The Last Gentleman

sentimentally). “What do you say,” whispered the youth fiercely. “Are you ready to go?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œO.K. What do you think of this? We’ll drive to the coast and—”
    But before Jamie could tell him, the engineer caught sight of Mrs. Vaught beckoning to him from the dark doorway of the dining room. The engineer excused himself.
    Mrs. Vaught had a book for him. “I saw what you were reading this afternoon in the garden!” She waggled her finger at him.
    â€œMa’am. Oh.” He remembered the R. E. Lee and saw at once that the sight of it had set Mrs. Vaught off on some gambit or other.
    â€œHere’s a book on the same subject that I’m sure you’ll find fascinating,” she said, laughing and making rueful fun of herself, which was a sure sign she was proselytizing.
    â€œYes ma’am. Thank you very much. Is it about the Civil War?”
    â€œIt’s the real story behind the so-called official version of General Kirby Smith’s surrender at Shreveport. It’s the story behind the story. We all think that General Kirby Smith wanted to surrender.”
    â€œYes ma’am. That is true.”
    â€œNo, it isn’t. He was holding out until he could make a deal with the Rothschilds and the international bankers in Mexico to turn over Texas and Louisiana to Maximilian’s Jewish republic.”
    â€œMa’am?” He wrung out his good ear.
    â€œHere’s proof,” she said, taking back the book and thumbing through it, still laughing ruefully at herself. She read: “At a meeting of the Rothschilds in London in 1857, Disraeli jumped to his feet and announced: ‘We’ll divide the United States into two parts, one for you, James Rothschild, and the other for you, Lionel Rothschild. Napoleon III will do what I tell him to do.’”
    The engineer rubbed his forehead and tried to concentrate. “But don’t I recall that Kirby Smith did in fact surrender at Shreveport?”
    â€œHe didn’t want to! His men surrendered, fortunately for us.”
    She got off on the Bavarian Illuminati and he leaned down to her so he needn’t look at her, looking instead at his shoes, lined up carefully with the sill of the dining-room door.
    â€œExcuse me, Mother,” said Jamie, plucking at the engineer’s sleeve. Evidently he was so used to his mother’s opinions that he paid no attention.
    â€œYou read this!” Again she thrust the book on him, shaking her head at her own zeal.
    â€œYes ma’am.”
    â€œBill,” said Jamie.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œLet’s go.”
    â€œAll right. Where do you want to go?”
    â€œLet’s take the camper down to the Gulf Coast and live on the beach. Just for the weekend.”
    â€œYou don’t want to see the Tennessee game?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou mean leave after classes tomorrow?”
    â€œNo, I meant—well, all right.”
    â€œO.K.”
    They were headed back to the hearts game but Lamar Thigpen caught them. “Did you ever hear about this alligator who went into a restaurant?” He took them by the neck and drew them close as lovers.
    â€œNo, I didn’t,” said the courteous engineer, though he had. Jokes always made him nervous. He had to attend to the perilous needs of the joke-teller. Jamie dispensed himself and paid no attention: I’m sick and I don’t have to oblige anybody.
    â€œThe waitress came over and brought him a menu. So this alligator says to her: do yall serve niggers in here? She says yes, we do. So he says, O.K. I’ll take two.”
    â€œWhat about leaving tonight, Bill?” said Jamie.
    â€œThat’s all right, Mr. Thigpen,” said the engineer while the other held him close as a lover and gazed hungrily at his cheek. Rita had been watching Jamie and she knew something was wrong. The engineer, diverted by Lamar’s terrible needs, only realized it when he heard Rita’s hearty no-nonsense tone.
    â€œCome on over here, Tiger.” She took the youth’s arm. Jamie flung her off angrily. He looked dog-faced. He plucked his thumb and pretended to muse.
    â€œHold it, Tiger,” said Rita, now managing to draw him down in David’s chair but not looking at him because he was close to tears.
    Jamie looked sternly about but his eyes shone and there was heat and vulnerability in the hollow of his neck. The engineer wished