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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75170-0.txt b/75170-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb70fdb --- /dev/null +++ b/75170-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11840 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75170 *** + + + + + + + =_William Faulkner_= + + + =THE SOUND= + =AND= + =THE FURY= + + + + [Illustration] + + RANDOM HOUSE _New York_ + + + + + _Copyright, 1929, by William Faulkner_ + + _Copyright renewed, 1956, by William Faulkner_ + + All rights reserved under International and Pan-American + Copyright Conventions. Published in New York by + Random House, Inc., and distributed in Canada by + Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. + + MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + + THE SOUND AND THE FURY + + + + + APRIL SEVENTH, 1928 + + +Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them +hitting. They were coming toward where the flag was and I went along the +fence. Luster was hunting in the grass by the flower tree. They took the +flag out, and they were hitting. Then they put the flag back and they +went to the table, and he hit and the other hit. Then they went on, and +I went along the fence. Luster came away from the flower tree and we +went along the fence and they stopped and we stopped and I looked +through the fence while Luster was hunting in the grass. + +“Here, caddie.” He hit. They went away across the pasture. I held to the +fence and watched them going away. + +“Listen at you, now.” Luster said. “Aint you something, thirty-three +years old, going on that way. After I done went all the way to town to +buy you that cake. Hush up that moaning. Aint you going to help me find +that quarter so I can go to the show tonight.” + +They were hitting little, across the pasture. I went back along the +fence to where the flag was. It flapped on the bright grass and the +trees. + +“Come on.” Luster said. “We done looked there. They aint no more coming +right now. Lets go down to the branch and find that quarter before them +niggers finds it.” + +It was red, flapping on the pasture. Then there was a bird slanting and +tilting on it. Luster threw. The flag flapped on the bright grass and +the trees. I held to the fence. + +“Shut up that moaning,” Luster said. “I cant make them come if they aint +coming, can I. If you dont hush up, mammy aint going to have no birthday +for you. If you dont hush, you know what I going to do. I going to eat +that cake all up. Eat them candles, too. Eat all them thirty-three +candles. Come on, let’s go down to the branch. I got to find my quarter. +Maybe we can find one of they balls. Here. Here they is. Way over +yonder. See.” He came to the fence and pointed his arm. “See them. They +aint coming back here no more. Come on.” + +We went along the fence and came to the garden fence, where our shadows +were. My shadow was higher than Luster’s on the fence. We came to the +broken place and went through it. + +“Wait a minute.” Luster said. “You snagged on that nail again. Cant you +never crawl through here without snagging on that nail.” + +_Caddy uncaught me and we crawled through. Uncle Maury said to not let +anybody see us, so we better stoop over, Caddy said. Stoop over, Benjy. +Like this, see. We stooped over and crossed the garden, where the +flowers rasped and rattled against us. The ground was hard. We climbed +the fence, where the pigs were grunting and snuffing. I expect they’re +sorry because one of them got killed today, Caddy said. The ground was +hard, churned and knotted._ + +_Keep your hands in your pockets, Caddy said. Or they’ll get froze. You +don’t want your hands froze on Christmas, do you._ + +“It’s too cold out there.” Versh said. “You dont want to go out doors.” + +“What is it now.” Mother said. + +“He want to go out doors.” Versh said. + +“Let him go.” Uncle Maury said. + +“It’s too cold.” Mother said. “He’d better stay in. Benjamin. Stop that, +now.” + +“It wont hurt him.” Uncle Maury said. + +“You, Benjamin.” Mother said. “If you dont be good, you’ll have to go to +the kitchen.” + +“Mammy say keep him out the kitchen today.” Versh said. “She say she got +all that cooking to get done.” + +“Let him go, Caroline.” Uncle Maury said. “You’ll worry yourself sick +over him.” + +“I know it.” Mother said. “It’s a judgment on me. I sometimes wonder” + +“I know, I know.” Uncle Maury said. “You must keep your strength up. +I’ll make you a toddy.” + +“It just upsets me that much more.” Mother said. “Dont you know it +does.” + +“You’ll feel better.” Uncle Maury said. “Wrap him up good, boy, and take +him out for a while.” + +Uncle Maury went away. Versh went