drink here/ he said inEnglish.
    • He was very bashful abouthis English, but he wasreally verypleased with it, and as wewent on talking he broughtout wordshe was not sure of, andasked me about them. He wasanxiousto know the English forCorrida de toros y theexact translation.Bull-fight he wassuspicious of. I explainedthat bull-fight inSpanish was the lidia of atoro. The Spanish wordcorrida meansin English the running ofbulls the Frenchtranslation is Course
    • de taureaux. The critic putthat in. There is noSpanish word forbull-fight.Pedro Romero said he hadlearned a little English inGibraltar.He was born in Ronda. Thatis not far above Gibraltar.He174 THE SUN ALSO RISESstarted bull-fighting inMalaga in the bull-fightingschool there.He had only been at itthree years. The bull-fightcritic joked him
    • about the number ofMalagueno expressions heused. He was nine-teen years old, he said.His older brother was withhim as abanderillero, but he didnot live in this hotel. Helived in a smallerhotel with the other peoplewho worked for Romero. Heaskedme how many times I hadseen him in the ring. Itold him onlythree. It was really onlytwo, but I did not want toexplain after Ihad made the mistake."Where did you see me theother time? In Madrid?"
    • "Yes," I lied. I had readthe accounts of his twoappearances inMadrid in the bull-fightpapers, so I was all right."The first or the secondtime?""The first.""I was very bad," he said."The second time I wasbetter. Youremember?" He turned to thecritic.He was not at allembarrassed. He talked ofhis work as some-thing altogether apart fromhimself. There was nothingconceited
    • or braggartly about him."I like it very much thatyou like my work," he said."But youhavent seen it yet. To-morrow, if I get a goodbull, I will try andshow it to you."When he said this hesmiled, anxious thatneither the bull-fight critic nor I wouldthink he was boasting."I am anxious to see it,"the critic said. "I wouldlike to beconvinced."
    • "He doesnt like my workmuch." Romero turned to me.He wasserious.The critic explained thathe liked it very much, butthat so farit had been incomplete."Wait till to-morrow, if agood one comes out.""Have you seen the bullsfor to-morrow?" the criticasked me."Yes. I saw them unloaded."THE SUN ALSO RISES 175
    • Pedro Romero leanedforward.What did you think ofthem?""Very nice," I said. "Abouttwenty-six arrobas. Veryshorthorns. Havent you seenthem?""Oh, yes," said Romero."They wont weigh twenty-six arrobas," said thecritic."No," said Romero."Theyve got bananas forhorns," the critic said.
    • "You call them bananas?"asked Romero. He turned tome andsmiled. "You wouldnt callthem bananas?""No," I said. "Theyrehorns all right.""Theyre very short," saidPedro Romero. "Very, veryshort.Still, they arentbananas.""I say, Jake," Brett calledfrom the next table, "youhave de-serted us.""Just temporarily," I said."Were talking bulls."
    • "You are superior.""Tell him that bulls haveno balls," Mike shouted. Hewasdrunk.Romero looked at meinquiringly."Drunk," I said. "Borracho!Muy borracho!""You might introduce yourfriends," Brett said. Shehad notstopped looking at PedroRomero. I asked them ifthey would liketo have coffee with us.They both stood up.Romeros face was
    • very brown. He had verynice manners.I introduced them allaround and they started tosit down, butthere was not enough room,so we all moved over to thebig tableby the wall to have coffee.Mike ordered a bottle ofFundador andglasses for everybody.There was a lot of drunkentalking."Tell him I think writingis lousy," Bill said. "Goon, tell him.Tell him Im ashamed ofbeing a writer."
    • Pedro Romero was sittingbeside Brett and listeningto her."Go on. Tell him!" Billsaid.176 THE SUN ALSO RISESRomero looked up smiling."This gentleman," I said,"is a writer."Romero was impressed. "Thisother one, too," I said,pointingat Cohn.
    • "He looks like Villalta,"Romero said, looking atBill. "Rafael,doesnt he look likeVillalta?""I cant see it," thecritic said."Really," Romero said inSpanish. "He looks a lotlike Villalta.What does the drunken onedo?""Nothing.""Is that why he drinks?""No. Hes waiting to marrythis lady."
    • "Tell him bulls have noballs!" Mike shouted, verydrunk,from the other end of thetable."What docs he say?""Hes drunk.""Jake," Mike called. "Tellhim bulls have no balls!""You understand?" I said."Yes."I was sure he didnt, so itwas all right."Tell him Brett wants tosee him put on those greenpants."
    • "Pipe down, Mike.""Tell him Brett is dying toknow how he can get intothosepants.""Pipe down."During this Romero wasfingering his glass andtalking withBrett. Brett was talkingFrench and he was talkingSpanish and alittle English, andlaughing.Bill was filling theglasses.
    • "Tell him Brett wants tocome into ""Oh, pipe down, Mike, forChrists sake!"Romero looked up smiling."Pipe down! I know that,"he said.THE SUN ALSO RISES 177Just then Montoya came intothe room. He started tosmile atme, then he saw PedroRomero with a big glass ofcognac in hishand, sitting laughingbetween me and a woman withbare
    • shoulders, at a table fullof drunks. He did not evennod.Montoya went out of theroom. Mike was on his feetproposinga toast. "Lets all drinkto" he began. "PedroRomero," I said.Everybody stood up. Romerotook it very seriously, andwe touchedglasses and drank it down,I rushing it a littlebecause Mike wastrying to make it clearthat that was not at allwhat he was going todrink to. But it went offall right, and Pedro Romeroshook hands
    • with every one and he andthe critic went outtogether."My God! hes a lovelyboy," Brett said. "And howI wouldlove to see him get intothose clothes. He must usea shoe-horn.""I started to tell him,"Mike began. "And Jake keptinterruptingme. Why do you interruptme? Do you think you talkSpanishbetter than I do?""Oh, shut up, Mike! Nobodyinterrupted you."
    • "No, Id like to get thissettled." He turned awayfrom me."Do you think you amount tosomething, Cohn? Do youthink youbelong here among us?People who are out to havea good time?For Gods sake dont be sonoisy, Cohn!""Oh, cut it out, Mike,"Cohn said."Do you think Brett wantsyou here? Do you think youadd tothe party? Why dont yousay something?""I said all I had to saythe other night, Mike."
    • "Im not one of youliterary chaps." Mike stoodshakily andleaned against the table."Im not clever. But I doknow when Imnot wanted. Why dont yousee when youre not wanted,Cohn?Go away. Go away, for Godssake. Take that sad Jewishfaceaway. Dont you think Imright?"He looked at us."Sure," I said. "Lets allgo over to the Iruna."
    • iy8 THE SUN ALSO RISES"No. Dont you think Fmright? I love that woman.""Oh, dont start thatagain. Do shove it along,Michael," Brettsaid."Dont you think Im right,Jake?"Cohn still sat at thetable. His face had thesallow, yellow lookit got when he wasinsulted, but somehow heseemed to be en-joying it. The childish,drunken heroics of it. Itwas his affairwith a lady of title.
    • "Jake," Mike said. He wasalmost crying. "You knowIm right.Listen, you!" He turned toCohn: "Go away! Go awaynow!""But I wont go, Mike,"said Cohn."Then Ill make you!" Mikestarted toward him aroundthetable. Cohn stood up andtook off his glasses. Hestood waiting, hisface sallow, his handsfairly low, proudly andfirmly waiting forthe assault, ready to dobattle for his lady love.
    • I grabbed Mike. "Come on tothe cafeY I said. "Youcant hithim here in the hotel.""Good!" said Mike. "Goodidea!"We started off. I lookedback as Mike stumbled upthe stairsand saw Cohn putting hisglasses on again. Bill wassitting at thetable pouring another glassof Fundador. Brett wassitting lookingstraight ahead at nothing.Outside on the square ithad stopped raining and themoon was
    • trying to get through theclouds. There was a windblowing. Themilitary band was playingand the crowd was massed onthe farside of the square wherethe fireworks specialistand his son weretrying to send up fireballoons. A balloon wouldstart up jerkily,on a great bias, and betorn by the wind or blownagainst thehouses of the square. Somefell into the crowd. Themagnesiumflared and the fireworksexploded and chased aboutin the crowd.
    • There was no one dancing inthe square. The gravel wastoo wet.Brett came out with Billand joined us. We stood inthe crowdTHE SUN ALSO RISES 179and watched Don ManuelOrquito, the fireworksking, standingon a little platform,carefully starting theballoons with sticks,standing above the heads ofthe crowd to launch theballoons off
    • into the wind. The windbrought them all down, andDonManuel Orquitos face wassweaty in the light of hiscomplicatedfireworks that fell intothe crowd and charged andchased, sput-tering and cracking,between the legs of thepeople. The peopleshouted as each newluminous paper bubblecareened, caught fire,and felL"Theyre razzing DonManuel/ Bill said."How do you know hes DonManuel?" Brett said.
    • "His names on theprogramme. Don ManuelOrquito, thepirotecnico of estaciudad/"Globos illuminados," Mikesaid. "A collection ofglobos illu-minados. Thats what thepaper said."The wind blew the bandmusic away."I say, I wish one would goup," Brett said. "That DonManuelchap is furious.""Hes probably worked forweeks fixing them to gooff, spelling
    • out Hail to San Fermin,"Bill said."Globos illuminados," Mikesaid. "A bunch of bloodyglobosilluminados.""Come on," said Brett. "Wecant stand here/"Her ladyship wants adrink," Mike said,"How you know things,"Brett said.Inside, the cafe wascrowded and very noisy. Noone noticedus come in. We could notfind a table. There was agreat noise
    • going on."Come on, lets get out ofhere," Bill said.Outside the paseo was goingin under the arcade. Thereweresome English and Americansfrom Biarritz in sportclothes scat-tered at the tables. Someof the women stared at thepeople goingl8o THE SUN ALSO RISESby with lorgnons. We hadacquired, at some time, afriend of
    • Bills from Biarritz. Shewas staying with anothergirl at theGrand Hotel. The other girlhad a headache and had goneto bed."Heres the pub," Mikesaid. It was the BarMilano, a small,tough bar where you couldget food and where theydanced in theback room. We all sat downat a table and ordered abottle ofFundador. The bar was notfull. There was nothinggoing on."This is a hell of aplace," Bill said.
    • "Its too early.""Lets take the bottle andcome back later," Billsaid. "I dontwant to sit here on a nightlike this.""Lets go and look at theEnglish," Mike said. "Ilove to look atthe English.""Theyre awful," Bill said."Where did they all comefrom?""They come from Biarritz,"Mike said. "They come tosee thelast day of the quaintlittle Spanish fiesta."
    • "Ill festa them," Billsaid."Youre an extraordinarilybeautiful girl." Miketurned to Billsfriend. "When did you comehere?""Come off it, Michael.""I say, she is a lovelygirl. Where have I been?Where have Ibeen looking all thiswhile? Youre a lovelything. Have we met?Come along with me andBill. Were going to festathe English."
    • "Ill festa them," Billsaid. "What the hell arethey doing atthis fiesta?""Come on," Mike said. "Justus three. Were going tofesta thebloody English. I hopeyoure not English? ImScotch. I hate theEnglish. Im going to festathem. Come on, Bill."Through the window we sawthem, all three arm in arm,goingtoward the caf6. Rocketswere going up in thesquare."Im going to sit here,"Brett said.
    • "Ill stay with you," Cohnsaid.THE SUN ALSO RISES l8l"Oh, dont!" Brett said."For Gods sake, go offsomewhere.Cant you see Jake and Iwant to talk?""I didnt," Cohn said. "Ithought Id sit herebecause I felt alittle tight.""What a hell of a reasonfor sitting with any one.If youre tight,go to bed. Go on to bed."
    • "Was I rude enough to him?"Brett asked. Cohn was gone."MyGod! Im so sick of him!""He doesnt add much to thegayety.""He depresses me so.""Hes behaved very badly.""Damned badly. He had achance to behave so well.""Hes probably waiting justoutside the door now.""Yes. He would. You know Ido know how he feels. Hecant
    • believe it didnt meananything.""I know.""Nobody else would behaveas badly. Oh, Im so sickof thewhole thing. And Michael.Michaels been lovely,too.""Its been damned hard onMike.""Yes. But he didnt need tobe a swine.""Everybody behaves badly,"I said. "Give them theproperchance."
    • "You wouldnt behavebadly." Brett looked at me."Id be as big an ass asCohn," I said."Darling, dont lets talka lot of rot.""All right. Talk aboutanything you like.""Dont be difficult. Yourethe only person Ive got,and I feelrather awful to-night.""Youve got Mike.""Yes, Mike. Hasnt he beenpretty?"
    • "Well," I said, "its beendamned hard on Mike, havingCohnaround and seeing him withyou."l82 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Dont I know it, darling?Please dont make me feelany worsethan I do/Brett was nervous as I hadnever seen her before. Shekeptlooking away from me andlooking ahead at the wall."Want to go for a walk?"
