A Cold Greeting

by Ambrose Bierce

　　

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This is a story told by the late Benson Foley of San Francisco:"In the summer of 1881 I met a man named James H. Conway, a residentof Franklin, Tennessee. He was visiting San Francisco for hishealth, deluded man, and brought me a note of introduction from Mr.Lawrence Barting. I had known Barting as a captain in the Federalarmy during the civil war. At its close he had settled in Franklin,and in time became, I had reason to think, somewhat prominent as alawyer. Barting had always seemed to me an honorable and truthfulman, and the warm friendship which he expressed in his note for Mr.Conway was to me sufficient evidence that the latter was in everyway worthy of my confidence and esteem. At dinner one day Conwaytold me that it had been solemnly agreed between him and Bartingthat the one who died first should, if possible, communicate withthe other from beyond the grave, in some unmistakable way--just how,they had left (wisely, it seemed to me) to be decided by thedeceased, according to the opportunities that his alteredcircumstances might present."A few weeks after the conversation in which Mr. Conway spoke ofthis agreement, I met him one day, walking slowly down Montgomerystreet, apparently, from his abstracted air, in deep thought. Hegreeted me coldly with merely a movement of the head and passed on,leaving me standing on the walk, with half-proffered hand, surprisedand naturally somewhat piqued. The next day I met him again in theoffice of the Palace Hotel, and seeing him about to repeat thedisagreeable performance of the day before, intercepted him in adoorway, with a friendly salutation, and bluntly requested anexplanation of his altered manner. He hesitated a moment; then,looking me frankly in the eyes, said:"'I do not think, Mr. Foley, that I have any longer a claim to yourfriendship, since Mr. Barting appears to have withdrawn his own fromme--for what reason, I protest I do not know. If he has not alreadyinformed you he probably will do so.'"'But,' I replied, 'I have not heard from Mr. Barting.'"'Heard from him!' he repeated, with apparent surprise. 'Why, he ishere. I met him yesterday ten minutes before meeting you. I gaveyou exactly the same greeting that he gave me. I met him again nota quarter of an hour ago, and his manner was precisely the same: hemerely bowed and passed on. I shall not soon forget your civilityto me. Good morning, or--as it may please you--farewell.'"All this seemed to me singularly considerate and delicate behavioron the part of Mr. Conway."As dramatic situations and literary effects are foreign to mypurpose I will explain at once that Mr. Barting was dead. He haddied in Nashville four days before this conversation. Calling onMr. Conway, I apprised him of our friend's death, showing him theletters announcing it. He was visibly affected in a way thatforbade me to entertain a doubt of his sincerity."'It seems incredible,' he said, after a period of reflection. 'Isuppose I must have mistaken another man for Barting, and that man'scold greeting was merely a stranger's civil acknowledgment of myown. I remember, indeed, that he lacked Barting's mustache.'"'Doubtless it was another man,' I assented; and the subject wasnever afterward mentioned between us. But I had in my pocket aphotograph of Barting, which had been inclosed in the letter fromhis widow. It had been taken a week before his death, and waswithout a mustache."

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