The Complete Short Stories of Emest Hemingway The Finca Vigia Edition Scribner Paperback Fiction Published by Simon SchusterSCRIBNER PAPERBACK FICTION Simon & Schuster Ine. Rockefeller Center 1230 Avense of the Americas New York, NY 10020 "This book isa work of fiction. Navmes, characters, places, and inci- dents ether are products ofthe author's imagination or are used fittiously, Any resemblance 0 actual events or focales or persons, Tiving or dead, is entirely coincidemta. Copyright © 1987 by Simon o Schuster Ine. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. First Sertbner Paperback Fiction edition 1998 SCRIBNER PAPERBACK F(CtION anu design are trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc. Manufactured in the United States of America 3379108642 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hemingway, Emest, 1899-1961. [Short stories] ‘The complete short stories of Ernest Hewtingway Ernest Hentingsvay. Finca Vigia ed. non 1 Title. PSISISES7AIS 199 819'52—~de20 9026241 cP ISBN 0-684.84932-3CHAPTER I “Bverybody was drunk. The whole battery was drienk going along the road in the : pie ‘We were going to the Champagne. The lieutenant kept riding his horse out “inte the fields and saying to him, ‘‘I'm drunk, I tell you, mon vieux. Oh, Lam 5 soused.”” We went along the road all night in the dark and the adjutant kept ‘iding up alongside my kitchen and saying, ‘You must put it out. It dangerous, “ak will be observed." We were fifty kilometers from the front but the adjutant “worried about the fire in my kitchen. It was funny going along that road. That was when I was a kitchen corporat.Indian Camp AT THE LAKE SHORE THERE WAS AN- ‘other rowboat drawn up. The two Indians stood waiting. ‘Nick and his father got in the stern of the boat and the Indians shoved © jt off and one of them got in to row. Uncle George sat in the stern of the ‘ainp rowboat, The young Indian shoved the camp boat off and got in to © row Uncle George. “The two boats started off in the dark. Nick heard the oarlocks of the oiliér boat quite a way ahead of them in the mist. The Indians rowed with quick choppy strokes. Nick lay back with his father’s arm around him. It ‘Was’ cold on the water. The Indian who was rowing them was working very hard, but the other boat moved further ahead in the mist all the time. “Where are we going, Dad?” Nick asked. “Over to the Indian camp. There is an Indian lady very sick.” “Oh,” said Nick. Across the bay they found the other boat beached. Uncle George was “ stioking a cigar in the dark. The young Indian pulled the boat way up on ~ the beach. Uncle George gave both the Indians cigars. "They walked up from the beach through a meadow that was soaking wet with dew, following the young Indian who carried a lantern. Then they went into the woods and followed a trail that led to the logging road / that ran back into the hills, It was much lighter on the logging road as the titnber was cut away on both sides. The young Indian stopped and blew ut his lantern and they all walked on along the road. ‘They came around a bend and a dog came out barking. Ahead were the lights of the shanties where the Indian bark-peelers lived. More dogs rushed ‘Out at them. The two Indians sent them back to the shanties. In the shanty Nearest the road there was a light in the window. An old woman stood in the doorway holding a lamp, Inside on a wooden bunk lay a young Indian woman. She had been 67smelled very bad. Nick’s father ordered some was heating he spoke to Nick. “This lady is going to have a baby, “1 know," said Nick. “You don’t know,” said his father. “Listen to me. What she is going {hrough is called being in labor. The baby wants to be born aid she Cont Hi be born. All her muscles are trying to get the baby born, That is what is happening when she screams.” “see,” Nick said. Just then the woman cried out, {{oh, Daddy, can’t you give her something to make her stop screaming?” asked Nick. ‘No. T haven't any anaesthetic,” his father said. “But her screams are not important. 1 don’t hear them because they are not important,” The husband in the upper bunk rolled over against the wall, ‘The woman in the kitchen motioned to the doctor that the water was hot. Nick's father went into the kitchen and poured about half of the were, Out of the big Kettle into a basin. Into the water left in the kettle he put several things he unwrapped from a handkerchief, “Those must boil,” he said, and began to scrub his hands in the basin of hot water with a cake of soap he had brought from the camp. Nick Yratched his father’s hands scrubbing each other with the soap. While his father washed his hands very carefully and thoroughly, he talked. {Nou see, Nick, babies are supposed to be born head first but sometimes they're not. When they're not they make a lot of trouble for everybody. Maybe I'l have to operate on this lady. We'll know in a litle while,” When he was satisfied with his hands he went in and went to work. {‘Pall back that quilt, will you, George?” he said. “'d rather not touch water to be put on the stove, and while it Nick,” he said. it’ Later when he started to operate Uncle George and three Indian men held the woman still. She bit Uncle George on the arm and Uncle George said, “Damn squaw bitch!” and the young Indian who had rowed Uncle George over laughed at him, Nick held the basin for his father. Tt all took a long time. His father picked the baby up and slapped it 10 make it breathe and handed it to the old woman, “See, it’s a boy, Nick,” he said. “How do you like being an interne?” Nick said, “All right.” He was looking away so as not to see what his father was doing. 