Read Ebook: The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1 No. 6): Erna Vitek by Kreymborg Alfred Kreymborg Alfred Editor Man Ray Editor

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Ebook has 603 lines and 16787 words, and 13 pages

Editor: Man Ray Alfred Kreymborg

Eventually, the young artist tried bribery. Having finished his work, he presented it to Erna accompanied by a short but eloquently complimentary speech. The girl did not neglect to admire the drawing and to thank him for the present. His act, apparently, made no stronger impression on her. Later, he suggested and, with her consent, prepared and served some tea and biscuits. They were sitting at a small cosy table. About them, the atmosphere had spread a halo of warmth and intimacy. And Breen played host and admirer to the best of his accomplished ability. But Erna refused to respond any more than she had done earlier. She appeared grateful; she talked a good deal; and she seemed completely at ease with Breen and her surroundings. But she would not respond more than she had done. Breen's disgust threatened to reach a climax.

There was a reason for Erna's conduct. She, in her greed of heart, playing with Breen, as she had with Carstairs, the part of a watchful cat, had come to several conclusions. She disliked the artist's long, angular figure, his sharp, shrewd face, and most of all, his cold, self-sympathetic eyes. And she disliked him personally even more. Without claiming any undue powers of discernment for Erna, one would surely have had to credit her with the possession of a strong feminine instinct. Her instinct had resented his attentions, for, behind them all, she had felt that he, as a gentleman, was shoving her down where she belonged. She was a waitress, but she was good looking enough and lots of fun for him--and much more in prospect. In a word, Breen had brought out the hard calculating side of her nature, and she had raised her guard against him.

Furthermore, Erna was in a bad humor when she came to Breen's studio, her genial conduct notwithstanding. She had seen Jimmy that noon in the dining room, but he had spent all of his time talking fight with the customers. As though the fact that he was to turn to the ring to-morrow night would bring the world to an end! She would pay him for neglecting her. Besides, Mr. Nielsen had been approaching her. He had been asking her to "pose" for him too. Did he also want to take advantage of her? Still, there was something human inside of him. He had always acted a little differently from the others. As for Jimmy--

Breen interrupted her reflection. He reached across the table and tried to touch her hand. Erna's face flushed with anger, and her hand came down upon his with a loud slap. Just as quickly, she recollected herself. "Excuse me!" she asked sullenly.

Breen, however, was through. He arose from his chair. This had been impudence beyond all impudence. And the man of success turned his back upon the waitress.

Erna likewise got up, leaving the sketch on the table. She did not offer a second apology. Instead, she drew on her coat, picked up her hat and walked over to the glass. Her face was crimson.

Breen was quite sorry. He came behind Erna and made several attempts to clear some momentary pangs of conscience. But Erna would not listen. He moved away, pride clouding his face.

Erna hurried toward the door. Breen followed her, offering one or two final excuses. But she refused to answer, and went out. Breen slammed the door behind her. Presently, he was busy pacing the studio in a vain endeavor to regain some of his composure.

Steps were to be heard coming along the hallway. The door was opened cautiously, and Nielsen's head and shoulders appeared. And his caressing voice questioned: "Well, your Highness, what is your decision? Moral, unmoral or--?"

Breen faced about, swore a strong oath and commanded: "Get out of here!"

"But, dear Bainbridge--"

"Get out, you spy!" Breen continued angrily, and went toward the door.

"But I want to know your decision."

"Moral, moral, a million times moral--she has degenerated--in fact, she hasn't even degenerated. I wouldn't do her the honor of saying so. She's always been a narrow, conventional, contemptible little thing. Is that enough, you ass? She's a--"

"Enough, noble Sire!" Nielsen interrupted with a mysterious air. "Thou hast spoken. Enough!" Luckily, his head and shoulders disappeared just in time.

Breen slammed the door.

Wednesday morning was a particularly noisy morning in the rear dining room of Landsmann's. Jimmy Allen was the hero. On the night before, he had knocked out his opponent toward the close of the first round. Some of his admirers had met at Landsmann's to discuss and celebrate the event, and one who had been present was supplying the others with the details.

"An' toward the end o' the round," he was describing, "Jimmy ducked under the poor 'Kid's' flabby guard an' caught 'im an awful soak in the guts, an' as 'the Kid' doubled up, Jimmy swung the finisher--it was a terror!--right on the point o' the jaw. 'The Kid' hit the mat deader than a door nail. An' they carried 'im away, a smashed hope inside o' three minutes."

The listeners clamored for more, and one of them queried: "But I thought 'the Kid' was such a clever sidestepper?"

"He is, but he couldn't sidestep Jimmy. Jimmy's a terror in the ring. He's a good-natured feller outside, but the sight of another feller in front of 'im kind o' riles 'is blood. He can't rest till he's battered the guy away, an' let 'im see a little blood, like 'the Kid's' mouth bleedin', an' it's all off 'cept the count, for Jimmy goes wild. He got to 'the Kid' by constant borein' in. Half a dozen fierce body taps weakened the poor guy, then a couple o' face smashers, an' then the finish. Oh, it was awful."

The listeners sighed with awe. "An' Jimmy?" requested the interlocutor.

"Oh, he got a scratch or two. But he was 'is smilin' self soon's it was over."

Standing near the doorway, listening to every word with feverish interest, was Erna. Her eyes shone, and her heart beat with joyous pride.

Landsmann suddenly called to her from the kitchen: "Erna, your order is here." She did not heed him, but waited for more details. Again, the storekeeper called to her, but once more, she refused to heed him. The man appeared in the doorway, his face red with vexation. "Erna! Do you hear me?"

