II

The Respectable Gentleman

THE SECOND MAN TO COME IN WAS clean and well-dressed and seemed more at home in the mansion than the first one. He greeted the owner warmly, and said, "I noticed that you had rooms to let. I happen to have had to change my residence suddenly, and I was wondering if you had anything available."

"Oh, yes," replied the owner, "there are still quite a number of places. I think we might be able to find something suitable for you, if you decide to stay."

The well-dressed man looked back over his shoulder. "I notice that the one before me left."

"Yes."

"You must get many applications from his sort."

"As a matter of fact," answered the owner, "we do get rather a large number."

"It's your sign, you know," said the man. "It just encourages them to try. You'd think they'd know; but then, that's the way they are. If you put the price on the sign, it would help."

"But I did. Quite clearly."

"Oh, you mean that bit of philosophy on the bottom? But no one pays any attention to that."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that," answered the owner. "Many who stay do--in fact, all who stay seem to. And even those who don't, or who have never seen the sign, appear to understand it when it's explained to them as they come in."

"That may be," returned the clean man, "but your advertising leaves something to be desired, at the very least. It's too complicated just for a sign, if you really mean what it says there, because so few people read the fine print."

"You're right," said the owner. "Most have to have things clarified when they arrive; almost everyone is muddled up in one way or another. We've tried to be as clear as we could, but somehow we seem to keep being misunderstood."

"Perhaps when I get settled in, you might consider taking me as a consultant. I could word things so that you wouldn't have the annoyance of trying to get rid of all the unsuitable people who try to find rooms. The house, by the way, is really magnificent."

"Thank you."

"Though, from what I'd heard, not less than I expected, you understand."

"I understand perfectly. But actually, it's no annoyance having people apply. Anyone's welcome to come in and talk about it; and we let them decide for themselves if they'd be comfortable here. It usually only takes a few minutes for them to make up their minds."

"That's what I mean. Aren't there a lot of people who are deluded? I mean, there must be people who get so dazzled by this entryway that they stay on even though in the long run they couldn't possibly fit in."

"Actually, we've never had anyone leave, once he's finally settled in his room. Everyone seems quite comfortable, and manages somehow to get along rather well with everyone else."

"That's amazing!" said the well-dressed man. "And I thought this was an exclusive club."

"Oh, it is," replied the owner. "Very exclusive. But we find that it tends to be self-selecting."

"Ah! I see. You have your ways, you mean. I won't pursue the subject by asking embarrassing questions."

"Oh, don't misunderstand. There's nothing devious about it. We just show people the conditions here, and they decide whether they find them congenial; and it seems to happen that if they accept them, they manage to get along with the other inhabitants."

"Really?" said the man skeptically. "Well, we'll see. Your entrance hall leaves nothing to be desired, at least. Could you show me my room, and then we can discuss the price."

"Very well," said the owner. "This way please." And he led him up the stairs and along a corridor to the right. "I wouldn't want to deceive you," he added. "It is possible that you might not find it satisfactory; but it's all we have available for you at the moment."

"I think I can be the best judge of that," replied the neat man. The owner opened a door in the middle of the corridor, and showed him in.

"I see what you mean," said the man. "It's much too cramped. The furniture is all out of proportion."

"I was afraid you might feel that way," the owner responded. "But, you see, it was made to your specifications, and we didn't feel we could change it."

"My specifications!" cried the well-dressed man. "I never saw this place before! My ideas are much more expansive than that--you should know that. You were supposed to know everything."

"Actually, that is what accounts for the furniture. We anticipated that there might be a difficulty when you saw the two together; but again, we didn't feel we ought to change your order."

"But I'd never order something like this!" he said as he ran his hand along the back of the huge sofa that took up the whole right wall. "It's much too cheap and gaudy."

"On the contrary, it's extremely expensive."

"I wasn't talking about money; money means nothing to me. I was referring to taste."

"I know," said the owner. "One man's riches is another man's poverty. But come now: don't you find the pieces rather familiar? Really?"

The man was about to sputter in indignation at his host, who happened to walk in front of an ornate curio cabinet, filled with mementoes from resorts all over the world; the kind sold in bazaars everywhere. On seeing it, the man stopped with his mouth open, and then said, "You mean you think that I--? Well, obviously there's a misunderstanding here. I think you'd better show me a different room."

"Well, we can't do that, really."

"Oh, come now! I could make it worth your while."

"No, no; that's not the problem. We can show you other rooms, if you like. But no one has ever found any other room to be more satisfactory than the one he ordered himself."

"Well, this one is not the one I ordered, whatever you might think. Let me see a few."

"Very well," said the owner, and took him down the corridor and opened another door. "This one does not have an occupant at the moment."

"Where's the furniture? There's just this deck chair."

"Unfortunately, this is all that comes with this room."

"You're joking! Show me something else." Another door was opened. "Well, the room's all right, but that view is simply terrible. I could never live here."

"I'm sorry to say that all the other ones I can show you have the same restricted view."

"Very well, let's go back to the first one." They proceeded back down the corridor and entered the original room. "I suppose I can put up with this temporarily until we have a talk and get all this straightened out. But there's one thing I absolutely must know first: Who will be my neighbors?"

"Well, as to that, you see," said the owner, "we build, as we said, each of these rooms to the inhabitant's specifications. But that means that we have to fit the rooms into the building in such a way that the dimensions are compatible. You understand, don't you? Everything in a room is personal, but what rooms are next to yours is not at a person's disposal."

"You're beating around the bush. Who are these people?"

"Well on your left--they're very nice people on both sides, actually, as you'll find once you come to know them--but on the left you have a family of a retired coal miner, and on the right there's a single man who couldn't find any work except as a garbage collector after he was let out of prison. But he's very learned, as it happens, even though he's almost entirely self-educated. Quite a philosopher, in fact."

"No doubt. I'm sure they're both very nice people in their own way. But you know me. I've always been extremely selective in the company I keep. Again, I thought I had sent up my request for habitation with the specification that I be in the vicinity of my friends."

"Yes, well," answered the owner, "the problem with that was that there are none of them living here."

"What! I happen to know that quite a few of them left for this country long ago!"

"That's true, of course; but it seems we weren't really able to satisfy them. They all appeared to have, if you'll forgive me, contradictory specifications--and we can't make a room be two opposite things at once, I'm sorry to say. That's why this room is so narrow and cramped; it was the only way we could get your specifications to come out into something possible."

"But this is just too much!" said the well-dressed man. "The room is bad enough in itself, but if I can't even live near someone I can talk to intelligently, I don't see how I could take up permanent residence here. No one with the least shred of self-respect would live under conditions like this."

"Well, you see, that's the point, in a sense. You asked about the price of the room."

"What's the price got to do with it?"

"The price of a room is every last shred of self-respect. The room, in the last analysys, is a gift, not what you deserve. There is no favoritism here."

There was a pause. Finally, the man said, "I see. Well, I'll have to find another hotel, I suppose. Could you be so good as to tell me where my friends have gone?"

"I don't really know. We lose track of people when they leave here--though they're welcome back, of course, if they change their minds." He shook his head a bit sadly and added, "No one ever has."

"Well, that doesn't really matter, as long as I can find a place to stay. I'll find them with time. Where is there another hotel in this country?"

"As far as I know, there is only this one; and I believe I would have heard. Perhaps there is something; but you can't see anything from here; it's too dark out there."

"Are you telling me that there is no place at all in this country except this one mansion? And that there is no room for me in this mansion except this one room?"

"I'm afraid that's the way it is. We can make changes in the rooms right until the time someone arrives on our shores; but once that is done, the masons and carpenters leave and won't put up with any more remodeling. It looks very much as if you won't actually find a place to stay if you don't stay here."

"Well, that remains to be seen," said the man. My friends must have gone somewhere; they'd never be contented with just wandering around forever."

"No," said the owner to his back as he stalked toward entrance, "I wouldn't say they're contented. But one of them walked by last week, and when I invited him in, he gave me the impression that he was less discontented with his condition outside than he would have been if he'd stayed here. Don't forget, though, if you should ever want to return, the room is waiting for you."

"That room!" exclaimed the man over his shoulder. "Don't keep yourself up late waiting; my mind is definitely made up."

"Well, it's your choice," said the owner.