tomorrow, are you?” She turned, began to dissolve into the blackness. “You wont leave before breakfast.”
The next morning at breakfast, his sister said: “Who will be the lawyer on the other side of the case?”
“District Attorney. Why?”
She rang the bell and sent for fresh bread. Horace watched her. “Why do you ask that?” Then he said: “Damn little squirt.” He was talking about the district attorney, who had also been raised in Jefferson and who had gone to the town school with them. “I believe he was at the bottom of that business night before last. The hotel. Getting her turned out of the hotel for public effect, political capital. By God, if I knew that, believed that he had done that just to get elected to Congress.……”
After Horace left, Narcissa went up to Miss Jenny’s room. “Who is the District Attorney?” she said.
“You’ve known him all your life,” Miss Jenny said. “You even elected him. Eustace Graham. What do you want to know for? Are you looking around for a substitute for Gowan Stevens?”
“I just wondered,” Narcissa said.
“Fiddlesticks,” Miss Jenny said. “You dont wonder. You just do things and then stop until the next time to do something comes around.”
Horace met Snopes emerging from the barbershop, his jowls gray with powder, moving in an effluvium of pomade. In the bosom of his shirt, beneath his bow tie, he wore an imitation ruby stud which matched his ring. The tie was of blue polka-dots; the very white spots on it appeared dirty when seen close; the whole man with his shaved neck and pressed clothes and gleaming shoes emanated somehow the idea that he had been dry-cleaned rather than washed.
“Well, Judge,” he said, “I hear you’re having some trouble gittin a boarding-place for that client of yourn. Like I always say—” he leaned, his voice lowered, his mud-colored eyes roving aside “—the church aint got no place in politics, and women aint got no place in neither one, let alone the law. Let them stay at home and they’ll find plenty to do without upsetting a man’s law-suit. And besides, a man aint no more than human, and what he does aint nobody’s business but his. What you done with her?”
“She’s at the jail,” Horace said. He spoke shortly, making to pass on. The other blocked his way with an effect of clumsy accident.
“You got them all stirred up, anyhow. Folks is saying you wouldn’t git Goodwin no bond, so he’d have to stay—” again Horace made to pass on. “Half the trouble in this world is caused by women, I always say. Like that girl gittin her paw all stirred up, running off like she done. I reckon he done the right thing sending her clean outen the state.”
“Yes,” Horace said in a dry, furious voice.
“I’m mighty glad to hear your case is going all right. Between you and me, I’d like to see a good lawyer make a monkey outen that District Attorney. Give a fellow like that a little county office and he gits too big for his pants right away. Well, glad to’ve saw you. I got some business up town for a day or two. I dont reckon you’ll be going up that-a-way?”
“What?” Horace said. “Up where?”
“Memphis. Anything I can do for you?”
“No,” Horace said. He went on. For a short distance he could not see at all. He tramped steadily, the muscles beside his jaws beginning to ache, passing people who spoke to him, unawares.
21
As the train neared Memphis Virgil Snopes ceased talking and began to grow quieter and quieter, while on the contrary his companion, eating from a paraffin-paper package of popcorn and molasses, grew livelier and livelier with a quality something like intoxication, seeming not to notice the inverse state of his friend. He was still talking away when, carrying their new, imitation leather suit cases, their new hats slanted above their shaven necks, they descended at the station. In the waiting room Fonzo said:
“Well, what’re we going to do first?” Virgil said nothing. Someone jostled them; Fonzo caught at his hat. “What we going to do?” he said. Then he looked at Virgil, at his face. “What’s the matter?”
“Aint nothing the matter,” Virgil said.
“Well, what’re we going to do? You been here before. I aint.”
“I reckon we better kind of look around,” Virgil said.
Fonzo was watching him, his blue eyes like china. “What’s the matter with you? All the time on the train you was talking about how many times you been to Memphis. I bet you aint never bu—” Someone jostled them, thrust them apart; a stream of people began to flow between them. Clutching his suit case and hat Fonzo fought his way back to his friend.
“I have, too,” Virgil said, looking glassily about.
“Well, what we going to do, then? It wont be open till eight oclock in the morning.”
“What you in such a rush for, then?”
“Well, I dont aim to stay here all night.…What did you do when you was here before?”
“Went to the hotel,” Virgil said.
“Which one? They got more than one here. You reckon all these folks could stay in one hotel? Which one was it?”
