有一天早晨，我三点钟左右醒来，听见凯瑟琳在床上翻来覆去。“你好吗，凯特？”
“有点痛，亲爱的。”
“是不是有规则的阵痛？”
“不，不太有规则。”“要是有规则的话，我们上医院去。”
当时我很困，就又睡着了。过了一会儿，我又醒过来。
“你最好还是打电话给医生吧，”凯瑟琳说。“我想这次也许是真的了。”
我打电话找医生。“每次疼痛相隔多少时间？”医生问。
“多少时间痛一次，凯特？”
“大概是一刻钟一次吧。”
“那么应当上医院去了，”医生说。“我穿上衣服，马上就去。”我挂断了，另打个电话给车站附近的汽车行，叫一部出租汽车。好久没人来接电话。最后，总算有个人答应即刻开部车子来。凯瑟琳正在穿衣服。她的拎包已经收拾好，里边放着她住院的用品和婴孩的东西。我到外边走廊上去按电铃喊电梯。没有回音。我走下楼去。楼下一个人都没有，只有一个夜班警卫员。我只好自己开电梯上去，把凯瑟琳的拎包放进去，她走进电梯，我们便朝下开。警卫给我们开了门，我们走出去，坐在通车道的台阶旁的石板上，等汽车来。夜空无云，满天星星。凯瑟琳很兴奋。“我真高兴，这可开始了，”她说。“过一会儿，一切就会过去的。”“你是个勇敢的好姑娘。”
“我不害怕。不过我倒希望汽车早一点来。”
我们听见车子在街上开来，看见车前灯的灯光。车子转入车道，我扶凯瑟琳上了车，司机把拎包放在前面的座位上。
“往医院开，”我说。
我们出了车道，开始上山。
到了医院，我们走进去，我提着拎包。有个女人坐在一张桌子边，她在一本簿子上写下凯瑟琳的姓名、年龄、地址、亲属、宗教信仰等等。她说她没有宗教信仰，那女人就在那个词后边的空白处打了一条杠子。她报的姓名是凯瑟琳·亨利。
“我带你到你的房间去，”她说。我们乘电梯上去。那女人停了电梯，领着我们走下一条走廊。凯瑟琳紧紧地抓住我的胳臂。
“就是这房间，”那女人说。“请你脱衣服上床吧？这里有件睡衣给你换。”
“我有睡衣，”凯瑟琳说。
“你还是穿这一件吧，”那女人说。
我走出去，坐在走廊上一张椅子上。
“你现在可以进来了，”那女人站在门口说。凯瑟琳躺在一张窄床上，穿着一件方领的朴素的睡衣，看上去好像是粗布被单改成的。她对我笑笑。“我现在在好好的疼痛了，”她说。那女人抓着她的手腕，看着表计算阵痛的时间。
“刚才痛得好厉害，”凯瑟琳说。从她脸上我看得出疼痛的程度。“医生呢？”我问那女人。
“他正躺着睡觉。用得着他时他就会来的。”
“我现在得给夫人做件事，”护士说。“请你再出去一趟好不好？”我到走廊上去。廊上空无一物，有两个窗户，长廊上所有的门都关闭着。这儿有医院的气味。我坐在椅子上，眼睛望着地板，为凯瑟琳祷告。“你可以进来了，”护士说。我就进去。
“哈罗，亲爱的，”凯瑟琳说。
“怎么样？”
“现在来得相当勤了。”她的脸扭成一团。过后她笑笑。
“方才真痛得厉害。护士，你能不能再把你的手放在我背上？”“只要对你有帮助，”护士说。
“你去吧，亲爱的，”凯瑟琳说。“到外边去吃点什么吧。护士说我还要拖好久哩。”
“初次分娩通常是拖得很长的，”护士说。
“请出去吃点东西吧，”凯瑟琳说。“我真的很好。”
“我再呆一会儿。”
产痛相当经常了，接着缓解了。凯瑟琳很兴奋。痛得厉害的时候，她说痛得好。痛一减轻她就觉得失望，怪不好意思的。
“出去吧，亲爱的，”她说，“你在这儿，反而叫我不自在。”她的脸扭曲起来。“来了。这次好一点。我很想做个好妻子，好端端地生下这孩子。
请你出去吃些早点，亲爱的，然后回来。我没你也行。这位护士待我很好。”
“你有很充分的时间吃早点，”护士说。
“那我就走吧。再会，亲爱的。”
“再会，”凯瑟琳说，“同时也替我吃一顿好好的早点。”
“这儿什么地方可以吃早点？”我问护士。
“顺着街走下去，广场上有家咖啡店，”她说。“现在总该开门了吧。”
外边天在亮了。我顺着空空的街道走到咖啡店。店窗上有灯光。我走进去，站在白铁的酒吧前，有个老头儿给了我一杯白葡萄酒和一只奶油蛋卷。蛋卷是昨天剩下来的。我拿它泡在酒里吃，过后又喝了一杯咖啡。“你这么早做什么？”老头儿问。
“我妻子在医院里生孩子。”
“原来这样。祝你运气好。”
“再给我一杯酒。”
他拿起酒瓶来倒，溢出了一些酒，淌到白铁面上去了。我喝完这杯酒，付了账，跨出店去。沿街家家门口摆着个垃圾桶，等着倒垃圾的来。有一条狗正冲着一只垃圾桶在嗅。
“你要找什么？”我问，看看垃圾桶里有什么东西可以拉出来给它吃；垃圾桶的上面只有些咖啡渣、尘埃和几朵凋谢了的花朵。
“什么都没有啊，狗，”我说。狗走过街去了。到了医院，我由楼梯走到凯瑟琳躺着的那一层，顺着长廊走到她的房门口。我敲敲门。没有回音。我推开门；房间里空无一人，只有凯瑟琳的拎包还搁在一张椅子上，她的睡衣挂在墙上的一只钩子上。我走出房去，顺着走廊找人。我找到了一名护士。
“亨利太太在哪儿？”
“有位夫人刚进接生间去。”
“接生间在什么地方？”
“我指给你看。”
她领我走到走廊的尽头。那房间的门半开着。我看见凯瑟琳躺在一张台子上，盖着一条被单。护士站在台子的一边，另一边站着医生，医生的旁边有些圆筒。医生手里拿着一个一头通一根管子的橡皮面罩。“我给你件白大褂，你可以进去，”护士说。“请上这儿来。”她给我披上一件白大褂，在脖子后边用只别针扣住。
“你现在可以进去了，”她说。我走进去。
“哈罗，亲爱的，”凯瑟琳用一种勉强的声调说。“我没有什么进展。”
“你就是亨利先生吗？”医生问。
“是的。情况怎么样，医生？”
“情况很好，”医生说。“我们上这儿来，为了上麻醉药，减轻产痛，比较方便。”
“我现在要了，”凯瑟琳说。医生把橡皮面罩往她脸上一罩，转动一只刻度盘上的指针，我看着凯瑟琳在急促地深呼吸。她随即把面罩推开。医生关掉小龙头。
“这次并不痛得厉害。方才有一次痛得很厉害。医生使我完全失去了知觉，可不是吗，医生？”她的声调很怪。说到“医生”这两字时调门特别高。医生笑笑。
“我又要了，”凯瑟琳说。她抓住橡皮面罩紧紧地按在脸上，急促地呼吸着。我听见她微微呻吟着。接着，她把面罩推开，微笑起来。“这次可痛得厉害，”她说。“这次痛得真厉害。你别担心，亲爱的，你去吧。去再吃一顿早饭。”
“我要呆在这里，”我说。
我们上医院是早上三时左右。到了中午，凯瑟琳还在接生间里。产痛又消退了。看她样子非常疲乏，但是情绪还是好的。
“我一点也不中用，亲爱的，”她说。“很对不起。我本以为很便当的。现在—─又来了——”她伸手抓住面罩，捂在脸上。医生转动刻度盘，注视着她。过一会儿，疼痛过去了。