    • "Yes. Come on."I corked up the Fundadorbottle and gave it to thebartender."Lets have one more drinkof that," Brett said. "Mynerves arerotten."We each drank a glass ofthe smooth amontilladobrandy."Come on," said Brett.As we came out the door Isaw Cohn walk out fromunderthe arcade."He was there," Brett said.
    • "He cant be away fromyou.""Poor devil!""Im not sorry for him. Ihate him, myself.""I hate him, too," sheshivered. "I hate hisdamned suffering."We walked arm in arm downthe side street away fromthecrowd and the lights of thesquare. The street was darkand wet,and we walked along it tothe fortifications at theedge of town.
    • We passed wine-shops withlight coming out from theirdoors ontothe black, wet street, andsudden bursts of music."Want to go in?""No."We walked out across thewet grass and onto thestone wall ofthe fortifications. Ispread a newspaper on thestone and Brettsat down. Across the plainit was dark, and we couldsee the moun-tains. The wind was high upand took the clouds acrossthe moon.
    • Below us were the dark pitsof the fortifications.Behind were thetrees and the shadow of thecathedral, and the townsilhouettedagainst the moon."Dont feel bad," I said.THE SUN ALSO RISES"I feel like hell," Brettsaid. "Dont lets talk."We looked out at the plain.The long lines of treeswere darkin the moonlight. Therewere the lights of a car onthe road
    • climbing the mountain. Upon the top of the mountainwe sawthe lights of the fort.Below to the left was theriver. It was highfrom the rain, and blackand smooth. Trees were darkalong thebanks. We sat and lookedout. Brett stared straightahead. Sud-denly she shivered."Its cold.""Want to walk back?""Through the park."We climbed down. It wasclouding over again. In thepark it
    • was dark under the trees."Do you still love me,Jake?""Yes," I said."Because Im a goner,"Brett said."How?""Im a goner. Im mad aboutthe Romero boy. Im in lovewithhim, I think.""I wouldnt be if I wereyou.""I cant help it. Im agoner. Its tearing me allup inside."
    • "Dont do it.""I cant help it. Ivenever been able to helpanything.""You ought to stop it.""How can I stop it? I cantstop things. Feel that?"Her hand was trembling."Im like that allthrough.""You oughtnt to do it.""I cant help it. Im agoner now, anyway. Dontyou see thedifference?"
    • "No.""Ive got to do something.Ive got to do something Ireally wantto do. Ive lost my self-respect."184 THE SUN ALSO RISES"You dont have to dothat.""Oh, darling, dont bedifficult. What do youthink itsmeant to have that damnedJew about, and Mike the wayhesacted?"
    • "Sure.""I cant just stay tightall the time.""No.""Oh, darling, please stayby me. Please stay by meand see methrough this.""Sure.""I dont say its right. Itis right though for me. Godknows,Ive never felt such abitch.""What do you want me todo?"
    • "Come on," Brett said."Lets go and find him."Together we walked down thegravel path in the park inthedark, under the trees andthen out from under thetrees and pastthe gate into the streetthat led into town.Pedro Romero was in thecafe He was at a tablewith otherbull-fighters and bull-fight critics. They weresmoking cigars.When we came in they lookedup. Romero smiled andbowed. We
    • sat down at a table half-way down the room."Ask him to come over andhave a drink.""Not yet. Hell come over.""I cant look at him.""Hes nice to look at," Isaid."Ive always done just whatI wanted.""I know.""I do feel such a bitch.""Well," I said.
    • "My God!" said Brett, "thethings a woman goosthrough.""Yes?""Oh, I do feel such abitch."I looked across at thetable. Pedro Romero smiled.He said some-THE SUN ALSO RISES 185thing to the other peopleat his table, and stood up-He cameover to our table. I stoodup and we shook hands.
    • "Wont you have a drink? 1"You must have a drink withme/ 1 he said. He seatedhimself,asking Bretts permissionwithout saying anything. Hehad verynice manners. But he kepton smoking his cigar. Itwent wellwith his face."You like cigars?" I asked."Oh, yes. I always smokecigars. 1 It was part of his systemof authority. It made himseem older.
    • I noticed his skin. It wasclear and smooth and verybrown. Therewas a triangular scar onhis check-bone. I saw hewas watchingBrett. He felt there wassomething between them. Hemust havefelt it when Brett gave himher hand. He was being verycareful.I think he was sure, but hedid not want to make anymistake."You fight to-morrow?" Isaid."Yes," he said. "Algabenowas hurt to-day in Madrid.Did youhear?"
    • "No," I said. "Badly?"He shook his head."Nothing. Here," he showedhis hand. Brett reached outandspread the fingers apart."Oh!" he said in English,"you tell fortunes?""Sometimes. Do you mind?""No. I like it." He spreadhis hand flat on the table."Tell meI live for always, and be amillionaire."
    • He was still very polite,but he was surer ofhimself. "Look/ hesaid, "do you see any bullsin my hand?"He laughed. His hand wasvery fine and the wrist wassmall."There are thousands ofbulls," Brett said. She wasnot at allnervous now. She lookedlovely."Good," Romero laughed. "Ata thousand duros apiece/he saidto me in Spanish. "Tell mesome more."
    • l86 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Its a good hand," Brettsaid. "I think hell live along time.""Say it to me. Not to yourfriend.""I said youd live a longtime.""I know it," Romero said."Im never going to die."I tapped with my finger-tips on the table. Romerosaw it. Heshook his head."No. Dont do that. Thebulls are my best friends."
    • I translated to Brett."You kill your friends?"she asked."Always," he said inEnglish, and laughed. "Sothey dont killme." He looked at heracross the table."You know English well."*Tes," he said. "Prettywell, sometimes. But I mustnot let any-body know. It would be verybad, a torero who speaksEnglish.""Why?" asked Brett.
    • "It would be bad. Thepeople would not like it.Not yet.""Why not?""They would not like it.Bull-fighters are not likethat.""What are bull-fighterslike?"He laughed and tipped hishat down over his eyes andchangedthe angle of his cigar andthe expression of his face."Like at the table," hesaid. I glanced over. Hehad mimicked
    • exactly the expression ofNacional. He smiled, hisface naturalagain. "No. I must forgetEnglish.""Dont forget it, yet,"Brett said."No?""No.""All right."He laughed again."I would like a hat likethat," Brett said."Good. Ill get you one.""Right. See that you do."
    • "I will. Ill get you oneto-night."THE SUN ALSO RISES 187I stood up. Romero rose,too."Sit down," I said, "I mustgo and find our friends andbringthem here."He looked at me. It was afinal look to ask if itwere understood.It was understood allright.
    • "Sit down," Brett said tohim. "You must teach meSpanish."He sat down and looked ather across the table. Iwent out. Thehard-eyed people at thebull-fighter table watchedme go. It wasnot pleasant. When I cameback and looked in thecafe", twentyminutes later, Brett andPedro Romero were gone. Thecoffee-glasses and our three emptycognac-glasses were on thetable. Awaiter came with a clothand picked up the glassesand moppedoff the table.
    • CHAPTER XVIIOUTSIDE the Bar Milano Ifound Bill and Mike andEdna. Ednawas the girls name."Weve been thrown out,"Edna said."By the police/ said Mike."Theres some people inthere thatdont like me.""Ive kept them out of fourfights," Edna said. "Youvegot to
    • help me."Bills face was red."Come back in, Edna," hesaid. "Go on in there anddancewith Mike.""Its silly," Edna said."Therell just be anotherrow.""Damned Biarritz swine,"Bill said."Come on," Mike said."After all, its a pub.They cant occupya whole pub."
    • "Good old Mike," Bill said."Damned English swine comehereand insult Mike and try andspoil the fiesta.""Theyre so bloody," Mikesaid. "I hate the English.""They cant insult Mike,"Bill said. "Mike is a swellfellow.188THE SUN ALSO RISESThey cant insult Mike. Iwont stand it. Who caresif he is a
    • damn bankrupt?" His voicebroke."Who cares?" Mike said. "Idont care. Jake doesntcare. Doyou care?""No," Edna said. "Are you abankrupt? 1"Of course I am. You dontcare, do you, Bill?"Bill put his arm aroundMikes shoulder."I wish to hell I was abankrupt. Id show thosebastards.""Theyre just English,"Mike said. "It never makesany dif-ference what the Englishsay."
    • "The dirty swine," Billsaid. "Im going to cleanthem out.""Bill," Edna looked at me."Please dont go in again,Bill.Theyre so stupid.""Thats it," said Mike."Theyre stupid. I knewthat was what itwas.""They cant say things likethat about Mike," Billsaid.
    • "Do you know them?" I askedMike."No. I never saw them. Theysay they know me.""I wont stand it," Billsaid."Come on. Lets go over tothe Suizo," I said."Theyre a bunch of Ednasfriends from Biarritz,"Bill said."Theyre simply stupid,"Edna said."One of thems CharleyBlackman, from Chicago,"Bill said.
    • "I was never in Chicago,"Mike said.Edna started to laugh andcould not stop."Take me away from here,"she said, "you bankrupts.""What kind of a row wasit?" I asked Edna. We werewalkingacross the square to theSuizo. Bill was gone."I dont know whathappened, but some one hadthe policecalled to keep Mike out ofthe back room. There weresome people
    • that had known Mike atCannes. Whats the matterwith Mike?""Probably he owes themmoney," I said. "Thatswhat peopleusually get bitter about."190 THE SUN ALSO RISESIn front of the ticket-booths out in the squarethere were twolines of people waiting.They were sitting on chairsor crouchedon the ground with blanketsand newspapers around them.They
    • were waiting for thewickets to open in themorning to buytickets for the bull-fight.The night was clearing andthe moonwas out. Some of the peoplein the line were sleeping.At the Cafe Suizo we hadjust sat down and orderedFundadorwhen Robert Cohn came up."Wheres Brett?" he asked."I dont know.""She was with you.""She must have gone tobed."
    • "Shes not.""I dont know where sheis."His face was sallow underthe light. He was standingup."Tell me where she is.""Sit down," I said. "Idont know where she is."The hell you dont!""You can shut your face."Tell me where Brett is.""Ill not tell you a damnthing."
    • "You know where she is.""If I did I wouldnt tellyou.""Oh, go to hell, Cohn,"Mike called from the table."Brettsgone off with the bull-fighter chap. Theyre ontheir honeymoon.""You shut up.""Oh, go to hell!" Mike saidlanguidly."Is that where she is?"Cohn turned to me."Go to hell!"
    • "She was with you. Is thatwhere she is?""Go to hell!""Ill make you tell me" hestepped forward "you damnedpimp."THE SUN ALSO RISES1 swung at him and heducked. I saw his face ducksideways inthe light. He hit me and Isat down on the pavement.As 1 startedto get on my feet he hit metwice. I went down backwardunder a
    • table. I tried to get upand felt I did not have anylegs. I felt Imust get on my feet and tryand hit him. Mike helped meup.Some one poured a carafe ofwater on my head. Mike hadan armaround me, and I found Iwas sitting on a chair.Mike was pull-ing at my ears."I say, you were cold/ 1Mike said."Where the hell were you?""Oh, I was around/ 1"You didnt want to mix init?""He knocked Mike down,too," Edna said.
    • "He didnt knock me out,"Mike said. "I just laythere.""Does this happen everynight at your fiestas?"Edna asked."Wasnt that Mr. Colin?""Im all right," I said."My heads a littlewobbly."There were several waitersand a crowd of peoplestandingaround."Vaya!" said Mike. "Getaway. Go on."The waiters moved thepeople away.
    • "It was quite a thing towatch," Edna said. "He mustbe aboxer.""He is.""I wish Bill had beenhere," Edna said. "Id liketo have seenBill knocked down, too.Ive always wanted to seeBill knockeddown. Hes so big.""I was hoping he wouldknock down a waiter," Mikesaid, "andget arrested. Id like tosee Mr. Robert Cohn injail.""No," I said.
    • "Oh, no," said Edna. "Youdont mean that.""I do, though," Mike said."Im not one of these chapslikesbeing knocked about. Inever play games, even."192 THE SUN ALSO RISESMike took a drink."I never liked to hunt, youknow. There was always thedangerof having a horse fall onyou. How do you feel,Jake?""All right/ 1
    • "Youre nice/ Edna said toMike. "Are you really abankrupt?""Im a tremendousbankrupt," Mike said. "Iowe money toeverybody. Dont you oweany money?""Tons.""I owe everybody money,"Mike said. "F borrowed ahundredpesetas from Montoya to-night.""The hell you did," I said."Ill pay it back," Mikesaid. "I always payeverything back."
    • "Thats why youre abankrupt, isnt it?" Ednasaid.I stood up. I had heardthem talking from a longway away. Itall seemed like some badplay."Im going over to thehotel," I said. Then Iheard them talkingabout me."Is he all right?" Ednaasked."Wed better walk withhim."
