Rodin's Debutante by Ward Just Read Free Book Online

took a course once in emergency medicine. Filthy boys, they pick up all manner of disease. They are unclean. They must be watched constantly.
    Tommy looked sharply at Marie, believing she had said "washed," washed constantly, exactly the sort of coarse remark expected from one who had grown up among Indians. Tommy opened his mouth to reply but in the end said nothing, rising instead to signal that the evening was ended. The company was already in the hallway collecting coats from Francesca and retreating to the porch. The evening was chilly, unusual for the season. Feathery mist, white as a shroud, rose from the wet grass and hung in the heavy air. The night was still. Tommy stood in the doorway of the dining room, placidly sipping his drink, watching his friends file into the night. From his look there was one last thing he wished to say but did not know how to go about it. From somewhere in the forest came the cry of an owl, the sound reminiscent of a train's whistle.
    Good night, Tommy. Good night, Marie.
    Good luck with Rodin, Bert said.
    Tommy barked a laugh. Forget it, he said loudly. There won't be any Rodin, not now and not a month from now. That's finished. I have news! I got word just before dinner, my agent in New York. Tommy stepped onto the porch, still holding his drink. Now he lit a cheroot and watched the flame and the smoke rising in the darkness. No one had ever seen him use tobacco. Tommy blew a thick smoke ring and said, There're troop movements all over Europe. The Hun is marching south to the Somme. He paused, allowing the news to register. He had followed events in Europe with care, paying attention to weapons and tactics, the order of battle, paying particular attention to regions he knew well—the Dordogne for boar, the Kleinwalsertal for mountain goat, the Pripet Marshes for duck, and now he decided to give his guests the benefit of his expertise. You see, first Germany declared war on Russia, already mobilizing to defend little Serbia. In support of Russia, France mobilized against Germany. Germany invaded Belgium. The British swine have declared war against Germany and the French have declared war on Austria-Hungary. Now everyone is mobilized and there's more to come, Italy and the Netherlands ... And here Tommy foundered. Where exactly did Italy fit in? And Japan was somewhere in the mix, he couldn't remember where. Hard to keep them straight, the wretched nations of Europe. Tommy said, There's cheering in the streets of Berlin and Vienna. They're saying that the war will be over by Christmas, but it won't be over by Christmas this year or next, mark my words. The blood's up. The cat's among the pigeons.
    Satisfied, Tommy stopped there, amused at the disbelieving faces of his dinner guests. This news was hard to credit on a quiet summer evening in Illinois. It was difficult to imagine armies on the march and the roar of cannon and harder still to understand public jubilation. My God, thought Bert Marks, did no one remember Antietam barely fifty years past, twenty-three thousand dead and wounded from sunup to dusk, the battle fought to a stalemate. But Europeans had no memory of anything outside their own orbit. They were obtuse, dumb as oxen. Perhaps Tommy had his facts scrambled. It wouldn't be the first time. The war had been predicted for so long that it was hard to take seriously now, and in any case it would be fought over there, Berlin, Brussels, Vienna, even Tokyo if Tommy was to be believed. And to think he had kept this news to himself all evening long, preferring instead to discuss his ridiculous boys' school. For a moment no one said anything and the party trooped to their cars amid tepid good-nights.
    Tommy turned to Marie. So you can forget about your damned Rodin and your villa in the south of France. You can't get there from here, my pet. Europe's cut off. The boats won't be sailing.
    You're crazy, Marie said. You're as crazy as that hoot owl. She turned and went back inside the