Samedi the Deafness by Jesse Ball

those who became immediately angry about what had just happened, and who then thereafter lessened in their anger. Any danger from such a person came in the moments after the first difficulty.

    The second type seemed only slightly angry about what had happened. They might even say to you, Oh, don't worry about it. It's just fine. It's fine. But as time passes they become more and more angry. An hour after the incident, they are steaming. Two hours and they would murder you with their bare hands if they could. Their anger then enters into a long winter, hibernating, and when and if they can, they will do you unconscionable and incommensurate wrong.

    The third type is not troubled much by what you did. Although it was in fact one of their favorite belongings, and although they realize precisely what it meant to them, precisely how sad it is that the object in question is gone, and also precisely how inconsiderate you must have been to have broken the thing in the first place, nonetheless they forgive you for it, and the matter is not spoken of again, save perhaps in soft and gentle jest.

 

    At the foot of the driveway, a gate. The gate, locked. There was, however, an intercom.

    James pressed the button.

    —Hello, he said.

    —This is the house, said a man's voice.

    —I'd like the gate opened, said James. It's me, James Sim.

    —Right, said the man. Hold on a moment.

    A few seconds passed.

    —Give me actually two minutes.

    The line went dead.

    James stood quietly between the lines of hedge. It was like a glass panel, like an inked negative, the day spread out in glorious colors of leaves and hours. He began to hum to himself.

    BZZZZZ!

    The gate began to swing open. James jumped back, for it was heading straight for him with its massive iron arms.

    A car pulled through. When the driver saw James, he stopped. Torquin was driving. James flinched.

    The back window of the car rolled down. A young doctor, dressed nattily, was seated in the back. Beside him, a very beautiful woman could be seen.

    —Sim? he asked.

    —Yes, said James.

    This must be Sermon, he thought to himself.

    —Have you come to speak with me? asked James.

    —For that, and other reasons. Do you have a moment?

    —Of course, said James.

    —Get in, then, get in, said Sermon. On the other side.

    James went around to the other side of the limousine. The door was unlocked. He opened it and got in.

    The girl had slid into Sermon's lap to make room. The doctor looked at him inquisitively.

    —So, out for a walk?

    —Yes, said James.

    Sermon ran his hand up and down the girl's leg.

    —It's nice to go for a walk, he said.

    —I like walks, too, said the girl. I'm Leonora, she said, Loft. Leonora Loft. We haven't been properly introduced.

    —Of course, said Sermon, how cruel of me. Leonora, James, James, Leonora. Leonora, he said, is the authority on Prussia. Aren't you?

    —An authority, said Leonora patiently. Frederick the Great. You know, he was good friends with Voltaire.

    —I didn't know that, said James.

    —Xavier, said Leonora, is a psychologist. Be careful what you tell him. He reads volumes in specks and specks in volumes.

    —My life, said Sermon to no one in particular, is a battle against sarcasm. No one understands the dangers of irony. If only we could all be like the aborigines or the Hopi, living unfettered by other states than the immediate.

    The car had stopped in front of the house.

    —Shall we talk here? asked James. Or do you want to go inside?

    —We shall talk, said Sermon, over a coffee, if you don't mind.

    —Frederick the Great, said Leonora, drank enormous amounts of coffee. He hated sleeping, and tried to go for as long as possible drinking coffee and not sleeping. He was forced to stop, however, when he began to hallucinate.

    Sermon's hand had crept up beneath her skirt.

    —Have you no tact? she said. We just met this man.

    —He might as well, said Sermon, know how things are around