    • "Im all right," I said."Dont come. Ill see youall later."I walked away from thecaf6. They were sitting atthe table.I looked back at them andat the empty tables. Therewas a waitersitting at one of thetables with his head in hishands.Walking across the squareto the hotel everythinglooked newand changed. I had neverseen the trees before. Ihad never seenthe flagpoles before, northe front of the theatre.It was all dif-
    • ferent. I felt as I feltonce coming home from anout-of-townfootball game. I wascarrying a suitcase with myfootball thingsin it, and I walked up thestreet from the station inthe town I hadlived in all my life and itwas all new. They wereraking thelawns and burning leaves inthe road, and I stopped fora longtime and watched. It wasall strange. Then I wenton, and myfeet seemed to be a longway off, and everythingseemed to come
    • THE SUN ALSO RISESfrom a long way off, and Icould hear my feet walkinga greatdistance away. I had beenkicked in the head early inthe game.It was like that crossingthe square. It was likethat going up thestairs in the hotel. Goingup the stairs took a longtime, and I hadthe feeling that I wascarrying my suitcase. Therewas a light inthe room. Bill came out andmet me in the hall.
    • "Say," he said, "go up andsee Cohn. Hes been in ajam, andhes asking for you.""The hell with him.""Go on. Go on up and seehim."I did not want to climbanother flight of stairs."What are you looking at methat way for?""Im not looking at you. Goon up and see Cohn. Hes inbadshape.""You were drunk a littlewhile ago," I said.
    • "Im drunk now," Bill said."But you go up and seeCohn. Hewants to see you.""All right," I said. It wasjust a matter of climbingmore stairs.I went on up the stairscarrying my phantomsuitcase. I walkeddown the hall to Cohnsroom. The door was shut andI knocked."Who is it?""Barnes.""Come in, Jake."
    • I opened the door and wentin, and set down mysuitcase. Therewas no light in the room.Cohn was lying, face down,on the bedin the dark."Hello, Jake.""Dont call me Jake."I stood by the door. It wasjust like this that I hadcome home.Now it was a hot bath thatI needed. A deep, hot bath,to lieback in."Wheres the bathroom?" Iasked.
    • Cohn was crying. There hewas, face down on the bed,crying.194 THE SUN ALSO RISESHe had on a white poloshirt, the kind hed wornat Princeton."Im sorry, Jake. Pleaseforgive me/"Forgive you, hell/"Please forgive me, Jake/I did not say anything. Istood there by the door.
    • "I was crazy. You must seehow it was/"Oh, thats all right/"I couldnt stand it aboutBrett.""You called me a pimp."I did not care. I wanted ahot bath. I wanted a hotbath in deepwater."I know. Please dontremember it. I was crazy.""Thats all right."He was crying. His voicewas funny. He lay there inhis white
    • shirt on the bed in thedark. His polo shirt."Im going away in themorning/He was crying withoutmaking any noise."I just couldnt stand itabout Brett. Ive beenthrough hell,Jake. Its been simplyhell. When I met her downhere Bretttreated me as though I werea perfect stranger. I justcouldntstand it. We lived togetherat San Sebastian. I supposeyou knowit. I cant stand it anymore."
    • He lay there on the bed."Well," I said, "Im goingto take a bath.""You were the only friend Ihad, and I loved Brett so."Well," I said, "so long.""I guess it isnt any use,"he said. "I guess it isntany damnuse.""What?"
    • "Everything. Please say youforgive me, Jake.""Sure," I said. "Its allright.""I felt so terribly. Ivebeen through such hell,Jake. Now every-things gone. Everything."THE SUN ALSO RISES"Well/ 1 I said, "so long.Ive got to go/He rolled over, sat on theedge of the bed, and thenstood up.
    • "So long, Jake/ 1 he said."Youll shake hands, wontyou?""Sure. Why not?"We shook hands. In the darkI could not see his facevery well."Well," I said, "see you inthe morning.""Fm going away in themorning.""Oh, yes," I said.I went out. Cohn wasstanding in the door of theroom.
    • "Are you all right, Jake?"he asked."Oh, yes," I said. "Im allright."I could not find thebathroom. After a while Ifound it. Therewas a deep stone tub. Iturned on the taps and thewater wouldnot run. I sat down on theedge of the bath-tub. WhenI got upto go I found I had takenoff my shoes. I hunted forthem andfound them and carried themdown-stairs. I found myroom andwent inside and undressedand got into bed.
    • I woke with a headache andthe noise of the bandsgoing byin the street. I rememberedI had promised to takeBills friendEdna to see the bulls gothrough the street and intothe ring. Idressed and went down-stairs and out into thecold early morning.People were crossing thesquare, hurrying toward thebull-ring,Across the square were thetwo lines of men in frontof theticket-booths. They werestill waiting for thetickets to go on sale
    • at seven oclock. I hurriedacross the street to thecaf6. The waitertold me that my friends hadbeen there and gone."How many were they?""Two gentlemen and a lady/1That was all right. Billand Mike were with Edna.She hadbeen afraid last night theywould pass out. That waswhy I wasto be sure to take her. Idrank the coffee andhurried with theother people toward thebull-ring. I was not groggynow. There
    • 196 THE SUN ALSO RISESwas only a bad headache.Everything looked sharp andclear, andthe town smelt of the earlymorning.The stretch of ground fromthe edge of the town to thebull-ring was muddy. There was acrowd all along the fencethat ledto the ring, and theoutside balconies and thetop of the bull-ringwere solid with people. Iheard the rocket and I knewI could not
    • get into the ring in timeto see the bulls come in,so I shovedthrough the crowd to thefence. I was pushed closeagainst theplanks of the fence.Between the two fences ofthe runway thepolice were clearing thecrowd along. They walked ortrotted oninto the bull-ring. Thenpeople commenced to comerunning. Adrunk slipped and fell. Twopolicemen grabbed him andrushedhim over to the fence. Thecrowd were running fastnow. There
    • was a great shout from thecrowd, and putting my headthroughbetween the boards I sawthe bulls just coming outof the streetinto the long running pen.They were going fast andgaining onthe crowd. Just thenanother drunk started outfrom the fencewith a blouse in his hands.He wanted to do capeworkwith thebulls. The two policementore out, collared him, onehit him witha club, and they draggedhim against the fence andstood flat-
    • tened out against the fenceas the last of the crowdand the bullswent by. There were so manypeople running ahead of thebullsthat the mass thickened andslowed up going through thegateinto the ring, and as thebulls passed, gallopingtogether, heavy,muddy-sided, hornsswinging, one shot ahead,caught a man inthe running crowd in theback and lifted him in theair. Both themans arms were by hissides, his head went backas the horn went
    • in, and the bull lifted himand then dropped him. Thebullpicked another man runningin front, but the mandisappearedinto the crowd, and thecrowd was through the gateand into thering with the bulls behindthem. The red door of thering wentshut, the crowd on theoutside balconies of thebull-ring wereTHE SUN ALSO RISES 197pressing through to theinside, there was a shout,then another
    • shout.The man who had been goredlay face down in thetrampledmud. People climbed overthe fence, and I could notsee the manbecause the crowd was sothick around him. Frominside the ringcame the shouts. Each shoutmeant a charge by some bullinto thecrowd. You could tell bythe degree of intensity inthe shout howbad a thing it was that washappening. Then the rocketwent upthat meant the steers hadgotten the bulls out of thering and into
    • the corrals. I left thefence and started backtoward the town.Back in the town I went tothe caf6 to have a secondcoffee andsome buttered toast. Thewaiters were sweeping outthe cafe" andmopping off the tables. Onecame over and took myorder."Anything happen at theencierro?""I didnt see it all. Oneman was badly cogido,""Where?"
    • "Here." I put one hand onthe small of my back andthe otheron my chest, where itlooked as though the hornmust have comethrough. The waiter noddedhis head and swept thecrumbs fromthe table with his cloth."Badly cogido," he said."AH for sport. All forpleasure."He went away and came backwith the long-handledcoffeeand milk pots. He pouredthe milk and coffee. Itcame out of the
    • long spouts in two streamsinto the big cup. Thewaiter noddedhis head."Badly cogido through theback," he said. He put thepots downon the table and sat downin the chair at the table."A big hornwound. All for fun. Justfor fun. What do you thinkof that?""I dont know.""Thats it. All for fun.Fun, you understand.""Youre not an aficionado?"
    • "Me? What are bulls?Animals. Brute animals." Hestood up198 THE SUN ALSO RISESand put his hand on thesmall of his back. "Rightthrough theback. A cornada rightthrough the back. For funyou under-stand."He shook his head andwalked away, carrying thecoffee-pots.Two men were going by inthe street. The waitershouted to them.
    • They were grave-looking.One shook his head."Muerto!" hecalled.The waiter nodded his head.The two men went on. Theywereon some errand. The waitercame over to my table."You hear? Muerto. Dead.Hes dead. With a hornthroughhim. All for morning fun.Es muy flamenco.""Its bad.""Not for me," the waitersaid. "No fun in that forme."
    • Later in the day we learnedthat the man who was killedwasnamed Vicente Girones, andcame from near Tafalla. Thenextday in the paper we readthat he was twenty-eightyears old, andhad a farm, a wife, and twochildren. He had continuedto cometo the fiesta each yearafter he was married. Thenext day his wifecame in from Tafalla to bewith the body, and the dayafter therewas a service in the chapelof San Fermin, and thecoffin was car-
    • ried to the railway-stationby members of the dancingand drink-ing society of Tafalla. Thedrums marched ahead, andthere wasmusic on the fifes, andbehind the men who carriedthe coffinwalked the wife and twochildren. . . . Behind themmarchedall the members of thedancing and drinkingsocieties of Pam-plona, Estella, Tafalla,and Sanguesa who could stayover for thefuneral. The coffin wasloaded into the baggage-carof the train,
    • and the widow and the twochildren rode, sitting, allthree to-gether, in aji open third-class railway-carriage. Thetrain startedwith a jerk, and then ransmoothly, going down gradearound theedge of the plateau and outinto the fields of grainthat blew inthe wind on the plain onthe way to Tafalla.THE SUN ALSO RISES 199The bull who killed VicenteGirones was namedBocanegra,
    • was Number 118 of the bull-breeding establishment ofSanchezTaberno, and was killed byPedro Romero as the thirdbull of thatsame afternoon. His ear wascut by popular acclamationand givento Pedro Romero, who, inturn, gave it to Brett, whowrapped it ina handkerchief belonging tomyself, and left both earand hand-kerchief, along with anumber of Muratticigarette-stubs, shovedfar back in the drawer ofthe bed-table that stoodbeside her bedin the Hotel Montoya, inPamplona.
    • Back in the hotel, thenight watchman was sittingon a benchinside the door. He hadbeen there all night andwas very sleepy.He stood up as I came in.Three of the waitressescame in at thesame time. They had been tothe morning show at thebull-ring.They went up-stairslaughing. I followed themup-stairs and wentinto my room. I took off myshoes and lay down on thebed. Thewindow was open onto thebalcony and the sunlightwas bright
    • in the room. I did not feelsleepy. It must have beenhalf pastthree oclock when I hadgone to bed and the bandshad wakedme at six. My jaw was soreon both sides. I felt itwith my thumband fingers. That damnCohn. He should have hitsomebody thefirst time he was insulted,and then gone away. He wasso surethat Brett loved him. Hewas going to stay, and truelove wouldconquer all. Some oneknocked on the door*"Come in/ 1
    • It was Bill and Mike. Theysat down on the bed."Some encierro," Bill said."Some encierro.""I say, werent you there?"Mike asked. "Ring for somebeer,Bill.""What a morning!" Billsaid. He mopped off hisface. "MyGod! what a morning! Andheres old Jake. Old Jake,the humanpunching-bag"2OO THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • "What happened inside?""Good God!" Bill said,"what happened, Mike?""There were these bullscoming in," Mike said."Just ahead ofthem was the crowd, andsome chap tripped andbrought thewhole lot of them down.""And the bulls all came inright over them," Billsaid."I heard them yell""That was Edna," Bill said."Chaps kept coming out andwaving their shirts."
    • "One bull went along thebarrera and hookedeverybody over.""They took about twentychaps to the infirmary,"Mike said."What a morning!" Billsaid. "The damn police keptarrestingchaps that wanted to go andcommit suicide with thebulls.""The steers took them in,in the end," Mike said."It took about an hour."
    • "It was really about aquarter of an hour," Mikeobjected."Oh, go to hell," Billsaid. "Youve been in thewar. It was twohours and a half for me.""Wheres that beer?" Mikeasked."What did you do with thelovely Edna?""We took her home just now.Shes gone to bed.""How did she like it?""Fine. We told her it wasjust like that everymorning."
    • "She was impressed," Mikesaid."She wanted us to go downin the ring, too," Billsaid. "Shelikes action.""I said it wouldnt be fairto my creditors," Mikesaid."What a morning," Billsaid. "And what a night!""Hows your jaw, Jake?"Mike asked."Sore," I said.Bill laughed.
    • "Why didnt you hit himwith a chair?""You can talk," Mike said."Hed have knocked you out,too.THE SUN ALSO RISES 2O1I never saw him hit me. Irather think I saw him justbefore, andthen quite suddenly I wassitting down in the street,and Jakewas lying under a table.""Where did he goafterward?" I asked.
