‘That’s another story,’ the doctor said. ‘What else has Jenny ever done, and what else has Robin ever done? And Nora, what’s she done but cause it, by taking it in at night like a bird-coop? And I myself wish I’d never had a button up my middle —for what I’ve done and what I’ve not done all goes back to that—to be recognized, a gem should lie in a wide open field; but I’m all aglitter in the underbrush! If you don’t want to suffer you should tear yourself apart. Were not the several parts of Caroline of Hapsburg put in three utterly obvious piles?—her heart in the Augustiner church, her intestines in St. Stefan’s and what was left of the body in the vault of the Capucines? Saved by separation. But I’m all in one piece! Oh, the new moon! ‘ he said. ‘When will she come riding?’
‘Drunk and telling the world,’ someone said.
The doctor heard but he was too far gone to care, too muddled in his mind to argue, and already weeping.
‘Come,’ the ex-priest said, ‘I’ll take you home.’
The doctor waved his arm. ‘Revenge is for those who have loved a little, for anything more than that justice is hardly enough. Some day I’m going to Lourdes and scramble in the front row and talk about all of you.’ His eyes were almost closed. He opened them and looked about him and a fury came over him. ‘Christ Almighty!’ he said. ‘Why don’t they let me alone, all of them?’
The ex-priest repeated, ‘Come, I’ll take you home.’
The doctor tried to rise. He was exceedingly drunk and now extremely angry all at once. His umbrella fell to the floor with the crash of a glass as he swung his arm upward against the helping hand. ‘Get out! Get out!’ he said. ‘What a damnable year, what a bloody time! How did it happen, where did it come from?’
He began to scream with sobbing laughter. ‘Talking to me—all of them—sitting on me as heavy as a truck horse—talking! Love falling buttered side down, fate falling arse up! Why doesn’t anyone know when everything is over, except me? That fool Nora, holding on by her teeth, going back to find Robin! And Felix—eternity is only just long enough for a Jew! But there’s someone else—who was it, damn it all—who was it? I’ve known everyone,’ he said, ‘everyone!’ He came down upon the table with all his weight, his arms spread, his head between them, his eyes wide open and crying, staring along the table where the ash blew and fluttered with his gasping breath. ‘For Christ’s sweet sake!’ he said, and his voice was a whisper, ‘Now that you have all heard what you wanted to hear, can’t you let me loose now, let me go? I’ve not only lived my life for nothing, but I’ve told it for nothing—abominable among the filthy people—I know, it’s all over, everything’s over, and nobody knows it but me—drunk as a fiddler’s bitch—lasted too long—‘ He tried to get to his feet, gave it up. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘the end—mark my words—now nothing, but wrath and weeping!’