DELMORE SCHWARTZ
519
Angered again, and in his anger going again to the
oth~r
extreme, Cornelius decided to recite for them. All of his happi–
ness in winning had disappeared, and a mood of stubborn
resentment had come upon him.
"Very well," he said harsh Iy into the microphone.
"I
wi II
recite some appropriate verses for you." Changing his tone to
one of serious and dramatic import, and permitting a certain
implication of tiredness, illness and despair to creep into his
voice, he began:
Think now
History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,
Guides us by vanities. Think now
She gives when our altention is distracted
And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions
That the giving famishes the craving. Gives too late
What's not believed in, or if still believed,
In memory only, reconsidered passion. Gives
LOa
soon
Into weak hands, what's thought can be dispensed with
Till the refusal propagates a fear.
He ended appalled at himself, as if he had made a shocking
confession. But he saw that his effort was a failure for his tone
had been false, too serious. The audience had been silenced and
puzzled by the verses, but the young man, curiously enough, had
been impressed.
"Are those your own verses?" he asked.
"No. 1 wish they were," said Cornelius. The audience
wakened at this and laughed.
"Those verses were written by the best of modern poets,"
said Cornelius, "a man named T.S. Eliot, whom all of you
ought to read." Even in saying this, Cornelius knew that this
advertisement was a foolish thing.
The usher arrived with the money just as the persistent
balcony voice called out, "Let's go on with the show," and the
audience began to clap again, wishing to have its chance at the
other prizes.
But then, as the money was delivered to the young assistant
manager, and he began officiously to count it out, shuffle it, and
arrange it, before paying Cornelius, a hoarse and disused voice
cried from the balcony:
