09 - Counterparts

mister Aline wants you upstairs. The man muttered blast him under his breath, and pushed back his chair to stand up. When he stood up, he was tall and of great bulk. He had a hanging face, dark wine colored, with fair eyebrows and mustache. His eyes bulged forward slightly, and the whites of them were dirty. He lifted up the counter, and, passing by the clients, went out of the office with a heavy step. He went heavily upstairs until he came to the second landing, where a door bore a brath

plate with the inscription mister Alaine. Here he halted, puffing with labor and vexation and knocked. The shrill voice cried come in. The man entered mister Elaine's room. Simultaneously, mister Elaine, a little man wearing gold rimmed glasses on a clean shaven face, shot his head up over a pile of documents. The head itself was so pink and hairless it seemed like a large egg reposing on the papers. Mister Elaine did not lose a moment. Farrington, what is the meaning

of this? Why have I always to complain of you? May I ask you why you haven't made a copy of that contract between Bodley and Kerwin. I told you it must be ready by four o'clock. But mister Shelley said, sir.

not an hour and a half. How many courses do you want?

he must have a good night's drinking. The middle of the month was past, and if he could get the copy done in time, mister Elaine might give him an order on the cashier. He stood still, gazing fixedly at the head upon the pile of papers. Suddenly mister Elaine began to upset all the papers, searching for something. Then, as if he had been unaware of the man's presence till that moment, he shot up his head again, saying, eh, are you going to stand there all day?

counted the sheets which remained to be copied. He took up his pen and dipped it in the ink, but he continued to stare stupidly at the last words he had written. In no case shall the said Bernard bodily be. The evening was falling, and in a few minutes they would be lighting the gas. Then he could write. He felt that he must slake the thirst in his throat. He stood up from his desk, and, lifting the counter as before, passed out of the office. As he was

passing out, the chief clerk looked at him inquiringly. It's all right, mister Shelley, said the man, pointing with his finger to indicate the objective of his journey. The chief clerk glanced at the hat rack, but seeing the row complete, offered no remark. As soon as he was on the landing, the man pulled a shepherd's plaid cap out of his pocket, put it on his head, and ran quickly down the

rickety stairs from the street door. He walked on furtively on the inner side of the path towards the corner, and all at once dived into a doorway. He was now safe in the dark snug of O'Neill's shop, and filling up the little window that looked into the bar within his inflamed face the color of dark wine or dark meat, he called out here, pat give us a g p like a good fellow. The curate brought him a glass of plane porter. The man drank it at

a gulp and asked for a caraway seed. He put his penny on the counter, and, leaving the curate to grope for it in the gloom, retreated out of the snug as furtively as he had entered it. Darkness, accompanied by a thick fog, was gaining upon the dusk of February, and the lamps in Eustace Street had been lit. The man went up by the houses until he reached the door of the office, wondering whether he could finish his copy in time. On the stairs, a moist, pungent odor

of perfume saluted his nose. Evidently, Miss Delacoeur had come while he was out in O'Neill's. He crammed his cap back again into his pocket and re entered the office assuming an air of absent mindedness. Mister Elaine has been calling for you, said the chief clerk severely. Where were you? The man glanced at the two clients who were standing at the counter, as if to intimate that their presence prevented him from answering. As the clients were both male.

The chief clerk allowed himself a laugh. I know that game, he said, five times in one day is a little bit. Well, you better look sharp and get a copy of our correspondence in the delacour case for mister Elaine. This address in the presence of the public. His run upstairs and the porter he had gulped down so hastily confused the man, and as he sat down at his desk to get what was required, he realized how hopeless was the task of finishing his copy of the contract Before half past five.

The dark, damp night was coming, and he longed to spend it in the bars drinking with his friends. Amid the glare of gas and the clatter of glasses, he got out the Delacour correspondents and passed out of the office. He hoped mister Elaine would not discover that the last two letters were missing. The moist, pungent perfume lay all the way up to mister Elaine's room. Miss Delacour was a middle aged woman of Jewish appearance. Mister Alaine was said to be sweet on her or on her money.