68 INDIAN CAME omthere, That gets it,” said his father and put something into the basin. s Th ” a Nick did ther sald “there's some stitches 10 putin. You an watch en eon. Nick, justas you lke. I'm going to sew upthelnslon tn dor, did not watch, His curiosity had been gone for ong ti Nick ther finished and stood up. Uncle George and the “quid up. Nick pot the basin out in the kitchen. sted eats, Je George looked at his arm. The young Indian ied re nisenty _ iM put some peroxide on that, George th dor ee Den ne ie Indi was quiet now anc he Indian eon didnot know what had become of the baby or oo) ; ; e back i ing,” the doctor said, standing up. “The nurse eae ‘St Ignace by noon and she'll bring everything we 0 eet as feeling exalted and talkative as football players are in the dressing Hew « thats one forthe medical journal, George,’ ee ae jack-kai ing it up with nine-foot, tapered g re a eckonge was sanding against the wal, ocking at sar y allright,” he said. _ eee ie a father. They're sual the worst safer in these litle affair,” the doctor said. “T must say he too aa vcd Lack the blanket from the Indian's head, His hand came away wet He mounted on the edge of ence rm with lan pn one Indian lay M — ae ees tom car to eat The blood had Bowed drm ito 2 © pool aie his body sagged the bunk. His head rested on ‘open blankets. azor lay, edge up, in the 7 . rai ik ot ister Kine sand ing ta the doot ofthe ichen, od of that. Nick, aa hate good view ofthe upper bunk when his father, te lamp in one han a ian’s head back. ee ae sto fut begioning to be daylight when they walked along 1d back toward the lake. etarm terribly sory I brought you along, Nie Bsoperative exhilaration gone, “kwas an awit’ mes 0 : “Do ladies always have such a hard tn ‘ “No, that was very very exoeplona: 7 id he kill himself, Daddy’ ” See Nick. He couldn't sand things T guess “Do many men kill themselves, Daddy? “Not very many, Nick: “Do many women? “Hardly ever.” Nickie,” said his oa oad to put you throu; ing ” Nick asked. 6THE COMPLETE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY “Don't they ever?” “Oh, yes. They do sometimes.” “Daddy?” “Yes."” “where did Uncle George go?” “He'll turn up all right.” “4s dying hard, Daddy?” “No, I think it’s pretty easy, Nick. It all depends.” ‘They were seated in the boat, Nick in the stern, his father rowing. The sun was coming up over the hills. A bass jumped, making a circle in the water. Nick trailed his hand in the water, It felt warm in the sharp chill of the morning. In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he would never die. 70‘THE HILLS ACROSS THE VALLEY OF THE were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees ide of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into ‘bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from scelona would come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two utes. and went on to Madrid. at should we drink?” the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and "Dos cervezas,"” the man said into the curtain. “Big ones?” a woman asked from the doorway. “Yes. Two big ones.”” ‘The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the it pads and the beer glasses on the table and looked at the man and the |The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the A and the country was brown and dry. == "They look like white elephants,” she said. ve never seen one,” the man drank his beer. “No, you wouldn't have.” “Ymight have,” the man said. “Just because you say I wouldn't have sh’t prove anything.” ‘The girl looked at the bead curtain. “They've painted something on it,” e said. “What does it say?” del Toro. It’s a drink.” ould we uy it?” ay‘THE COMPLETE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY ‘The man called “Listen” through the curtain. The woman came out from’ the bar. “Four reales.” “We want two Anis del Toro.” “With water?” “Do you want it with water?” “T don’t know,” the girl said, “Is it good with water?” “vs all right.” “You want them with water?” asked the woman, “Yes, with water.”” “I tastes like licorice," the girl said and put the glass down. “That's the way with everything.” “Yes,” said the girl, “Everything tastes of licorice. Especially all the things you've waited so long for, like absinthe.” “Oh, cut it out.” “You started it,” the