Thursday, February 29, 1940
THE DAILY NEBRASKA
5
f
Article 0?
Contributions from
the student body.
Verse
,
i
By Jens Llndholm.
Professor Carson, long-faced
and shabby, looking as though he
had never known anything but the
drab routine of the classroom, en
tered and closed the door. He
made his way solemnly to the
desk.
The noisy chattering of the stu
dents quieted. A pedagogic air of
somberness hovered around the
little professor. His presence
seemed to add to the dullness of
the room. Heavy silence predom
inated for a moment; then he
heard a whisper: "That's him.
That's the slave driver. He's not
human."
The professor frowned absently,
and the whisper stopped. Indif
ferent to the students, he sat at
the desk shuffling attendance
cards in his pale hands. It was
useless to call the roll, he decided.
This was the first day of the se
mester. Transfers ana changes of
registration would make liis
classes a hopeless jumble for at
least a week. He began to out
line the plan of his course in a
soft, unattractive voice.
Prosaic dreariness.
The students listened half-heartedly,
shifting nervously in their
seats. Outside the windows, the
red leaves of autumn blew across
the campus. The warm sunlight
reflected from the white, bare
walls of the room as if seeking to
put life and light there. But the
room could not be helped by the
sun. Prosaic dreariness belonged
to it.
As he talked, the professor lifted
his eyes to the class, looking from
face to face for some sign of in
terest. Most of the students were
sprawled in attitudes of boredom,
gazing thru the windows as though
wi3hing themselves away from all
academic places. He was used to
that, but one face was turned
toward him. Dark eyes looked
straight into his for an Instant;
red lips seemed to smile encour
agement. Without knowing why,
he smiled back and went on with
his explanation.
A remnant of remembrance.
That girl's face! It brought
something back to him! A wave
of poignant feeling swept over
him. Some remnant of a half for
gotten experience trembled at the
brink of his consciousness. He
felt suddenly confused, as if he
had forgotten something some
thing more important than his
whole life.
Head down, fingers fumbling
with the cards, the professor felt
the strong pulsation of an old and
disturbing emotion. The girl's
face, her dark eyes somewhere
in his mind there was a replica of
her. He was seized by an over
whelming desire to remember.
Where had he seen her before?
Where had he known her ?
Memory opens gate.
And suddenly his memory
opened its gate. He saw the pic
ture vividly. His youth! Those
joyful days before the war! Those
passionate restless days when he
had known love. He remembered
that face now. With swift clear
strokes his memory painted the
form of the girl he had loved. . . .
Even in their school day they
had been in love. They had gone
thru the four years together,
taken their degrees together.
When the war came he entered
the army, and they were engaged
to be married. Those glorious
days with Dorothy!
He had gotten one day of leave.
One priceless day! And he went
to the little summer icsort where
she and her family were vacation
ing. With picnic basket and canoe
the two of them went to the end
of the lake, to the little island
where no one else would be.
Guitars were popular then. How
' wtll she played! He lay stretched
out on the sand, proud of his uni
form, and his love, happy with the
whole world, listening to her. No
rag-time for her! She spent the
lazy afternoon singing in her rich,
contralto voice, not popular tunes
but warm, indolent songs. Songs
of the gypsies. And her voice
throbbed in his blood as strong as
love itself.
It's a perfect day.
She stopped her song and looked
over at him. "It's a perfect day,
Carl. One that we'll never forget.
Look how the clouds rise straight
from the lake."
He stretched luxuriously, and
smiled at her, and she went on:
"Somehow I feel that it's the most
perfect day the world ever saw.
I don't know why; maybe it's be
cause you're here."
How beautiful she was!
"Are you hungry yet?" She
asked the question shyly, knowing
that food was far from his mind;
but she was proud of the lunch her
basket held. She wanted him to
enjoy it. The whole world hung
upon his answer.
He pondered a moment, watch
ing her. Though they couldn't
say what they felt, he knew her
feeling then. To him, every ges
ture she made, every rise and fall
of her breast was more expressive
than any words she could say.
Willingly, he grew hungry. "
Lunch for two.
They ate their lunch like two
people entranced, sitting side by
side. It was everything that a
man could want sandwiches, and
olives the bottle of red wine that
her father had slipped into the
basket. Never before had he
tasted wine like that smooth
and full, with glimpses of old
Italy in its depths. Her lips took
on a warm, moist sheen as she
The Lady
By Randy Stewart.
It was a perfect night for mur
der, or whatever happens on such
nights. Dark storm clouds fled
across the sky, chased by a wail
ing autumn wind. The moon, as
if afraid to show her face, took
refuge behind every passing
cloud. The evergreens in the cem
etery swayed and sighed, their
shadowy outlines adding to the
general atmosphere of mystery
and unreality. In short, it was
the kind of night when sensible
people stay at home and like it.
As the bank clock in the small
suburban town chimed 11:30, a
small black coupe drove into the
cemetery, picking its way along
with only the aid of a spotlight.
