The Sun Also Rises Read Online Free PDF Page A

Paris?” asked Count Mippipopolous, who wore an elk’s tooth on his watch chain.

    â€œRather,” said Brett.

    â€œParis is a fine town all right,” said the count. “But I guess you have pretty big doings yourself over in London.”

    â€œOh, yes,” said Brett. “Enormous.”

    Braddocks called to me from a table. “Barnes,” he said, “have a drink. That girl of yours got in a frightful row.”

    â€œWhat about?”

    â€œSomething the patronne’s daughter said. A corking row. She was rather splendid, you know. Showed her yellow card and demanded the patronne’s daughter’s too. I say it was a row.”

    â€œWhat finally happened?”

    â€œOh, someone took her home. Not a bad looking girl. Wonderful command of the idiom. Do stay and have a drink.”

    â€œNo,” I said. “I must shove off. Seen Cohn?”

    â€œHe went home with Frances,” Mrs. Braddock put in.

    â€œPoor chap, he looks awfully down,” Braddocks said.

    â€œI dare say he is,” said Mrs. Braddocks.

    â€œI have to shove off,” I said. “Good-night.”

    I said good-night to Brett at the bar. The count was buying champagne. “Will you take a glass of wine with us, sir?” he asked.

    â€œNo. Thanks awfully. I have to go.”

    â€œReally going?” Brett asked.

    â€œYes,” I said. “I’ve got a rotten headache.”

    â€œI’ll see you tomorrow?”

    â€œCome in at the office.”

    â€œHardly.”

    â€œWell, where will I see you?”

    â€œAnywhere around five o’clock.”

    â€œMake it the other side of town then.”

    â€œGood. I’ll be at the Crillon at five.”

    â€œTry and be there,” I said.

    â€œDon’t worry,” Brett said. “I’ve never let you down, have I?”

    â€œHeard from Mike?”

    â€œLetter today.”

    â€œGood-night, sir,” said the count.

    I went out onto the sidewalk and walked down toward the Boulevard St. Michel, passed the tables of the Rotonde, still crowded, looked across the street at the Dome, its tables running out to the edge of the pavement. Someone waved at me from a table, I did not see who it was and went on. I wanted to get home. The Boulevard Montparnasse was deserted. Lavigne’s was closed tight, and they were stacking the tables outside the Closerie des Lilas. I passed Ney’s statue standing among the new-leaved chestnut trees in the arc light. There was a faded purple wreath leaning against the base. I stopped and read the inscription; from the Bonapartist Groups, some date; I forget. He looked very fine, Marshal Ney in his top-boots, gesturing with his sword among the green new horse chestnut leaves. My flat was just across the street, a little way down the Boulevard St. Michel.

    There was a light in the concierge’s room and I knocked on the door and she gave me my mail. I wished her good-night and went upstairs. There were two letters and some papers. I looked at them under the gas-light in the dining room. The letters were from the States. One was a bank statement. It showed a balance of $2432.60.
I got out my checkbook and deducted four checks drawn since the first of the month, and discovered I had a balance of $1832.60. I wrote this on the back of the statement. The other letter was a wedding announcement. Mr. and Mrs. Aloysius Kirby announce the marriage of their daughter Katherine—I knew neither the girl nor the man she was marrying. They must be circularizing the town. It was a funny name. I felt sure I could remember anybody with a name like Aloysius. It was a good Catholic name. There was a crest on the announcement. Like Zizi the Greek duke. And that count. The count was funny. Brett had a title, too. Lady Ashley. To hell with Brett. To hell with you, Lady Ashley.

    I lit the lamp beside the bed, turned off the gas, and opened the wide windows. The