gisl said. “I wes being amused. I was having a fine time.” “Well, let’s try and have a fine time.” “All right. I was trying. Isaid the mountains looked like white elephants, Wasn't that bright?” “That was bright.” “L wanted to try this new drink: That's all we do, isn’t it—look at things and try new drinks?” “1 guess so.” ‘The girl looked across at the hills. “They'te lovely hills,” she said, “They don't really look like white ele- phants. I just meant the coloring of their skin through the trees." “Should we have another drink?” “all right.” The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table. “the beer's nice and cool,” the man said. “t's lovely,” the gitl said, “v's really an awfully simple operation, Jig,” the man said. “It’s not really an operation at all.” ‘The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on, “I know you wouldn't mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. I's just to Jet the air in.” ‘The girl did not say anything. “Til go with you and I'll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.” “Then what will we do afterward?” “We'll be fine afterward. Just like we were before.” “What makes you think so?” “That's the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made vs unhappy.” 212 HILLS LIKE WHITE BLEPHANTS ‘The gir looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of ‘two of the strings of beads. “And you think then we'll be all right and be happy.” “know we will. You don’t have to be afraid. I've known lots of people that have done it.” aso have I,” said the girl. “And afterward they were all so happy.” “Well,” the man said, “if you don’t want to you don’thave to. Lwouldn't have you do it if you didn’t want to, But I know it’s perfectly simple.” “and you really want 10?” ay think it’s the best thing to do, But I don’t want you to do it if you don't really want to.” “and if Ldo it you'll be happy and things will be like they were and you'll love me?” “Tove you now. You know I love you.” “J know. But if T do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are like white elephants, and you'll like it?” ‘pil love it. Hove it now but I just can’t think about it. You know how ‘get when I worry.” ‘“If I do it you won't ever worry?” “won't worry about that because it’s perfectly simple.” Then I'll do it. Because I don’t care about me.” “What do you mean?” “don't care about me.” “Well, I care about you.” “Oh, yes. But I don’t care about me. And I'll do it and then everything will be fine.” “don’t want you to do it if you feel that way.” ©The girl stood up and walked to the end of the station. Across, on the other side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. Far ‘away, beyond the river, were mountains. The shadow of a cloud moved = across the field of grain and she saw the river through the trees. “and we could have all this,” she said. “And we could have everything ‘and every day we make it more impossible.” "What did you say?” “I said we could have everything.” “We can have everything.” “No, we can't.” "We can have the whole world.” *No, we can't.” "We can go everywhere.” “No, we can't. It isn't ours any more.” “Tes ours.” “No, itisn’t. And once they take it away, you never get it back.” “But they haven't taken it away.” “We'll wait and see.” 213THE COMPLETE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY 2 “Come on back in the shade,” he said. “You mustn't feel that way.” “I don’t feel any way,” the girl said. “I just know things.” “1 don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do—" “Nor that isn't good for me,” she said. “I know. Could we have another beer?” “All right. But you've got to realize——” “1 realize,” the git! said. “Can’t we maybe stop talking?” They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table. “You've got to realize,” he said, “that I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I'm perfectly willing to go through with it if it means anything to you.” “Doesn't it mean anything to you? We could get along.” “Of course it does, But I don’t want anybody but you. I don't want any one else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.”” “Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.” ““I¢s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.” “Would you do something for me now?” “1d do anything for you.” “Would you please please please please please please please stop talk- ing?” He did not say anything but looked at the bags against the wall of the station. There were labels on them from all the hotels where they had spent nights. “But I don't want you to,” he said, “I don’t care anything about it.” “Til scream,” the girl said. The woman came out through the curtains with two glasses of beer and put them down on the damp felt pads. “‘The train comes in five minutes,” she said. “What did she say?” asked the girl, “That the train is coming in five minutes.” The girl smiled brightly at the woman, to thank her. “Yd better take the bags over to the other side of the station,” the man said. She smiled at him, “All right. Then come back and we'll finish the beer.” He picked up the two heavy bags and carried them around the station to the other tracks, He looked up the tracks but could not see the train, Coming back, he walked through the barroom, where people waiting for the train were drinking. He drank an Anis at the bar and looked at the people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train. He went out through the bead curtain. She was sitting at the table and smiled at him. “Do you feel better?” he asked. “Tfeel fine,” she said. “There's nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.” 