There was no way now to get back to the moment when it seemed as if they might crash through to each other. For the little smile had come back to Ivan’s lips and he was icily polite.

“I realize, Edward, that these emotional appeals—what is supposed to happen to a Jew at the mention of the word concentration camp—are usually effective.”

“For God’s sake, Ivan, don’t be a fool. Of course that’s not what I meant!” Now Edward was touched at the quick, and Goldberg had won. They stood with the room between them, and for the first time there was silence. Out of it Goldberg heard his own voice, charged with emotion, so that it surprised him as much as it did Edward.

“Edward, come back,” he heard himself saying.

“From where, Ivan?” and it was Edward’s turn to smile.

“This morbid sense of responsibility. You’re killing yourself, you’re using up your marrow, wasting very great powers. It’s tragic.” But Ivan could not keep the warmth now out of his voice. What was meant to be severe sounded like admiration.

“Aren’t you exaggerating now? It is hardly morbid; it is hardly using up one’s marrow to make a simple request of a colleague.” It was Edward’s turn to score.

“You looked exhausted when you came in here.”

“So people say. As a matter of fact I came from a rather good seminar, a paper on Willa Cather. I was quite eloquent.” Edward rocked on his heels, his hands still in his pockets.

“Oh hell,” Goldberg said suddenly, “What’s the matter with us anyway? When am I going to see some of the Stevens book?” Goldberg and Cavan had been used to showing each other work in progress, counting on severe unrelenting criticism and enjoying it. This was their real relationship, and Goldberg was making an open gesture toward it in asking the question.

Edward’s face clouded. “I’m afraid never,” he said quietly.

“You’re closing the door between us because I won’t sign your manifesto? I can’t believe it.”

“It’s too expensive to keep the door open, Ivan. Can’t you see?”

“There’s no way to bridge the gap?”

“Apparently not.”

“I can’t believe it,” Ivan said half to himself, but at that second Edward opened and closed the door and was gone. Ivan could hear his voice in the hall apologizing to Perkins for the long wait. The damn fool shouldn’t talk like that to a student, Ivan groaned. It’s not dignified.

“Come in, Perkins,” he said in answer to the knock. “I expect students to be on time. You were more than a minute late.”

VII

VII