“这次不算什么，”凯瑟琳说。她笑笑。“我太痴爱麻药了。它真奇妙。”
“将来我们家里也装它一个吧，”我说。
“又来了，”凯瑟琳急促地说。医生转动刻度盘，看着他的表。“现在每次相隔多久？”
“一分钟左右。”
“你要吃中饭吧？”
“我等一会就去吃，”他说。
“你得吃点东西，医生，”凯瑟琳说。“真对不起，我拖得这么久。可不可以叫我丈夫给我上麻药。”
“如果你愿意的话，”医生说。“你拨到二字上。”
“我明白，”我说。刻度盘上有个指针，可以用个把手转动。“我现在要了，”凯瑟琳说。她抓住面罩，紧紧罩在脸上。我把指针拨到二字上，等凯瑟琳一放下面罩，我就关掉。医生让我做点事真好。“是你输放的吗，亲爱的？”凯瑟琳问。她抚摸我的手腕。
“当然。”
“你多么可爱。”她吸了麻药，有点醉了。
“我上隔壁房间端个托盘吃东西，”医生说。“你可以随时喊我。”时间就这么过去了，我看着医生吃饭，过了一会儿，看见他躺下来抽根烟。凯瑟琳已经非常疲乏了。
“你看这孩子可生得出来吗？”她问。
“当然生得出来的。”
“我拼命想生。我把孩子往下挤，但是它溜开了。又来了。给我上麻药啊。”
午后二时，我出去吃中饭。咖啡店里有几个人坐着喝咖啡，桌上还放着一杯杯樱桃白兰地或者苹果白兰地。我拣了一张桌子坐下。“有东西吃吗？”我问侍者。
“午饭时间过了。”
“你们没有什么常备的菜吗？”
“你可以吃酸泡菜。”
“就拿酸泡菜和啤酒来好了。”
“小杯还是大杯？”
“一小杯淡的。”
侍者端来一盘酸泡菜，上边放有一片火腿，另有一根腊肠埋在这烫热的酒浸的卷心菜里。我边吃菜边喝啤酒。我肚子很饿。我看看咖啡店里的人，有张桌边有人在打牌。我旁边那张桌子有两个男人在抽烟谈话。咖啡店里烟雾腾腾。我吃早饭的那个白铁面的酒吧的后面，现在有三个人了：那老头儿，一个穿黑衣服的胖女人，坐在一个柜台后边计算客人的酒菜点心，还有一个围着一条围裙的孩子。我不晓得那女人生过多少孩子，生的时候又怎么样。
吃完了酸泡菜，我回医院去。现在街上已经打扫干净了。放在门口的垃圾桶都拿掉了。天阴多云，但是太阳还是想冲出来。我乘电梯上楼，跨出电梯，顺着走廊往凯瑟琳的房间走，因为我的白大褂放在那里。我穿上大褂，在脖子后边扣好。我照照镜子，觉得自己很像一个留胡子的冒牌医生。我顺着走廊往接生间走。接生间的门关着，我敲敲。没有回音，我便转动门把手走进去。医生坐在凯瑟琳的旁边。护士在房间的尽头做些什么。
“你先生回来了，”医生说。
“哦，亲爱的，我有个最奇妙的医生，”凯瑟琳用一种很怪的声音说。“他讲给我听最奇妙的故事，当我痛得太难过时，他便叫我完全失去知觉。他好极了。你好极了，医生。”
“你醉了，”我说。
“我知道，”凯瑟琳说。“但是你用不着说出来。”过后又是“快给我，快给我”。她抓住面罩，喘吁吁地吸气，又短促又深入，弄得面罩答答响。接着她一声长叹，医生伸出左手拿走面罩。
“这次可真痛得厉害，”凯瑟琳说。她的声音非常怪。“我现在不会死了，亲爱的，我已经过了死的关口。你不高兴吗？”
“你可别再往那儿闯。”
“我不会的。但我已经不怕它了。我不会死的，亲爱的。”
“你当然不会做这种傻事情，”医生说。“你不会丢下你的先生就走的。”
“哦，对。我不愿死。我不会死。死太傻了。又来了。快给我。”过了一会儿，医生说：“亨利先生，你出去一会儿，我要检查一下。”“他要看看我究竟怎么样，”凯瑟琳说。“你等一会儿回来，亲爱的，可以吗，医生？”
“可以，”医生说。“他可以回来的时候我就叫人请他进来。”我走出门，顺着走廊走到凯瑟琳产后要呆的房间。我坐在一把椅子上，看看房间四下。我上衣口袋里有份报，是我出去吃中饭时买来的，现在就拿出来翻看。外边天开始黑下来。我开了电灯看报。过了一会儿，我不看了，便熄了灯，看着外边黑下来。不晓得为什么医生不叫人来喊我。也许我不在场好一点吧。他也许要我走开一会儿。我看看表。十分钟内他再不来喊我，我自己看看去。
可怜又可怜的好凯特啊。这就是你同人家睡觉的代价。这就是陷阱的尽头。这就是人们彼此相爱的结果。谢谢上帝，总算有麻药。在有麻药之前，不晓得还该怎么苦。产痛一开始，女人就投入了运转水车的流水中。凯瑟琳怀孕的时期倒很顺利。没什么不好过的。简直很少呕吐。她到了最后才感到十分不舒服。到末了她还是逃不了惩罚。世界上没有什么侥幸的事。绝对没有！我们就是结婚五十次，结果还会是一样。倘若她死去怎么办？她不会死的。现在女人分娩不会死的。所有的丈夫都是这样想的。是的，可倘若她死去呢？她不会死的。她只是难受一阵子罢了。生头胎通常是拖得很久的。她不过是难受一阵子罢了。事后我们谈起来，说当时多么苦，凯瑟琳就会说并不真的那么苦。但是倘若她死去呢？她不能死。是的，不过倘若她死去呢？她不能死，我告诉你。不要傻里傻气。只是受一阵子罪罢了。只是 “自然”在使她活受罪罢了。只是因为是头胎，生头胎差不多总是拖得很久的。是的，不过倘若她死去呢？她不能死。她为什么要死？她有什么理由要死？只是一个孩子要生出来，那是米兰夜夜欢娱的副产品。孩子引起麻烦，生了下来，然后你抚养他，说不定还会喜欢他。但是倘若她死去呢？她不会死的。但是倘若她死去呢？她不会死的。她没事。但是倘若她死去呢？她不能死。但是倘若她死去呢？嗨，那怎么办呢？倘若她死去呢？
医生走进房来。
“有什么进展，医生？”
“没有进展，”他说。
“你这话什么意思？”
“就是这个意思。我检查过了——”他把检查的结果详尽地讲给我听。“从那时候起我就等着看。但是没有进展。”
“你看应当怎么办？”
“有两个办法。一种是用产钳，但是会撕裂皮肉，相当危险，况且对婴孩可能不利，还有一种就是剖腹手术。”
“剖腹手术有什么危险？”倘若她死去呢！
“危险性并不比普通的分娩大一点。”
“你亲自动手术吗？”
“是的。我大约要用一小时作准备，请几个人来帮忙。或许不到一小时。”
“你的意思怎么样？”
“我主张剖腹手术。要是这是我自己的妻子，我也采用这种手术。”
“手术后会有什么后遗症吗？”
“没有。只有开刀的刀疤。”
“会不会有感染？”
“危险性不比用产钳那么大。”
“倘若不动任何手术呢？”
“到末了还是得想个办法。亨利夫人的精力已经大大消耗了。越趁早动手术就越安全。”
“那么趁早动手术吧，”我说。
“我去吩咐作准备。”
