They adjourned to the larger cathedral, where the lights were dim, and there appeared, very appropriately in place of the altar, a large white screen. At the far end of the room, was a projecting machine, and the guests distributed themselves in lounging chairs, prepared to pay for their entertainment by watching the first two reels of Annabelle's new picture, and giving their professional judgments on the "cutting." "Pangs of Passion" you may recall as a soul-shaking story about a society bud whose handsome young husband is led astray by a divorcee, and who, in order to make him jealous, begins a flirtation with a bootlegger, and is carried off in a rum-running vessel, and made the victim of the customary pulling and hauling and tearing of feminine costumes. "My God," said Vee Tracy, in an aside to Bunny, "Annabelle has been playing these society flappers since before they were born, and in all that time she's never had a story above the intelligence of a twelve year old child! You'll think it's a joke, but I know it for a fact that Perry Duchane gets a bunch of school children together and tells them the scenario, and if there's anything they don't like, he cuts it out." And then to Annabelle she said, "It's up to standard, my dear; it will sell all right." And to Bunny, "That's one good thing about Annabelle, you can say that and she's satisfied—she doesn't ask you if it's a work of art. But others do, and I've made mortal enemies because I won't lie to them. I say, 'Leave art out of it, dearie; we all know our stuff is trash.'" There was technical discussion, and Bunny had an opportunity to learn about the tricks of "cutting." Also he learned what had been the gross business on a number of Annabelle Ames' pictures, and the inside figures on other successes. Tommy Paley had recently indulged in the luxury of making an artistic and beautiful picture, which the papers had called a "classic"; he and a group of friends had come out something over a hundred thousand in the hole, and he had charged it up to education, and said, "Let the Germans do the art stuff after this!" All this time there had been a silent spectral figure flitting about the cathedral, clad in white duck coat and trousers and padded purple slippers; the Chinese boy, bearing a tray with little glasses full of pink and yellow and purple and green liquid. He would move from guest to guest, offering his tray, and they would put down empty glasses and take up full ones, and during the entire course of the evening the spectre never made one sound, nor did anyone make a sound to it. Some three hundred years ago an English poet, long since forgotten by the movie world, had asked the question why a man should put an enemy into his mouth to steal away his brains; but here at the Monastery, the anxiety appeared to be that some one might forget to put the enemy into his mouth— hence this Chinese spectre to save the need of recollecting. There were a few who did not drink; Annabelle was one, and Vee Tracy another. The spectre had apparently been instructed not to go near Vernon Roscoe, and if Vernon tried to approach the spectre, there would be a sharp warning, "Now, Verne!" But others drank, and tongues were loosened, and hearts poured out as the evening passed. Even Fred Orpan came to life, and revealed a tongue! It was Vernon Roscoe's habit to "josh" everybody, and now he got paid back, as the one-time rancher from Texas sat up in his chair and opened his long horse's face and demanded, in a falsetto voice which sounded as if it came from a ventriloquist: "Anybody here know how this old shyster got his start in life?" Apparently nobody did know; and Orpan put another question: "Anybody ever seen him in swimming? I bet you never! When it's out-doors, he'll tell you the water is too cold, and when it's indoors he'll tell you it's dirty or something. The reason is, he's got one toe missing, and he's afraid to have it proved on him. When he was drilling his first well, he ran out of money and was clean done for; so he went and took out an accident insurance policy, and then went rabbit-hunting and shot off one of his big toes. So he got the cash to finish the well! Is that true, old socks, or ain't it?" The company laughed gleefully and clamored for an answer; and Vernon laughed as much as anyone. He didn't mind the story, but you could never get him to tell. Instead, he countered on his assailant, "You ought to hear about this old skeezicks, how he got rich leasing oil lands from Indians. They tell this about a dozen oil men, but Fred was the real one that done it, I know because I was there. It was Old Chief Leatherneck, of the Shawnees, and Fred offered him one-eighth royalty, and the old codger screwed up his eyes and said, 'No take one-eighth, got to have one-sixteenth!' Fred said he couldn't afford that, and begged him to take one-twelfth, but he said, 'One-sixteenth or no lease.' So they signed up for a sixteenth, and now it's the Hellfire Dome, by Jees! Is that so, old skeezicks, or ain't it?" Said Fred Orpan, "You might complete the story by telling what the old chief does with his royalties. He's got a different colored automobile for each day of the week, and he figures to get drunk three times every day." "Oh, take me to the Hellfire Dome!" wailed the voice of Harvey Manning. "They won't let me get drunk but one time in a night, and none at all in the day-time!"
