The Comedians Read Online Free

to keep the flames from spreading, and now you could see the gap in the street like a drawn tooth.
    Mr Smith listened with attention. He said, ‘Hitler did worse, didn’t he? And he was a white man. You can’t blame it on their colour.’
    â€˜I don’t. The victim was coloured too.’
    â€˜When you look properly at things, they are pretty bad everywhere. Mrs Smith wouldn’t like us to turn back just because . . .’
    â€˜I’m not trying to persuade you. You asked me a question.’
    â€˜Then why is it – if you’ll excuse another – that you are going back?’
    â€˜Because the only thing I own is there. My hotel.’
    â€˜I guess the only thing we own – Mrs Smith and me – is our mission.’ He sat staring at the sea, and at that moment Jones passed. He called at us over his shoulder, ‘Four times round,’ and went on.
    â€˜He’s not afraid either,’ Mr Smith said, as though he had to apologize for showing courage, as a man might apologize for a rather loud tie which his wife had given him by pointing out that others wore the same.
    â€˜I wonder if it’s courage in his case. Perhaps he’s like me and he hasn’t anywhere else to go.’
    â€˜He’s been very friendly to us both,’ Mr Smith said firmly. It was obvious that he wished to change the subject.
    When I knew Mr Smith better I recognized that particular tone of voice. He was acutely uneasy if I spoke ill of anyone – even of a stranger or of an enemy. He would back away from the conversation like a horse from water. It amused me sometimes to draw him unsuspectingly to the very edge of the ditch and then suddenly urge him on, as it were, with whip and spurs. But I never managed to teach him how to jump. I think he soon began to divine what I was at, but he never spoke his displeasure aloud. That would have been to criticize a friend. He preferred just to edge away. This was one characteristic at least he did not share with his wife. I was to learn later how fiery and direct her nature could be – she was capable of attacking anyone, except of course the Presidential Candidate himself. I had many quarrels with her in the course of time, she suspected that I laughed a little at her husband, but she never knew how I envied them. I have never known in Europe a married couple with that kind of loyalty.
    I said, ‘You were talking about your mission just now.’
    â€˜Was I? You must excuse me, talking about myself like that. Mission is too big a word.’
    â€˜I’m interested.’
    â€˜Call it a hope. But I guess a man in your profession wouldn’t find it very sympathetic.’
    â€˜You mean it’s got something to do with vegetarianism?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I’m not unsympathetic. My job is to please my guests. If my guests are vegetarian . . .’
    â€˜Vegetarianism isn’t only a question of diet, Mr Brown. It touches life at many points. If we really eliminated acidity from the human body we would eliminate passion.’
    â€˜Then the world would stop.’
    He reproved me gently, ‘I didn’t say love,’ and I felt a curious sense of shame. Cynicism is cheap – you can buy it at any Monoprix store – it’s built into all poor-quality goods.
    â€˜Anyway you’re on the way to a vegetarian country,’ I said.
    â€˜How do you mean, Mr Brown?’
    â€˜Ninety-five per cent of the people can’t afford meat or fish or eggs.’
    â€˜But hasn’t it occurred to you, Mr Brown, that it isn’t the poor who make the trouble in the world? Wars are made by politicians, by capitalists, by intellectuals, by bureaucrats, by Wall Street bosses or Communist bosses – they are none of them made by the poor.’
    â€˜And the rich and powerful aren’t vegetarian, I suppose?’
    â€˜No sir. Not usually.’ Again I felt ashamed