214A Canary for One ‘Tim TRAIN PASSED VERY QUICKLY ALONG, red stone house with a garden and four thick palm-trees with tables under them in the shade. On the other side was the sea. Then there was a cutting through red stone and clay, and the sea was only occasionally and far below against rocks. “1 bought him in Palermo,” the American lady said. “We only had an hour ashore and it was Sunday morning, The man wanted to be paid in dollars and I gave him a dollar and a half. He really sings very beautifully.” It was very hot in the train and it was very hot in the lit salon com- partment. There was no breeze came through the open window. The Amer- ican lady pulled the window-blind down and there was no more sea, even occasionaily. On the other side there was glass, then the corridor, then an ‘open window, and outside the window were dusty trees and an oiled road and flat fields of grapes, with gray-stone hills behind them. ‘There was smoke from many tall chimneys—coming into Marseilles, and the train slowed down and followed one track through many others into the station. The train stayed twenty-five minutes in the station at Marseilles and the American lady bought a copy of The Daily Mail and a half-bottle of Evian water. She walked a little way along the station plat- form, but she stayed near the steps of the car because at Cannes, where it stopped for twelve minutes, the train had left with no-signal of departure and she had gotten on only just in time. The American lady was a little deaf and she was afraid that pethaps signals of departure were given and that she did not hear them. The train left the station in Marseilles and there was not only the switch- yards and the factory smoke but, looking back, the town of Marseilles and the harbor with stone hills behind it and the last of the sun on the water. As it was getting dark the train passed a farmhouse burning in a field. Motor-cars were stopped along the road and bedding and things from 258 A CANARY FOR ONE tne farmhouse were spread in the field. Many people were watching Hae burn. Alter it was dark the train was in Avignon. People got of bebo ar the news-stand Frenchmen, returning t© Pars, Bought that fF fach papers. On the station platform were negro soldiers. They ® Frown uniforms and were tall and their faces shone, close under the Pig. Their faces were very black and they were 10 tall 10 stare, bolt in let Avignon station with the negroes standing there. A short et with them. Me he "it salon Seemed the porter had pulled down the three {fom inside the wall and prepared them for sleeping. In the night the eae an lady lay without sleeping because the train was a rapide and i very fast and she was afraid of the speed in the night. The American Jhay’s bed was the one next to the window. The canary from Palermo, 9 Go spread over his cage, was out ofthe drat in the corridor that wet the compartment washroom. There was a biue light outside the pmpartment, and all night the tain went very fast and the American lady y ited for a wreck. ; ae ae see olin was near Pars, and after the American lady “4 come out from the wash-room, looking very wholesome and en - sed and American in spite of not having slept, and had taken the cl Fe on ‘the birdcage and hung the cage in the sun, she went back to the ‘gurant-car for breakfast. When she came back to the lit salon com _Dariment again, the beds had been pushed back into the wall and mage “Tito seats, the canary was shaking his feathers in the sunlight that came => through the open window, and the train was much nearer Paris. a © ive loves the sun,” the American lady said. “He'll sing now in a lit oe canary shook his feathers and pecked into them. “1've always loved = the American lady said, “’'m taking him home to my little gi . -—he’s singing now.” : a sey clipe’ and the feathers on his throats stood aut, then he | dgopped his bill and pecked into his feathers again. The train crossed 4 river and passed through a very carefully tended forest, The train passee through many outside of Paris towns. There were tram-cars in the towns and big advertisements for the Belle Jardinitre and Dubonnet and Pent 6 the walls toward the train, All that the tain passed through looked 28 though it were before breakfast. For several minutes 1 had not listened 10 the American lady, who was talking to