Read Online The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway - Free Book Online Page A

say.”

    â€œYou’re right,” Brett said. “You’re terribly right. I always joke people and I haven’t a friend in the world. Except Jake here.”

    â€œYou don’t joke him.”

    â€œThat’s it.”

    â€œDo you, now?” asked the count. “Do you joke him?”

    Brett looked at me and wrinkled up the corners of her eyes.

    â€œNo,” she said. “I wouldn’t joke him.”

    â€œSee,” said the count. “You don’t joke him.”

    â€œThis is a hell of a dull talk,” Brett said. “How about some of that champagne?”

    The count reached down and twirled the bottles in the shiny bucket. “It isn’t cold, yet. You’re always drinking, my dear. Why don’t you just talk?”

    â€œI’ve talked too ruddy much. I’ve talked myself all out to Jake.”

    â€œI should like to hear you really talk, my dear. When you talk to me you never finish your sentences at all.”

    â€œLeave ’em for you to finish. Let anyone finish them as they like.”

    â€œIt is a very interesting system,” the count reached down and gave the bottles a twirl. “Still I would like to hear you talk some time.”

    â€œIsn’t he a fool?” Brett asked.

    â€œNow,” the count brought up a bottle. “I think this is cool.”

    I brought a towel and he wiped the bottle dry and held it up. “I like to drink champagne from magnums. The wine is better but it would have been too hard to cool.” He held the bottle, looking at it. I put out the glasses.

    â€œI say. You might open it,” Brett suggested. ‘‘Yes, my dear. Now I’ll open it.”

    It was amazing champagne.

    â€œI say that is wine,” Brett held up her glass. “We ought to toast something. ‘Here’s to royalty.’’’

    â€œThis wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. You don’t want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. You lose the taste.”

    Brett’s glass was empty.

    â€œYou ought to write a book on wines, count,” I said.

    â€œMr. Barnes,” answered the count, “all I want out of wines is to enjoy them.”

    â€œLet’s enjoy a little more of this,” Brett pushed her glass forward. The count poured very carefully. “There, my dear. Now you enjoy that slowly, and then you can get drunk.”

    â€œDrunk? Drunk?”

    â€œMy dear, you are charming when you are drunk.”

    â€œListen to the man.”

    â€œMr. Barnes,” the count poured my glass full. “She is the only lady I have ever known who was as charming when she was drunk as when she was sober.”

    â€œYou haven’t been around much, have you?”

    â€œYes, my dear. I have been around very much. I have been around a very great deal.”

    â€œDrink your wine,” said Brett. “We’ve all been around. I dare say Jake here has seen as much as you have.”

    â€œMy dear, I am sure Mr. Barnes has seen a lot. Don’t think I don’t think so, sir. I have seen a lot, too.”

    â€œOf course you have, my dear,” Brett said. “I was only ragging.”

    â€œI have been in seven wars and four revolutions,” the count said.

    â€œSoldiering?” Brett asked.

    â€œSometimes, my dear. And I have got arrow wounds. Have you ever seen arrow wounds?”

    â€œLet’s have a look at them.”

    The count stood up, unbuttoned his vest, and opened his shirt. He pulled up the undershirt onto his chest and stood, his chest black, and big stomach muscles bulging under the light.

    â€œYou see them?”

    Below the line where his ribs stopped were two raised white welts. “See on the back where they come out.” Above the small of the back were the same two scars, raised as thick as a finger.

    â€œI say. Those are something.”

    â€œClean through.”

    The count