Bread Upon the Waters by Irwin Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

inevitable—everything springs from accident—the random collisions of particles, in politics and economics, as well as in nature and the laboratory. Given that theory, he says, the Industrial Revolution might just as well never have come about if ten people happened never to be born, World War II not occurred if Hitler had been killed on the Western front in 1917, the Civil War avoided if Lincoln had decided he wanted to continue in Springfield as a lawyer…”
    “And what mark did you give him for that rather unorthodox bit of philosophizing?” Hazen asked.
    “A.” Strand laughed. “Maybe because it was so different from all the other papers. He can also spell.”
    “Do you think he’s interested in going to college if he could?”
    “No. He’s confided in me that education is bunk, too. Still, a boy like that once in a while makes you feel it’s all worthwhile.”
    “I can understand,” Hazen said. He took the cold compress away from his cheek for a moment, looked at it consideringly, then put it back. “I suppose education has changed since my day—all education.”
    “Where were you educated?” Strand asked. As the head of the family, he couldn’t allow Hazen to ask all the questions.
    “The usual,” Hazen said offhandedly. “Yale, Harvard Law School. In the footsteps of my sainted father. He hadn’t heard about randomness.”
    “The ruling class,” Jimmy said. “The cradle of our government. The grave of America.”
    “Jimmy,” Leslie said sharply. “Don’t be rude just to shock people.”
    “Jimmy may be more accurate than he sounds, Mrs. Strand,” Hazen said.
    He’s not as sure of himself as he thinks, Strand thought. Come to think of it, he doesn’t look like a man who sleeps well at night. And it isn’t just because of the bandage around his head, either.
    The doorbell rang and Jimmy got up to answer it.
    “That must be Dr. Prinz,” Leslie said.
    “You must have an exceptional doctor,” Hazen said. “Making house calls these days, especially at the hour of dinner.”
    “He’s an old classmate of mine from City College,” Strand said.
    “I have several old classmates who have become doctors,” Hazen said. “When I’m ill I go to their offices or they send me to a hospital.”
    Dr. Prinz came bustling in. He was a small, thin man with thick glasses and a harassed look. He played the violin, not too badly, and three or four times a year there were musical evenings at his apartment, at which he and Leslie performed in a trio with another musical doctor. “Hello, Allen, Leslie,” he said. “What’ve you been up to now?”
    “Mr. Hazen here has been mugged,” Strand said. “Leslie has supplied first aid.”
    “New York.” Prinz made a small, snuffing, disapproving sound. “Mr. Hazen, could you come with me into the bathroom? I think I’ll need a strong light.”
    “Of course,” Hazen said.
    Prinz watched closely as Hazen stood up, then nodded, satisfied, as Hazen showed no signs of tottering.
    “If you need any help…” Leslie said.
    “I’ll call if I need you, Leslie,” Prinz said. He took Hazen’s arm gently and led him out of the room.
    “I hope Jerry remembered to bring some anesthetic,” Leslie said.
    “I’m sure he did,” Strand said. “I told him over the phone I thought there’d have to be some stitches.”
    “He’s pretty brave, Mr. Hazen,” Caroline said. “If it’d been me, I’d have been hollering all over the place.”
    “He sure likes the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he?” Jimmy said.
    “Sssh,” Leslie said. “He’s just in the bathroom.”
    “A hundred thousand dollars a year, at least,” Eleanor said. “I see them around the office. Once you get up around there, the sound of your own voice is the music of the spheres.”
    “Whatever he makes,” Strand said, “I admire the way he’s taking it.”
    “One thing,” Caroline whispered, giggling, “I’m sure glad I’m not bald. I didn’t know what hair was