It halted near a freshly filled
grave. A figure immediately
clambered from the car, walked
over to the new headstone, and
played a flashlight over the in
scription. Seemingly satisfied with
what he had found, he went back
to the automobile.
"Yeah, Joe," he muttered, "this
is the one all right Nice we found
it so soon too. If we hurry, I think
we can get the body and be out
of here in a couple hours. . .Well,
come on, ccme on! What are you
waitin for? We haven't all night
Aren't afraid of ghosts or some
thing, are you?
Take it easy, Hank. Take it
easy," retorted the second. I'm
just going to get my pipe lit be
fore I get out in that wind. The
dame'll wait, y'know."
Fitful moonlight
As the match flared up, it re
vealed the face of a rather hand
some young man, one who might
perhaps pass as a college student.
His pipe lit, the man unhurriedly
got out of the car and walked
around to the rear of it. He paused
for a moment to look carefully in
every direction. By the fitful light
of the moon, he surveyed the
scene; then shrugging his shoul
ders as if satisfied, he opened the
rear deck lid of the coupe. Re
moving spades, shovels, and cer
tain other tools was but the work
of u few seconds, anf moving over
to where the other man stood by
the grave, he silently handed him
a spade. '
They began digging, from time
to time glancing warily about
them. For some 15 minutes, the
two figures bent to their work in
silence. Then the one called Hank
stopping digging. Leaning on his
The Man of Habit
He Struggles with Memories
drank her little portion of the red
liquor. He could not resist that;
he leaned over and kissed her
held her so closely and felt her
smooth palm against his cheek.
They ate that meal with the gods.
"There sits Jupiter," he said,
"and there is Jun, and here," he
touched her hand. "You're Venus."
"But what of you?"
"Me? I'm only a mortal lover."
"No, you're Apollo." They
laughed at that. Apollo dressed
in khaki!
Venus and Apollo.
But it did seem to both of them
that the gods of the old Greeks
were present. The island be
longed to them. The bright sun
shine on the sand was theirs. And
their love, too, was something
more than mortal. They enjoyed
that day for each of them knew
too well that they might never see
one another again.
It was late at night when they
returned across the lake. The
dark waves lapped softly against
the canoe. The night was dark.
Sitting at the stern, he could see
nothing of her but the warm
cameo of her face.
They did not go back to the
in The Case
She turned a
cold shoulder
spade, he said, "I never thought
I'd be doing something like this
when the boss hired me. Can't say
as I care for it particularly either,
especially on a night like this."
"So what?" said the other, tak
ing advantage of the chance to
rest "I'll admit it isn't any picnic,
but it's at least different. We
might as well enjoy it." As he
paused, the moon temporarily
lighted the landscape, and he
leaned close to the grave marker.
"Say, according to this," he
chirped, "this dame was only
twenty-one when she died last
week. Wonder if she was good
looking?"
"I doubt It"
"I doubt it," replied Hank pes
simistically. She probably died of
of heart failure when some guy
gave her a second glance. I'll even
go so far as to bet a dollar she
looks as plain as mud."
"Well. I don't know how plain
that is, but I'll just take your little
bet. Wait'll I light this hod again
and we'll get to work."
And with that, both men started
digging again, neither of them
speaking for more than an hour1.
Then suddenly Hank's shovel
struck metal.
"Well, it won't be long now,
chum," he piped, "and then you
pay me, cash on the line."
"Don't race your motor, lad,"
Joe replied easily. "Climb up and
get me the screwdriver and flash
light, and jumped back into the
open grave. "Here you go," he
said. "I ll hold the light while you
unscrew the lid."
Joe grasped the screwdriver and
set to work. In a few minutes he
had the lid unfastened and ready
for opening. "Okay," he smirked.
"Now, just wait'll I straighten my
tie, and I'll do the honors."
Lift the lid
"Come on," said Hank, "quit
clowning and lift that lid. I'm
dying to find out who's the best
guesser. Here, let me do it it
was my idea In the first place."
So saying, he lifted the heavy lid,
while Joe held the flashlight. One
glimpse inside and Hank dropped
the lid shut, overcome at what he
had seen.
"What's the matter, fellow?"
chided Joe. "Is she that bad?"
"No, no! That's what got me.
Man, she's beautiful! Why did this
have to happen to me? Now I
won't be able to sleep for thinking
about it."
"Don't let it get you, son. Busi
hotel where her family was stay
ing, when they reached the shore.
Vhe widening path along the beach
called lover's lane, beckoned to
them both. They were afraid to
part and the blood burned too
hotly that night.
Holding her tightly, reverently,
he said goodbye to her in the eaily
morning.
"You'll write me often, Doro
thy?" She smiled into his eyes. "Ev
every day, Carl, every day that you
are gone."
The following day, his company
boarded ship for Fiance. Twenty
years ago, and he had never seen
her again.
He coughed, and the students
quieted expectantly. Then a sud
den thought alarmed him. What
if this girl were ? Could it be
that she was his own daughter?
The cards were still in his hands.
He began to call the roll.
Monotonous rollcall.