我走进接生间。护士陪着凯瑟琳。凯瑟琳正躺在台子上，被单下肚子高突出来，人很苍白疲惫。
“你告诉他可以动手术吧？”她问。
“是的。”
“这多好啊。这样一小时内就全能解决了。我快垮了，亲爱的。我不行了。请给我那个。不灵了。唉，不灵了！”
“深呼吸。”
“我是在深呼吸。唉，再也不灵了。不灵了！”
“再拿一筒来，”我对护士说。
“这筒就是新的。”
“我真是傻瓜啊，亲爱的，”凯瑟琳说。“但是那东西再也不灵了。”
她哭起来。“哦，我多么渴望生下这个孩子，不要招麻烦，现在我可完了，完全垮了，而它不灵了。哦，亲爱的，它完全不灵了。我只要止痛，死也不顾了。哦，亲爱的，请止住我的痛。又来了。哦哦哦！”她在面罩下呜呜咽咽地呼吸着。“不灵了。不灵了。不灵了。你不要在意，亲爱的。请你别哭。不要在意。我不过是完全垮了。你这可怜的宝贝。我多么爱你，我要努力。这次我要熬一下。他们不可以再给我点什么吗？但愿他们再给我个什么。”
“我一定使它灵。我把它全开到头。”
“现在给我吧。”
我把指针转到了头，她用力作深呼吸，抓在面罩上的那只手放松下来。
我关掉麻药，拎起面罩。她慢慢苏醒过来，好像从遥远的地方回转来似的。
“这好极了，亲爱的。哦，你待我太好了。”
“你勇敢一点，因为我不能老是这么做。这会要你命的。”
“我再也不是勇敢的了，亲爱的。我全垮了。人家已经把我打垮了。这我现在知道了。”
“人人都是这样的。”
“但是这太可怕了。疼痛来个不停，直到使你垮掉为止。”
“一小时内就都解决了。”
“这岂不是太好吗？亲爱的，我不会死吧？”
“不会。我包管你不会。”
“因为我不想丢下你死去，只是我给弄得累死了，而且我觉得就要死了。”
“瞎说。人人都有这种感觉的。”
“有时候我知道我就要死了。”
“你不会的。你不可以。”
“但是倘若我死呢？”
“我不让你死。”
“赶快给我。给我！”
过后她又说：“我不会死的。我不愿让自己死去。”
“你当然不会的。”
“你陪着我吧？”
“我不看手术。”
“我的意思是你别走开。”
“当然。我始终不会走开的。”
“你待我真好。又来了，给我。多给我一些。它不灵了！”我把指针拨到三字，然后拨到四字。我希望医生早点回来。拨过了二字，我心里就慌张。
终于另一位医师来了，带来了两名护士，把凯瑟琳抬上一个有车轮的担架，我们就顺着走廊上走去。担架迅速地在走廊上前进，被推进一部电梯，人人都得紧贴着墙，才能容纳这担架；电梯往上开，接着打开一道门，出了电梯，这橡皮车轮的担架顺着走廊往手术间。医生戴上了帽子和口罩，我几乎认不得了。此外还有一位医生和一些护士。
“他们得给我一点什么，”凯瑟琳说。“他们得给我一点什么。哦，医生，求求你，多给我一点，叫它有效！”
有一位医生拿个面罩罩住她的脸，我从门口望进去，看见手术间附有梯形座位的小看台，灯光明亮。
“你可以从那道门进去，坐在上边看，”一名护士对我说。手术间的上边摆着几条长凳，用栏杆隔开。俯瞰着白色的手术台和那些灯。我望望凯瑟琳。面罩罩在她脸上，现在她很安静。他们把担架往前推。我转身走上走廊。有两名护士正往看台的人口处匆匆赶来。
“是剖腹手术啊，”一个说。“他们要做剖腹手术了。”
另外一个笑起来。“我们刚刚赶上。岂不是好运道？”她们走进通看台的门去。
又一名护士走进来了。她也在匆匆赶来。
“你直接进去吧。进去吧，”她说。
“我呆在外边。”
她赶紧进去了。我在走廊上踱来踱去。我怕进去。我望望窗外。天已黑
了，但是借着窗内的灯光，我看得出外面在下雨。我走进走廊尽头的一个房间，看看一只玻璃柜里那些瓶子上的签条。接着我又走出来，站在没有人的走廊上，望着手术间的门。
一位医生出来了，后面跟着一名护士。医生双手捧着一件什么东西，好像是只刚刚剥了皮的兔子，跨过走廊，走进另外一道门。我走到他刚走进去的门前，发现他们正在房间里对付一个新生的婴孩。医生提起孩子来给我看。他一手提着孩子的脚后跟，一手拍他。
“他没事吧？”
“他好极啦。该有五公斤重。”
我对他没有感情。他跟我好像没有什么关系似的。我没有当父亲的感觉。
“这儿子你不觉得骄傲吗？”护士问。他们在洗他，用什么东西包着他。
我看见那张小黑脸和一只小黑手，但是没见到他动或听到他哭。医生又在给孩子做些什么。看医生样子有点不安。
“不，”我回答。“他差一点儿要了他妈的命。”
“那可不是这小宝贝的错。你不是要个男孩吗？”
“不要，”我说。医生正在忙着对付他。他倒提起他的双脚，拍打他。
我并不等着看结局。我走到走廊上。现在我可以进去看看了。我进了通看台的门，从看台上朝下走了几步。护士们坐在底下栏杆边，招手叫我下去。我摇摇头。我那地方也看得够清楚的了。
我以为凯瑟琳已经死了。她那样子像个死人。她的脸孔，就我看得到的那部分而言，是灰色的。在下面的灯光下，医生正在缝合那道又大又长、被钳子扩张的、边沿厚厚的切口。另有一位医生，罩着面罩，在上麻药。两名戴面罩的护士在传递用具。这简直像张“宗教裁判”②的图画。我现在看着，知道我刚才能把全部手术都看到，不过还是没看的好。人家起初怎么动刀，我想我是看不下去的，但是我现在看着他们把那切口缝合成一条高高隆起的线，手法迅速熟练，好像鞋匠在上线，看得我心里高兴。切口缝好后，我又回到外面走廊上去踱来踱去，过了一会儿，医生出来了。“她人怎么样？”
“她没事。你看了没有？”
他神情疲惫。
“我看你缝好的。切开的口子看来很长。”
“你这么想吗？”
“是的。疤痕会不会平下来？”
“哦，会的。”
过了一会儿，他们把有轮的担架推出来，迅速推下走廊，进了电梯。我也跟了进去。凯瑟琳在哼叫。到了楼下，她们把她放在她那房间的床上。我坐在床脚边一把椅子上。房间里有名护士。我站起来站在床边。房间里很暗。凯瑟琳伸出手来。“哈罗，亲爱的，”她说。她的声音细弱疲乏。“哈罗，亲爱的。”
“婴孩是男是女？”
“嘘——别讲话，”护士说。
“是个男孩。又长又宽又黑。”
“他没事吧？”
“没事，”我说。“他很好。”
我看见护士奇怪地望着我。
“我非常疲乏，”凯瑟琳说。“而且方才痛得要命。你好吧，亲爱的？”
“我很好。别讲话了。”
“你待我真好。哦，亲爱的，我方才可痛极了。他长得怎么样？”“像只剥了皮的兔子，蹙起脸来的老头儿。”
“你得出去了，”护士说。“亨利夫人不应当讲话。”
“我在外边等吧，”我说。
“出去搞点东西吃。”
“不。我就在外边等。”我吻吻凯瑟琳。她人很灰白，很衰弱，很疲乏。