She came to the office often and stayed a long time. When she came, she was sitting beside his desk, now in an aroma of perfumes, smoothing the handle of her umbrella and nodding the great black feather in her hat. Mister Elaine had swiveled his chair round to face her and thrown his right foot jauntily upon his left knee. The man put the correspondence on the desk and bowed respectfully, but neither mister Elaine nor Miss Delacour took any notice

of his bow. Mister Elaine tapped a finger on the correspondence and then flicked it towards him, as if to say, that's all right, you can go. The man returned to the lower office and sat down again at his desk. He stared intently at the incomplete phrase in no case shall the said Bernard bodily be, and thought how strange it was that the last three words began with the same letter. The chief clerk began to hurry Miss Parker, saying she would never have the letters typed in time

for post. The man listened to the clicking of the machine for a few minutes, and then set to work to finish his copy. But his head was not clear, and his mind wandered away to the glare and rattle of the public house. It was a night for hot punches. He struggled on with his copy, but when the clock struck five, he had still fourteen pages to write. Blasted, he couldn't finish it in time. He longed to execrate aloud,

to bring his fist down on something violently. He was so enraged that he wrote Bernard Bernard instead of Bernard at Bodley and had to begin again on a clean sheet. He felt strong enough to clear out the whole office single handed. His body ached to do something, to rush out and revel in violence all the indignities of his life enraged him. Could he ask the cashier privately for an advance? No, the cashier was no good, No damn good. He wouldn't give an advance. He knew where he would

meet the boys Leonard and o'halaran and Nosey Flynn. The barometer of his emotional nature was set for a spell of riot. His imagination had so abstracted him that his name was called twice before he answered. Mister Elaine and Miss Delacour were standing outside the counter, and all the clerks had turned round in anticipation of something. The man got up from his desk. Mister Elaine began a tirade

of abuse, saying that two letters were missing. The man answered that he knew nothing about them, that he had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued. It was so bitter and violent that the man could hardly restrain his fist from descending upon the head of the mannikin before him. I know nothing about any other two letters, he said, stupidly, you know nothing. Of course, you know nothing, said mister Alaine. Tell me, he added, glancing first for approval to the

lady beside him. Do ye take me for a fool? D'ye think me an utter fool. The man glanced from the lady's face to the little egg shaped head and back again, and almost before he was aware of it, his tongue had found a felicitous moment. I don't think, sir, He said that that's a fair question to put to me. There was a pause in the very breathing of the clerks. Every one was astounded. The author of the wittessesm no less than his neighbors, and Miss Callaqueur, who was a stout,

amiable person, began to smile broadly. Mister Elaine flushed to the hue of a wild rose, and his mouth twitched with a dwarf's passion. He shook his fist in the man's face till it seemed to vibrate like the knob of some electric machine. You impertinent, ruffian, You impertinent ruffian. I'll make short work of you. Wait till you see you'll apologize to me for your impertinence, or you'll quit the office instant her you'll quit this I'm telling you,

or you'll apologize to me. He stood in a doorway opposite the office, watching to see if the cashier would come out alone. All the clerks passed out, and finally the cashier came out with chief Clerk. It was no use trying to say a word to him when he was with the chief clerk. The man felt that his position was bad enough. He had been obliged to offer an abject apology to mister Elaine for his impertinence. But he knew what a hornet's nest the office would be

for him. He could remember the way in which mister Elaine had hounded little Peak out of the office in order to make room for his own nephew. He felt savage and thirsty and revengeful, annoyed with himself and with every one else. Mister Elaine would never give him an hour's rest. His life would be a hell to him. He had made a proper fool of himself this time.

