William Gaddis - The Recognitions

— There she is! There she is!…

— There who is?. . dear boy. .

— There she is!… sitting at that… at that table at that cafe. .

— Dear boy…

The Automobile swept on, and Stanley recovered himself somewhat.

— Nothing, I… someone I… someone I knew. . once.

— But dear boy, you're so pale. . She reached forth for his hand, quivering with the letter to Fenestrula, and brought her wrist watch directly under his gaze. Vividly recalling the topsy-turvy contortion there afterward, he would also remember the time: it was just six.

— Well we got used to poverty in Spain, so we don't really mind it here, said the tall woman sitting on the cafe terrace next evening. She drew away from the figure standing over her and gazing at the tables beyond. It was Stanley, and he was scratching himself up under his coat. When he moved on, she leaned across and whispered to her husband, — Do you itch? Maybe it's just my imagination but ever since we left. . none of those monks looked like they'd really bathed in literally years.

— So if you didn't want to go to bed with me I just naturally took it for granted you didn't go to bed with girls, so I just naturally took it for granted you were queer. What are you doing here, are you Catholic? The girl at the next table looked up at Stanley as though he were intruding, but he stood gazing searchingly beyond them.

At the table to his left, an American Protestant minister in rimless glasses tasted Cinzano for the first time, made a wry face, and said, — It's just part of this big job we're all pulling together in. Do you know this new word, Caprew . .? It's made up of the first two letters of Catholic, Protestant, and. .

— Me Catholic? Christ no, I just came over to see the art here.

— Well you sure picked a lousy time, the girl said, watching Stanley recede among the tables. It was just six.

— Why do they get excited about the ruins in Rome here, Berlin is just as good now. — You can always see an ancient city better when it's been bombed.

Stanley looked on. He saw the pale girl he had seen before, outside the Bronze Door when he sought Father Martin; and as her face had taken the place of his then, Father Martin's face rose before Stanley now, and turned away, as Stanley turned away from her. She was sitting alone, and reading A Room with a View.

— I've really practically finished this novel, all I have to do now is put in the motivation, said a young man at the next table he stopped near. — I've been reading Dante trying to get some ideas.

Then Stanley thought he saw her, at a table with a number of faintly familiar figures, halfway across the crowded terrace. He tried to hurry in that direction, his mind again filled with the rash of irrelevancies flooding in as Father Martin's face bowed and was banished by that of the fat woman, pursing the small lips silently, losing flesh, the eyes widening, hollows deepening, to become the face he sought now and believed he had just seen, except, he considered, bumping tables and chair backs in his haste, weak-kneed, except for what she appeared to be wearing: a white turban knotted with a flair over the forehead, white cuffs and a broad white collar over her shoulders, her lips brightly colored and the glimpse of a narrow long black skirt.

— Stanley!

— Wha. . haa?…

Don Bildow had his wrist in greeting. — I wondered what happened to you when you didn't get off at Naples. .

— Yes, I… I'm in a hurry, I…

— So am I, wait, listen. . Don Bildow looked appealingly through his plastic rims. His hair looked thinner, and his brown suit more threadbare. The brown and yellow tie was getting soiled about the knot. — Just one thing, if you've got any. .

— I… I have to go! Stanley broke from his grasp saying, — And I don't even know what that stuff was that you asked. .

— No, that's all right, said Bildow catching his arm again, — the Methyltestosterone, I got that, the nurse on the boat was fine about it when I… but listen, now I need. . Do you know the Italian word for contraceptive? There's a girl waiting for me and I. . Waitl. .

When Stanley reached the table across the terrace, there was no one there he knew. A blond boy had just finished saying, — I don't care if Saint Joseph of Copertino did fly around and perch in trees, that hasn't a thing to do with it!

— I saw you! said a voice from a vaguely familiar face, and a large red forefinger was rested on Stanley's hand.

— But. . where? he asked, taken aback, for in spite of the dark blue suit and short blond hair, the heavy face was familiar.

— Chez that perfectly obvious woman, you came in as I went out.

— But it was. .

— Me. I called to ask about a shop where I could buy undies. But what was a boy like you doing there? I won't think. Then the 'finger slid away as he turned and introduced Stanley to the rest of the table with, — I'm afraid, my dears, it's one of those odious Pilgrims, and he's already been stoned in the streets, see his hand. But it's only a finger? What naughty game were you playing?. .

— But I…

— And as I was telling you, this morning I'd gone to this brazenly recherche little church, since they're supposed to have an honest-to-God Titian hidden there somewhere. Of course there was a line, so I waited my turn, and do you know, I found myself on line for benediction as a pregnant mother?

— Was there a girl here? Stanley broke in.

— My dear boy stop being indecent or you'll have to go away. What is the matter, do you have lice? You're scratching like Thomas a Becket.

— Look!

— Why it is, it's Herschel. Now do you see what he's married to? His studio paid her ten thousand dollars. Something named Adeline.

— But does he have to take her everywhere?

— That's why they paid her ten thousand dollars. Of course he doesn't have to take her to bed. Have you heard he's not to play Saint Sebastian in this film after all? In the martyrdom scene you know, he has to be practically naked when they shoot all those horrid arrows at him, but one look at the divine tattoo on his. .

— Please, Stanley interrupted again, — don't any of you. .

— And think, they won't let me have little Giono until Wednesday, when I'm received. Why I'm in a state of Grace this very moment.

In a moment of silence, as Stanley got his breath, a feeble falsetto across the table rose with, — Blessed Mary went a-walking. .

— That's her! you. . that's a song she sings, she. .

— Baby, do you know her?

— Yes, you. . where is she? She was here, she. . wasn't she? Wasn't that her wearing that funny. .

— Careful, baby. Rudy designed that specially for her. It's her brwidal gown.

— Her. . what?

— I should say, her trwousseau.

— But you. . she. . she's. . getting married?

— Baby, didn't you know?

— But to… who? Who's she going to marry?

— Maybe it wouldn't be descrweet to tell.

— But you must, she… I…

— All rwight, we won't name the grwoom. You can guess. We'll just tell you she's going to become a nun. Now, can you guess, Who?

— But you. . huuu. . Stanley could only breathe in gasps.

— Baby, don't take on so, we don't want any jealous suitors.

— Huuuu. .

— Isn't Rudy's habit sweet on her? I mean the habit he designed. She has a very trim body anyway, you know. Not all round and plumpy like women.

— An. . nnn. . nun?

— Rwudy said he trwied to make it look as Do-ramican as possible. And imagine Rwudy marrwied!

— She's. . marrying. . Rudy? Stanley brought out.

— It's no one you know, silly. It's no one anyone knows, no one can see what he sees in that one, who shall be nameless. A piece of trade. Ordinary, common, vulgar. .