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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
He ordered some eggs, toast and a cup of black coffee and explained: "I need some energy for work this morning. I feel dopy."
Erna smiled again and went away. She was feeling a little better. There was always something soothing in Nielsen and his banter. And she did not wait in the kitchen for his order, but came back to his table. Erna rarely acted parts in Nielsen's company.
He looked up sympathetically. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but knowing her antipathy for expressed sympathy or soft advances, remained silent. Herr Landsmann looked in upon them. Erna flushed with her old resentment, and the storekeeper frowned and disappeared. Nielsen remarked the exchange. "That's it, is it?" he observed gently.
"What?"
"The boss?"
She was thoughtful and then admitted: "Yes."
"What's the Dutchman done?"
Slowly, and not without reluctance in the beginning, she told him the details, he interrupting her once or twice with encouragement. "Shades of Norway!" he exclaimed in admiration. "You could easily play the Rat-wife in 'Little Eyolf'."
She looked at him in a puzzled way, but he laughed and advised her: "Don't mind me; I'm cracked. Go on!"
Erna related the rest of the incident. He was quietly attentive to every detail, and at the conclusion of her recital, broke out cheerfully: "The trouble with the German is that he's too slow to catch even a cockroach. Therefore, he resents speed. So Landsmann calls you down. And the girls--well, they're children, like most females. You're entirely too dramatic for their comfort."
Erna never quite understood Nielsen, but she mellowed down to some of her old good nature. Nielsen continued his reassuring nonsense, and gradually, the rest of her good nature was restored. The young writer was not slow to notice the change, and he was glad to have been of service to her. He had no desire to make any personal use of Erna's present mental condition, but nevertheless, he proceeded: "Erna, you must be tired."
"Yes?"
"Certainly. You need a little rest--a little diversion. Let me help you out; there's a sensible girl. Will you come over and spend part of the evening with me?"
His request had not been a bold one; he had made it seriously, and with no thought of himself. But Erna gave him a sharp look. He met her glance with an honest one and pursued: "I don't want you to pose for the story, as I asked you yesterday--honestly, I don't. I just want to amuse you a little, if I can. You need a bit of a change, even by having me supply it."
This was approaching dangerously close to a soft advance, but Erna did not heed it. She was still busy trying to read Nielsen, but reading Nielsen was not so easy as appearances would have led one to believe. However, she was able to read humanity behind his lurking smile, and likewise his seriousness of purpose. "I don't know," she said in doubt.
"You're not afraid?"
"No," she admitted.
"Come ahead then. We'll have a quiet little evening together, or you can tell me some more about your enemies, German and others. As for posing, I'll do the posing, such as standing on my head, for example."
Erna had always felt that Nielsen was human. It now come as a realization. She gave him a final penetrating glance. He smiled frankly, and she had to smile as well. "All right," she resigned.
"You're a good sport, Erna," he complimented her. "But you're too trusting, I'm afraid."
"Think so?"
"Yes."
She looked somewhat doubtful, and then her face cleared. Nielsen understood.
"Your order's ready, Erna," came Landsmann's voice.
And the girl hurried out.
Erna was in a splendid mood when she called on Nielsen that evening. In the first place, the young Norwegian-American had earned her gratitude. Secondly, and what is perhaps more important, Jimmy Allen had come into Landsmann's both for the noon and the evening meal and had paid her humble devotion. She had agreed to spend to-morrow evening with him, but principally that she might add coal to the fire of his impatience by putting off her answer, which she had not formed as yet but in the existence of which she had succeeded in leading him to believe. Thirdly, she had had two more tilts with Landsmann and was victorious in both. Consequently, Erna was in high spirit. In addition, her greedy nature was looking forward to the new sensation that life might be on the point of offering her in Nielsen.
It was evident at once that he was likewise in the best of humor. His greeting of Erna was of the heartiest cordiality and cheer. And he required only a minute or two to settle her comfortably on the couch and to make her feel otherwise at home. She was not surprised. On the contrary, she entered immediately into the mood of the young writer's hospitality.
"Well, Rat-wife, how've you been?" he commenced. "I haven't seen you since this morning."
"Why do you call me Rat-wife?"
"Because you're a professional rat catcher."
"I've caught rats before," she confessed.
"Have you? Great! I always thought you must have had another vocation in life."
"But I hate caterpillars, don't you?" she declared na?vely.
They both laughed. He drew his chair closer to the couch and watched her frankly. She watched him with equal candor. There was honest admiration in his next remark: "You're strong, aren't you, Erna?"
"Yes."
"How'd you get that way?" he pursued.
"I must 'a' been born that way. I guess my father an' mother were strong an' healthy. Any way, I exercise a great deal--"
"In the store, you mean?"
"No, at night, by the open window, in--"
"Not in the nude?" he ventured.
"Not quite, but almost!" she admitted, and they laughed again.
She looked at him suddenly, but his straightforward glance reassured her. She announced quietly: "I never saw my parents."
"What?" he broke out. "Then how--but I beg your pardon, child. I didn't mean to be inquisitive."
"You're not inquisitive," she returned with unaccustomed seriousness. "Only--"
"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't speak of it! It's too painful. Besides, we mustn't be growing gloomy."
Erna was meditative. She had never confided that part of her life to any one. It might be nice to unburden some of it. And Mr. Nielsen--he was so--She glanced at him.
"Please don't!" he requested. "I'd much rather you wouldn't."
She smiled and said: "It isn't so sad; it's just kind o' funny."
"Well, if it's funny, out with it, but if it isn't--"
"It's kind o' funny that I should be tellin' at all."
"To me, you mean?"
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