Could he not keep his tongue in his cheek. But they had never pulled together from the first, he and mister Elaine ever since the day mister Elaine had overheard him mimicking his North of Ireland accent to amuse Higgins and miss Parker. That had been the beginning of it. He might have tried Higgins for the money, but sure Higgins never had anything for himself, a man with two establishments to keep up. Of course, he couldn't. He felt his great body again aching for the comfort of the

public house. The fog had begun to chill him, and he wondered could he touch Pat in O'Neill's. He could not touch him for more than a bob, and a bob was no use. Yet he must get money somewhere or other. He had spent his last penny for the g P, and soon it would be too late for getting money anywhere. Suddenly, as he was fingering his watch chain, he thought of Terry Kelly's pawn office in Fleet Street. That was a dart. Why didn't he think of it sooner?

He went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar, quickly muttering to himself that they could all go to hell, because he was going to have a good night of it. The clerk in Terry Kelly's said a crown, but the consigner held out for six shillings, and in the end the six shillings was allowed him. Literally, he came out of the pawn office joyfully, making a little cylinder of the coins between his thumb and fingers. In Westmoreland Street.

The footpaths were crowded with young men and women returning from business, and ragged urchins ran here and there, yelling out the names of the evening editions. The man passed through the crowd, looking on the spectacle General with proud satisfaction and staring masterfully at the office girls. His head was full of the noises of tram gongs and swishing trolleys, and his nose already sniffed the curling fumes of punch. As he walked on, he preconsidered the terms in which

he would narrate the incident to the boys. So I just looked at him coolly, you know, and looked at her. Then I looked back at him again, taking my time. You know, I don't think that that's a fair question to put to me, says I Nosey. Flynn was sitting up in his usual corner of Davy Byrne's, and when he heard the story, he stood Farrington a half one, saying it was as smart a thing as ever he heard.

Farrington stood a drink in his turn. After a while o'haleran and Paddy Leonard came in and the story was repeated to them. Oh Halleran stood tailors of malt hot all round and told the story of the retort he had made to the chief clerk when he was in Callons of Fowns Street. But as the retort was after the manner of the liberal shepherds in Thegs, he had to admit that it was not as clever as Farrington's retort. At this Farrington told the boys to polish off that

and have another. Just as they were naming their poisons, who should come in but Higgins, of course, he had to join in with the others. The men asked him to get his version of it, and he did so with great vivacity, for the sight of five small hot whiskies was very exhilarating. Everyone roared laughing when he showed the way in which mister Elaine shook his fist in

Farrington's face. Then he imitated Farrington saying, and here was my nabs, as cool as you please, while Farrington looked at the company out of his heavy dirty eyes, smiling and at times drawing forth stray drops of liquor from his mustache with the aid of his lower lip. When that round was over, there was a pause O'Halleran had money, but neither of the other two seemed to have any,

so the whole party left the shop somewhat regretfully. At the corner of Duke Street, Higgins and Nosey Flynn beveled off to the left, while the other three turned back towards the city. Rain was drizzling down on the cold streets, and when they reached the Ballast Office, Farrington suggested the Scotch House. The bar was full of men and loud

with the noise of tongues and glasses. The three men pushed past the whining match cellars at the door and formed a little party at the corner of the counter. They began to exchange stories. Leonard introduced them to a young fellow named Weathers, who was performing at the Tivoli as an acrobat and knock about artiste. Farrington stood a drink all round. Weathers said he would take a small

irish and a pollinaris. Farrington, who had definite notions of what was what, asked the boys would they have an apollinaris too, but the boys told Tim to make theirs hot. The talk became theatrical. O'Halleran stood around and then Farrington stood another round Weathers protesting that the hospitality was too irish. He promised to get them in behind the scenes and

introduce them to some nice girls. O'haleran said that he and Leonard would go, but that Farrington wouldn't go because he was a married man, and Farrington's heavy, dirty eyes leered at the company in token that he understood he was being shaffed. Weathers made them all have just one little tincture at his expense and promised to meet them later on at Mulligan's in Poolbeg Street. When the Scotch

house closed, they went round to Mulligan's. They went into the parlor at the back and o'haleran ordered small hot specials all round. They were all beginning to feel mellow. Farrington was just standing another round when Weathers came back. Much to Farrington's relief, he drank a glass of bitter. This time. Funds were getting low, but they had enough to keep them going. Presently, two young women with big hats and a young man in the check suit came

