merton of the movies-第67节

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　tie　up　with　Baird？〃

〃Ask　me　something　hard。　I'd　say　this　bird　had　been　tried　out　in　serious　stuff　and　couldn't　make　the　grade。　That's　the　way　he　struck　me。　Probably　he　once　thought　he　could　play　Hamletone　of　those　boys。　Didn't　you　get　the　real　pathos　he'd　turn　on　now　and　then？　He　actually　had　me　kind　of　teary　a　couple　of　times。　But　I　could　see　he'd　also　make　me　laugh　my　head　off　any　time　he　showed　in　a　straight　piece。

〃To　begin　with；　look　at　that　low…comedy　face　of　his。　And　then　something　peculiareven　while　he's　imitating　a　bad　actor　you　feel　somehow　that　it　isn't　all　imitation。　It's　art；　I　grant　you；　but　you　feel　he'd　still　be　a　bad　actor　if　he'd　try　to　imitate　a　good　one。　Somehow　he　found　out　his　limits　and　decided　to　be　what　God　meant　him　to　be。　Does　that　answer　you？　It　gives　you　acting…plus；　and　if　that　isn't　the　plus　in　this　case　I　miss　my　guess。〃

〃I　suppose　you're　rightsomething　like　that。　And　of　course　the　real　pathos　is　there。　It　has　to　be。　There　never　was　a　great　comedian　without　it；　and　this　one　is　great。　I　admit　that；　and　I　admit　all　you　say　about　our　audience。　I　suppose　we　can't　ever　sell　to　twenty　million　people　a　day　pictures　that　make　any　demand　on　the　human　intelligence。　But　couldn't　we　sell　something　better　to　one　million　or　a　few　thousand？〃

The　Governor　dropped　his　cigarette　end　into　the　dregs　of　his　coffee。　〃We　might；〃　he　said；　〃if　we　were　endowed。　As　it　is；　to　make　pictures　we　must　make　money。　To　make　money　we　must　sell　to　the　mob。　And　the　mob　reaches　full　mental　bloom　at　the　age　of　fifteen。　It　won't　buy　pictures　the　average　child　can't　get。〃

〃Of　course　the　art　is　in　its　infancy；〃　remarked　Henshaw；　discarding　his　own　cigarette。

〃Ours　is　the　Peter　Pan　of　the　arts；〃　announced　the　Governor；　as　he　rose。

〃The　Peter　Pan　of　the　arts〃

〃Yes。　I　trust　you　recall　the　outstanding　biological　freakishness　of　Peter。〃

〃Oh！〃　replied　Henshaw。

When　Merton　Gill　dared　to　glance　up　a　moment　later　the　men　were　matching　coins　at　the　counter。　When　they　went　out　he　left　a　half…　eaten　meal　and　presently　might　have　been　observed　on　a　swift…rolling　street…car。　He　mumbled　as　he　blankly　surveyed　palm…bordered　building　sites　along　the　way。　He　was　again　rehearsing　a　tense　scene　with　the　Montague　girl。　In　actor　parlance　he　was　giving　himself　all　the　best　of　it。　But　they　were　new　lines　he　mumbled　over　and　over。　And　he　was　no　longer　eluded　by　the　title　of　that　book　he　remembered　on　the　library　shelf　at　Simsbury。　Sitting　in　the　cafeteria　listening　to　strange　talk；　lashed　by　cruel　memories；　it　had　flashed　upon　his　vision　with　the　stark　definition　of　a　screened　subtitle。　He　rang　the　Montague　bell　twice　before　he　heard　a　faint　summons　to　enter。　Upon　the　parlour　couch；　under　blankets　that　reached　her　pillowed　head；　lay　Sarah。　She　was　pale　and　seemed　to　suffer。　She　greeted　him　in　a　feeble　voice；　lids　fluttering　over　the　fires　of　that　mysterious　fever　burning　far　back　in　her　eyes。

〃Hullo；　Kid；〃　he　began　brightly。　〃Here's　your　watch。〃　Her　doubting　glance　hovered　over　him　as　he　smiled　down　at　her。　〃You　giving　it　to　me　again；　Merton？〃　She　seemed　unable　to　conquer　a　stubborn　incredulity。