IX
There was a large organ in this cathedral, a magic organ of the modern style, which played itself when you put in a roll of paper and pressed an electric switch. It played the very latest jazz tunes from Broadway, and the company danced, and Vee Tracy came to Bunny and said, "My doctor allows me only one drink in an evening, and I want a sober partner." Bunny was glad to oblige, and so the time passed pleasantly. He danced with his hostess, and with the blonde fairy, Bessie Barrie. In between dances they chatted, and the Chinese spectre continued to flit about, and the deeps of the human spirit were more and more unveiled. In front of Bunny stood Tommy Paley, super director, handsome, immaculate if slightly ruffled, flushed of face, and steady upon his legs if not in his thoughts. "Look here, Ross," he said, "I want you to tell me something." "What is it?" "I want to know what it's all about." "What, Mr. Paley?" "Life! What the hell are we here for, and where do we go when we get through?" "If I knew," said Bunny, "I would surely tell you." "But, lookit, man, I thought you went to college! I never got any education, I was a newsboy and all that. But I thought when a fellow's read a lotta books and goes to college—" "We haven't got to it yet," said Bunny. "Maybe it comes in the last two years." "Well, by God, if they tell you, you come tell me. And find out, old son, what the hell we going to do about sex? You can't live with 'em and you can't live without 'em, and what sort of a mess is it?" "It's very puzzling," admitted Bunny. "It's the devil!" said the other. "I'd pay anybody ten year's salary if they'd teach me to forget the whole damn business." "Yes," said Bunny; "but then, what would you direct?" And the super-director looked at him, bewildered, and suddenly burst out laughing. "By God, that's so! That's a good one! Ho, ho, ho!" And he went off, presumably to pass the good one on. His place was taken by Harvey Manning, who was no longer able to stand up, but sprawled over a chair, and in a voice of the deepest injury declared, "I wanna know whoze been tellin bout me!" "Telling what?" asked Bunny. "Thaz what I wanna know. What they been tellin?" "I don't know what you mean, Harvey." "Thass it! What don't you know? Why don't you tell me? Mean say I ain't askin straight? You think I'm drunk—that it? I say, I wanna know whoze been talkin bout me an what they been sayin. I gotta take care my reputation. I wanna know why you won't tell me. I'm gonna know if I have to keep askin all night." And accordingly he started again, "Please, ole feller, what they been tellin you?" But just then the Chinese spectre flitted past, and Harvey got up and made an effort to catch him, and failing, caught hold of a lamp-stand, slightly taller than himself. It was not built like the lamp-posts that he was used to clutching on street-corners; it started to fall, and Bunny leaped and caught it, and Harvey cried, in alarm, "Look out, you're upsettin it!" Then a funny thing happened. Bunny had noticed at the dinner-table a well-groomed man of the big Western type, polite and unobtrusive; the superintendent of the estate, and one of the few who kept sober. Now it appeared that among the duties of superintendent at a monastery was that of the old-fashioned "bouncer" of the Bowery saloon. He came up, and quietly slipped his arm about Harvey Manning; and the latter, evidently having been there before, set up an agonized wail, "I d'wanna go to bed! I woan go to bed! Dammit, Anderson, lemme lone! If I go to bed now I wake up in the mornin and I can't have a drink till evenin an I go crazy!" Against that horrible fate poor Harvey fought frantically; but apparently the material inside the shoulders of Mr. Anderson's dresscoat was not the ordinary tailor's padding, and the weeping victim was helpless as in the grip of a boa-constrictor. He went along, even while proclaiming loudly that he wouldn't. "I'll get up again, I tell you! I woan be treated like a baby! I woan come this damn place again! It's an outrage! I'm a grown man an I got a right get drunk if I wanna—" and so his weeping voice died into the elevator! "Mr. Ross," said Vee Tracy, "there are two cries that one hears at Hollywood parties. The first is, I don't want to go to bed; and the second is, I do."