    • "Here she is," Mike said."Heres the beautiful ladywith thebeer."The chambermaid put thetray with the beer-bottlesand glassesdown on the table."Now bring up three morebottles," Mike said."Where did Cohn go after hehit me?" I asked Bill."Dont you know aboutthat?" Mike was opening abeer-bottle.He poured the beer into oneof the glasses, holding theglass closeto the bottle.
    • "Really?" Bill asked."Why he went in and foundBrett and the bull-fighterchap inthe bull-fighters room,and then he massacred thepoor, bloodybull-fighter.""No.""Yes.""What a night!" Bill said."He nearly killed the poor,bloody bull-fighter. ThenCohnwanted to take Brett away.Wanted to make an honestwoman of
    • her, I imagine. Damnedtouching scene."He took a long drink of thebeer."He is an ass.""What happened?""Brett gave him what for.She told him off. I thinkshe wasrather good.""Ill bet she was," Billsaid."Then Cohn broke down andcried, and wanted to shakehands
    • with the bull-fighterfellow. He wanted to shakehands withBrett, too.""I know. He shook handswith me."2O2 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Did he? Well, they werenthaving any of it. The bull-fighterfellow was rather good* Hedidnt say much, but hekept gettingup and getting knocked downagain. Cohn couldnt knockhimout. It must have beendamned funny. 11
    • "Where did you hear allthis?""Brett. I saw her thismorning.""What happened finally?""It seems the bull-fighterfellow was sitting on thebed. Hedbeen knocked down aboutfifteen times, arid hewanted to fightsome more. Brett held himand wouldnt let him getup. He wasweak, but Brett couldnthold him, and he got up.Then Cohn
    • said he wouldnt hit himagain. Said he couldnt doit. Said itwould be wicked. So thebull-fighter chap sort ofrather staggeredover to him. Cohn went backagainst the wall." So you wont hit me?"No, said Cohn. Id beashamed to/"So the bull-fighter fellowhit him just as hard as hecould inthe face, and then sat downon the floor. He couldntget up, Brettsaid. Cohn wanted to pickhim up and carry him to thebed. He
    • said if Cohn helped himhed kill him, and hedkill him anywaythis morning if Cohn wasntout of town. Cohn wascrying, andBrett had told him off, andhe wanted to shake hands.Ive toldyou that before.""Tell the rest/ 1 Billsaid."It seems the bull-fighterchap was sitting on thefloor. He waswaiting to get strengthenough to get up and hitCohn again.Brett wasnt having anyshaking hands, and Cohn wascrying
    • and telling her how much heloved her, and she wastelling himnot to be a ruddy ass. ThenCohn leaned down to shakehandswith the bull-fighterfellow. No hard feelings,you know. All forforgiveness. And the bull-fighter chap hit him in thefaceagain.""Thats quite a kid," Billsaid.THE SUN ALSO RISES 203
    • "He ruined Cohn," Mikesaid. "You know I dontthink Cohnwill ever want to knockpeople about again.""When did you see Brett?""This morning. She came into get some things. Sheslookingafter this Romero lad."He poured out anotherbottle of beer."Bretts rather cut up. Butshe loves looking afterpeople. Thatshow we came to go offtogether. She was lookingafter me."
    • "I know," I said."Im rather drunk," Mikesaid. "I think Ill stayrather drunk.This is all awfullyamusing, but its not toopleasant. Its not toopleasant for me."He drank off the beer."I gave Brett what for, youknow. I said if she wouldgo aboutwith Jews and bull-fightersand such people, she mustexpecttrouble." He leanedforward. "I say, Jake, doyou mind if I drink
    • that bottle of yours?Shell bring you anotherone.""Please," I said. "I wasntdrinking it, anyway."Mike started to open thebottle. "Would you mindopeningit?" I pressed up the wirefastener and poured it forhim."You know," Mike went on,"Brett was rather good.Shesalways rather good. I gaveher a fearful hiding aboutJews andbull-fighters, and allthose sort of people, anddo you know what
    • she said: Tes. Ive hadsuch a hell of a happy lifewith theBritish aristocracy!"He took a drink."That was rather good.Ashley, chap she got thetitle from, wasa sailor, you know. Ninthbaronet. When he came homehewouldnt sleep in a bed.Always made Brett sleep onthe floor.Finally, when he got reallybad, he used to tell herhed kill henAlways slept with a loadedservice revolver. Brettused to take the
    • shells out when hed goneto sleep. She hasnt had anabsolutelyhappy life, Brett. Damnedshame, too. She enjoysthings so."204 THE SUN ALSO RISESHe stood up. His hand wasshaky."Im going in the room. Tryand get a little sleep."He smiled."We go too long withoutsleep in these fiestas. Imgoing to
    • start now and get plenty ofsleep. Damn bad thing notto getsleep. Makes youfrightfully nervy.""Well see you at noon atthe Irufia," Bill said.Mike went out the door. Weheard him in the next room.He rang the bell and thechambermaid came andknocked atthe door."Bring up half a dozenbottles of beer and abottle of Funda-dor," Mike told her."Si, Senorito."
    • "Im going to bed," Billsaid. "Poor old Mike. I hada hell of arow about him last night.""Where? At that Milanoplace?""Yes. There was a fellowthere that had helped payBrett andMike out of Cannes, once.He was damned nasty.""I know the story.""I didnt. Nobody ought tohave a right to say thingsaboutMike.""Thats what makes it bad."
    • "They oughtnt to have anyright. I wish to hell theydidnt haveany right. Im going tobed.""Was anybody killed in thering?""I dont think so. Justbadly hurt.""A man was killed outsidein the runway."Was there?" said Bill.CHAPTER XVIII
    • AT noon we were all at thecafe. It was crowded. Wewere eatingshrimps and drinking beer.The town was crowded. Everystreetwas full. Big motor-carsfrom Biarritz and SanSebastian keptdriving up and parkingaround the square. Theybrought peoplefor the bull-fight. Sight-seeing cars came up, too.There was onewith twenty-fiveEnglishwomen in it. Theysat in the big, whitecar and looked throughtheir glasses at thefiesta. The dancers
    • were all quite drunk. Itwas the last day of thefiesta.The fiesta was solid andunbroken, but the motor-cars andtourist-cars made littleislands of onlookers. Whenthe cars emp-tied, the onlookers wereabsorbed into the crowd.You did not seethem again except as sportclothes, odd-looking at atable amongthe closely packed peasantsin black smocks. The fiestaabsorbedeven the Biarritz Englishso that you did not seethem unless you
    • passed close to a table.All the time there wasmusic in the street.The drums kept on poundingand the pipes were going.Inside thecafds men with their handsgripping the table, or oneach othersshoulders, were singing thehard-voiced singing.2052O6 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Here comes Brett," Billsaid.
    • I looked and saw her comingthrough the crowd in thesquare,walking, her head up, asthough the fiesta werebeing staged inher honor, and she found itpleasant and amusing*"Hello, you chaps! 1 shesaid. "1 say, I have athirst/"Get another big beer,"Bill said to the waiter."Shrimps?""Is Cohn gone?" Brettasked."Yes," Bill said. "He hireda car."
    • The beer came. Brettstarted to lift the glassmug and her handshook. She saw it andsmiled, and leaned forwardand took a longsip."Good beer.""Very good," I said. I wasnervous about Mike. I didnot thinkhe had slept. He must havebeen drinking all the time,but heseemed to be under control."I heard Cohn had hurt you,Jake," Brett said.
    • "No. Knocked me out. Thatwas all.""I say, he did hurt PedroRomero," Brett said. "Hehurt himmost badly.""How is he?""Hell be all right. Hewont go out of the room.""Does he look badly?""Very. He was really hurt.I told him I wanted to popout andsee you chaps for aminute.""Is he going to fight?"
    • "Rather. Im going withyou, if you dont mind.""Hows your boy friend?"Mike asked. He had notlistenedto anything that Brett hadsaid."Bretts got a bull-fighter," he said. "She hada Jew named Cohn,but he turned out badly."Brett stood up."I am not going to listento that sort of rot fromyou, Michael."THE SUN ALSO RISES 2OJ
    • "Hows your boy friend?""Damned well," Brett said."Watch him this afternoon.""Bretts got a bull-fighter," Mike said. "Abeautiful, bloody bull-fighter.""Would you mind walkingover with me? I want totalk toyou, Jake."Tell him all about yourbull-fighter," Mike said."Oh, to hellwith your bull-fighter!" Hetipped the table so thatall the beers
    • and the dish of shrimpswent over in a crash."Come on," Brett said."Lets get out of this."In the crowd crossing thesquare I said: "How is it?""Im not going to see himafter lunch until thefight. His peo-ple come in and dress him.Theyre very angry aboutme, he says."Brett was radiant. She washappy. The sun was out andthe daywas bright.
    • "I feel altogetherchanged," Brett said."Youve no idea, Jake.""Anything you want me todo?""No, just go to the fightwith me.""Well see you at lunch?""No. Im eating with him."We were standing under thearcade at the door of thehotel.They were carrying tablesout and setting them upunder thearcade.
    • "Want to take a turn out tothe park?" Brett asked. "Idontwant to go up yet. I fancyhes sleeping."We walked along past thetheatre and out of thesquare andalong through the barracksof the fair, moving withthe crowdbetween the lines ofbooths. We came out on across-street thatled to the Paseo deSarasate. We could see thecrowd walkingthere, all the fashionablydressed people. They weremaking theturn at the upper end ofthe park.
    • "Dont lets go there,"Brett said. "I dont wantstaring at justnow."2O8 THE SUN ALSO RISESWe stood in the sunlight.It was hot and good afterthe rainand the clouds from thesea."I hope the wind goesdown/ Brett said. Itsvery bad for him/ 1
    • "So do I.""He says the bulls are allright/ 1"Theyre good.""Is that San Fermins?"Brett looked at the yellowwall of the chapel."Yes. Where the showstarted on Sunday.""Lets go in. Do you mind?Id rather like to pray alittle forhim or something."We went in through theheavy leather door thatmoved very
    • lightly. It was darkinside. Many people werepraying. You sawthem as your eyes adjustedthemselves to the half-light. We kneltat one of the long woodenbenches. After a little Ifelt Brett stiffenbeside me, and saw she waslooking straight ahead."Come on," she whisperedthroatily. "Lets get outof here.Makes me damned nervous/ 1Outside in the hotbrightness of the streetBrett looked up atthe tree-tops in the wind.The praying had not beenmuch of a
    • success."Dont know why I get sonervy in church," Brettsaid. "Neverdoes me any good."We walked along."Im damned bad for areligious atmosphere,"Brett said. "Ivethe wrong type of face."You know," Brett said,"Im not worried about himat all. I justfeel happy about him.""Good.""I wish the wind woulddrop, though/
    • "Its liable to go down byfive oclock/"Lets hope.""You might pray," Ilaughed.THE SUN ALSO RISES"Never does me any good.Ive never gotten anythingI prayedfor. Have you?""Oh, yes.""Oh, rot," said Brett."Maybe it works for somepeople, though.
    • You dont look veryreligious, Jake/"Im pretty religious.""Oh, rot," said Brett."Dont start proselytingto-day. To-daysgoing to be bad enough asit is."It was the first time I hadseen her in the old happy,carelessway since before she wentoff with Cohn. We were backagainin front of the hotel. Allthe tables were set now,and alreadyseveral were filled withpeople eating.
    • "Do look after Mike," Brettsaid. "Dont let him gettoo bad.""Your frients haff gone up-stairs," the German maitredh6telsaid in English. He was acontinual eavesdropper.Brett turned tohim:"Thank you, so much. Haveyou anything else to say?""No, Warn.""Good," said Brett."Save us a table forthree," I said to theGerman. He smiled
    • his dirty little pink-and-white smile."Iss madam eating here?""No," Brett said."Den I think a tabul fortwo will be enuff.""Dont talk to him," Brettsaid. "Mike must have beenin badshape," she said on thestairs. We passed Montoyaon the stairs.He bowed and did not smile."Ill see you at thecafe"," Brett said. "Thankyou, so much,Jake."
    • We had stopped at the floorour rooms were on. She wentstraight down the hall andinto Romeros room. She didnot knock.She simply opened the door,went in, and closed itbehind her.I stood in front of thedoor of Mikes room andknocked. There21O THE SUN ALSO RISESwas no answer. I tried theknob and it opened. Insidethe roomwas in great disorder. Allthe bags were opened andclothing was
    • strewn around. There wereempty bottles beside thebed. Mikelay on the bed looking likea death mask of himself. Heopenedhis eyes ana looked at me."Hello, Jake," he said veryslowly. "Im getting a littie sleep.Ive want ed a lit tiesleep for a long time.""Let me cover you over.""No. Im quite warm.""Dont go. I have nt gotten to sleep yet.""Youll sleep, Mike. Dontworry, boy."
