The Fires of Spring by James A. Michener

Author:James A. Michener [Michener, James A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8041-5138-2
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

When the list of visiting examiners was posted David received a jolt. In American legal development, Thurman Arnold. In English history, Mr. David Dalling, of Oxford. David looked at the list and whistled. “I’m to be examined by such men!” He became panicky and hurried off to study in all directions. “Boy!” he grunted when his long absence from books started to tell. “I waited too long!”

But Joe Vaux helped him to get organized. Joe reviewed the books that Dalling had written and pronounced the man to be archconservative, anti-Macaulay, pro-Walpole, anti-Earl Grey, and pro-Sir Thomas More. Following this analysis he tracked down a dozen books and joined with David in a systematic summary of the great writers: Ostrogorski, Dicey and the rest. But at night Joe snarled at the men on his hall: “It’s a damned disgrace to bring a man like Dalling to America. Reactionary, Troy, anti-labor. And an Englishman! Well, here’s one Boston Irishman that don’t give a damn if he graduates or not. Wait till you see what I do to Mr. David Dalling!”

The written exams came first, ten days of them with three-hour papers each morning and afternoon. On the first day David felt chilly and truly afraid, but then he saw Mr. Dalling’s exam. It was one question: “What events in British constitutional history might be studied in an effort to understand Andrew Jackson and Abraham Lincoln in their defense of union?” David grinned at the question and a sweet sense of power came upon him. “I could write for days on that one!” he muttered.

He did well for eight days, and when students compared notes, word flashed across the campus: “Dave is knocking them dead.” He was not sure, but he did know that few questions were asked which he and Joe had not studied. At the beginning of each exam they nodded gravely to each other; and then on the eighth afternoon David was handed a telegram as he left the examination room: “Must see you tonight. Dinner. The Bellevue. Mona.”

“No!” he cried, immersed in the problems of the next exam. Then, as he stood with the crumpled paper in his hand, he sensed the terrible right of intrusion that people retain if they have slept with each other. “Mona!” he mumbled to himself. “I’d like to see you tonight, but I just can’t leave!”

He destroyed the telegram and said nothing to Joe, but Mona forced her way into his book and he rubbed his eyes. “No!” he cried again. “Damn it all, no!”

Outside his window there was a honking and students began to shout, “Harper! Harper! It’s the longest car east of Hollywood!” He went to the window and recognized Max Volo’s special limousine. Two plug-uglies were in front. “Hiya, kid,” they called. “Max is giving a farewell for the blonde. You’re to come along.” For a moment David was determined to slam the window and get back to work. Then he thought of Mona and her last night in Philly.

“Vaux!” he shouted.

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