"Yes, yes," she retorted petulantly, and hurried past him. He followed close behind her, and as she turned, gave her a stupid but indignant stare. Erna returned his stare with interest, and Landsmann, beaten as he had been so often, retreated to the store, there to seek muttered consultation with his wife.

Erna was about to take up her order, when she came upon a remarkable sight. She stopped, stared and, stimulated by a desire to emulate, tiptoed forward, her strong white teeth showing in the joy of anticipation. On the bottom of the kitchen sink, a goodly sized rat was drinking.

The girl continued to sneak forward without making a sound. Suddenly, her hand darted out and seized the rat by the neck; at the same time, she turned on the water from the large faucet. With a strong grip, she held the squirming, squeaking animal under the stream.

The storekeeper approached her, followed by the customers. The latter profferred congratulations, but not so Herr Landsmann. He grabbed some table refuse and dumping it into the pail, piled some old newspapers on top, all the while averting his face as much as possible. He then turned upon Erna, but she stood her ground, defying him, and the storekeeper was forced to resort to still stronger imprecation. Erna grew impudent in the knowledge of her righteousness, and Landsmann had to retreat once more, but this time with threatening gestures and for an even angrier consultation with his wife. The other waitresses refused to return to the kitchen, but went over to assist Landsmann.

The customers, who had been joined by others from the rear dining room, refused to leave the kitchen, each one wishing to pay Erna homage by compliment or by taking her arm. Jimmy Allen was forgotten. At first, the girl, conscious of the sensation she had created so accidentally,--killing rats was not entirely new to her--faced her worshippers with an exultant smile. Soon, she tired of their praise, and more so of their physical attentions, a repetition of their usual conduct toward her. Furthermore, the storekeeper's attitude rankled deeper and deeper, until anger controlled her. Therefore, she pushed her way through the gathering, ordered all back to their tables, a command they obeyed under protest, and returned to her duties with a decidedly willful air. If only Jimmy were here!

Another half hour passed, and Erna's determination grew. Her whole fighting instinct had been set astir. As a result, she had treated the few remaining customers with contemptuous neglect. They were all of one breed. And they left, one by one, passing remarks, laughing or trying to banter her. Soon she was left to herself and surly reflection, as Landsmann, luckily, had discontinued molesting her--for the present, at least. However, a newcomer entered the dining room. But he was the highly welcome Jimmy Allen.

Erna greeted him with joy. She had forgotten her yesterday's resentment, in his sudden rise to honor and in her present need. And Jimmy greeted her with joy. No other word passed between them. Instead, Jimmy embraced her with all of his brute strength. He then tried kissing her, only to have Erna slip from his grasp. Jimmy's blood was aroused. He pursued Erna, cornered her and caught her with an even stronger embrace than before, breathing hard with passion. They overturned a chair, and Jimmy tripped and lost his hold. They both breathed rapidly, and stood apart, watching each other. Herr Landsmann looked into the dining room, scowled and disappeared.

Jimmy again came closer, but Erna shook her head in warning. She had seen the storekeeper. Presently, she gave her lover a short nervous account of her morning's trial. Jimmy swore a generous oath and begged her to drop her work at once. But Erna hesitated.

"Ah, come out o' this!" he pleaded.

Erna would not answer.

"Come out o' this, Erna!" he repeated seriously. "You're sick o' this. I'm sick o' this. Let's go away. We're fixed now--or as good as fixed. The only job's the minister's. Come on, Erna!"

Still, the girl refused to answer, but it was evident that she was weakening--as Jimmy was aware too. Hurriedly, he recounted his victory of last night, emphasized the fact that he was stronger than ever, knew "more about the game," and outlined the near future: that he was soon to meet Young Walcott, whom he would dispose of, and some unknown from Chicago. He would have quite a little money shortly, and he could support her "as a decent woman should be supported." She would be happy. They would both be happy. "Come on, Erna!" he concluded. "Be a sport!"

Erna was in a groggy state. One last stinging argument would have finished her. She hesitated, as did Jimmy, who, unfortunately, resorted to stalling.

At length, she said: "Gimme until to-night!"

Now, Jimmy missed entirely: "But I say, Erna. I got an important date then."

Her resentment returned at once. She recalled his neglect of yesterday. "What?" she demanded jealously.

"I got to see Nolan an' Walcott an' his manager to-night. We got to talk over an' arrange things. Besides, Nolan's givin' a little spread in my honor among the boys. Can't you tell me now? Tell me now!"

"I know, Erna, but I can't see you to-night. Make it to-morrow night, an' we'll talk it over, long's you won't say now. Make it to-morrow night! An' I'll spend the whole evenin' with you."

Erna had turned her back on him. Jimmy came closer, but she walked away, while he followed her, foolishly continuing to apologize and to cajole her. Unhappily, Jimmy's suit was interrupted. Another man came into the dining room: Eric Nielsen.

Glances passed between them. Nielsen went over to the farthermost corner, took off his hat and coat and sat down. Jimmy looked at Erna on the sly, but she paid no attention to him. The young fighter did not stay for breakfast. He left the room without another word. And Erna smiled secretly.

Nielsen, always a lover of other's secrets, had digested most of the scene. But he was still a diplomat. Consequently, he said nothing and permitted Erna to come over for his order. She looked nervous and uncertain.

"What's new?" he asked pleasantly.

"Nothin'."

"Still ham and eggs and the old program?"

She smiled slightly. "Yes!"

He ordered some eggs, toast and a cup of black coffee and explained: "I need some energy for work this morning. I feel dopy."

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