my wile. “Is your husband American 002” asked the lady. “eyes,” said my wife, “We're both Americans.” “1 thought you were English.” isechoys that was because T wore braces,” I said. I had sane 10 sy suspenders and changed it to braces in the mouth, to keep my, FAG e character. The American lady did not hear. She was really quite deat; s 259[THE COMPLETE SHORT STORIES OF ERNEST HEMINGWAY read lips, and I had not looked toward her. [had looked out of the windoyy, She went on talking to my wife. ‘“y'm so glad you're Americans, American men make the best husbands,’ the American lady was saying. “That was why we left the Continent, you: - know. My daughter fell in love with a man in Vevey.” She stopped. ” were simply madly in love.” She stopped again. “I took her away, of course.” “Did she get over it?” asked my wife. “1-don't think so,” said the American lady, “She wouldn't eat anything and she wouldn't sleep at all. 've tried so very hard, but she doesn’t seem to take an interest in anything. She doesn't care about things. I couldn't have her marrying a foreigner.’’ She paused. “‘Some one, a very good friend, told me once, ‘No foreigner can make an American girl a good husband.’ ” “No,” said my wife, “1 suppose not." ‘The American lady admired my wife's travelling-coat, and it tumed out that the American lady had bought her own clothes for twenty years now from the same maison de couture in the Rue Saint Honoré. They had her measurements, and a vendeuse who knew her and her tastes picked the dresses out for her and they were sent to America. They came to the post- office near where she lived up-town in New York, and the duty was never exorbitant because they opened the dresses there in the post-office to appraise them and they were always very simple-looking and with no gold lace nor ornaments that would make the dresses look expensive. Before the present vendeuse, named Thérése, there had been another vendeuse, named Amélie. Altogether there had only been these two in the twenty years. It had always been the same couturier. Prices, however, had gone up. The exchange, though, equalized that. They had her daughter's meas- urements now too. She was grown up and there was not much chance of their changing now. The train was now coming into Paris. The fortifications were levelled but grass had not grown. There were many cars standing on tracks—brown. wooden restaurant-cars and brown wooden sleeping-cars that would go 10 Htaly at five o'clock that night, if that train still left at five; the cars were marked Paris-Rome, and cars, with seats on the roofs, that went back and forth to the suburbs with, at certain hours, people in all the seats and on the roofs, if that were the way it were still done, and passing were the white walls and many windows of houses. Nothing had eaten any break- fast. “Americans make the best husbands,” the American lady said to my wife, I was getting down the bags. “American men are the only men in the world to marry.” “How long ago did you leave Vevey?” asked my wife. ““Two years ago this fall. I's her, you know, that I'm taking the canasy “Was the man your daughter was in love with a Swiss?” 260 A CANARY FOR ONE 7 ood family in vv gaid the American lady. “He was from a very 8 es Savas going to be an engineer, They met there in Vevey. They i long walks together.” fp ce aS reo ot honeymoon roa really? That must have been lovely. I had no idea, of course, eshe’d fall in love with him.” ‘a se Jovely place,” said my wife. De ete american lady. “Isn't it lovely? Where did you stop there?” 1 ‘ a 7 : aed at the Trois Couronnes,” said my wife. it's such a fine old hotel,” said the American lady. res,” said my wife. “We had avery fine room and in the fall the country Tovely.”” , ‘were you there in the fall?” “Yes,” said my wife. : - we. ‘were passing three cars that had been in a wseck. They were splin- ‘tered open and the roofs sagged in. - 40k,” 1 sald. “There’s been a wreck.’ . “the American lady looked and saw the last car. “T was afraid of just that hight,” she said. “have terrific presentiments about things sometimes, {il never travel on a rapide again at night. There must be other comfortable faitis that don’t go so fast” ‘then the train was in the dark ‘of the Gare de Lyons, and then stopped porters came up to the windows. I handed bags through the windows, oe ree were out on the dim longness of the platform, and the American Jady put herself in charge of one of three men from Cook’s who said “Just ‘moment, madame, and I'll look for your name: "The porter brought a truck and piled on the baggage, and my wife said good-by and I said good-by to the ‘American lady, whose name had been found by the man from Cook's on a typewritten page in a sheaf of type- vritten pages which he replaced in his pocket. oie followed the porter with the truck down the long cement platform beside the train. At the end was a gate and a man took the tickets. ‘We were returning to Paris to set up separate residences. 261