Ernest Hemingway

ACROSS THE RIVER AND INTO THE TREES
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CHAPTER XX

THE Colonel stopped at the reception desk in the lobby, but the concierge was not there yet. There was only the night porter.

“Can you put something in the safe for me?”

“No, my Colonel. No one may open the safe until the assistant manager or the concierge arrives. But I will guard anything for you that you wish.”

“Thank you. It’s not worth the trouble,” and he but­toned the Gritti envelope, with the stones inside, the en­velope addressed to himself, into the inside left pocket of his tunic.

“There’s no real crime here now,” the night porter said.

It had been a long night and he was happy to speak to someone. “There never really was, my Colonel. There are only differences of opinion and politics.”

“What do you have for politics?” the Colonel asked; for he was lonely too.

“About what you would expect.”

“I see. And how is your thing going?”

“I think it goes quite well. Maybe not as well as last year. But still quite well. We were beaten and we have to wait a while now.”

“Do you work at it?”

“Not much. It is more the politics of my heart than of . my head. I believe in it with my head too, but I have very little political development.”

“When you get it you won’t have any heart.”

“Maybe not. Do you have politics in the army?”

“Plenty,” the Colonel said. “But not what you mean.”

“Well, we better not discuss it then. I have not meant to be intrusive.”

“I asked the question; the original question rather. It was only to talk. It was not an interrogation.”

“I don’t think it was. You do not have the face of an inquisitor, my Colonel, and I know about the Order, although I am not a member.”

“You may be member material. I’ll take it up with the Gran Maestro.”

“We come from the same town; but from distinct quarters.”

“It’s a good town.”

“My Colonel, I have so little political development that I believe all honorable men are honorable.”

“Oh (...)

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