Legion by William Peter Blatty Page B

Richmond?” he asked.
    She made a face. “We had a late breakfast there, some basted eggs and bacon, and they brought it with grits, and Mama said right out loud at the counter, ‘these Jews are crazy.’ “
    “And where is she, our venerable maven of the river bottoms?”
    “Sleeping.”
    “Thank God.”
    “Bill, be nice. She can hear you.”
    “In her sleep? Yes, of course, love. The Phantom of the Tub is ever vigilant. She knows I might do something really crazy to that fish. Mary, when are we eating the carp? I’m very serious.”
    “Tomorrow.”
    “So tonight there’s no bath again, nu?”
    “You can shower.”
    “I want a bath with lots of bubbles. Would the carp mind some bubbles? I’m willing to negotiate a rapprochement. Incidentally, where’s Julie?”
    “At dance class.”
    “Dance class at night?”
    “Bill, it’s only eight o’clock.”
    “She should dance in the daytime. It’s better.”
    “Better how?”
    “It’s more light out. It’s better. She can see the pointed shoes. Only goyim dance well in the dark. Jews stumble. They don’t like it.”
    “Bill, I’ve got a little news you’re not going to be crazy about.”
    “So the carp had quintuplets.”
    “Close. Julie wants to change her last name to Febre.”
    The detective looked numb. “You’re not serious.”
    “I am.”
    “No, you’re joking.’’
    “She says it might be better for her image as a dancer.”
    Kinderman said tonelessly, “Julie Febre.”
    “So why not?”
    He said, “Jews are farmischt , not Febre .” Is this what comes of all this packaging we see in our culture? Next comes Doctor Bemie Feinerman to sprite up her nose so it matches her name, and after that comes the Bible and the Book of Febre and in the Ark there will be nothing that looks like a gnu, only clean - cut - looking animals named Melody or Tab, all WASPs from Dubuque. The remains of the Ark someday they’ll find in the Hamptons. We should only thank God that the Pharaoh isn’t here, that goniff –he’d be laughing in our faces this minute.”
    She said, “Things could be worse.”
    He said, “Maybe.”
    “Does the Ark stop at Richmond?”
    He was staring into space. “The Psalms of Lance,” he said. “I’m drowning.” He sighed and let his head droop down to his chest.
    “Honey, please go to bed,” said Mary. “You’re exhausted.”
    He nodded. “Yes, I’m tired.” He stood up and came over and kissed her cheek. “Good night, dumpling.”
    “Good night, Bill. I love you.”
    “I love you, too.”
    He went upstairs and was asleep within minutes.
    He dreamed. At first he was flying over country - sides that were brightly colored and vivid; then soon there were villages, and then cities that at once were both ordinary and strange. They looked just as they should but were somehow alien, and he knew that he could never describe them. As in any other dream, he had no sense of his body, and yet he felt vigorous and strong. And the dream was lucid: he knew he was asleep in his bed and dreaming, and had total recollection of the day’s events.
    Abruptly he was standing inside a titanic building made of stone. Its walls were smooth and of a soft rose color, and they vaulted to a ceiling of breathtaking height. He had the feeling of being in a vast cathedral. An immense expanse was filled with beds of the kind found in hospitals, narrow and white, and there were hundreds of people, possibly more, engaged in various quiet activities. Some were either sitting or lying on their beds, while still others walked around in pajamas or robes. Most were reading or talking, though a group of five of them near Kinderman were gathered at a table and a radio transmitter of some sort. Their faces were intent and Kinderman could hear one saying, “Can you hear me?” Odd beings walked around, winged men like angels wearing the uniforms of doctors. They moved among the beds and the columns of sunlight that were shafting through circular