Essential Novelists - Frank Norris. Frank Norris

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ undertook the affair. It was an ordeal. Never in his life had he been so perturbed, so horribly anxious. He called upon Trina the following Wednesday and made arrangements. Mrs. Sieppe asked if little August might be included. It would console him for the loss of his steamboat.

      “Sure, sure,” said McTeague. “August too—everybody,” he added, vaguely.

      “We always have to leave so early,” complained Trina, “in order to catch the last boat. Just when it's becoming interesting.”

      At this McTeague, acting upon a suggestion of Marcus Schouler's, insisted they should stay at the flat over night. Marcus and the dentist would give up their rooms to them and sleep at the dog hospital. There was a bed there in the sick ward that old Grannis sometimes occupied when a bad case needed watching. All at once McTeague had an idea, a veritable inspiration.

      “And we'll—we'll—we'll have—what's the matter with having something to eat afterward in my 'Parlors'?”

      “Vairy goot,” commented Mrs. Sieppe. “Bier, eh? And some damales.”

      “Oh, I love tamales!” exclaimed Trina, clasping her hands.

      McTeague returned to the city, rehearsing his instructions over and over. The theatre party began to assume tremendous proportions. First of all, he was to get the seats, the third or fourth row from the front, on the left-hand side, so as to be out of the hearing of the drums in the orchestra; he must make arrangements about the rooms with Marcus, must get in the beer, but not the tamales; must buy for himself a white lawn tie—so Marcus directed; must look to it that Maria Macapa put his room in perfect order; and, finally, must meet the Sieppes at the ferry slip at half-past seven the following Monday night.

      The real labor of the affair began with the buying of the tickets. At the theatre McTeague got into wrong entrances; was sent from one wicket to another; was bewildered, confused; misunderstood directions; was at one moment suddenly convinced that he had not enough money with him, and started to return home. Finally he found himself at the box-office wicket.

      “Is it here you buy your seats?”

      “How many?”

      “Is it here—”

      “What night do you want 'em? Yes, sir, here's the place.”

      McTeague gravely delivered himself of the formula he had been reciting for the last dozen hours.

      “I want four seats for Monday night in the fourth row from the front, and on the right-hand side.”

      “Right hand as you face the house or as you face the stage?” McTeague was dumfounded.

      “I want to be on the right-hand side,” he insisted, stolidly; adding, “in order to be away from the drums.”

      “Well, the drums are on the right of the orchestra as you face the stage,” shouted the other impatiently; “you want to the left, then, as you face the house.”

      “I want to be on the right-hand side,” persisted the dentist.

      Without a word the seller threw out four tickets with a magnificent, supercilious gesture.

      “There's four seats on the right-hand side, then, and you're right up against the drums.”

      “But I don't want to be near the drums,” protested McTeague, beginning to perspire.

      “Do you know what you want at all?” said the ticket seller with calmness, thrusting his head at McTeague. The dentist knew that he had hurt this young man's feelings.

      “I want—I want,” he stammered. The seller slammed down a plan of the house in front of him and began to explain excitedly. It was the one thing lacking to complete McTeague's confusion.

      “There are your seats,” finished the seller, shoving the tickets into McTeague's hands. “They are the fourth row from the front, and away from the drums. Now are you satisfied?”

      “Are they on the right-hand side? I want on the right—no, I want on the left. I want—I don' know, I don' know.”

      The seller roared. McTeague moved slowly away, gazing stupidly at the blue slips of pasteboard. Two girls took his place at the wicket. In another moment McTeague came back, peering over the girls' shoulders and calling to the seller:

      “Are these for Monday night?”

      The other disdained reply. McTeague retreated again timidly, thrusting the tickets into his immense wallet. For a moment he stood thoughtful on the steps of the entrance. Then all at once he became enraged, he did not know exactly why; somehow he felt himself slighted. Once more he came back to the wicket.

      “You can't make small of me,” he shouted over the girls' shoulders; “you—you can't make small of me. I'll thump you in the head, you little—you little—you little—little—little pup.” The ticket seller shrugged his shoulders wearily. “A dollar and a half,” he said to the two girls.

      McTeague glared at him and breathed loudly. Finally he decided to let the matter drop. He moved away, but on the steps was once more seized with a sense of injury and outraged dignity.

      “You can't make small of me,” he called back a last time, wagging his head and shaking his fist. “I will—I will—I will—yes, I will.” He went off muttering.

      At last Monday night came. McTeague met the Sieppes at the ferry, dressed in a black Prince Albert coat and his best slate-blue trousers, and wearing the made-up lawn necktie that Marcus had selected for him. Trina was very pretty in the black dress that McTeague knew so well. She wore a pair of new gloves. Mrs. Sieppe had on lisle-thread mits, and carried two bananas and an orange in a net reticule. “For Owgooste,” she confided to him. Owgooste was in a Fauntleroy “costume” very much too small for him. Already he had been crying.

      “Woult you pelief, Doktor, dot bube has torn his stockun alreatty? Walk in der front, you; stop cryun. Where is dot berliceman?”

      At the door of the theatre McTeague was suddenly seized with a panic terror. He had lost the tickets. He tore through his pockets, ransacked his wallet. They were nowhere to be found. All at once he remembered, and with a gasp of relief removed his hat and took them out from beneath the sweatband.

      The party entered and took their places. It was absurdly early. The lights were all darkened, the ushers stood under the galleries in groups, the empty auditorium echoing with their noisy talk. Occasionally a waiter with his tray and clean white apron sauntered up and doun the aisle. Directly in front of them was the great iron curtain of the stage, painted with all manner of advertisements. From behind this came a noise of hammering and of occasional loud voices.

      While waiting they studied their programmes. First was an overture by the orchestra, after which came “The Gleasons, in their mirth-moving musical farce, entitled 'McMonnigal's Court-ship.'” This was to be followed by “The Lamont Sisters, Winnie and Violet, serio-comiques and skirt dancers.” And after this came a great array of other “artists” and “specialty performers,” musical wonders, acrobats, lightning artists, ventriloquists, and last of all, “The feature of the evening, the crowning scientific achievement of the nineteenth century, the kinetoscope.” McTeague was excited, dazzled. In five years he had not been twice СКАЧАТЬ