Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
AMORY, SON OF BEATRICE
SPIRES AND GARGOYLES
THE EGOTIST CONSIDERS
NARCISSUS OFF DUTY
THE DEBUTANTE
EXPERIMENTS IN CONVALESCENCE
YOUNG IRONY
THE SUPERCILIOUS SACRIFICE
THE EGOTIST BECOMES A PERSONAGE

Oh, for a hot, languorous summer and Isabelle!" 

 

"Oh, you and your Isabelle! I'll bet she's a simple one... let's say 

some poetry." 

 

So Amory declaimed "The Ode to a Nightingale" to the bushes they passed. 

 

"I'll never be a poet," said Amory as he finished. "I'm not enough of a 

sensualist really; there are only a few obvious things that I notice as 

primarily beautiful: women, spring evenings, music at night, the sea; 

I don't catch the subtle things like 'silver-snarling trumpets.' I may 

turn out an intellectual, but I'll never write anything but mediocre 

poetry." 

 

They rode into Princeton as the sun was making colored maps of the sky 

behind the graduate school, and hurried to the refreshment of a shower 

that would have to serve in place of sleep. By noon the bright-costumed 

alumni crowded the streets with their bands and choruses, and in the 

tents there was great reunion under the orange-and-black banners that 

curled and strained in the wind. Amory looked long at one house which 

bore the legend "Sixty-nine." There a few gray-haired men sat and talked 

quietly while the classes swept by in panorama of life. 

 

***** 

 

UNDER THE ARC-LIGHT 

 

Then tragedy's emerald eyes glared suddenly at Amory over the edge of 

June. On the night after his ride to Lawrenceville a crowd sallied to 

New York in quest of adventure, and started back to Princeton about 

twelve o'clock in two machines. It had been a gay party and different 

stages of sobriety were represented. Amory was in the car behind; they 

had taken the wrong road and lost the way, and so were hurrying to catch 

up. 

 

It was a clear night and the exhilaration of the road went to Amory's 

head. He had the ghost of two stanzas of a poem forming in his mind. ... 

 

 

So the gray car crept nightward in the dark and there was no life 

stirred as it went by.... As the still ocean paths before the 

shark in starred and glittering waterways, beauty-high, the 

moon-swathed trees divided, pair on pair, while flapping 

nightbirds cried across the air.... 


Page 43 from 47:  Back   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42  [43]  44   45   46   47   Forward