    • "Bretts got a bull-fighter," Mike said. "Buther Jew has goneaway."He turned his head andlooked at me."Damned good thing, what?"*Tes. Now go to sleep,Mike. You ought to get somesleep.""Im just start ing. Im going to get a lit tiesleep."He shut his eyes. I wentout of the room and turnedthe door
    • to quietly. Bill was in myroom reading the paper."See Mike?""Yes.""Lets go and eat.""I wont eat down-stairswith that German headwaiter. He wasdamned snotty when I wasgetting Mike up-stairs.""He was snotty to us, too.""Lets go out and eat inthe town."We went down the stairs. Onthe stairs we passed a girlcoming
    • up with a covered tray."There goes Bretts lunch,"Bill said."And the kids," I said.Outside on the terraceunder the arcade the Germanheadwaiter came up. His redcheeks were shiny. He wasbeing polite."I haff a tabul for two foryou gentlemen," he said.THE SUN ALSO RISES 211
    • "Go sit at it," Bill said.We went on out across thestreet.We ate at a restaurant in aside street off the square.Theywere all men eating in therestaurant. It was full ofsmoke anddrinking and singing. Thefood was good and so wasthe wine. Wedid not talk much.Afterward we went to thecafe and watchedthe fiesta come to theboiling-point. Brett cameover soon afterlunch. She said she hadlooked in the room and thatMike wasasleep.
    • When the fiesta boiled overand toward the bull-ring wewentwith the crowd. Brett satat the ringside betweenBill and me.Directly below us was thecallejon, the passagewaybetween thestands and the red fence ofthe barrera. Behind us theconcretestands filled solidly. Outin front, beyond the redfence, the sandof the ring was smooth-rolled and yellow. Itlooked a little heavyfrom the rain, but it wasdry in the sun and firm andsmooth.
    • The sword-handlers andbull-ring servants camedown the calle-jon carrying on theirshoulders the wickerbaskets of fighting capesand muletas. They werebloodstained and compactlyfolded andpacked in the baskets. Thesword-handlers opened theheavyleather sword-cases so thered wrapped hilts of thesheaf of swordsshowed as the leather caseleaned against the fence.They un-folded the dark-stained redflannel of the muletas andfixed batons
    • in them to spread the stuffand give the matadorsomething tohold. Brett watched it all.She was absorbed in theprofessionaldetails."Hes his name stencilledon all the capes andmuletas/ 1 shesaid. Why do they callthem muletas?""I dont know.""I wonder if they everlaunder them.""I dont think so. It mightspoil the color."
    • The blood must stiffenthem," Bill said.Tunny ," Brett said. "Howone doesnt mind theblood."Below in the narrow passageof the callejon the sword-handlers212 THE SUN ALSO RISESarranged everything. Allthe seats were full. Above,all the boxeswere full. There was not anempty seat except in thePresidents
    • box. When he came in thefight would start. Acrossthe smoothsand, in the high doorwaythat led into the corrals,the bull-fighters were standing,their arms furled in theircapes, talking,waiting for the signal tomarch in across the arena.Brett waswatching them with theglasses."Here, would you like tolook?"I looked through theglasses and saw the threematadors.
    • Romero was in the centre,Belmonte on his left,Marcial on hisright. Back of them weretheir people, and behindthe bande-rilleros, back in thepassageway and in the openspace of thecorral, I saw the picadors.Romero was wearing a blacksuit. Histricornered hat was lowdown over his eyes. I couldnot see hisface clearly under the hat,but it looked badly marked.He waslooking straight ahead.Marcial was smoking acigarette guard-
    • edly, holding it in hishand. Belmonte lookedahead, his face wanand yellow, his long wolfjaw out. He was looking atnothing.Neither he nor Romeroseemed to have anything incommonwith the others. They wereall alone. The Presidentcame in; therewas handclapping above usin the grand stand, and Ihanded theglasses to Brett. There wasapplause. The musicstarted. Brettlooked through the glasses."Here, take them," shesaid.
    • Through the glasses I sawBelmonte speak to Romero.Marcialstraightened up and droppedhis cigarette, and, lookingstraightahead, their heads back,their free arms swinging,the three mata-dors walked out. Behindthem came all theprocession, openingout, all striding in step,all the capes furled,everybody with freearms swinging, and behindrode the picadors, theirpics risinglike lances. Behind allcame the two trains ofmules and the bull-
    • ring servants. The matadorsbowed, holding their hatson, beforethe Presidents box, andthen came ovei to thebarrera below us.THE SUN ALSO RISES 213Pedro Romero took off hisheavy gold-brocaded capeand handedit over the fence to hissword-handler. He saidsomething to thesword-handler. Close belowus we saw Romeros lipswere puffed,both eyes were discolored.His face was discolored andswollen.
    • The sword-handler took thecape, looked up at Brett,and cameover to us and handed upthe cape."Spread it out in front ofyou," I said.Brett leaned forward. Thecape was heavy and smoothlystiffwith gold. The sword-handler looked back, shookhis head, andsaid something. A manbeside me leaned overtoward Brett."He doesnt want you tospread it," he said. "Youshould fold
    • it and keep it in yourlap."Brett folded the heavycape.Romero did not look up atus. He was speaking toBelmonte.Belmonte had sent hisformal cape over to somefriends. Helooked across at them andsmiled, his wolf smile thatwas onlywith the mouth. Romeroleaned over the barrera andasked forthe water-jug. The sword-handler brought it andRomero poured
    • water over the percale ofhis fighting-cape, and thenscuffed thelower folds in the sandwith his slippered foot."Whats that for?" Brettasked."To give it weight in thewind.""His face looks bad," Billsaid."He feels very badly,"Brett said. "He should bein bed."The first bull wasBelmontes. Belmonte wasvery good. But
    • because he got thirtythousand pesetas and peoplehad stayed inline all night to buytickets to see him, thecrowd demanded thathe should be more than verygood. Belmontes greatattraction isworking close to the bull.In bull-fighting they speakof the ter-rain of the bull and theterrain of the bull-fighter. As long as abull-fighter stays in hisown terrain he iscomparatively safe. Eachtime he enters into theterrain of the bull he isin great danger.
    • Belmonte, in his best days,worked always in theterrain of the214 THE SUN ALSO RISESbull. This way he gave thesensation of comingtragedy. Peoplewent to the corrida to seeBelmonte, to be giventragic sensations,and perhaps to see thedeath of Belmonte. Fifteenyears ago theysaid if you wanted to seeBelmonte you should goquickly, whilehe was still alive. Sincethen he has killed morethan a thousand
    • bulls. When he retired thelegend grew up about howhis bull-fighting had been, and whenhe came out of retirementthe publicwere disappointed becauseno real man could work asclose to thebulls as Belmonte wassupposed to have done, not,of course, evenBelmonte.Also Belmonte imposedconditions and insistedthat his bullsshould not be too large,nor too dangerously armedwith horns,and so the element that wasnecessary to give thesensation of
    • tragedy was not there, andthe public, who wantedthree times asmuch from Belmonte, who wassick with a fistula, asBelmontehad ever been able to give,felt defrauded and cheated,and Bel-montes jaw came furtherout in contempt, and hisface turnedyellower, and he moved withgreater difficulty as hispain in-creased, and finally thecrowd were actively againsthim, and hewas utterly contemptuousand indifferent. He hadmeant to have
    • a great afternoon, andinstead it was an afternoonof sneers,shouted insults, andfinally a volley ofcushions and pieces ofbread and vegetables,thrown down at him in theplaza where hehad had his greatesttriumphs. His jaw only wentfurther outSometimes he turned tosmile that toothed, long-jawed, liplesssmile when he was calledsomething particularlyinsulting, andalways the pain that anymovement produced grewstronger and
    • stronger, until finally hisyellow face was parchmentcolor, andafter his second bull wasdead and the throwing ofbread andcushions was over, after hehad saluted the Presidentwith thesame wolf-jawed smile andcontemptuous eyes, andhanded hissword over the barrera tobe wiped, and put back inits case, heTHE SUN ALSO RISES 215passed through into thecallejon and leaned on thebarrera below
    • us, his head on his arms,not seeing, not hearinganything, onlygoing through his pain.When he looked up, finally,he asked fora drink of water. Heswallowed a little, rinsedhis mouth, spatthe water, took his cape,and went back into thering.Because they were againstBelmonte the public werefor Ro-mero. From the moment heleft the barrera and wenttoward thebull they applauded him.Belmonte watched Romero,too, watched
    • him always without seemingto. He paid no attention toMarcial.Marcial was the sort ofthing he knew all about. Hehad comeout of retirement tocompete with Marcial,knowing it was acompetition gained inadvance. He had expected tocompete withMarcial and the other starsof the decadence of bull-fighting, andhe knew that the sincerityof his own bull-fightingwould be soset off by the falseaesthetics of the bull-fighters of the decadent
    • period that he would onlyhave to be in the ring. Hisreturn fromretirement had been spoiledby Romero. Romero didalways,smoothly, calmly, andbeautifully, what he,Belmonte, could onlybring himself to do nowsometimes. The crowd feltit, even thepeople from Biarritz, eventhe American ambassador sawit, fi-nally. It was a competitionthat Belmonte would notenter becauseit would lead only to a badhorn wound or death.Belmonte was
    • no longer well enough. Heno longer had his greatestmomentsin the bull-ring. He wasnot sure that there wereany great mo-ments. Things were not thesame and now life only cameinflashes. He had flashes ofthe old greatness with hisbulls, but theywere not of value becausehe had discounted them inadvancewhen he had picked thebulls out for their safety,getting out of amotor and leaning on afence, looking over at theherd on the
    • ranch of his friend thebull-breeder. So he had twosmall, man-ageable bulls without muchhorns, and when he felt thegreatnessagain coming, just a littleof it through the pain thatwas always2l6 THE SUN ALSO RISESwith him, it had beendiscounted and sold inadvance, and it didnot give him a goodfeeling. It was thegreatness, but it did notmake bull-fightingwonderful to him any more.
    • Pedro Romero had thegreatness. He loved bull-fighting, and Ithink he loved the bulls,and I think he loved Brett.Everythingof which he could controlthe locality he did infront of her allthat afternoon. Never oncedid he look up. He made itstrongerthat way, and did it forhimself, too, as well asfor her. Becausehe did not look up to askif it pleased he did it allfor himselfinside, and it strengthenedhim, and yet he did it forher, too. But
    • he did not do it for her atany loss to himself. Hegained by itall through the afternoon.I Us first "quite" wasdirectly below us. Thethree matadors takethe bull in turn after eachcharge he makes at apicador. Bel-monte was the first.Marcial was the second.Then came Romero.The three of them werestanding at the left of thehorse. Thepicador, his hat down overhis eyes, the shaft of hispic anglingsharply toward the bull,kicked in the spurs andheld them and
    • with the reins in his lefthand walked the horseforward towardthe bull. The bull waswatching. Seemingly hewatched the whitehorse, but really hewatched the triangularsteel point of the pic.Romero, watching, saw thebull start to turn hishead. He did notwant to charge. Romeroflicked his cape so thecolor caught thebulls eye. The bullcharged with the reflex,charged, and foundnot the flash of color buta white horse, and a manleaned far over
    • the horse, shot the steelpoint of the long hickoryshaft into thehump of muscle on thebulls shoulder, and pulledhis horse side-ways as he pivoted on thepic, making a wound,enforcing theiron into the bullsshoulder, making him bleedfor Belmonte*The bull did not insistunder the iron. He did notreally wantto get at the horse. Heturned and the group brokeapart andRomero was taking him outwith his cape. He took himout softly
    • and smoothly, and thenstopped and, standingsquarely in frontTHE SUN ALSO RISES 217of the bull, offered himthe cape. The bulls tailwent up and hecharged, and Romero movedhis arms ahead of the bull,wheel-ing, his feet firmed. Thedampened, mud-weighted capeswungopen and full as a sailfills, and Romero pivotedwith it just aheadof the bull. At the end ofthe pass they were facingeach other
    • again. Romero smiled. Thebull wanted it again, andRomeroscape filled again, thistime on the other side.Each time he let thebull pass so close that theman and the bull and thecape that filledand pivoted ahead of thebull were all one sharplyetched mass.It was all so slow and socontrolled. It was asthough he wererocking the bull to sleep.He made four veronicas likethat, andfinished with a half-veronica that turned hisback on the bull and
    • came away toward theapplause, his hand on hiship, his cape onhis arm, and the bullwatching his back goingaway.In his own bulls he wasperfect. His first bull didnot see well.After the first two passeswith the cape Romero knewexactly howbad the vision wasimpaired. He workedaccordingly. It was notbrilliant bull-fighting. Itwas only perfect bull-fighting. The crowdwanted the bull changed.They made a great row.Nothing very
    • fine could happen with abull that could not see thelures, butthe President would notorder him replaced."Why dont they changehim?" Brett asked."Theyve paid for him. Theydont want to lose theirmoney/"Its hardly fair toRomero.""Watch how he handles abull that cant see thecolor/"Its the sort of thing Idont like to see."