“我可以同你讲句话吗？”我对护士说。她陪我到外边走廊上。我朝走廊另一端走了几步。
“婴孩怎么啦？”我问。
“难道你不知道？”
“不知道。”
“他没活下来。”
“他死了吗？”
“他们没法子叫他开始呼吸。大概是脐带缠住了脖子还不知怎么的。”
“原来他
One morning I awoke about three o'clock hearing Catherine stirring in the bed.
"Are you all right, Cat?"
"I've been having some pains, darling."
"Regularly?"
"No, not very."
"If you have them at all regularly we'll go to the hospital."
I was very sleepy and went back to sleep. A little while later I woke again.
"Maybe you'd better call up the doctor," Catherine said. "I think maybe this is it."
I went to the phone and called the doctor. "How often are the pains coming?" he asked.
"How often are they coming, Cat?"
"I should think every quarter of an hour."
"You should go to the hospital, then," the doctor said. "I will dress and go there right away myself."
I hung up and called the garage near the station to send up a taxi. No one answered the phone for a long time. Then I finally got a man who promised to send up a taxi at once. Catherine was dressing. Her bag was all packed with the things she would need at the hospital and the baby things. Outside in the hall I rang for the elevator. There was no answer. I went downstairs. There was no one downstairs except the night-watchman. I brought the elevator up myself, put Catherine's bag in it, she stepped in and we went down. The night-watchman opened the door for us and we sat outside on the stone slabs beside the stairs down to the driveway and waited for the taxi. The night was clear and the stars were out. Catherine was very excited.
"I'm so glad it's started," she said. "Now in a little while it will be all over."
"You're a good brave girl."
"I'm not afraid. I wish the taxi would come, though."
We heard it coming up the street and saw its headlights. It turned into the driveway and I helped Catherine in and the driver put the bag up in front.
"Drive to the hospital," I said.
We went out of the driveway and started up the hill.
At the hospital we went in and I carried the bag. There was a woman at the desk who wrote down Catherine's name, age, address, relatives and religion, in a book. She said she had no religion and the woman drew a line in the space after that word. She gave her name as Catherine Henry.
"I will take you up to your room," she said. We went up in an elevator. The woman stopped it and we stepped out and followed her down a hall. Catherine held tight to my arm.
"This is the room," the woman said. "Will you please undress and get into bed? Here is a night-gown for you to wear."
"I have a night-gown," Catherine said.
"It is better for you to wear this night-gown," the woman said.
I went outside and sat on a chair in the hallway.
