John Passos - 1919

THREAT OF MUTINY BY U. S. TROOPS

CALIFORNIA JURY QUICKLY RENDERS VERDICT

AGAINST SACRAMENTO WORKERS

’Tis the final conflict

Let each stand in his place

The international party

Shall be the human race

BOLSHEVISM READY TO COLLAPSE SAYS

ESCAPED GENERAL

the French Censor will not allow the Herald to say what the Chinese Delegation has done but that there is serious unrest it would be idle to deny. Men who have been deprived of the opportunity to earn a living, who see their children crying for food, who face an indefinite shutdown of industries and a possible cessation of railway traffic with all the disorganization of national life therein implied, can hardly be expected to view the situation calmly and with equanimity

BRITISH TRY HARD TO KEEP PROMISE

TO HANG KAISER

it is declared the Coreans are confident President Wilson will come in an aeroplane and listen to their views. A white flag set up on Seoul Hill is presumed to indicate the landingplace

She wasn’t sick a bit and was popular on the crossing that was very gay although the sea was rough and it was bitter cold. There was a Mr. Barrow who had been sent on a special mission by the President who paid her a great deal of attention. He was a very interesting man and full of information about everything. He’d been a socialist and very close to labor. He was so interested when she told him about her experiences in the textile strike over in Jersey. In the evenings they’d walk around and around the deck arm in arm, now and then being almost thrown off their feet by an especially heavy roll. She had a little trouble with him trying to make love to her, but managed to argue him out of it by telling him what she needed right now was a good friend, that she’d had a very unhappy love affair and couldn’t think of anything like that any more. He was so kind and sympathetic, and said he could understand that thoroughly because his relation with women had been very unsatisfactory all his life. He said people ought to be free in love and marriage and not tied by conventions or inhibitions. He said what he believed in was passionate friendship. She said she did too, but when he wanted her to come to his room in the hotel the first night they were in Paris, she gave him a terrible tonguelashing. But he was so nice to her on the trip down to Rome that she began to think that maybe if he asked her to marry him she might do it.

There was an American officer on the train, Captain Savage, so good looking and such a funny talker, on his way to Rome with important despatches. From the minute she met Dick, Europe was wonderful. He talked French and Italian, and said how beautiful the old tumbledown towns were and screwed up his mouth so funnily when he told stories about comical things that happened in the war. He was a little like Webb only so much nicer and more selfreliant and betterlooking. From the minute she saw him she forgot all about Joe and as for G. H. Barrow, she couldn’t stand the thought of him. When Captain Savage looked at her it made her all melt up inside; by the time they’d gotten to Rome she’d admitted to herself she was crazy about him. When they went out walking together the day they all made an excursion to the ruins of the Emperor Hadrian’s villa, and the little town where the waterfall was, she was glad that he’d been drinking. She wanted all the time to throw herself in his arms; there was something about the rainy landscape and the dark lasciviouseyed people and the old names of the towns and the garlic and oil in the food and the smiling voices and the smell of the tiny magenta wildflowers he said were called cyclamens that made her not care about anything anymore. She almost fainted when he started to make love to her. Oh, she wished he would, but No, No, she couldn’t just then, but the next day she’d drink in spite of the pledge she’d signed with the N.E.R. and shoot the moon. It wasn’t so sordid as she’d expected but it wasn’t so wonderful either; she was terribly scared and cold and sick, like when she’d told him she hadn’t ever before. But the next day he was so gentle and strong, and she suddenly felt very happy. When he had to go back to Paris and there was nothing but office work and a lot of dreary old maids to talk to, it was too miserable.

When she found she was going to have a baby she was scared, but she didn’t really care so much; of course he’d marry her. Dad and Buster would be sore at first but they’d be sure to like him. He wrote poetry and was going to be a writer when he got out of the army; she was sure he was going to be famous. He didn’t write letters very often and when she made him come back to Rome he wasn’t nearly as nice about it as she expected; but of course it must have been a shock to him. They decided that perhaps it would be better not to have the baby just then or get married till he got out of the service, though there didn’t seem to be any doubt in his mind about getting married then. She tried several things and went riding a great deal with Lieutenant Grassi, who had been educated at Eton and spoke perfect English and was so charming to her and said she was the best woman rider he’d ever known. It was on account of her going out riding so much with Lieutenant Grassi and getting in so late that the old cats at the N.E.R. got sore and sent her home to America.

Going to Paris on the train, Daughter really was scared. The horseback riding hadn’t done any good, and she was sore all over from a fall she’d had when one of Lieutenant Grassi’s cavalry horses fell with her and broke his leg when she took him over a stone wall. The horse had to be shot and the Lieutenant had been horrid about it; these foreigners always showed a mean streak in the end. She was worried about people’s noticing how she looked because it was nearly three months now. She and Dick would have to get married right away, that’s all there was to it. Perhaps it would even be better to tell people they’d been married in Rome by a fat little old priest.

The minute she saw Dick’s face when she was running down the corridor towards him in his hotel, she knew it was all over; he didn’t love her the least bit. She walked home to her hotel hardly able to see where she was going through the slimywet Paris streets. She was surprised when she got there because she expected she’d lose her way. She almost hoped she’d lose her way. She went up to her room and sat down in a chair without taking off her dripping wet hat and coat. She must think. This was the end of everything.

The next morning she went around to the office; they gave her her transportation back home and told her what boat she was going on and said she must sail in four days. After that she went back to the hotel and sat down in a chair again and tried to think. She couldn’t go home to Dallas like this. A note from Dick came around giving her the address of a doctor.

Do forgive me, he wrote. You’re a wonderful girl and I’m sure it’ll be all right.

She tore the thin blue letter up in little tiny pieces and dropped it out the window. Then she lay down on the bed and cried till her eyes burned. Her nausea came on and she had to go out in the hall to the toilet. When she lay down again she went to sleep for a while and woke up feeling hungry.

The day had cleared; sunlight was streaming into the room. She walked downstairs to the desk and called up G. H. Barrow in his office. He seemed delighted and said if she’d wait for him a half an hour, he’d come and fetch her out to lunch in the Bois; they’d forget everything except that it was spring and that they were beautiful pagans at heart. Daughter made a sour face, but said pleasantly enough over the phone that she’d wait for him.