〃Of　course　I'm　giving　it　to　you　again。　What'd　you　think　I　was　going　to　do？〃

She　still　surveyed　him　with　little　veiled　glances。　〃You　look　so　bright　you　give　me　Kleig　eyes；〃　she　said。　She　managed　a　wan　smile　at　this。

〃Take　it；〃　he　insisted；　extending　the　package。　〃Of　course　it　won't　keep　Western　Union　time；　but　it'll　look　good　on　you。〃

She　appeared　to　be　gaining　on　her　incredulity；　but　a　vestige　of　it　remained。　〃I　won't　touch　it；〃　she　declared　with　more　spirit　than　could　have　been　expected　from　the　perishing；　〃I　won't　touch　it　till　you　give　me　a　good　big　kiss。〃

〃Sure；〃　he　said；　and　leaned　down　to　brush　her　pale　cheek　with　his　lips。　He　was　cheerfully　businesslike　in　this　ceremony。

〃Not　till　you　do　it　right；〃　she　persisted。　He　knelt　beside　the　couch　and　did　it　right。　He　lingered　with　a　hand　upon　her　pale　brow。

〃What　you　afraid　of？〃　he　demanded。

〃You；〃　she　said；　but　now　she　again　brought　the　watch　to　view；　holding　it　away　from　her；　studying　its　glitter　from　various　angles。　At　last　she　turned　her　eyes　up　to　his。　They　Were　alive　but　unrevealing。　〃Well？〃

〃Well？〃　he　repeated　coolly。

〃Oh；　stop　it！〃　Again　there　was　more　energy　than　the　moribund　are　wont　to　manifest。　There　was　even　a　vigorous　impatience　in　her　tone　as　she　went　on；　〃You　know　well　enough　what　I　was　afraid　of。　And　you　know　well　enough　what　I　want　to　hear　right　now。　Shoot；　can't　you？〃

He　shot。　He　stood　up；　backed　away　from　the　couch　to　where　he　could　conveniently　regard　its　stricken　occupant；　and　shot　gaily。

〃Well；　it'll　be　a　good　lesson　to　you　about　me；　this　thing　of　your　thinking　I　was　fooled　over　that　piece。　I　s'pose　you　and　Baird　had　it　between　you　all　the　time；　right　down　to　the　very　last；　that　I　thought　he　was　doin'　a　serious　play。　Ho；　ho！〃　He　laughed　gibingly。　It　was　a　masterful　laugh。　〃A　serious　play　with　a　cross…eyed　man　doing　funny　stuff　all　through。　I　thought　it　was　serious；　did　I？　Yes；　I　did！〃　Again　the　dry；　scornful　laugh　of　superiority。　〃Didn't　you　people　know　that　I　knew　what　I　could　do　and　what　I　couldn't　do？　I　should　have　thought　that　little　thing　would　of　occurred　to　you　all　the　time。　Didn't　you　s'pose　I　knew　as　well　as　any　one　that　I　got　a　low…comedy　face　and　couldn't　ever　make　the　grade　in　a　serious　piece？

〃Of　course　I　know　I　got　real　pathoslook　how　I　turned　it　on　a　couple　o'　times　in　that　piece　last　nightbut　even　when　I'm　imitating　a　bad　actor　you　can　see　it　ain't　all　acting。　You'd　see　soon　enough　I　was　a　bad　actor　if　I　tried　to　imitate　a　good　one。　I　guess　you'd　see　that　pretty　quick。　Didn't　you　and　Baird　even　s'pose　I'd　found　out　my　limits　and　decided　to　be　what　God　meant　me　to　be？

〃But　I　got　the　pathos　all　right；　and　you　can't　name　one　great　comedian　that　don't　need　pathos　more'n　he　needs　anything　else。　He　just　has　to　have　itand　I　got　it。　I　got　acting…plus；　that's　what；　I　got。　I　knew　it　all　the　time；　and　a　whole　lot　of　other　people　knew　it　last　night。　You　could　hear　fifty　of　'em　talking　about　it　when　I　came　out　of　the　theatre；　saying　I　was　an　artist　and　all　like　that；　and　a　certain　Los　Angeles　society　woman　that　you　can　bet　never　says　things　she　don't　mean；　she　told　me　she　saw　lots　of　places　in　this　piece　that　I　was　funnier　than　any　cross…eyed　man　that　ever　lived。　〃And　what　happens　this　morning？〃　Hands　in　pockets　he　swaggered　to　and　fro　past　the　couch。