away. + +“Please hush.” Mother said. “We’re trying to get you out as fast as we +can. I dont want you to get sick.” + +Versh put my overshoes and overcoat on and we took my cap and went out. +Uncle Maury was putting the bottle away in the sideboard in the +dining-room. + +“Keep him out about half an hour, boy.” Uncle Maury said. “Keep him in +the yard, now.” + +“Yes, sir.” Versh said. “We dont never let him get off the place.” + +We went out doors. The sun was cold and bright. + +“Where you heading for.” Versh said. “You dont think you going to town, +does you.” We went through the rattling leaves. The gate was cold. “You +better keep them hands in your pockets.” Versh said, “You get them froze +onto that gate, then what you do. Whyn’t you wait for them in the +house.” He put my hands into my pockets. I could hear him rattling in +the leaves. I could smell the cold. The gate was cold. + +“Here some hickeynuts. Whooey. Git up that tree. Look here at this +squirl, Benjy.” + +I couldn’t feel the gate at all, but I could smell the bright cold. + +“You better put them hands back in your pockets.” + +Caddy was walking. Then she was running, her book-satchel swinging and +jouncing behind her. + +“Hello, Benjy.” Caddy said. She opened the gate and came in and stooped +down. Caddy smelled like leaves. “Did you come to meet me.” she said. +“Did you come to meet Caddy. What did you let him get his hands so cold +for, Versh.” + +“I told him to keep them in his pockets.” Versh said. “Holding onto that +ahun gate.” + +“Did you come to meet Caddy.” she said, rubbing my hands. “What is it. +What are you trying to tell Caddy.” Caddy smelled like trees and like +when she says we were asleep. + +_What are you moaning about, Luster said. You can watch them again when +we get to the branch. Here. Here’s you a jimson weed. He gave me the +flower. We went through the fence, into the lot._ + +“What is it.” Caddy said. “What are you trying to tell Caddy. Did they +send him out, Versh.” + +“Couldn’t keep him in.” Versh said. “He kept on until they let him go +and he come right straight down here, looking through the gate.” + +“What is it.” Caddy said. “Did you think it would be Christmas when I +came home from school. Is that what you thought. Christmas is the day +after tomorrow. Santy Claus, Benjy. Santy Claus. Come on, let’s run to +the house and get warm.” She took my hand and we ran through the bright +rustling leaves. We ran up the steps and out of the bright cold, into +the dark cold. Uncle Maury was putting the bottle back in the sideboard. +He called Caddy. Caddy said, + +“Take him in to the fire, Versh. Go with Versh.” she said. “I’ll come in +a minute.” + +We went to the fire. Mother said, + +“Is he cold, Versh.” + +“Nome.” Versh said. + +“Take his overcoat and overshoes off.” Mother said. “How many times do I +have to tell you not to bring him into the house with his overshoes on.” + +“Yessum.” Versh said. “Hold still, now.” He took my overshoes off and +unbuttoned my coat. Caddy said, + +“Wait, Versh. Cant he go out again, Mother. I want him to go with me.” + +“You’d better leave him here.” Uncle Maury said. “He’s been out enough +today.” + +“I think you’d both better stay in.” Mother said. “It’s getting colder, +Dilsey says.” + +“Oh, Mother.” Caddy said. + +“Nonsense.” Uncle Maury said. “She’s been in school all day. She needs +the fresh air. Run along, Candace.” + +“Let him go, Mother.” Caddy said. “Please. You know he’ll cry.” + +“Then why did you mention it before him.” Mother said. “Why did you come +in here. To give him some excuse to worry me again. You’ve been out +enough today. I think you’d better sit down here and play with him.” + +“Let them go, Caroline.” Uncle Maury said. “A little cold wont hurt +them. Remember, you’ve got to keep your strength up.” + +“I know.” Mother said. “Nobody knows how I dread Christmas. Nobody +knows. I am not one of those women who can stand things. I wish for +Jason’s and the children’s sakes I was stronger.” + +“You must do the best you can and not let them worry you.” Uncle Maury +said. “Run along, you two. But dont stay out long, now. Your mother will +worry.” + +“Yes, sir.” Caddy said. “Come on, Benjy. We’re going out doors again.” +She buttoned my coat and we went toward the door. + +“Are you going to take that baby out without his overshoes.” Mother +said. “Do you want to make him sick, with the house full of company.” + +“I forgot.” Caddy said. “I thought he had them on.” + +We went back. “You must think.” Mother said. _Hold still now_ Versh +said. He put my overshoes on. “Someday I’ll be gone, and you’ll have to +think for him.” _Now stomp_ Versh said. “Come here and kiss Mother, +Benjamin.” + +Caddy took me to Mother’s