"You can come in now," the woman said from the doorway. Catherine was lying in the narrow bed wearing a plain, square-cut night-gown that looked as though it were made of rough sheeting. She smiled at me.
"I'm having fine pains now," she said. The woman was holding her wrist and timing the pains with a watch.
"That was a big one," Catherine said. I saw it on her face.
"Where's the doctor?" I asked the woman.
"He's lying down sleeping. He will be here when he is needed."
"I must do something for Madame, now," the nurse said. "Would you please step out again?"
I went out into the hall. It was a bare hall with two windows and closed doors all down the corridor. It smelled of hospital. I sat on the chair and looked at the floor and prayed for Catherine.
"You can come in," the nurse said. I went in.
"Hello, darling," Catherine said.
"How is it?"
"They are coming quite often now." Her face drew up. Then she smiled.
"That was a real one. Do you want to put your hand on my back again, nurse?"
"If it helps you," the nurse said.
"You go away, darling," Catherine said. "Go out and get something to eat. I may do this for a long time the nurse says."
"The first labor is usually protracted," the nurse said.
"Please go out and get something to eat," Catherine said. "I'm fine, really."
"I'll stay awhile," I said.
The pains came quite regularly, then slackened off. Catherine was very excited. When the pains were bad she called them good ones. When they started to fall off she was disappointed and ashamed.
"You go out, darling," she said. "I think you are just making me self-conscious." Her face tied up. "There. That was better. I so want to be a good wife and have this child without any foolishness. Please go and get some breakfast, darling, and then come back. I won't miss you. Nurse is splendid to me."
"You have plenty of time for breakfast," the nurse said.
"I'll go then. Good-by, sweet."
"Good-by," Catherine said, "and have a fine breakfast for me too."
"Where can I get breakfast?" I asked the nurse.
"There's a caf?down the street at the square," she said. "It should be open now."
Outside it was getting light. I walked down the empty street to the caf? There was a light in the window. I went in and stood at the zinc bar and an old man served me a glass of white wine and a brioche. The brioche was yesterday's. I dipped it in the wine and then drank a glass of coffee.
"What do you do at this hour?" the old man asked.
"My wife is in labor at the hospital."
"So. I wish you good luck."
"Give me another glass of wine."
He poured it from the bottle slopping it over a little so some ran down on the zinc. I drank this glass, paid and went out. Outside along the street were the refuse cans from the houses waiting for the collector. A dog was nosing at one of the cans.
"What do you want?" I asked and looked in the can to see if there was anything I could pull out for him; there was nothing on top but coffee-grounds, dust and some dead flowers.
"There isn't anything, dog," I said. The dog crossed the street. I went up the stairs in the hospital to the floor Catherine was on and down the hall to her room. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I opened the door; the room was empty, except for Catherine's bag on a chair and her dressing-gown hanging on a hook on the wall. I went out and down the hall, looking for somebody. I found a nurse.
"Where is Madame Henry?"
"A lady has just gone to the delivery room."
"Where is it?"
"I will show you."
She took me down to the end of the hall. The door of the room was partly open. I could see Catherine lying on a table, covered by a sheet. The nurse was on one side and the doctor stood on the other side of the table beside some cylinders. The doctor held a rubber mask attached to a tube in one hand.
"I will give you a gown and you can go in," the nurse said. "Come in here, please."
She put a white gown on me and pinned it at the neck in back with a safety pin.
"Now you can go in," she said. I went into the room.
"Hello, darling," Catherine said in a strained voice. "I'm not doing much."
"You are Mr. Henry?" the doctor asked.
"Yes. How is everything going, doctor?"
"Things are going very well," the doctor said. "We came in here where it is easy to give gas for the pains."
"I want it now," Catherine said. The doctor placed the rubber mask over her face and turned a dial and I watched Catherine breathing deeply and rapidly. Then she pushed the mask away. The doctor shut off the petcock.
"That wasn't a very big one. I had a very big one a while ago. The doctor made me go clear out, didn't you, doctor?" Her voice was strange. It rose on the word doctor.
The doctor smiled.
"I want it again," Catherine said. She held the rubber tight to her face and breathed fast. I heard her moaning a little. Then she pulled the mask away and smiled.
"That was a big one," she said. "That was a very big one. Don't you worry, darling. You go away. Go have another breakfast."
"I'll stay," I said.
We had gone to the hospital about three o'clock in the morning. At noon Catherine was still in the delivery room. The pains had slackened again. She looked very tired and worn now but she was still cheerful.
"I'm not any good, darling," she said. "I'm so sorry. I thought I would do it very easily. Now--there's one--" she reached out her hand for the mask and held it over her face. The doctor moved the dial and watched her. In a little while it was over.
"It wasn't much," Catherine said. She smiled. "I'm a fool about the gas. It's wonderful."
"We'll get some for the home," I said.
"There one comes," Catherine said quickly. The doctor turned the dial and looked at his watch.
"What is the interval now?" I asked.
"About a minute."
"Don't you want lunch?"
"I will have something pretty soon," he said.
"You must have something to eat, doctor," Catherine said. "I'm so sorry I go on so long. Couldn't my husband give me the gas?"
"If you wish," the doctor said. "You turn it to the numeral two."
"I see," I said. There was a marker on a dial that turned with a handle.
"I want it now," Catherine said. She held the mask tight to her face. I turned the dial to number two and when Catherine put down the mask I turned it off. It was very good of the doctor to let me do something.
"Did you do it, darling?" Catherine asked. She stroked my wrist.
"Sure."
"You're so lovely." She was a little drunk from the gas.
"I will eat from a tray in the next room," the doctor said. "You can call me any moment." While the time passed I watched him eat, then, after a while, I saw that he was lying down and smoking a cigarette. Catherine was getting very tired.
"Do you think I'll ever have this baby?" she asked.
"Yes, of course you will."
"I try as hard as I can. I push down but it goes away. There it comes. Give it to me."
At two o'clock I went out and had lunch. There were a few men in the caf?sitting with coffee and glasses of kirsch or marc on the tables. I sat down at a table. "Can I eat?" I asked the waiter.
"It is past time for lunch."
"Isn't there anything for all hours?"
"You can have choucroute."
"Give me choucroute and beer."
"A demi or a bock?"
"A light demi."
