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EZRA POUND 309
In retrospect, it seems that tape recordings of such conversations
would have found a ready market, but Pound's circle was never
much concerned with markets. Over each of those afternoons,
sometimes light-hearted, sometimes depressing, hung the everpresent
cloud of his situation, and the awful thought that he might
never be released from his sordid dungeon.
At the end of each afternoon, we helped Ezra carry his things
to the ward. The grim door would swing shut behind him, and
Dorothy Pound and I would wait on the lawn until he appeared at
the tiny window of his cell. "Ciao!" she would bravely cry out,
and he would wave in response. Then we would turn away, leaving
him to another night in that hellish place. It was a difficult and a
shameful thing to do, and it is no wonder that some of his visitors
became revolutionaries.