    • It was not nice to watch ifyou cared anything aboutthe personwho was doing it. With thebull who could not see thecolors ofthe capes, or the scarletflannel of the muleta,Romero had tomake the bull consent withhis body. He had to get soclose thatthe bull saw his body, andwould start for it, andthen shift thebulls charge to theflannel and finish out thepass in the classicmanner. The Biarritz crowddid not like it. Theythought Romero
    • 21 8 THE SUN ALSO RISESwas afraid, and that waswhy he gave that littlesidestep eachtime as he transferred thebulls charge from his ownbody to theflannel. They preferredBelmontes imitation ofhimself or Mar-tials imitation ofBelmonte. There were threeof them in the rowbehind us."Whats he afraid of thebull for? The bulls sodumb he onlygoes after the cloth."
    • "Hes just a young bull-fighter. He hasnt learnedit yet.""But I thought he was finewith the cape before.""Probably hes nervousnow."Out in the centre of thering, all alone, Romero wasgoing onwith the same thing,getting so close that thebull could see himplainly, offering the body,offering it again a littlecloser, the bullwatching dully, then soclose that the bull thoughthe had him,
    • offering again and finallydrawing the charge andthen, just beforethe horns came, giving thebull the red cloth tofollow with thatlittle, almostimperceptible, jerk that sooffended the critical judg-ment of the Biarritz bull-fight experts."Hes going to kill now," Isaid to Brett. "The bullsstillstrong. He wouldnt wearhimself out."Out in the centre of thering Romero profiled infront of the
    • bull, drew the sword outfrom the folds of themuleta, rose on histoes, and sighted along theblade. The bull charged asRomerocharged. Romeros left handdropped the muleta over thebullsmuzzle to blind him, hisleft shoulder went forwardbetween thehorns as the sword went in,and for just an instant heand thebull were one, Romero wayout over the bull, theright arm ex-tended high up to where thehilt of the sword had gonein be-
    • tween the bulls shoulders.Then the figure was broken.Therewas a little jolt as Romerocame clear, and then he wasstanding,on hand up, facing thebull, his shirt ripped outfrom under hisslf JBVC, the white blowingin the wind, and the bull,the red swordTHE SUN ALSO RISES 219hilt tight between hisshoulders, his head goingdown and his legssettling."There he goes," Bill said.
    • Romero was close enough sothe bull could see him. Hishandstill up, he spoke to thebull. The bull gatheredhimself, then hishead went forward and hewent over slowly, then allover, sud-denly, four feet in theair.They handed the sword toRomero, and carrying itblade down,the muleta in his otherhand, he walked over to infront of thePresidents box, bowed,straightened, and came overto the barrera
    • and handed over the swordand muleta."Bad one," said the sword-handler."He made me sweat," saidRomero. He wiped off hisface. Thesword-handler handed himthe water-jug. Romero wipedhis lips.It hurt him to drink out ofthe jug. He did not look upat us.Marcial had a big day. Theywere still applauding himwhenRomeros last bull came in.It was the bull that hadsprinted out
    • and killed the man in themorning running.During Romeros first bullhis hurt face had been verynotice-able. Everything he didshowed it. All theconcentration of theawkwardly delicate workingwith the bull that couldnot see wellbrought it out. The fightwith Cohn had not touchedhis spiritbut his face had beensmashed and his body hurt.He was wipingall that out now. Eachthing that he did with thisbull wiped that
    • out a little cleaner. Itwas a good bull, a bigbull, and with horns,and it turned and rechargedeasily and surely. He waswhatRomero wanted in bulls.When he had finished hiswork with the muleta andwas readyto kill, the crowd made himgo on. They did not wantthe bullkilled yet, they did notwant it to be over. Romerowent on. Itwas like a course in bull-fighting. All the passes helinked up, allcompleted, all slow,templed and smooth. Therewere no tricks
    • 22O THE SUN ALSO RISESand no mystifications.There was no brusqueness.And each passas it reached the summitgave you a sudden acheinside. Thecrowd did not want it everto be finished.The bull was squared on allfour feet to be killed, andRomerokilled directly below us.He killed not as he hadbeen forced toby the last bull, but as hewanted to. He profileddirectly in front
    • of the bull, drew the swordout of the folds of themuleta andsighted along the blade.The bull watched him.Romero spoke tothe bull and tapped one ofhis feet. The bull chargedand Romerowaited for the charge, themuleta held low, sightingalong theblade, his feet firm. Thenwithout taking a stepforward, he be-came one with the bull, thesword was in high betweenthe shoul-ders, the bull had followedthe low-swung flannel, thatdisap-
    • peared as Romero lurchedclear to the left, and itwas over. Thebull tried to go forward,his legs commenced tosettle, he swungfrom side to side,hesitated, then went downon his knees, andRomeros older brotherleaned forward behind himand drove ashort knife into the bullsneck at the base of thehorns. The firsttime he missed. He drovethe knife in again, and thebull wentover, twitching and rigid.Romeros brother, holdingthe bulls
    • horn in one hand, the knifein the other, looked up atthe Presi-dents box. Handkerchiefswere waving all over thebull-ring. ThePresident looked down fromthe box and waved hishandkerchief*The brother cut the notchedblack ear from the deadbull andtrotted over with it toRomero. The bull lay heavyand black onthe sand, his tongue out.Boys were running towardhim from allparts of the arena, makinga little circle around him.They werestarting to dance aroundthe bulL
    • Romero took the ear fromhis brother and held it uptoward thePresident. The Presidentbowed and Romero, runningto getahead of the crowd, cametoward us. He leaned upagainst thebarrera and gave the ear toBrett. He nodded his headand smiled.The crowd were all abouthim. Brett held down thecape.THE SUN ALSO RISES 221"You liked it?" Romerocalled.
    • Brett did not say anything.They looked at each otherandsmiled. Brett had the earin her hand."Dont get bloody," Romerosaid, and grinned. Thecrowdwanted him. Several boysshouted at Brett. The crowdwas theboys, the dancers, and thedrunks. Romero turned andtried toget through the crowd. Theywere all around him tryingto lifthim and put him on theirshoulders. He fought andtwisted away,
    • and started running, in themidst of them, toward theexit. He didnot want to be carried onpeoples shoulders. Butthey held himand lifted him. It wasuncomfortable and his legswere spraddledand his body was very sore.They were lifting him andall run-ning toward the gate. Hehad his hand on somebodysshoulder.He looked around at usapologetically. The crowd,running, wentout the gate with him.We all three went back tothe hotel. Brett wentupstairs. Bill
    • and I sat in the down-stairs dining-room and atesome hard-boiledeggs and drank severalbottles of beer. Belmontecame down in hisstreet clothes with hismanager and two other men.They sat atthe next table and ate.Belmonte ate very little.They were leav-ing on the seven oclocktrain for Barcelona.Belmonte wore ablue-striped shirt and adark suit, and ate soft-boiled eggs. Theothers ate a big meaLBelmonte did not talk. Heonly answeredquestions.
    • Bill was tired after thebull-fight. So was I. Weboth took abull-fight very hard. Wesat and ate the eggs and Iwatched Bel-monte and the people at histable. The men with himwere tough-looking and businesslike."Come on over to the cafe,"Bill said. "I want anabsinthe."It was the last day of thefiesta. Outside it wasbeginning to becloudy again. The squarewas full of people and thefireworks
    • experts were making uptheir set pieces for thenight and coveringthem over with beechbranches. Boys werewatching. We passed222 THE SUN ALSO RISESstands of rockets with longbamboo stems. Outside thecafe" therewas a great crowd. Themusic and the dancing weregoing on.The giants and the dwarfswere passing."Wheres Edna?" I askedBill.
    • "I dont know."We watched the beginning ofthe evening of the lastnight ofthe fiesta. The absinthemade everything seembetter. I drank itwithout sugar in thedripping glass, and it waspleasantly bitter,"I feel sorry about Cohn,"Bill said. "He had an awfultime.""Oh, to hell with Cohn," Isaid."Where do you suppose hewent?""Up to Paris.*
    • "What do you suppose helldo?""Oh, to hell with him.""What do you suppose helldo?""Pick up with his old girl,probably.""Who was his old girl?""Somebody named Frances."We had another absinthe."When do you go back?" Iasked.To-morrow."
    • After a little while Billsaid: "Well, it was a swellfiesta.""Yes," I said; "somethingdoing all the time.""You wouldnt believe it.Its like a wonderfulnightmare.""Sure," I said. "Idbelieve anything. Includingnightmares.""Whats the matter? Feellow?""Low as hell.""Have another absinthe.Here, waiter! Anotherabsinthe for
    • this senor.""I feel like hell," I said."Drink that," said Bill."Drink it slow."It was beginning to getdark. The fiesta wa? goingon. I beganto feel drunk but I did notfeel any better.THE SUN ALSO RISES 22 3"How do you feel?""I feel like hell.""Have another?"
    • "It wont do any good/"Try it. You cant tell;maybe this is the one thatgets it. Hey,waiter! Another absinthefor this senor!"I poured the water directlyinto it and stirred itinstead of lettingit drip. Bill put in a lumpof ice. I stirred the icearound with aspoon in the brownish,cloudy mixture."How is it?""Fine."
    • "Dont drink it fast thatway. It will make yousick."I set down the glass. I hadnot meant to drink it fast."I feel tight.""You ought to.""Thats what you wanted,wasnt it?""Sure. Get tight. Get overyour damn depression.""Well, Im tight. Is thatwhat you want?""Sit down."
    • "I wont sit down," I said."Im going over to thehotel."I was very drunk. I wasdrunker than I everremembered havingbeen. At the hotel I wentup-stairs. Bretts door wasopen. I putmy head in the room. Mikewas sitting on the bed. Hewaved abottle."Jake," he said. "Come in,Jake."I went in and sat down. Theroom was unstable unless Ilookedat some fixed point.
    • "Brett, you know. Shesgone off with the bull-fighter chap.""No."Tes. She looked for you tosay good-bye. They went ontheseven oclock train.""Did they?""Bad thing to do," Mikesaid. "She shouldnt havedone it."224 THE SUN ALSO RISES"No."
    • "Have a drink? Wait while Iring for some beer.""Im drunk," I said. "Imgoing in and lie down.""Are you blind? I was blindmyself.""Yes," I said, "Im blind.""Well, bung-o," Mike said."Get some sleep, old Jake."I went out the door andinto my own room and lay onthe bed.The bed went sailing offand I sat up in bed andlooked at thewall to make it stop.Outside in the square thefiesta was going
    • on. It did not meananything. Later Bill andMike came in to getme to go down and eat withthem. I pretended to beasleep."Hes asleep. Better lethim alone.""Hes blind as a tick,"Mike said. They went out.I got up and went to thebalcony and looked out atthe dancingin the square. The worldwas not wheeling any more.It was justvery clear and bright, andinclined to blur at theedges. I washed,
    • brushed my hair. I lookedstrange to myself in theglass, and wentdown-stairs to the dining-room."Here he is!" said Bill"Good old Jake! I knew youwouldntpass out.""Hello, you old drunk,"Mike said."I got hungry and woke up.""Eat some soup," Bill said.The three of us sat at thetable, and it seemed asthough aboutsix people were missing.
    • BOOK IIICHAPTER XIXIN the morning it was allover. The fiesta wasfinished. I wokeabout nine oclock, had abath, dressed, and wentdown-stairs. Thesquare was empty and therewere no people on thestreets. A fewchildren were picking uprocket-sticks in thesquare. The cafes
    • were just opening and thewaiters were carrying outthe com-fortable white wickerchairs and arranging themaround themarble-topped tables in theshade of the arcade. Theywere sweep-ing the streets andsprinkling them with ahose.I sat in one of the wickerchairs and leaned backcomfortably.The waiter was in no hurryto come. The white-paperannounce-ments of the unloading ofthe bulls and the bigschedules of spe-
    • cial trains were still upon the pillars of thearcade, A waiterwearing a blue apron cameout with a bucket of waterand a cloth,and commenced to tear downthe notices, pulling thepaper offin strips and washing andrubbing away the paper thatstuck tothe stone. The fiesta wasover.I drank a coffee and aftera while Bill came over. Iwatched him227
    • 228 THE SUN ALSO RISEScome walking across thesquare. He sat down at thetable andordered a coffee."Well," he said, "its allover.""Yes," I said. "When do yougo?""I dont know. We betterget a car, I think. Arentyou goingback to Paris?""No. I can stay awayanottier week. I think Illgo to SanSebastian."
