MEN WITHOUT WOMEN BY ERNEST HEMINGWAY

1st Soldier—Didn’t you follow it, George?

Wine-seller—No, I didn’t take any interest in it, Lootenant.

1st Soldier—I was surprised how he acted.

3rd Soldier—The part I don’t like is the nailing them on. You know, that must get you pretty bad.

2nd Soldier—It isn’t that that’s so bad, as when they first lift ’em [He makes a lifting gesture with his two palms together.] When the weight starts to pull on ’em. That’s when it gets ’em.

3rd Soldier—It takes some of them pretty bad.

1st Soldier—Ain’t I seen ’em? I seen plenty of them. I tell you, he was pretty good in there today.

[The second Roman soldier smiles at the Hebrew wine-seller.]

2nd Soldier—You’re a regular Christer, big boy.

1st Soldier—Sure, go on and kid him. But listen while I tell you something. He was pretty good in there today.

2nd Soldier—What about some more wine?”

[The wine-seller looks up expectantly. The third Roman soldier is sitting with his head down. He does not look well.]

3rd Soldier—I don’t want any more.

2nd Soldier—Just for two, George.

[The wine-seller puts out a pitcher of wine, a size smaller than the last one. He leans forward on the wooden counter.]

1st Soldier—You see his girl?”

2nd Soldier—Wasn’t I standing right by her?

1st Soldier—She’s a nice looker.

2nd Soldier—I knew her before he did. [He winks at the wine-seller.]

1st Soldier—I used to see her around the town.

2nd Soldier—She used to have a lot of stuff. He never brought her no good luck.

1st Soldier—Oh, he ain’t lucky. But he looked pretty good to me in there today.

2nd Soldier—What became of his gang?”

1st Soldier—Oh, they faded out. Just the women stuck by him.

2nd Soldier—They were a pretty yellow crowd. When they seen him go up there they didn’t want any of it.

1st Soldier—The women stuck all right.

2nd Soldier—Sure, they stuck all right.

1st Soldier—You see me slip the old spear into him?

2nd Soldier—You’ll get into trouble doing that some day.

1st Soldier—It was the least I could do for him. I’ll tell you he looked pretty good to me in there today.

Hebrew wine-seller—Gentlemen, you know I got to close.

1st Soldier—We’ll have one more round.

2nd Soldier—What’s the use? This stuff don’t get you anywhere. Come on, let’s go.

1st Soldier—Just another round.

3rd Soldier—[Getting up from the barrel.] No, come on. Let’s go. I feel like hell tonight.

1st Soldier—Just one more.

2nd Soldier—No, come on. We’re going to go. Good night, George. Put it on the bill.

Wine-seller—Good night gentlemen. [He looks a little worried.] You couldn’t let me have a little something on account, Lootenant?”

2nd Soldier—What the hell, George! Wednesday’s payday.

Wine-seller—It’s all right, Lootenant. Good night, gentlemen.

[The three Roman soldiers go out the door into the street.]

[Outside in the street.]

2nd Soldier—George is a kike just like all the rest of them.

1st Soldier—Oh, George is a nice fella.

2nd Soldier—Everybody’s a nice fella to you tonight.

3rd Soldier—Come on, let’s go up to the barracks. I feel like hell tonight.

2nd Soldier—You been out here too long.

3rd Soldier—No, it ain’t that. I feel like hell.

2nd Soldier—You been out here too long. That’s all.

CURTAIN

BANAL STORY

SO he ate an orange, slowly spitting out the seeds. Outside, the snow was turning to rain. Inside, the electric stove seemed to give no heat and rising from his writing-table, he sat down upon the stove. How good it felt! Here, at last, was life.

He reached for another orange. Far away in Paris, Mascart had knocked Danny Frush cuckoo in the second round. Far off in Mesopotamia, twenty-one feet of snow had fallen. Across the world in distant Australia, the English cricketers were sharpening up their wickets. There was Romance.

Patrons of the arts and letters have discovered The Forum, he read. It is the guide, philosopher, and friend of the thinking minority. Prize short-stories—will their authors write our best-sellers of tomorrow?”

You will enjoy these warm, homespun, American tales, bits of real life on the open ranch, in crowded tenement or comfortable home, and all with a healthy undercurrent of humor.

I must read them, he thought.

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