THE TENTS OF SHEM

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 70, Issue 107, 18 February 1950, Page 7

THE TENTS OF SHEM

«S Serial Story sf

By Grace Jones Morgan E S (Copyright) = nllllllUIllllllllllllHillIHIillllllllllllllllin? CHAPTER XXXIV AN EVENING IN THE ITALIAN , QUARTER

CHAPTER XXXIV AN EVENING IN THE ITALIAN . QUARTER , “Mariette, my husband is here. He walked into the department this afternoon. I don’t think he knew me, but I don’t know ...” “What if he did. You ain’t afraid of a mere husband, I hope. No woman does that earns her own bread and butter or has his kids and makes a home for him. Look at these dames that have been keeping them, whether they’re married or not. A lot of married woman ain’t any better than kept women. And I don’t know that I blame them at that. I’d like to be a kept woman myself; I’m sick of be-

ing one leap ahead of the sheriff. But suppose your husband is in town. What’s that to you? There’s no law in this country that will make you Sleep with a man you don’t like, Dorsey. The cave-man days are gone. You don’t owe him anything . . .” “But I do. I started to repay. I never told you, but I took his money to come out here. I’ve saved to pay him. .” ' “You darn fool! Don’t you figure living with him as long as you did was worth what you borrowed?” “Mariette, I. was married sixteen hours. I figure it cost him or his mother, because she was supporting him, five hundred dollars!” Mariette suddenly laughed. “These things come high, but we must have them,” she quoted. “See that you rate yourself at them terms in future. That’s my advice. Let’s toddle over to the Italian quarter. I know a place where the vino is decent, and they have real music.” Tables without covering cloths,

tinny forks and knives and spoons, thick crockery dishes, but delectable food, highly spiced hot, and platters of crisp-crusted bread. And music. “II Trovatore” and “Carmen,” the pulse-quickening “Toreador Song,” and Mariette singing “Yes, Love a Vagrant Is At Best!. . .” Mariette sang them all, buttering the crisp bread; munching it, she hummed:

“Slumber on, my little gipsy sweetheart, dream of the hills and the grove. Can you hear me, hear me-in that dreamland, where your fancies rove • • .”

Dreams, fancies, of these was love. Not an Ivory Elephant, but an Elephant of Ivory. There was a difference. Not the lordly, trumpeting beast rushing through the jungle, but a replica of him made of ivory. They killed the elephant and cut away his tusks, then from that curved scimitar carved a small, insensate imitation. Salad, endive/ tomatoes, tiny onions and piquant dressing, and cavitina. How funny to mix salad with that tender melody sobbing from violins. Dreamy dark-eyed Italians mopping soup with bread and long cavitina. Spaghetto absorbed from loaded forks, and the “Merry Widow” waltzes.

“Mariette, I’ve been thinking you should know where I live in case anything happened. I’d like you to have everything of mine . . .” v “Oh, shut up! Nothing’s going to happen you. You’re not afraid of this husband of yours, are you? The bum! What was he like, Dorsey . . .?” “Dick • • - Oh, I don’t know. Young, good-looking, well-dressed ... I liked Dick. I don’t really dislike him now, if you can understand. I never cared that way . . . Oh, I was just a coward and ran away from mistakes, Mariette. That was really how it happened. I’m still running away from things.” “Maybe that’s yqur trouble. I used to have a dog that chased cats. He never caught one, but he always had hopes, I guess, y/ell, one day a big cat was sitting on the sidewalk and this bow-wow tore after it, and the cat merely humped up its back and spat at the bow-wow. It was funny, Dorsey, the way that dog put on brakes. Barked his head off, but finally eased off, trying to look as if he wasn’t the guilty party. That’s the way to meet old man trouble. Hump up and spit at him. If you ain’t afraid of Sundersen, and, by the way, what did he ever do to you that you should give him the ice, Dorsey? Called up my flat last night asking for you. I told him you hadn’t left me your address, and he took the hint, I guess • • .” “Hervey in town. Oh, Mariette, I’d , love to see him. Oh, I’m disappointed.” She half rose, throat warmed at the thought of Sundersen, then at the surprise in Mariette’s eyes, sank again into the chair.

‘‘How did I know? I figured you were through with all of us when ybu moved out of my house.” “Mariette!”

“You’ve been trifling with him these years, more or less. You had time to hook that baby if you wanted him. I figured you didn’t want .him and was willing for somebody that did want him to have a chance.” “Marietta, how can I find him?”

“Take a taxi down to his ship, maybe. It’s probably been done. Wait till I repair the ravages to this complexion • ■. .”

“No, I won’t go to his ship. I won’t do that. Mariette, let’s go to my house. We’ll be reckless and have a taxi. The hill is awful to climb. Have you seen Nina lately? I’ve got some things for ber now. Perhaps you’d give them to her . ...”

When they reached the old house Mariette stood at the wall gazing down at the broad sweep of sea, at lights on the distant rocks across the Gate, at star-silver shimmering. The high wall protected the queer old formal garden from wind. In one corner a camelia opened pink ffowers, late chrysanthemums drooped heavy heads, there was the pungent smell of nasturtiums that would bloom all winter. Light shone through red glass of the door, and a rush of warm air greeted them.

A young woman came into tire hall as Mariette reached the landing. “Fanchee, I’ve something to show you. Oh, pardon, I didn’t know you had company.” “Come up, Marie. My friend, Miss Higgins, will like to see it, also. You have such lovely things,” Marie Rotofsky ran lightly up the stairs and smiled as Fanchee introduced her to Mariette.

“It’s the pearl collar, Fanchee. You remember, I told you I hoped to sell it. But it was not big enough for the lady’s throat, so I was disappointed. Oh, I wish you were rich, rich, Fanchee. I wish you could have it . . .” From a plush box she lifted a dogcollar, twelve strands of small pearls and diamond studded bars. Mariette stared at it as Marie fastened the collar about Fanchee’s throat. , (To be continued).