into a shop-window—a closed stationery shop, a fancy goods shop—completely demolishing Ray’s fantasy that she was thinking about him, and making Ray feel slightly hurt and also absurd for feeling so. After all, what was he to Inez? Just someone she’d known for a few days, son-in-law of her current lover, and the legal relationship had been erased, in fact, by the death of her lover’s daughter.
Inez looked as if she were passing time because she had an appointment somewhere later. It was a quarter past eleven. Ray watched her enter a bar-restaurant, in front of which tables and chairs stood out on the pavement, chairs tipped in and leaning on the tables as if they were cold also. Ray realized that his teeth were chattering, and reproached himself for not having yet bought the obvious, a sweater. He walked past the restaurant, and saw Inez standing at the cash register. Unfortunately, no shop was open near by in which to take shelter. Ray hovered round a corner, stamping his feet, ducking his chin into the upturned collar of his coat. He stared down a narrow street whose curving perspective was cut off by vertical reddish sides of houses. Used houses. Laundry stretched across the street appeared frozen stiff—men’s shirts, dishtowels, shorts, white bras. He was going to become ill again after yesterday’s improvement, he thought, but he did not want to turn loose of Inez. He saw a tobacconist’s shop, and went in. He bought cigarettes and lit one, and examined postcards on racks, at the same time keeping an eye on the street in case Inez walked past. Ray was afraid to step out lest he run straight into Inez.
But at last he did go out as a stream of five or six young men went by the door, heading left. As Ray passed the bar-restaurant he saw that Inez had entered; she was having a coffee and writing something at one of the little tables inside. The sight of her in the dim interior, framed in the rhomboid of the bar’s front window, suggested a Cezanne painting. He took up his vigil in front of a little shop whose windows were full of ribbons, dress fasteners, boxes of wool, and woollen underclothing for babies. Five minutes passed. When Inez came out and turned in his direction, Ray, taken by surprise, entered a grocery-and-wine shop where there were several customers, so no one paid him any attention. After Inez went by, Ray walked out into the street again.
Another pause, as Inez gazed into a sweet shop’s window. She looked over her shoulder, once to the right, once to the left. She was probably looking ft)r him, perhaps without much hope, but still anyone would look, Ray thought, under the circumstances. Inez walked on, came to San Marco and walked its length. She appeared to be going back to her hotel. But at Calle Vallaresso, she turned left. Harry’s Bar, Ray thought, which was disappointing, as he could not enter the small place without being seen, and it was impossible to see into it from the outside. But Inez turned right, and went into the Hotel Monaco directly across the street from Harry’s. Hadn’t the Smith-Peters been staying at the Monaco?
Perhaps she had a date with Coleman here; he had better watch out for him, Ray thought, and looked behind him in the narrow street. The only place to run would be into Harry’s Bar or on to the boat dock. His watch said twelve-thirty five. Ray walked past the hotel entrance, quite close to it, and did not see Inez in the lobby; but the lobby had a section to the right, and she might have been in its far corner. He passed five uneasy minutes, feeling he had lost Inez and that Coleman might appear and see him at any moment. Ray decided to go into the hotel. He walked coolly towards the sign straight ahead that said bar, past the lounge on his left, and he had almost reached the bar, when he saw Inez in the left corner of the lounge near the door, and she was apparently looking straight at him. She was cut off from his view in the next instant by the
Inez looked as if she were passing time because she had an appointment somewhere later. It was a quarter past eleven. Ray watched her enter a bar-restaurant, in front of which tables and chairs stood out on the pavement, chairs tipped in and leaning on the tables as if they were cold also. Ray realized that his teeth were chattering, and reproached himself for not having yet bought the obvious, a sweater. He walked past the restaurant, and saw Inez standing at the cash register. Unfortunately, no shop was open near by in which to take shelter. Ray hovered round a corner, stamping his feet, ducking his chin into the upturned collar of his coat. He stared down a narrow street whose curving perspective was cut off by vertical reddish sides of houses. Used houses. Laundry stretched across the street appeared frozen stiff—men’s shirts, dishtowels, shorts, white bras. He was going to become ill again after yesterday’s improvement, he thought, but he did not want to turn loose of Inez. He saw a tobacconist’s shop, and went in. He bought cigarettes and lit one, and examined postcards on racks, at the same time keeping an eye on the street in case Inez walked past. Ray was afraid to step out lest he run straight into Inez.
But at last he did go out as a stream of five or six young men went by the door, heading left. As Ray passed the bar-restaurant he saw that Inez had entered; she was having a coffee and writing something at one of the little tables inside. The sight of her in the dim interior, framed in the rhomboid of the bar’s front window, suggested a Cezanne painting. He took up his vigil in front of a little shop whose windows were full of ribbons, dress fasteners, boxes of wool, and woollen underclothing for babies. Five minutes passed. When Inez came out and turned in his direction, Ray, taken by surprise, entered a grocery-and-wine shop where there were several customers, so no one paid him any attention. After Inez went by, Ray walked out into the street again.
Another pause, as Inez gazed into a sweet shop’s window. She looked over her shoulder, once to the right, once to the left. She was probably looking ft)r him, perhaps without much hope, but still anyone would look, Ray thought, under the circumstances. Inez walked on, came to San Marco and walked its length. She appeared to be going back to her hotel. But at Calle Vallaresso, she turned left. Harry’s Bar, Ray thought, which was disappointing, as he could not enter the small place without being seen, and it was impossible to see into it from the outside. But Inez turned right, and went into the Hotel Monaco directly across the street from Harry’s. Hadn’t the Smith-Peters been staying at the Monaco?
Perhaps she had a date with Coleman here; he had better watch out for him, Ray thought, and looked behind him in the narrow street. The only place to run would be into Harry’s Bar or on to the boat dock. His watch said twelve-thirty five. Ray walked past the hotel entrance, quite close to it, and did not see Inez in the lobby; but the lobby had a section to the right, and she might have been in its far corner. He passed five uneasy minutes, feeling he had lost Inez and that Coleman might appear and see him at any moment. Ray decided to go into the hotel. He walked coolly towards the sign straight ahead that said bar, past the lounge on his left, and he had almost reached the bar, when he saw Inez in the left corner of the lounge near the door, and she was apparently looking straight at him. She was cut off from his view in the next instant by the
Similar Books