    • "I want to get back.""Whats Mike going to do?""Hes going to Saint Jeande Luz.""Lets get a car and all goas far as Bayonne. You canget thetrain up from there to-night.""Good. Lets go afterlunch.""All right. Ill get thecar."We had lunch and paid thebill. Montoya did not comenear
    • us. One of the maidsbrought the bill. The carwas outside. Thechauffeur piled andstrapped the bags on top ofthe car and putthem in beside him in thefront seat and we got in.The car wentout of the square, alongthrough the side streets,out under thetrees and down the hill andaway from Pamplona. It didnot seemlike a very long ride. Mikehad a bottle of Fundador. Ionly tooka couple of drinks. We cameover the mountains and outof Spain
    • and down the white roadsand through theoverfoliaged, wet,green, Basque country, andfinally into Bayonne. Weleft Billsbaggage at the station, andhe bought a ticket toParis. His trainleft at seven-ten. We cameout of the station. The carwas standingout in front."What shall we do about thecar?" Bill asked."Oh, bother the car," Mikesaid. "Lets just keep thecarwith us."
    • "All right," Bill said.Where shall we go?""Lets go to Biarritz andhave a drink."THE SUN ALSO RISES 229"Old Mike the spender,"Bill said.We drove in to Biarritz andleft the car outside a veryRitzplace. We went into the barand sat on high stools anddrank awhiskey and soda."That drinks mine/* Mikesaid.
    • "Lets roll for it."So we rolled poker dice outof a deep leather dice-cup.Bill wasout first roll. Mike lostto me and handed thebartender a hundred-franc note. The whiskeyswere twelve francs apiece.We had an-other round and Mike lostagain. Each time he gavethe bartendera good tip. In a room offthe bar there was a goodjazz band play-ing. It was a pleasant bar.We had another round. Iwent out on
    • the first roll with fourkings. Bill and Mikerolled. Mike won thefirst roll with four jacks.Bill won the second. On thefinal rollMike had three kings andlet them stay. He handedthe dice-cupto Bill. Bill rattled themand rolled, and there werethree kings,an ace, and a queen."Its yours, Mike," Billsaid. "Old Mike, thegambler.""Im so sorry," Mike said."I cant get it.""Whats the matter?"
    • "Ive no money," Mike said."Im stony. Ive justtwenty francs.Here, take twenty francs."Bills face sort ofchanged."I just had enough to payMontoya. Damned lucky tohave it,too.""Ill cash you a check,"Bill said.
    • "Thats damned nice of you,but you see I cant writechecks.""What are you going to dofor money?""Oh, some will comethrough. Ive two weeksallowance shouldbe here. I can live on tickat this pub in Saint Jean.""What do you want to doabout the car?" Bill askedme. "Doyou want to keep it on?""It doesnt make anydifference. Seems sort ofidiotic."
    • 230 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Come on, lets haveanother drink/ Mike said.Tine. This one is on me/Bill said. "Has Brett anymoney?"He turned to Mike."I shouldnt think so. Sheput up most of what I gaveto oldMontoya.""She hasnt any money withher?" I asked."I shouldnt think so. Shenever has any money. Shegets five
    • hundred quid a year andpays three hundred andfifty of it ininterest to Jews/"I suppose they get it atthe source/ said Bill."Quite. Theyre not reallyJews. We just call themJews. TheyreScotsmen, I believe.""Hasnt she any at all withher?" I asked."I hardly think so. Shegave it all to me when sheleft.""Well," Bill said, "wemight as well have anotherdrink."
    • "Damned good idea," Mikesaid. "One never getsanywhere bydiscussing finances.""No," said Bill. Bill and Irolled for the next tworounds. Billlost and paid. We went outto the car."Anywhere youd like to go,Mike?" Bill asked."Lets take a drive. Itmight do my credit good.Lets drive abouta little.""Fine. Id like to see thecoast. Lets drive downtoward Hen-
    • daye.""I havent any credit alongthe coast.""You cant ever tell," saidBill.We drove out along thecoast road. There was thegreen of theheadlands, the white, red-roofed villas, patches offorest, andthe ocean very blue withthe tide out and the watercurling farout along the beach. Wedrove through Saint Jean deLuz andpassed through villagesfarther down the coast.Back of the rolling
    • country we were goingthrough we saw themountains we hadcome over from Pamplona.The road went on ahead.Bill lookedTHE SUN ALSO RISES 231at his watch. It was timefor us to go back. Heknocked on theglass and told the driverto turn around. The driverbacked thecar out into the grass toturn it. In back of us werethe woods,below a stretch of meadow,then the sea.
    • At the hotel where Mike wasgoing to stay in Saint Jeanwestopped the car and he gotout. The chauffeur carriedin his bags.Mike stood by the side ofthe car."Good-bye, you chaps," Mikesaid. "It was a damned finefiesta.""So long, Mike," Bill said."Ill see you around," Isaid."Dont worry about money,"Mike said. "You can pay forthecar, Jake, and Ill sendyou my share."
    • "So long, Mike.""So long, you chaps. Youvebeen damned nice."We all shook hands. Wewaved from the car to Mike.He stoodin the road watching. Wegot to Bayonne just beforethe train left.A porter carried Billsbags in from the consigne.I went as far asthe inner gate to thetracks."So long, fella," Billsaid."So long, kid!"
    • "It was swell. Ive had aswell time.""Will you be in Paris?""No, I have to sail on thelyth. So long, fella!""So long, old kid!"He went in through the gateto the train. The porterwentahead with the bags. Iwatched the train pull out.Bill was at oneof the windows. The windowpassed, the rest of thetrain passed,and the tracks were empty.I went outside to the car.
    • "How much do we owe you?" Iasked the driver. The pricetoBayonne had been fixed at ahundred and fifty pesetas."Two hundred pesetas.""How much more will it beif you drive me to SanSebastianon your way back?"232 THE SUN ALSO RISES"Fifty pesetas/"Dont kid me/"Thirty-five pesetas/
    • "Its not worth it," Isaid. "Drive me to theHotel Panier Fleuri."At the hotel I paid thedriver and gave him a tip.The car waspowdered with dust. Irubbed the rod-case throughthe dust. Itseemed the last thing thatconnected me with Spain andthefiesta. The driver put thecar in gear and went downthe street. Iwatched it turn off to takethe road to Spain. I wentinto thehotel and they gave me aroom. It was the same roomI had slept
    • in when Bill and Cohn and Iwere in Bayonne. Thatseemed avery long time ago. Iwashed, changed my shirt,and went out inthe town.At a newspaper kiosque Ibought a copy of the NewYorkHerald and sat in a cafe toread it. It felt strange tobe in Franceagain. There was a safe,suburban feeling. I wishedI had goneup to Paris with Bill,except that Paris wouldhave meant morefiesta-ing. I was throughwith fiestas for a while.It would be
    • quiet in San Sebastian. Theseason does not open thereuntilAugust. I could get a goodhotel room and read andswim. Therewas a fine beach there.There were wonderful treesalong thepromenade above the beach,and there were manychildren sentdown with their nursesbefore the season opened.In the eveningthere would be bandconcerts under the treesacross from the Caf6Marinas. I could sit in theMarinas and listen.
    • "How does one eat inside?"I asked the waiter. Insidethe cafewas a restaurant."Well. Very well. One eatsvery well/"Good/I went in and ate dinner.It was a big meal forFrance but itseemed very carefullyapportioned after Spain. Idrank a bottle ofwine for company. It was aChateau Margaux. It waspleasant tobe drinking slowly and tobe tasting the wine and tobe drinking
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 23]alone. A bottle of wine wasgood company. Afterward Ihad coffee,The waiter recommended aBasque liqueur calledIzzarra. Hebrought in the bottle andpoured a liqueur-glassfull. He saidIzzarra was made of theflowers of the Pyrenees.The veritableflowers of the Pyrenees. Itlooked like hair-oil andsmelled likeItalian Strega. I told himto take the flowers of thePyrenees away
    • and bring me a vieux marc.The marc was good. I had asecondmarc after the coffee.The waiter seemed a littleoffended about the flowersof thePyrenees, so I overtippedhim. That made him happy.It fellcomfortable to be in acountry where it is sosimple to makepeople happy. You can nevertell whether a Spanishwaiter wil]thank you. Everything is onsuch a clear financialbasis in France,It is the simplest countryto live in. No one makesthings com-
    • plicated by becoming yourfriend for any obscurereason. If youwant people to like you youhave only to spend a littlemoney. ]spent a little money andthe waiter liked me. Heappreciated m)valuable qualities. Hewould be glad to see meback. I woulcdine there again some timeand he would be glad to seeme, ancwould want me at his table.It would be a sincereliking becauseit would have a soundbasis. I was back inFrance.
    • Next morning I tipped everyone a little too much atthe hotelto make more friends, andleft on the morning trainfor SarSebastian. At the station Idid not tip the porter morethan ]should because I did notthink I would ever see himagain. I onl)wanted a few good Frenchfriends in Bayonne to makeme welcome in case I should comeback there again. I knewthat if the)remembered me theirfriendship would be loyal.
    • At Irun we had to changetrains and show passports.I hated tcleave France. Life was sosimple in France. I felt Iwas a foato be going back intoSpain. In Spain you couldnot tell aboulanything. I felt like afool to be going back intoit, but I stood inline with my passport,opened my bags for thecustoms, bought a234 THE SUN ALSO RISESticket, went through agate, climbed onto thetrain, and after
    • forty minutes and eighttunnels I was at SanSebastian.Even on a hot day SanSebastian has a certainearly-morningquality* The trees seem asthough their leaves werenever quitedry. The streets feel asthough they had just beensprinkled. It isalways cool and shady oncertain streets on thehottest day. Iwent to a hotel in the townwhere I had stopped before,andthey gave me a room with abalcony that opened outabove the
    • roofs of the town. Therewas a green mountainsidebeyond theroofs.I unpacked my bags andstacked my books on thetable besidethe head of the bed, putout my shaving things, hungup someclothes in the big armoire,and made up a bundle forthe laundry.Then I took a shower in thebathroom and went down tolunch.Spain had not changed tosummer-time, so I wasearly. I set mywatch again. I hadrecovered an hour by comingto San Sebastian.
    • As I went into the dining-room the concierge broughtme apolice bulletin to fillout. I signed it and askedhim for two tele-graph forms, and wrote amessage to the HotelMontoya, tellingthem to forward all mailand telegrams for me tothis address. 1calculated how many days Iwould be in San Sebastianand thenwrote out a wire to theoffice asking them to holdmail, but for-ward all wires for me toSan Sebastian for six days.Then I wentin and had lunch.
    • After lunch I went up to myroom, read a while, andwent tosleep. When I woke it washalf past four. I found myswimming-suit, wrapped it with acomb in a towel, and wentdown-stairs andwalked up the street to theConcha. The tide was abouthalf-way out. The beach wassmooth and firm, and thesand yellow. Iwent into a bathing-cabin,undressed, put on my suit,and walkedacross the smooth sand tothe sea. The sand was warmunder bare
    • feet. There were quite afew people in the water andon thebeach. Out beyond where theheadlands of the Conchaalmost metTHE SUN ALSO RISES 235to form the harbor therewas a white line ofbreakers and theopen sea. Although the tidewas going out, there were afew slowrollers. They came in likeundulations in the water,gatheredweight of water, and thenbroke smoothly on the warmsand. I
    • waded out. The water wascold. As a roller came Idove, swam outunder water, and came tothe surface with all thechill gone. Iswam out to the raft,pulled myself up, and layon the hot planks.A boy and girl were at theother end. The girl hadundone thetop strap of her bathing-suit and was browning herback. The boylay face downward on theraft and talked to her. Shelaughed atthings he said, and turnedher brown back in the sun.I lay on
    • the raft in the sun until Iwas dry. Then I triedseveral dives. Idove deep once, swimmingdown to the bottom. I swamwith myeyes open and it was greenand dark. The raft made adark shadow.I came out of water besidethe raft, pulled up, doveonce more,holding it for length, andthen swam ashore. I lay onthe beachuntil I was dry, then wentinto the bathing-cabin,took off mysuit, sloshed myself withfresh water, and rubbeddry.
    • I walked around the harborunder the trees to thecasino, andthen up one of the coolstreets to the CafeMarinas. There wasan orchestra playing insidethe cafe and I sat out onthe terraceand enjoyed the freshcoolness in the hot day,and had a glass oflemon-juice and shaved iceand then a long whiskey andsoda. Isat in front of the Marinasfor a long time and readand watchedthe people, and listened tothe music.
