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A Farewell to Arms

Ernest Hemingway

Chapters XXXVIII–XLI

Quotes Chapters XXXVIII–XLI
When the sun was bright we ate lunch on the porch but the rest of the time we ate upstairs in a small room with plain wooden walls and a big stove in the corner. We bought books and magazines in the town and a copy of “Hoyle” and learned many two-handed card games. The small room with the stove was our living room. . . . Mr. and Mrs. Guttingen lived downstairs. . . . Downstairs there was a parlor where they sold wine and beer[.]
“I suppose if we really have this child we ought to get married,” Catherine said. We were at the beer place at the corner table. It was getting dark outside. . . . “It’s too embarrassing now. I show too plainly. I won’t go before anyone and get married in this state. . . . I know one thing. I’m not going to be married in this splendid matronly state. . . . Oh yes, I am, darling. The hairdresser asked me if this was our first. . . . Any time after I’m thin again. We want to have a splendid wedding with every one thinking what a handsome young couple.”
“Give it to me. Give it to me.” She clutched hold of the mask and breathed short and deep, pantingly, making the respirator click. Then she gave a long sigh and the doctor reached with his left hand and lifted away the mask. “That was a very big one,” Catherine said. Her voice was very strange. “I’m not going to die now, darling. I’m past where I was going to die. Aren’t you glad?”
The doctor came into the room. . . . “It doesn’t go. . . . I made an examination—” He detailed the result of the examination. “Since then I’ve waited to see. But it doesn’t go. . . . There are two things. Either a high forceps delivery which can tear and be quite dangerous besides possibly being bad for the child, and a Cæsarean. . . . It should be no greater than the danger of an ordinary delivery. . . . I would advise a Cæsarean operation. If it were my wife I would do a Cæsarean.”
I’m not brave any more, darling. I’m all broken. They’ve broken me. I know it now. . . . But it’s awful. They just keep it up till they break you. . . . Darling, I won’t die, will I? . . . Because I don’t want to die and leave you, but I get so tired of it and feel I’m going to die. . . . Sometimes I know I’m going to die. . . . I won’t die. I won’t let myself die.