in and sat at a table close by. Weathers saluted them and told the company that they were out of the Tivoli. Farrington's eyes wandered at every moment in the direction of one of the young women. There was something striking in her appearance. An immense scarf of peacock blue muslin was wound round her hat and knotted in a great bow under her chin, and she wore bright yellow

gloves reaching to the elbow. Farrington gazed admiringly at the plump arm, which she moved very often and with much grace. And when after a little time she answered his gaze, he admired still more her large, dark brown eyes. The oblique, staring expression in them fascinated him. She glanced at him once or twice, and when the party was leaving the room, she brushed against his chair and said, oh, pardon, in

a London accent. He watched her leave the room in the hope that she would look back at him, but he was disappointed. He cursed his want of money, and cursed all the rounds he had stood, particularly all the whiskies in Apollinaris, which she had stood to weathers. If there was one thing that he he hated, it was a sponge. He was so angry that he lost count of the conversation of his friends. When Paddy Leonard called him, he found that they were talking about feats of strength.

Weathers was showing his biceps muscle to the company and boasting so much that the other two had called on Farrington to uphold the national honor. Farrington pulled up his sleeve accordingly and showed his biceps muscle to the company. The two arms were examined and compared, and finally it was agreed to have a trial of strength. The table was cleared and the two men rested their elbows on it,

clasping hands. When Paddy Leonard said go, each was to try to bring down the other's hand on to the table. Farrington looked very serious and determined. The trial began. After about thirty seconds, Weathers brought his opponent's hand slowly down on to the table. Farrington's dark wine colored face flushed darker, still with anger and humiliation at having been defeated by such a s grippling. You're not to put the weight of your body behind it. Play fair, he said. Who's

not playing fair? Said the other? Come on again, the two best out of three. The trial began again. The veins stood out on Farrington's forehead and the pallor of Weather's complexion changed to paeony. Their hands and arms trembled under the stress. After a long struggle, Weathers again brought his opponent's hand slowly on to the table. There was a murmur of applause from the spectators. The curate, who was standing beside the table, nodded his red head towards

the victor and said, with stupid familiarity. Ah, that's the knack. What the hell do you know about it? Said Farrington, fiercely, turning on the man. What do you put in your gap for ssh said O'Halloran, observing the violent expression of Farrington's face. Pony up, boys, We'll have just one little smahan more and then we'll be off A very A sullen faced man stood at the corner of O'Connell Bridge, waiting for the little Sandymount tram to take him home.

He was full of smoldering anger and revengefulness. He felt humiliated and discontented. He did not even feel drunk, and he had only tuppence in his pocket. He cursed everything he had done for himself in the office, pawned his watch, spent all his money, and he had not even got drunk. He began to feel thirsty again, and he longed to be back again in the hot Reeking public house. He had lost his reputation as a strong man, having been

defeated twice by a mere boy. His heart swelled with fury, and when he thought of the woman in the big hat who had brushed against him and said pardon, his fury nearly choked him. His tram let him down at Shelbourne Road, and he steered his great body along in the shadow of the wall of the barracks. He loathed returned to his home. When he went in by the side door, he found the kitchen empty and the kitchen fire nearly out. He bawled upstairs.

pointed to the fire. On that fire, you'll let the fire out, By God, I'll teach you to do that again. He took a step to the door and seized the walking stick, which was standing behind it. I'll teach you to let the fire out, he said, rolling up his sleeve in order to get his arm free play. The little boy cried, oh pa, and ran whimpering round the table, but the man followed him and caught him by the coat. The little boy looked about him wildly, but seeing no

way of escape, fell upon his knees. Now you'll let the fire out the next time, said the man, striking at him vigorously with the stick. Take that, you, little whelp The boy uttered a squeal of pain as the stick cut his thigh. He clasped his hands together in the air, and his voice shook with fright. Oh Pa, he cried, don't beat me, Pa, and I'll I'll say Hail Mary for you. I'll say a Hail Mary for you, Paul. If you don't beat me, I'll say a hail Mary. End of counterparts.