Page 271 - tender-is-the-night

The woman in room twenty could not see him when he
came in—the area about her eyes was too tightly swollen.
She spoke in a strong, rich, deep, thrilling voice.
‘How long will this last? Is it going to be forever?’
‘It’s not going to be very long now. Doctor Ladislau tells
me there are whole areas cleared up.’
‘If I knew what I had done to deserve this I could accept
it with equanimity.’
‘It isn’t wise to be mystical about it—we recognize it as a
nervous phenomenon. It’s related to the blush—when you
were a girl, did you blush easily?’
She lay with her face turned to the ceiling.
‘I have found nothing to blush for since I cut my wisdom
teeth.’
‘Haven’t you committed your share of petty sins and
mistakes?’
‘I have nothing to reproach myself with.’
‘You’re very fortunate.’
The woman thought a moment; her voice came up
through her bandaged face afflicted with subterranean mel-
odies:
‘I’m sharing the fate of the women of my time who chal-
lenged men to battle.’
‘To your vast surprise it was just like all battles,’ he an-
swered, adopting her formal diction.
‘Just like all battles.’ She thought this over. ‘You pick a
setup, or else win a Pyrrhic victory, or you’re wrecked and
ruined— you’re a ghostly echo from a broken wall.’
‘You are neither wrecked nor ruined,’ he told her. ‘Are

271