straighten this out, I've got to tell you. You and she- it's no secret from anybody-are the two people I love most. So I must warn you, chaver, get off the lousy details. Just knock off all chicken shit, and be absolutely level and serious."
"I know," said Herzog, "she's going through a long crisis-finding herself. And I know I have a bad tone, sometimes. I've gone over this ground with Edvig. But Sunday night..."
"Are you sure you didn't make a pass?"
"No. It so happens we had intercourse the night before."
Gersbach seemed extremely angry. He gazed at Moses with burning ruddy-dark eyes and said, "I didn't ask you that. My question was only about Sunday night. You've got to learn what the score is, God damn it! If you don't level with me, I can't do a frigging thing for you."
"Why shouldn't I level with you?" Moses was astonished by this vehemence, by Gersbach's fierce, glowing look.
"You don't. You're damn evasive."
Moses considered the charge under Gersbach's intense red-brown gaze. He had the eyes of a prophet, a Shofat, yes, a judge in Israel, a king. A mysterious person, Valentine Gersbach. "We had intercourse the night before. But as soon as it was done she turned on the light, picked up one of those dusty Russian folios, put it on her chest, and started to read away. As I was leaving her body, she was reaching for the book. Not a kiss. Not a last touch.
Only her nose, twitching."
Valentine gave a faint smile. "Maybe you should sleep separately."
"I could move into the kid's room, I suppose.
But June is restless as it is. She wanders around at night in her Denton sleepers. I wake up and find her by my bed. Often wet. She's feeling the strain."
"Now knock it off, about the kid. Don't use her in this."
Herzog bowed his head. He felt threatened by tears.
Gersbach sighed and walked along his wall slowly, bending and straightening like a gondolier. "I explained to you last week..." he said.
"You'd better tell me once more. I'm in a state," said Herzog.
"Now you listen to me. We'll go over the ground again."
Grief greatly damaged-it positively wounded- Herzog's handsome face. Anyone he had ever injured by his conceit might now feel revenged to see how ravaged he looked. The change was almost ludicrous. And the lectures Gersbach read him-those were so spirited, so vehement, gross, they were ludicrous, too, a parody of the intellectual's desire for higher meaning, depth, quality. Moses sat by the window in raw sunlight, listening. The drapery with gilt-grooved rods lay on the table with planks and books. "One thing you can be sure, bruder," said Valentine. "I have no ax to grind. In this thing, I just have no prejudice." Valentine loved to use Yiddish expressions, to misuse them, rather.
Herzog's Yiddish background was genteel. He heard with instinctive snobbery Valentine's butcher's, teamster's, commoner's accent, and he put himself down for it-My God! those ancient family prejudices, absurdities from a lost world.
"Let's cut out all the shtick," said Gersbach. "Let's say you're a crumb.
Let's say even you're a criminal. There's nothing-nothing!-you could do to shake my friendship. That's no shit, and you know it! I can take what you've done to me."
Moses, astonished again, said, "What have I done to you?"
"Hell with that.
Hob es in drerd.
I know Mady is a bitch. And maybe you think I never wanted to kick Phoebe in the ass.
That klippa!
But that's the female nature." He shook his abundant hair into place. It had fiery-dark depths. At the back it was brutally barbered.
"You've taken care of her for some time, okay, I know. But if she's got a disgusting father and a kvetsch of a mother, what else should a man do? And expect nothing in return."
"Well, of course. But I spent twenty
"I know," said Herzog, "she's going through a long crisis-finding herself. And I know I have a bad tone, sometimes. I've gone over this ground with Edvig. But Sunday night..."
"Are you sure you didn't make a pass?"
"No. It so happens we had intercourse the night before."
Gersbach seemed extremely angry. He gazed at Moses with burning ruddy-dark eyes and said, "I didn't ask you that. My question was only about Sunday night. You've got to learn what the score is, God damn it! If you don't level with me, I can't do a frigging thing for you."
"Why shouldn't I level with you?" Moses was astonished by this vehemence, by Gersbach's fierce, glowing look.
"You don't. You're damn evasive."
Moses considered the charge under Gersbach's intense red-brown gaze. He had the eyes of a prophet, a Shofat, yes, a judge in Israel, a king. A mysterious person, Valentine Gersbach. "We had intercourse the night before. But as soon as it was done she turned on the light, picked up one of those dusty Russian folios, put it on her chest, and started to read away. As I was leaving her body, she was reaching for the book. Not a kiss. Not a last touch.
Only her nose, twitching."
Valentine gave a faint smile. "Maybe you should sleep separately."
"I could move into the kid's room, I suppose.
But June is restless as it is. She wanders around at night in her Denton sleepers. I wake up and find her by my bed. Often wet. She's feeling the strain."
"Now knock it off, about the kid. Don't use her in this."
Herzog bowed his head. He felt threatened by tears.
Gersbach sighed and walked along his wall slowly, bending and straightening like a gondolier. "I explained to you last week..." he said.
"You'd better tell me once more. I'm in a state," said Herzog.
"Now you listen to me. We'll go over the ground again."
Grief greatly damaged-it positively wounded- Herzog's handsome face. Anyone he had ever injured by his conceit might now feel revenged to see how ravaged he looked. The change was almost ludicrous. And the lectures Gersbach read him-those were so spirited, so vehement, gross, they were ludicrous, too, a parody of the intellectual's desire for higher meaning, depth, quality. Moses sat by the window in raw sunlight, listening. The drapery with gilt-grooved rods lay on the table with planks and books. "One thing you can be sure, bruder," said Valentine. "I have no ax to grind. In this thing, I just have no prejudice." Valentine loved to use Yiddish expressions, to misuse them, rather.
Herzog's Yiddish background was genteel. He heard with instinctive snobbery Valentine's butcher's, teamster's, commoner's accent, and he put himself down for it-My God! those ancient family prejudices, absurdities from a lost world.
"Let's cut out all the shtick," said Gersbach. "Let's say you're a crumb.
Let's say even you're a criminal. There's nothing-nothing!-you could do to shake my friendship. That's no shit, and you know it! I can take what you've done to me."
Moses, astonished again, said, "What have I done to you?"
"Hell with that.
Hob es in drerd.
I know Mady is a bitch. And maybe you think I never wanted to kick Phoebe in the ass.
That klippa!
But that's the female nature." He shook his abundant hair into place. It had fiery-dark depths. At the back it was brutally barbered.
"You've taken care of her for some time, okay, I know. But if she's got a disgusting father and a kvetsch of a mother, what else should a man do? And expect nothing in return."
"Well, of course. But I spent twenty
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