FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95  
96   97   98   99   100   101   >>  
Joe said carefully. "To the contrary, we find it most enjoyable, sir." But Max had had two full glasses of the potent Feteasca and besides was feeling pleased and effervescent over his success in getting Joe Mauser, his idol, to spend a night on the town with him. He'd wanted to impress his superior with the extent to which he had get to know Budapest. Max said now, "We got places just as good as this in the West, and bigger too. Lots bigger. This joint wouldn't hold more then fifty people." The one who had spoken, one of the majors who wore the boots of the cavalryman, said, nastily, "Indeed? I recognize now that when I addressed you both as gentlemen, I failed to realize that in the West gentlemen are not selective of their company and allow themselves to wallow in the gutter with the dregs of their society." The Hungarian captain said lazily, "Are you sure, Frol, that _either_ of them are gentlemen? There seems to be a distinctive _odor_ about the lower classes whether in the West-world or our own." Joe came to his feet quietly. Max said, suddenly sobered, "Hey, major, sir ... easy. It ain't important." Joe had picked up his glass of wine. With a gesture so easy as almost to be slow motion, he tossed it into the face of the foppish officer. The Hungarian, aghast, took up his napkin and began to brush the drink from his uniform, meanwhile sputtering to an extent verging on hysteria. The major who had been seated immediately to his right, fumbled in assistance, meanwhile staring at Joe as though he were a madman. The cavalryman, though, was of sterner stuff. In the back of his mind, Joe was thinking, even as the other seized a bottle by its long neck and broke off the base on the edge of the table, _Now this one's from the Pink Army, an old pro, and a Russkie, sure as Zen made green apples_. The major came up, kicking a chair to one side. Joe hunched his shoulders forward, took up his napkin and with a quick double gesture, wrapped it twice around his left hand, which he extended slightly. The major came in, the jagged edges of the bottle advanced much as a sword. His face was working in rage, and Joe, outwardly cool, decided in the back of his mind that he was glad he'd never have to serve under this one. This one gave way to rage and temper when things were pickling and there was no room for such luxuries in a fracas. Max was yelling something from behind, something that didn't come through
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95  
96   97   98   99   100   101   >>  



Top keywords:

gentlemen

 

Hungarian

 

cavalryman

 

bigger

 

bottle

 
gesture
 

napkin

 

extent

 

thinking

 
madman

sterner

 
pickling
 

luxuries

 

seized

 

carefully

 

uniform

 

aghast

 

sputtering

 

yelling

 

fumbled


assistance

 

staring

 

immediately

 

fracas

 

verging

 

hysteria

 

seated

 

extended

 

slightly

 

jagged


wrapped

 
advanced
 

outwardly

 

decided

 

working

 
double
 

temper

 

Russkie

 

things

 

hunched


shoulders

 

forward

 

kicking

 

officer

 

apples

 

wouldn

 
people
 

Indeed

 

nastily

 

recognize