The waiter brought a dish of sauerkraut with a slice of ham over the top and a sausage buried in the hot wine-soaked cabbage. I ate it and drank the beer. I was very hungry. I watched the people at the tables in the caf? At one table they were playing cards. Two men at the table next me were talking and smoking. The caf?was full of smoke. The zinc bar, where I had breakfasted, had three people behind it now; the old man, a plump woman in a black dress who sat behind a counter and kept track of everything served to the tables, and a boy in an apron. I wondered how many children the woman had and what it had been like.
When I was through with the choucroute I went back to the hospital. The street was all clean now. There were no refuse cans out. The day was cloudy but the sun was trying to come through.
I rode upstairs in the elevator, stepped out and went down the hail to Catherine's room, where I had left my white gown. I put it on and pinned it in back at the neck. I looked in the glass and saw myself looking like a fake doctor with a beard. I went down the hail to the delivery room. The door was closed and I knocked. No one answered so I turned the handle and went in. The doctor sat by Catherine. The nurse was doing something at the other end of the room.
"Here is your husband," the doctor said.
"Oh, darling, I have the most wonderful doctor," Catherine said in a very strange voice. "He's been telling me the most wonderful story and when the pain came too badly he put me all the way out. He's wonderful. You're wonderful, doctor."
"You're drunk," I said.
"I know it," Catherine said. "But you shouldn't say it." Then "Give it to me. Give it to me." She clutched hold of the mask and breathed short and deep, pantingly, making the respirator click. Then she gave a long sigh and the doctor reached with his left hand and lifted away the mask.
"That was a very big one," Catherine said. Her voice was very strange. "I'm not going to die now, darling. I'm past where I was going to die. Aren't you glad?"
"Don't you get in that place again."
"I won't. I'm not afraid of it though. I won't die, darling."
"You will not do any such foolishness," the doctor said. "You would not die and leave your husband."
"Oh, no. I won't die. I wouldn't die. It's silly to die. There it comes. Give it to me."
After a while the doctor said, "You will go out, Mr. Henry, for a few moments and I will make an examination."
"He wants to see how I am doing," Catherine said. "You can come back afterward, darling, can't he, doctor?"
"Yes," said the doctor. "I will send word when he can come back."
I went out the door and down the hall to the room where Catherine was to be after the baby came. I sat in a chair there and looked at the room. I had the paper in my coat that I had bought when I went out for lunch and I read it. It was beginning to be dark outside and I turned the light on to read. After a while I stopped reading and turned off the light and watched it get dark outside. I wondered why the doctor did not send for me. Maybe it was better I was away. He probably wanted me away for a while. I looked at my watch. If he did not send for me in ten minutes I would go down anyway.
Poor, poor dear Cat. And this was the price you paid for sleeping together. This was the end of the trap. This was what people got for loving each other. Thank God for gas, anyway. What must it have been like before there were anaesthetics? Once it started, they were in the mill-race. Catherine had a good time in the time of pregnancy. It wasn't bad. She was hardly ever sick. She was not awfully uncomfortable until toward the last. So now they got her in the end. You never got away with anything. Get away hell! It would have been the same if we had been married fifty times. And what if she should die? She won't die. People don't die in childbirth nowadays. That was what all husbands thought. Yes, but what if she should die? She won't die. She's just having a bad time. The initial labor is usually protracted. She's only having a bad time. Afterward we'd say what a bad time and Catherine would say it wasn't really so bad. But what if she should die? She can't die. Yes, but what if she should die? She can't, I tell you. Don't be a fool. It's just a bad time. It's just nature giving her hell. It's only the first labor, which is almost always protracted. Yes, but what if she should die? She can't die. Why would she die? What reason is there for her to die? There's just a child that has to be born, the by-product of good nights in Milan. It makes trouble and is born and then you look after it and get fond of it maybe. But what if she should die? She won't die. But what if she should die? She won't. She's all right. But what if she should die? She can't die. But what if she should die? Hey, what about that? What if she should die?
The doctor came into the room.
"How does it go, doctor?"
"It doesn't go," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Just that. I made an examination--" He detailed the result of the examination. "Since then I've waited to see. But it doesn't go."
"What do you advise?"
"There are two things. Either a high forceps delivery which can tear and be quite dangerous besides being possibly bad for the child, and a Caesarean."
"What is the danger of a Caesarean?" What if she should die!
"It should be no greater than the danger of an ordinary delivery."
"Would you do it yourself?"
"Yes. I would need possibly an hour to get things ready and to get the people I would need. Perhaps a little less."
"What do you think?"
"I would advise a Caesarean operation. If it were my wife I would do a Caesarean."
"What are the after effects?"
"There are none. There is only the scar."
"What about infection?"
"The danger is not so great as in a high forceps delivery."
"What if you just went on and did nothing?"
"You would have to do something eventually. Mrs. Henry is already losing much of her strength. The sooner we operate now the safer."
"Operate as soon as you can," I said.
"I will go and give the instructions."
I went into the delivery room. The nurse was with Catherine who lay on the table, big under the sheet, looking very pale and tired.
"Did you tell him he could do it?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Isn't that grand. Now it will be all over in an hour. I'm almost done, darling. I'm going all to pieces. Please give me that. It doesn't work. Oh, it doesn't work!"
"Breathe deeply."
"I am. Oh, it doesn't work any more. It doesn't work!"
"Get another cylinder," I said to the nurse.
"That is a new cylinder."
"I'm just a fool, darling," Catherine said. "But it doesn't work any more." She began to cry. "Oh, I wanted so to have this baby and not make trouble, and now I'm all done and all gone to pieces and it doesn't work. Oh, darling, it doesn't work at all. I don't care if I die if it will only stop. Oh, please, darling, please make it stop. There it comes. Oh Oh Oh!" She breathed sobbingly in the mask.
"It doesn't work. It doesn't work. It doesn't work. Don't mind me, darling. Please don't cry. Don't mind me. I'm just gone all to pieces. You poor sweet. I love you so and I'll be good again. I'll be good this time. Can't they give me something? If they could only give me something."
"I'll make it work. I'll turn it all the way."
"Give it to me now."
I turned the dial all the way and as she breathed hard and deep her hand relaxed on the mask. I shut off the gas and lifted the mask. She came back from a long way away.
"That was lovely, darling. Oh, you're so good to me."
"You be brave, because I can't do that all the time. It might kill you."
"I'm not brave any more, darling. I'm all broken. They've broken me. I know it now."
"Everybody is that way."
"But it's awful. They just keep it up till they break you."
"In an hour it will be over."
"Isn't that lovely? Darling, I won't die, will I?"
"No. I promise you won't."
