The idea of Bartleby living in my law office had a strange effect on me. I slunk away much like a dog does when it has been shouted at…with its tail between its legs.
Was anything wrong? I did not for a moment believe Bartleby would keep a woman in my office. But for some time he must have eaten, dressed and slept there. How lonely and friendless Bartleby must be.
I decided to help him. The next morning I called him to my office.
“Bartleby, will you tell me anything about yourself?”
“I do not want to.”
I sat down with him and said, “You do not have to tell me about your personal history, but when you finish writing that document…
“I have decided not to write anymore,” he said. And left my office.
What was I to do? Bartleby would not work at all. Then why should he stay on his job? I decided to tell him to go. I gave him six days to leave the office and told him I would give him some extra money. If he would not work, he must leave.
On the sixth day, somewhat hopefully, I looked into the office Bartleby used. He was still there.
The next morning, I went to the office early. All was still. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Bartleby’s voice came from inside. I stood as if hit by lightening. I walked the streets thinking. “Well, Bartleby, if you will not leave me, I shall leave you.”
I paid some men to move all the office furniture to another place. Bartleby just stood there as the men took his chair away.
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2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25