〃Well；　nothing　happens　this　morning　except　people　coming　around　to　sign　me　up　for　three　hundred　and　fifty　a　week。　One　of　'em　said　not　an　hour　agohe's　a　big　producer；　toothat　Baird　ought　to　be　paying　me　seven　hundred　and　fifty　because　I　earned　every　cent　of　it。　Of　course　I　didn't　want　to　say　anything　the　other　day；　with　you　pretending　to　know　so　much　about　contracts　and　all　thatI　just　thought　I'd　let　you　go　on；　seeing　you　were　so　smartand　I　signed　what　you　told　me　to。　But　I　know　I　should　have　held　offwith　this　Bamberger　coming　over　from　the　Bigart　when　I　was　hardly　out　of　bed；　and　says　will　three　hundred　and　fifty　a　week　interest　me　and　promising　he'll　give　me　a　chance　to　do　that　spur　act　again　that　was　the　hit　of　the　piece〃

He　broke　off；　conscious　suddenly　that　the　girl　had　for　some　time　been　holding　a　most　peculiar　stare　rigidly　upon　him。　She　had　at　first　narrowed　her　right　eye　at　a　calculating　angle　as　she　listened；　but　for　a　long　time　now　the　eyes　had　been　widened　to　this　inexplicable　stare　eloquent　of　many　hidden　things。

As　he　stopped　his　speech；　made　ill　at　ease　by　the　incessant　pressing　of　the　look；　he　was　caught　and　held　by　it　to　a　longer　silence　than　he　had　meant　to　permit。　He　could　now　read　meanings。　That　unflinching　look　incurred　by　his　smooth　bluster　was　a　telling　blend　of　pity　and　of　wonder。

〃So　you　know；　do　you；〃　she　demanded；　〃that　you　look　just　enough　too　much　like　Harold　Parmalee　so　that　you're　funny？　I　mean。〃　she　amended；　seeing　him　wince；　〃that　you　look　the　way　Parmalee　would　look　if　he　had　brains？〃

He　faltered　but　made　a　desperate　effort　to　recover　his　balance。

〃And　besides；　what　difference　does　it　make？　If　we　did　good　pictures　we'd　have　to　sell　'em　to　a　mob。　And　what's　a　mob？　It's　fifteen　years　old　and　nothing　but　admirons；　or　something　like　that；　like　Muriel　Mercer　that　wouldn't　know　how　much　are　two　times　two　if　the　neighbours　didn't　get　it　to　her〃

Again　he　had　run　down　under　her　level　look。　As　he　stopped；　the　girl　on　the　couch　who　had　lain　with　the　blankets　to　her　neck　suddenly　threw　them　aside　and　sat　up。　Surprisingly　she　was　not　garbed　in　sick…bed　apparel。　She　seemed　to　be　fully　dressed。

A　long　moment　she　sat　thus；　regarding　him　still　with　that　slow　look；　unbelieving　yet　cherishing。　His　eyes　fell　at　last。

〃Merton！〃　he　heard　her　say。　He　looked　up　but　she　did　not　speak。　She　merely　gave　a　little　knowing　nod　of　the　head　and　opened　her　arms　to　him。　Quickly　he　knelt　beside　her　while　the　mothering　arms　enfolded　him。　A　hand　pulled　his　head　to　her　breast　and　held　it　there。　Thus　she　rocked　gently；　the　hand　gliding　up　to　smooth　his　hair。　Without　words　she　cherished　him　thus　a　long　time。　The　gentle　rocking　back　and　forth　continued。

〃It'sit's　like　that　other　time　you　found　me〃　His　bluster　had　gone。　He　was　not　sure　of　his　voice。　Even　these　few　wo