"Because I don't want to die and leave you, but I get so tired of it and I feel I'm going to die."
"Nonsense. Everybody feels that."
"Sometimes I know I'm going to die."
"You won't. You can't."
"But what if I should?"
"I won't let you."
"Give it to me quick. Give it to me!"
Then afterward, "I won't die. I won't let myself die."
"Of course you won't."
"You'll stay with me?"
"Not to watch it."
"No, just to be there."
"Sure. I'll be there all the time."
"You're so good to me. There, give it to me. Give me some more. It's not working!"
I turned the dial to three and then four. I wished the doctor would come back. I was afraid of the numbers above two.
Finally a new doctor came in with two nurses and they lifted Catherine onto a wheeled stretcher and we started down the hall. The stretcher went rapidly dOwn the hall and into the elevator where every one had to crowd against the wall to make room; then up, then an open door and out of the elevator and down the hall on rubber wheels to the operating room. I did not recognize the doctor with his cap and mask on. There was another doctor and more nurses.
"They've got to give me something," Catherine said. "They've got to give me something. Oh please, doctor, give me enough to do some good!"
One of the doctors put a mask over her face and I looked through the door and saw the bright small amphitheatre of the operating room.
"You can go in the other door and sit up there," a nurse said to me. There were benches behind a rail that looked down on the white table and the lights. I looked at Catherine. The mask was over her face and she was quiet now. They wheeled the stretcher forward. I turned away and walked down the hall. Two nurses were hurrying toward the entrance to the gallery.
"It's a Caesarean," one said. "They're going to do a Caesarean."
The other one laughed, "We're just in time. Aren't we lucky?" They went in the door that led to the gallery.
Another nurse came along. She was hurrying too.
"You go right in there. Go right in," she said.
"I'm staying outside."
She hurried in. I walked up and down the hall. I was afraid to go in. I looked out the window. It was dark but in the light from the window I could see it was raining. I went into a room at the far end of the hall and looked at the labels on bottles in a glass case. Then I came out and stood in the empty hall and watched the door of the operating room.
A doctor came out followed by a nurse. He held something in his two hands that looked like a freshly skinned rabbit and hurried across the corridor with it and in through another door. I went down to the door he had gone into and found them in the room doing things to a new-born child. The doctor held him up for me to see. He held him by the heels and slapped him.
"Is he all right?"
"He's magnificent. He'll weigh five kilos."
I had no feeling for him. He did not seem to have anything to do with me. I felt no feeling of fatherhood.
"Aren't you proud of your son?" the nurse asked. They were washing him and wrapping him in something. I saw the little dark face and dark hand, but I did not see him move or hear him cry. The doctor was doing something to him again. He looked upset.
"No," I said. "He nearly killed his mother."
"It isn't the little darling's fault. Didn't you want a boy?"
"No," I said. The doctor was busy with him. He held him up by the feet and slapped him. I did not wait to see it. I went out in the hail. I could go in now and see. I went in the door and a little way down the gallery. The nurses who were sitting at the rail motioned for me to come down where they were. I shook my head. I could see enough where I was.
I thought Catherine was dead. She looked dead. Her face was gray, the part of it that I could see. Down below, under the light, the doctor was sewing up the great long, forcep-spread, thickedged, wound. Another doctor in a mask gave the anaesthetic. Two nurses in masks handed things. It looked like a drawing of the Inquisition. I knew as I watched I could have watched it all, but I was glad I hadn't. I do not think I could have watched them cut, but I watched the wound closed into a high welted ridge with quick skilful-looking stitches like a cobbler's, and was glad. When the wound was closed I went out into the hall and walked up and down again. After a while the doctor came out.
"How is she?"
"She is all right. Did you watch?"
He looked tired.
"I saw you sew up. The incision looked very long."
"You thought so?"
"Yes. Will that scar flatten out?"
"Oh, yes."
After a while they brought out the wheeled stretcher and took it very rapidly down the hallway to the elevator. I went along beside it. Catherine was moaning. Downstairs they put her in the bed in her room. I sat in a chair at the foot of the bed. There was a nurse in the room. I got up and stood by the bed. It was dark in the room. Catherine put out her hand. "Hello, darling," she said. Her voice was very weak and tired.
"Hello, you sweet."
"What sort of baby was it?"
"Sh--don't talk," the nurse said.
"A boy. He's long and wide and dark."
"Is he all right?"
"Yes," I said. "He's fine."
I saw the nurse look at me strangely.
"I'm awfully tired," Catherine said. "And I hurt like hell. Are you all right, darling?"
"I'm fine. Don't talk."
"You were lovely to me. Oh, darling, I hurt dreadfully. What does he look like?"
"He looks like a skinned rabbit with a puckered-up old-man's face."
"You must go out," the nurse said. "Madame Henry must not talk."
"I'll be outside."
"Go and get something to eat."
"No. I'll be outside." I kissed Catherine. She was very gray and weak and tired.
"May I speak to you?" I said to the nurse. She came out in the hall with me. I walked a little way down the hall.
"What's the matter with the baby?" I asked.
"Didn't you know?"
"No."
"He wasn't alive."
"He was dead?"
"They couldn't start him breathing. The cord was caught around his neck or something."
"So he's dead."
"Yes. It's such a shame. He was such a fine big boy. I thought you knew."
"No," I said. "You better go back in with Madame."
I sat down on the chair in front of a table where there were nurses' reports hung on clips at the side and looked out of the window. I could see nothing but the dark and the rain falling across the light from the window. So that was it. The baby was dead. That was why the doctor looked so tired. But why had they acted the way they did in the room with him? They supposed he would come around and start breathing probably. I had no religion but I knew he ought to have been baptized. But what if he never breathed at all. He hadn't. He had never been alive. Except in Catherine. I'd felt him kick there often enough. But I hadn't for a week. Maybe he was choked all the time. Poor little kid. I wished the hell I'd been choked like that. No I didn't. Still there would not be all this dying to go through. Now Catherine would die. That was what you did. You died. You did not know what it was about. You never had time to learn. They threw you in and told you the rules and the first time they caught you off base they killed you. Or they killed you gratuitously like Aymo. Or gave you the syphilis like Rinaldi. But they killed you in the end. You could count on that. Stay around and they would kill you.