The students answered to their
names, slowly. They were ob
viously amused by his behavior.
He "knew they would laugh at him
later.
He steadied his voice as he ap-
ness is business. Come on, open
it again and we'll take her and
leave . . . There, that't it . . . gosh,
she is beautiful, isn't she? I hate
to think how she'll look when they
finish with her. Let's get it over
with; it's beginning to get me too
. . .You climb out and I'll hand her
up to you... All right, easy now.
Don't muss up that nice hair-do
of hers."
Set her between us
"Don't worry about me. I know
how to handle women. . .Now how
are we going to do this? We'll
have to set her between, won't
we ? I wish we could have brought
the big car."
"Yeah, that would have beeh
better all right, but we'll have to
do the best we can. Here, I'll get
in first and you hand her to me. . .
All right, now put away the tools
and we'll head for the city."
The black coupe moved out of
the cemtery without lights. Pull
ing onto the highway, Joe switched
on the headlamps and drove
swiftly along the road. After a
while, he glaced sidewise at the
girl propped between them and
said sarcastically, "Maybe the lady
would like some music, Henry.
Turn on the radio. I could go for
some myself."
The other did as he was bid, but
when the radio blared forth with
"Body and Soul," he switched it
off. "That's adding insult to in
jury," he muttered. "Let's talk
about the Weather. . .Say, when is
that post-mortem exam anyway?
Tomorrow morning, isn't it?"
A cold shoulder
"Yeah," Joe answered. "The
boss said some question has come
up concerning this girl's death,
and the examiners want to get it
over with right away. If I didn't
value my job, I sure wouldn't have
consented to come out here to
night." "Me either," said Ifank earn
estly. "This working nights for an
undertaker and going to school in
the daytime is no snap. You really
have to get down and dig if you
expect to get anywhere. By the
way, I'll pay you that buck to
morrow.if you don't mind waiting
till then."
"Oh, forget it, "Oh, forget it,
fellow; I' satisfied. It isn't every
night a guy can take out a gal
like this one."
"I think you've got something
there, Joe," laughed Hank, and
grinning, he added, "but I notice
she's sure giving you the cold
shoulder."
proached the Cs. If what, n
feared were true ... In a cold,
emotionless voice, he read the
words that scrawled across the
little card: Carson, Dorothy Car
son. The girl answered quickly, and
the rich timbre of her voice bin ned
its way into his memories. He
read on, calm and controlled dis
interested; but his brain had be
come a bedlam of thought. She
was the daughter of that other
Dorothy of long ago! But her
last name was his own!
He ran swiftly through the
other names. Then in a vain at
tempt to sound friendly, he said:
"The class is excused for today,
but remember that we begin our
work next week."
He felt strangely out of place
as the eyes of the students
searched his: then their faces
brightened and they began to
gather their books together. The
room emptied quickly, but as the
girl passed him, he stopped her.
"Do you live in town. Miss Car
son?" "No, Professor Carson, I live
with an aunt in Mains."
"Your parents are New Eng-
lanaers then?"
She shook her head. "No, my
mother died at my birth; my
father never returned from the
war."
"Thank You."
He lifted his hand, and started
to say something; then changed
his mind and muttered an inaudible
"Thank You." The girl hastened
out to meet her friends.
The professor stood as though
stunned until the halls were
empty. Then he walked through
the halls to the little cubicle that
served him as an office. He locked
the door, seated himself at his
desk, and stared blindly at the
papers.
What a fool he had been! Be
cause her letters stopped, he had
decided that he was forgotten. He
had returned from the war bitter
and disillusioned, and he had never
gone back to her city, nor searched
for her. And she was dead! She
had died bearing his daughter, and
he had deserted her!
He deserted them both.
He had deserted them both! The
thought that there was a new and
younger Dorothy flesh of his
flesh without even the right to
the protection of his name, was
like a great clot on his brain.
In his heart, the love that he
had thought forgotten, burned
more brightly than ever. Shoul
ders slumped, arms hanging
loosely at his side, he relived again
all the old memories. The day
waned, and the sun set. But he re
mained there, silent. In the dark
ness of the room he fought to
put down those memories, the
happy memories.
Abruptly, he stood up and
snapped on the lights. He re
turned to the desk and opened a
drawer. The razor-blade he used
for cutting clippings from maga
zines glinted up at him impas
sionately. He sat for long minutes
staring at it His fingers touched
it. The steel sent a shudder run
ning the whole length of his body.
For a moment he trembled vio
lently as though he were chilled
through and through; the pain and
the guilt of his memories pressed
down upon him. One touch of the
blade and those things would be
ended.
The mood burned itself out. Rea
son claimed him and the struggle
ended for a moment. He looked up
from the drawer and closed it.
He peered near-sightedly over the
desk and picked up a book; Dante'
"Divine Comedy." Pedant-like, he
propptd the T)ook" against others,
and read. 'His face smoothened
into its habitual lines. It softened
and grew placid, once more the
face of a prosaic man a teacher.
There was no sound in the room
but the muffled hiss of his lips
as they formed the words of tho