X
When Bunny made his appearance on Sunday morning, he had the Monastery all to himself. He breakfasted, and read the papers, which had been delivered from the nearest railroad station; then he went for a stroll, and renewed his acquaintance with the "reds" in the eagle cage. He walked down towards the ocean, and discovered a combination of firebreak and bridle-path, leading over the hills along the coast. He followed this for a couple of miles, until it led down to a long stretch of beach. The owner of the Monastery had erected a barrier here, with signs warning the public to keep out; there was a gate with a spring lock, and on the inside a board with keys hanging on it, and instructions to take one with you, so that you could return. Bunny did this, and continued his walk down the beach.
Presently he came upon a Rhine castle, set upon one of these lonely hills; and in front of it, coming down to the water, a series of terraces and gardens. There were paths, and watercourses, "bridal-veil" falls, and fountains with stone-carved frogs and storks and turtles and tritons—all suffering from drought, for the water was shut off. You could guess that the owner was away, because the window-shades in the Rhine castle were drawn, and here and there throughout the gardens were great lumps of white sheeting, evidently wrapped about statues. Some of these were on pedestals, and some perched on the stone walls; and directly over the head of each hung an electric light. It was such a curious phenomenon that Bunny took the trouble to climb into the garden, and lift up the hem of one of these sheets, and was embarrassed to discover the entirely naked round limbs of a large marble lady—presumably a Lorelei, or other kind of German lady, because you could tell by the shape of the cloth, and by feeling through it, that she had a goblet uplifted in one hand, and behind her head a thick marble rope, made by her braided hair. With golden comb she combs it, you remember, and sings a song thereby, das hat eine wundersame gewaltige Melodei; and Bunny was the fisher-boy whom it seized with a wild woe. He peered under half a dozen of the sheets, and counted the rest, establishing the fact that the gardens contained no less than thirty-two large, fat marble ladies with braided hair hanging down their backs. An amazing spectacle it must have afforded, at night when all the lights were turned on—and no one to behold it but seals! Yes; Bunny looked out over the sea, and there was not a sail in sight, but close to the shore were clusters of rocks, and on these the seals sat waiting to see if he were going to unveil the statues, and bring back the merry days before Prohibition ruined America! He returned to the beach, and walked on. The sun was high now, and the water tempting; there were more rocks with seals on them, and green-white breakers splashing over them, not high enough to be dangerous, but just enough to be alluring. Bunny made sure he was alone, and then undressed and waded into the water. The attention of the seals became riveted upon him, and with each step that he took, one of them would give a hump, hump, and get nearer to the water's edge. Some of them were yellow, and some a dark brown, little ones and big ones, each of them enormously fat—having consumed his own weight in fish in the course of a day. As Bunny swam near, they slid silently off the rocks, politely yielding place to him; when he clambered onto the rocks, they would bob up and form a circle a few yards away, yellow heads and brown heads sticking out of the water, whiskers bristling and mild eyes staring. They were strangely human, a circle of foreign children, watching some visitor who does not know their language and may or may not be dangerous. California water is always cold, but California sunshine is always warm; so Bunny would swim for a while, and then approach a cluster of rocks, and watch the silent company hump themselves into the water. Whatever he wanted, they would yield to him, the superior being, and content themselves with the places he had left. The green-white seas splashed over him, and underneath their surface was a garden of strange plants, with anemones and abalones clinging, too tightly to be pried off by fingers. White clouds drifted by, making swift shadows over the water, and far out at sea a streak of smoke showed where a steamer was passing. The world was so beautiful, and at the same time strange, and interesting to be alive in! What must it be like to be a seal? What did they think concerning this arrogant being who commandeered their resting places? Did they see the Rhine castle on the shore, or did they see only fish to eat, and how did they understand so clearly that they must not eat a man? Embarrassing if one of them should be a "red," and rebel against the genial customs of the phocidae! Thus Bunny—just the same at the age of twenty-one as when first we met him, driving over the Guadalupe grade and speculating about the feelings of ground-squirrels and butcher-birds. He had completed in the meantime a full course at the Beach City High School, and half a course at Southern Pacific University, but neither institution had told him what he wanted to know!