Once in camp I put a log on top of the fire and it was full of ants. As it commenced to burn, the ants swarmed out and went first toward the centre where the fire was; then turned back and ran toward the end. When there were enough on the end they fell off into the fire. Some got out, their bodies burnt and flattened, and went off not knowing where they were going. But most of them went toward the fire and then back toward the end and swarmed on the cool end and finally fell off into the fire. I remember thinking at the time that it was the end of the world and a splendid chance to be a messiah and lift the log off the fire and throw it out where the ants could get off onto the ground. But I did not do anything but throw a tin cup of water on the log, so that I would have the cup empty to put whiskey in before I added water to it. I think the cup of water on the burning log only steamed the ants.
So now I sat out in the hall and waited to hear how Catherine was. The nurse did not come out, so after a while I went to the door and opened it very softly and looked in. I could not see at first because there was a bright light in the hall and it was dark in the room. Then I saw the nurse sitting by the bed and Catherine's head on a pillow, and she was all flat under the sheet. The nurse put her finger to her lips, then stood up and came to the door.
"How is she?" I asked.
"She's all right," the nurse said. "You should go and have your supper and then come back if you wish."
I went down the hall and then down the stairs and out the door of the hospital and down the dark street in the rain to the caf? It was brightly lighted inside and there were many people at the tables. I did not see a place to sit, and a waiter came up to me and took my wet coat and hat and showed me a place at a table across from an elderly man who was drinking beer and reading the evening paper. I sat down and asked the waiter what the plat du jour was.
"Veal stew--but it is finished."
"What can I have to eat?"
"Ham and eggs, eggs with cheese, or choucroute."
"I had choucroute this noon," I said.
"That's true," he said. "That's true. You ate choucroute this noon." He was a middle-aged man with a bald top to his head and his hair slicked over it. He had a kind face.
"What do you want? Ham and eggs or eggs with cheese?"
"Ham and eggs," I said, "and beer."
"A demi-blonde?"
"Yes," I said.
"I remembered," he said. "You took a demi-blonde this noon."
I ate the ham and eggs and drank the beer. The ham and eggs were in a round dish--the ham underneath and the eggs on top. It was very hot and at the first mouthful I had to take a drink of beer to cool my mouth. I was hungry and I asked the waiter for another order. I drank several glasses of beer. I was not thinking at all but read the paper of the man opposite me. It was about the break through on the British front. When he realized I was reading the back of his paper he folded it over. I thought of asking the waiter for a paper, but I could not concentrate. It was hot in the caf?and the air was bad. Many of the people at the tables knew one another. There were several card games going on. The waiters were busy bringing drinks from the bar to the tables. Two men came in and could find no place to sit. They stood opposite the table where I was. I ordered another beer. I was not ready to leave yet. It was too soon to go back to the hospital. I tried not to think and to be perfectly calm. The men stood around but no one was leaving, so they went out. I drank another beer. There was quite a pile of saucers now on the table in front of me. The man opposite me had taken off his spectacles, put them away in a case, folded his paper and put it in his pocket and now sat holding his liqueur glass and looking out at the room. Suddenly I knew I had to get back. I called the waiter, paid the reckoning, got into my coat, put on my hat and started out the door. I walked through the rain up to the hospital.
Upstairs I met the nurse coming down the hall.
"I just called you at the hotel," she said. Something dropped inside me.
"What is wrong?"
"Mrs. Henry has had a hemorrhage."
"Can I go in?"
"No, not yet. The doctor is with her."
"Is it dangerous?"
"It is very dangerous." The nurse went into the room and shut the door. I sat outside in the hail. Everything was gone inside of me. I did not think. I could not think. I knew she was going to die and I prayed that she would not. Don't let her die. Oh, God, please don't let her die. I'll do anything for you if you won't let her die. Please, please, please, dear God, don't let her die. Dear God, don't let her die. Please, please, please don't let her die. God please make her not die. I'll do anything you say if you don't let her die. You took the baby but don't let her die. That was all right but don't let her die. Please, please, dear God, don't let her die.
The nurse opened the door and motioned with her finger for me to come. I followed her into the room. Catherine did not look up when I came in. I went over to the side of the bed. The doctor was standing by the bed on the opposite side. Catherine looked at me and smiled. I bent down over the bed and started to cry.
"Poor darling," Catherine said very softly. She looked gray.
"You're all right, Cat," I said. "You're going to be all right."
"I'm going to die," she said; then waited and said, "I hate it."
I took her hand.
"Don't touch me," she said. I let go of her hand. She smiled. "Poor darling. You touch me all you want."
"You'll be all right, Cat. I know you'll be all right."
"I meant to write you a letter to have if anything happened, but I didn't do it."
"Do you want me to get a priest or any one to come and see you?"
"Just you," she said. Then a little later, "I'm not afraid. I just hate it."
"You must not talk so much," the doctor said.
"All right," Catherine said.
"Do you want me to do anything, Cat? Can I get you anything?"
Catherine smiled, "No." Then a little later, "You won't do our things with another girl, or say the same things, will you?"
"Never."
"I want you to have girls, though."
"I don't want them."
"You are talking too much," the doctor said. "Mr. Henry must go out. He can come back again later. You are not going to die. You must not be silly."
"All right," Catherine said. "I'll come and stay with you nights," she said. It was very hard for her to talk.
"Please go out of the room," the doctor said. "You cannot talk." Catherine winked at me, her face gray. "I'll be right outside," I said.
"Don't worry, darling," Catherine said. "I'm not a bit afraid. It's just a dirty trick."
"You dear, brave sweet."
I waited outside in the hall. I waited a long time. The nurse came to the door and came over to me. "I'm afraid Mrs. Henry is very ill," she said. "I'm afraid for her."
"Is she dead?"
"No, but she is unconscious."
It seems she had one hemorrhage after another. They couldn't stop it. I went into the room and stayed with Catherine until she died. She was unconscious all the time, and it did not take her very long to die.
Outside the room, in the hall, I spoke to the doctor, "Is there anything I can do to-night?"
"No. There is nothing to do. Can I take you to your hotel?"
"No, thank you. I am going to stay here a while."
"I know there is nothing to say. I cannot tell you--"
"No," I said. "There's nothing to say."
"Good-night," he said. "I cannot take you to your hotel?"
"No, thank you."
"It was the only thing to do," he said. "The operation proved--"
"I do not want to talk about it," I said.
"I would like to take you to your hotel."
"No, thank you."
He went down the hall. I went to the door of the room.
"You can't come in now," one of the nurses said.
"Yes I can," I said.
"You can't come in yet."
"You get out," I said. "The other one too."
But after I had got them out and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn't any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.