American fiction -- 20th century; Manhattan (New York, N.Y.) -- Fiction; Women artists -- Fiction
"Hello Pop! Come along and I'll give you the time of your life"! and by
God he went with her, and that patient Griselda waiting for him in his
second home, not to mention the wife of his bosom, at home (where she
played a stiff Bridge every afternoon and never bothered her head about
her foolish matrimonial partner). Yes, he went to the new rifle-range
and heaven knows what lie he invented for the benefit of his mistress.
The affair only proves that any woman who can give to an old man the
illusion of virility, he will not only marry her, but he will wear her
on his heart of hearts; become her slave, in fact. Sex dies hard in us,
and despite popular belief, it is the last of the passions, pushing out
avarice and gluttony, which pair of entertaining passions are supposed
to illuminate the dusty lonesome years of a man's existence. Goethe
married his cook, a stout country wench who drank herself into her
grave in the august presence of her husband-poet. And all those old
women titled and otherwise who marry coachmen, gardeners and grooms,
husky young fellows--do they do this for intellectual companionship?
The darky woman who said when asked as to her sex emotions: "I'se over
eighty. You've got to ask some lady older than me, illustrates that
sex fights as long as it can. The original Adam in us. That de Gourmont
theory, Ulick, is a horrible idea; sex is hideous if you study it. Let
the boys and girls keep their illusions and don't let them believe
old Schopenhauer and his instinct of the species dictating their
destiny"--"For the sake of sanity, Alfred, shut your trap and let's go
home. Wake up, Bell. There's a fresh wife waiting you," said Ulick,
glad to get away. "Which wife?" sleepily inquired Bell. "It seems as
if a crowd of men can't end the evening without talking sex," grumbled
Ulick. "I'm sick of sex." "So are we all," Stone assented, "because sex
is a sickly thing. It's not health and conservation, but destruction,
disease, death." Ulick fairly ran from him when they reached the
street. Sex and damnation! he said between his teeth.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account