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prompting an immediate visit on Cassirer’s part to Andrew’s office. He was driven back to the doorway by the presence of Foster.
    â€œCan we talk?”
    â€œYou seem to be.”
    â€œI mean in private.” Cassirer put his handkerchief to face and glanced at Foster.
    They went to the cafeteria, where over coffee Cassirer said hoarsely, “My fate is in your hands.”
    â€œIn what way?”
    â€œMy promotion to tenure.”
    â€œYou have years before a decision need be made.”
    â€œCome on. You know I have applied for early consideration. God knows I deserve it.” There was a yellow fleck in Cassirer’s right eye. He wore a bristly beard, the better to look older; and had a heavy gold chain around his neck.
    â€œIs that a St. Christopher medal?”
    â€œHa. It’s my sign. I am a Pisces.”
    â€œYou realize I can’t talk about the proceedings of the committee.”
    Cassirer glared at him. “Is that your position?”
    â€œNo, it is departmental policy.”
    â€œIf you had any concern for the department, you would vote for me.”

    â€œI hope concern for the department will motivate us all,” Andrew said, feeling prissy. He found himself enjoying this.
    â€œI have just had another article accepted by Theseus . I will be on the program of the MLA. I have made St. Edmund’s known to people who never heard of it.”
    â€œIt is a small pond for a Pisces.”
    â€œIn this job market one has to take what’s available. Of course I don’t plan to end my career here.”
    Was this meant to soften Andrew up, tenure merely as springboard to another job elsewhere? “You say you’ve applied for early consideration.”
    â€œCome on. You know I have. It has already been discussed. I know your vote can make the difference.”
    â€œSurely Anne didn’t tell you that.”
    â€œLook, the committee represents the past. When did you get tenure, by the way?”
    â€œAfter the usual number of years.”
    â€œAnd you don’t even have a doctorate. That’s my point. What has Gogarty published? What has Pistoia done to deserve tenure?”
    â€œAbout as much as Zalinski.”
    â€œExactly. All this talk about excellence, yet mediocrity is entrenched. My application should be a foregone conclusion.”
    Cassirer had an odd way of soliciting support, belittling those whose votes he needed. Andrew was thinking of Mabel Gorman’s remark that Cassirer had ridiculed him in class.
    â€œTell me about your new article in Theseus . ”
    Cassirer confided that he had exposed Saussure to withering criticism and offered an alternative to Derrida. One had to realize that a literary text was not about anything, not about the writer’s ideas, not about the world. It was a thing in itself, without analogues, and must be spoken of only in terms of itself. He had hunched across the table, causing a faint olfactory memory of
Foster, and the yellow fleck in his eye seemed to pulse like a harbor light.
    â€œIt’s hard to explain in a few words.”
    â€œI think I get the idea.”
    â€œIt’s not an idea! That’s the point. Criticism too is without analogues.”
    â€œInteresting.”
    â€œYou’re being condescending.”
    No wonder students hated the man. That was the objective basis for opposing his application for tenure. St. Edmund’s was not a research university—its main task was teaching—and Cassirer’s contempt for their students made Zalinski seem Mr. Chips.
    â€œCan I count on you?”
    â€œYou can count on us all.”
    Cassirer sat back. “I understand. I threaten you, don’t I?”
    â€œHorst, I teach creative writing. I have published a few stories. My time is largely taken up with my students, some of whom are very promising.”
    He thought of boney little Mabel. “I am beginning to hate him,” she had said