    • Later when it began to getdark, I walked around theharborand out along thepromenade, and finally backto the hotel forsupper. There was abicycle-race on, the Tourdu Pays Basque,and the riders werestopping that night in SanSebastian. In thedining-room, at one side,there was a long table ofbicycle-riders,eating with their trainersand managers. They were allFrenchand Belgians, and paidclose attention to theirmeal, but they
    • were having a good time. Atthe head of the table weretwo good-236 THE SUN ALSO RISESlooking French girls, withmuch Rue du FaubourgMontmartrechic. I could not make outwhom they belonged to. Theyall spokein slang at the long tableand there were many privatejokes andsome jokes at the far endthat were not repeated whenthe girlsasked to hear them. Thenext morning at fiveoclock the race
    • resumed with the last lap,San Sebastian-Bilbao. Thebicycle-riders drank much wine, andwere burned and browned bythesun. They did not take therace seriously except amongthem-selves. They had racedamong themselves so oftenthat it did notmake much difference whowon. Especially in aforeign country.The money could bearranged.The man who had a matter oftwo minutes lead in therace
    • had an attack of boils,which were very painful. Hesat on thesmall of his back. His neckwas very red and the blondhairs weresunburned. The other ridersjoked him about his boils.He tappedon the table with his fork."Listen/* he said, "to-morrow my nose is so tighton the handle-bars that the only thingtouches those boils is alovely breeze/One of the girls looked athim down the table, and hegrinned
    • and turned red. TheSpaniards, they said, didnot know how topedal.I had coffee out on theterrasse with the teammanager of oneof the big bicyclemanufacturers. He said ithad been a verypleasant race, and wouldhave been worth watching ifBottechiahad not abandoned it atPamplona. The dust had beenbad, butin Spain the roads werebetter than in France.Bicycle road-racingwas the only sport in theworld, he said. Had I everfollowed the
    • Tour de France? Only in thepapers. The Tour de Francewasthe greatest sporting eventin the world. Following andorganizingthe road races had made himknow France. Few peopleknowFrance. All spring and allsummer and all fall hespent on theroad with bicycle road-racers. Look at the numberof motor-carsnow that followed theriders from town to town ina road race. ItTHE SUN ALSO RISES 237
    • was a rich country and moresportif every year. Itwould be themost sportif country in theworld. It was bicycle road-racing did it.That and football. He knewFrance. La France Sportive.He knewroad-racing. We had acognac. After all, though,it wasnt bad toget back to Paris. There isonly one Paname. In all theworld,that is. Paris is the townthe most sportif in theworld. Did I knowthe Chope de Negre? Did Inot. I would see him theresome
    • time. I certainly would. Wewould drink another finetogether*We certainly would. Theystarted at six oclock lessa quarter inthe morning. Would I be upfor the depart? I wouldcertainly tryto. Would I like him tocall me? It was veryinteresting. I wouldleave a call at the desk.He would not mind callingme. I couldnot let him take thetrouble. I would leave acall at the desk. Wesaid good-bye until thenext morning.
    • In the morning when I awokethe bicycle-riders andtheir fol-lowing cars had been on theroad for three hours. I hadcoffeeand the papers in bed andthen dressed and took mybathing-suitdown to the beach.Everything was fresh andcool and damp inthe early morning. Nursesin uniform and in peasantcostumewalked under the trees withchildren. The Spanishchildren werebeautiful. Some bootblackssat together under a treetalking to a
    • soldier. The soldier hadonly one arm. The tide wasin and therewas a good breeze and asurf on the beach.I undressed in one of thebath-cabins, crossed thenarrow lineof beach and went into thewater. I swam out, tryingto swimthrough the rollers, buthaving to dive sometimes.Then in thequiet water I turned andfloated. Floating I sawonly the sky, andfelt the drop and lift ofthe swells. I swam back tothe surf and
    • coasted in, face down, on abig roller, then turned andswam,trying to keep in thetrough and not have a wavebreak over me.It made me tired, swimmingin the trough, and I turnedandswam out to the raft. Thewater was buoyant and cold.It felt asthough you could neversink. I swam slowly, itseemed like a long238 THE SUN ALSO RISESswim with the high tide,and then pulled up on theraft and sat,
    • dripping, on the boardsthat were becoming hot inthe sun. Ilooked around at the bay,the old town, the casino,the line oftrees along the promenade,and the big hotels withtheir whiteporches and gold-letterednames. Off on the right,almost closingthe harbor, was a greenhill with a castle. Theraft rocked withthe motion of the water. Onthe other side of thenarrow gap thatled into the open sea wasanother high headland. Ithought I
    • would like to swim acrossthe bay but I was afraid ofcramp.I sat in the sun andwatched the bathers on thebeach. Theylooked very small. After awhile I stood up, grippedwith mytoes on the edge of theraft as it tipped with myweight, anddove cleanly and deeply, tocome up through thelighteningwater, blew the salt waterout of my head, and swamslowly andsteadily in to shore.
    • After I was dressed and hadpaid for the bath-cabin, Iwalkedback to the hotel. Thebicycle-racers had leftseveral copies ofLAuto around, and Igathered them up in thereading-room andtook them out and sat in aneasy chair in the sun toread about andcatch up on French sportinglife. While I was sittingthere theconcierge came out with ablue envelope in his hand."A telegram for you, sir/I poked my finger alongunder the fold that wasfastened
    • down, spread it open, andread it. It had beenforwarded fromParis:COULD YOU COME HOTELMONTANA MADRIDAM RATHER IN TROUBLE BRETT.I tipped the concierge andread the message again. Apostmanwas coming along thesidewalk. He turned in thehotel. He had abig moustache and lookedvery military. He came outof the hotelagain. The concierge wasjust behind him."Heres another telegramfor you, sir/ 1
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES 239"Thank you," I said.I opened it. It wasforwarded from Pamplona.COULD YOU COME HOTELMONTANA MADRIDAM RATHER IN TROUBLE BRETT.The concierge stood therewaiting for another tip,probably."What time is there a trainfor Madrid?"
    • "it left at nine thismorning. There is a slowtrain at eleven,and the Sud Express at tento-night.""Get me a berth on the SudExpress. Do you want themoneynow?""Just as you wish," hesaid. "I will have it puton the bill.""Do that."Well, that meant SanSebastian all shot to hell.I suppose,vaguely, I had expectedsomething of the sort. Isaw the con-
    • cierge standing in thedoorway."Bring me a telegram form,please."He brought it and I tookout my fountain-pen andprinted:LADY ASHLEY HOTEL MONTANAMADRIDARRIVING SUD EXPRESSTOMORROW LOVEJAKE.That seemed to handle it.That was it. Send a girloff with oneman. Introduce her toanother to go off with him.Now go and
    • bring her back. And signthe wire with love. Thatwas it all right.I went in to lunch.. I did not sleep much thatnight on the Sud Express.In themorning I had breakfast inthe dining-car and watchedthe rockand pine country betweenAvila and Escorial. I sawthe Escorialout of the window, gray andlong and cold in the sun,and did notgive a damn about it. I sawMadrid come up over theplain, acompact white sky-line onthe top of a little cliffaway off across
    • the sun-hardened country.The Norte station in Madridis the end of the line. Alltrains240 THE SUN ALSO RISESfinish there. They dont goon anywhere. Outside werecabs andtaxis and a line of hotelrunners. It was like acountry town. I tooka taxi and we climbed upthrough the gardens, by theemptypalace and the unfinishedchurch on the edge of thecliff, and on
    • up until we were in thehigh, hot, modern town. Thetaxi coasteddown a smooth street to thePuerta del Sol, and thenthrough thetraffic and out into theCarrera San Jeronimo. Allthe shops hadtheir awnings down againstthe heat. The windows onthe sunnyside of the street wereshuttered. The taxi stoppedat the curb. Isaw the sign HOTEL MONTANAon the second floor. Thetaxi-drivercarried the bags in andleft them by the elevator.I could not make
    • the elevator work, so Iwalked up. On the secondfloor up was acut brass sign: HOTELMONTANA. I rang and no onecame to thedoor. I rang again and amaid with a sullen faceopened the door."Is Lady Ashley here? 1 Iasked.She looked at me dully."Is an Englishwoman here?"She turned and called someone inside. A very fatwomancame to the door. Her hairwas gray and stiffly oiledin scallops
    • around her face. She wasshort and commanding."Muy buenos," I said. "Isthere an Englishwoman here?Iwould like to see thisEnglish lady.""Muy buenos. Yes, there isa female English. Certainlyyou cansee her if she wishes tosee you.""She wishes to see me.""The chica will ask her.""It is very hot.""It is very hot in thesummer in Madrid."
    • "And how cold in winter.""Yes, it is very cold inwinter."Did I want to stay myselfin person in the HotelMontana?Of that as yet I wasundecided, but it wouldgive me pleasureTHE SUN ALSO RISES 24!if my bags were brought upfrom the ground floor inorder that
    • they might not be stolen.Nothing was ever stolen inthe HotelMontana. In other fondas,yes. Not here. No. Thepersonages ofthis establishment wererigidly selectioned. I washappy to hearit. Nevertheless I wouldwelcome the upbringal of mybags.The maid came in and saidthat the female Englishwantedto see the male Englishnow, at once."Good," I said. "You see.It is as I said/"Clearly."
    • I followed the maids backdown a long, dark corridor.At theend she knocked on a door."Hello," said Brett. "Is ityou, Jake?""Its me.""Come in. Come in."I opened the door. The maidclosed it after me. Brettwas inbed. She had just beenbrushing her hair and heldthe brush inher hand. The room was inthat disorder produced onlyby those
    • who have always hadservants."Darling!" Brett said.I went over to the bed andput my arms around her. Shekissedme, and while she kissed meI could feel she wasthinking ofsomething else. She wastrembling in my arms. Shefelt verysmall."Darling! Ive had such ahell of a time."Tell me about it."
    • "Nothing to tell. He onlyleft yesterday. I made himgo. 1"Why didnt you keep him?""I dont know. It isnt thesort of thing one does. Idont think Ihurt him any.""You were probably damngood for him.""He shouldnt be livingwith any one. I realizedthat rightaway."242 THE SUN ALSO RISES
    • "No.""Oh, hell!" she said,lets not talk about it.Lets never talkabout it.""All right.""It was rather a knock hisbeing ashamed of me. He wasashamed of me for a while,you know.""No.""Oh, yes. They ragged himabout me -at the caf, Iguess. Hewanted me to grow my hairout. Me, with long hair.Id look so likehell."
    • "Its funny.""He said it would make memore womanly. Id look afright.""What happened?""Oh, he got over that. Hewasnt ashamed of me long.""What was it about being introuble?""I didnt know whether Icould make him go, and Ididnt havea sou to go away and leavehim. He tried to give me alot of
    • money, you know. I told himI had scads of it. He knewthat wasa lie. I couldnt take hismoney, you know.""No.""Oh, lets not talk aboutit. There were some funnythings,though. Do give me acigarette."I lit the cigarette."He learned his English asa waiter in Gib. w"Yes.""He wanted to marry me,finally."
    • "Really?""Of course. I cant evenmarry Mike.""Maybe he thought thatwould make him LordAshley.""No. It wasnt that. Hereally wanted to marry me.So I couldntgo away from him, he said.He wanted to make it sure Icouldnever go away from him.After Id gotten morewomanly, ofcourse."
    • THE SUN ALSO RISES"You ought to feel set up.""I do. Im all right again.Hes wiped out that damnedCohn.""Good.""You know Id have livedwith him if I hadnt seenit was badfor him. We got alongdamned well.""Outside of your personalappearance."
    • "Oh, hed have gotten usedto that."She put out the cigarette."Im thirty-four, you know.Im not going to be one ofthesebitches that ruinschildren.""No.""Im not going to be thatway. I feel rather good,you know. Ifeel rather set up.""Good."She looked away. I thoughtshe was looking for another
    • cigarette. Then I saw shewas crying. I could feelher crying.Shaking and crying. Shewouldnt look up. I put myarmsaround her."Dont lets ever talkabout it. Please dontlets ever talk alxDutit.""Dear Brett.""Im going back to Mike." Icould feel her crying as Iheld heiclose. "Hes so damned niceand hes so awful. Hes mysort ofthing."
    • She would not look up. Istroked her hair. I couldfeel hershaking."I wont be one of thosebitches," she said. "But,oh, Jake,please lets never talkabout it."We left the Hotel Montana.The woman who ran the hotelwould not let me pay thebill. The bill had beenpaid."Oh, well. Let it go,"Brett said. "It doesntmatter now."
    • We rode in a taxi down tothe Palace Hotel, left thebags, ^O arranged for berths on theSud Express for the night,and wentTHE SUN ALSO RISESinto the bar of the hotelfor a cocktail. We sat onhigh stools atthe bar while the barmanshook the Martinis in alarge nickelledshaker.
    • "Its funny what awonderful gentility you getin the bar of abig hotel," I said."Barmen and jockeys are theonly people who are politeanymore.""No matter how vulgar ahotel is, the" bar isalways nice.""Its odd.""Bartenders have alwaysbeen fine."
    • "You know," Brett said,"its quite true. He isonly nineteen.Isnt it amazing?"We touched the two glassesas they stood side by sideon thebar. They were coldlybeaded. Outside thecurtained window wasthe summer heat of Madrid."I like an olive in aMartini," I said to thebarman."Right you are, sir. Thereyou are.""Thanks."
    • "I should have asked, youknow."The barman went far enoughup the bar so that he wouldnothear our conversation.Brett had sipped from theMartini as itstood, on the wood. Thenshe picked it up. Her handwas steadyenough to lift it afterthat first sip."Its good. Isnt it a nicebar?""Theyre all nice bars.""You know I didnt believeit at first. He was born in1905.
    • I was in school in Paris,then. Think of that.""Anything you want me tothink about it?""Dont be an ass. Would youbuy a lady a drink?""Well have two moreMartinis.""As they were before, sir?""They were very good,"Brett smiled at him.