chair and Mother took my face in her hands and +then she held me against her. + +“My poor baby.” she said. She let me go. “You and Versh take good care +of him, honey.” + +“Yessum.” Caddy said. We went out. Caddy said, + +“You needn’t go, Versh. I’ll keep him for a while.” + +“All right.” Versh said. “I aint going out in that cold for no fun.” He +went on and we stopped in the hall and Caddy knelt and put her arms +around me and her cold bright face against mine. She smelled like trees. + +“You’re not a poor baby. Are you. You’ve got your Caddy. Haven’t you got +your Caddy.” + +_Cant you shut up that moaning and slobbering, Luster said. Aint_ _you +shamed of yourself, making all this racket. We passed the carriage +house, where the carriage was. It had a new wheel._ + +“Git in, now, and set still until your maw come.” Dilsey said. She +shoved me into the carriage. T. P. held the reins. “’Clare I don’t see +how come Jason wont get a new surrey.” Dilsey said. “This thing going to +fall to pieces under you all some day. Look at them wheels.” + +Mother came out, pulling her veil down. She had some flowers. + +“Where’s Roskus.” she said. + +“Roskus cant lift his arms, today.” Dilsey said. “T. P. can drive all +right.” + +“I’m afraid to.” Mother said. “It seems to me you all could furnish me +with a driver for the carriage once a week. It’s little enough I ask, +Lord knows.” + +“You know just as well as me that Roskus got the rheumatism too bad to +do more than he have to, Miss Cahline.” Dilsey said. “You come on and +get in, now. T. P. can drive you just as good as Roskus.” + +“I’m afraid to.” Mother said. “With the baby.” + +Dilsey went up the steps. “You calling that thing a baby,” she said. She +took Mother’s arms. “A man big as T. P. Come on, now, if you going.” + +“I’m afraid to.” Mother said. They came down the steps and Dilsey helped +Mother in. “Perhaps it’ll be the best thing, for all of us.” Mother +said. + +“Aint you shamed, talking that way.” Dilsey said. “Dont you know it’ll +take more than a eighteen year old nigger to make Queenie run away. She +older than him and Benjy put together. And dont you start no projecking +with Queenie, you hear me, T. P. If you dont drive to suit Miss Cahline, +I going to put Roskus on you. He aint too tied up to do that.” + +“Yessum.” T. P. said. + +“I just know something will happen.” Mother said. “Stop, Benjamin.” + +“Give him a flower to hold.” Dilsey said, “That what he wanting.” She +reached her hand in. + +“No, no.” Mother said. “You’ll have them all scattered.” + +“You hold them.” Dilsey said. “I’ll get him one out.” She gave me a +flower and her hand went away. + +“Go on now, ’fore Quentin see you and have to go too.” Dilsey said. + +“Where is she.” Mother said. + +“She down to the house playing with Luster.” Dilsey said. “Go on, T. P. +Drive that surrey like Roskus told you, now.” + +“Yessum.” T. P. said. “Hum up, Queenie.” + +“Quentin.” Mother said. “Don’t let” + +“Course I is.” Dilsey said. + +The carriage jolted and crunched on the drive. “I’m afraid to go and +leave Quentin.” Mother said. “I’d better not go. T. P.” We went through +the gate, where it didn’t jolt anymore. T. P. hit Queenie with the whip. + +“You, T. P.” Mother said. + +“Got to get her going.” T. P. said. “Keep her wake up till we get back +to the barn.” + +“Turn around.” Mother said. “I’m afraid to go and leave Quentin.” + +“Cant turn here.” T. P. said. Then it was broader. + +“Cant you turn here.” Mother said. + +“All right.” T. P. said. We began to turn. + +“You, T. P.” Mother said, clutching me. + +“I got to turn around somehow.” T. P. said. “Whoa, Queenie.” We stopped. + +“You’ll turn us over.” Mother said. + +“What you want to do, then.” T. P. said. + +“I’m afraid for you to try to turn around.” Mother said. + +“Get up, Queenie.” T. P. said. We went on. + +“I just know Dilsey will let something happen to Quentin while I’m +gone.” Mother said. “We must hurry back.” + +“Hum up, there.” T. P. said. He hit Queenie with the whip. + +“You, T. P.” Mother said, clutching me. I could hear Queenie’s feet and +the bright shapes went smooth and steady on both sides, the shadows of +them flowing across Queenie’s back. They went on like the bright tops of +wheels. Then those on one side stopped at the tall white post where the +soldier was. But on the other side they went on smooth and steady, but a +little slower. + +“What do you want.” Jason said. He had his hands in his pockets and a +pencil behind his ear. + +“We’re going to the cemetery.” Mother said. + +“All right.” Jason said. “I dont aim to stop you, do I. Was that all you +wanted with me, just to tell me that.” + +“I know you wont come.” Mother said. “I’d feel safer if you would.” + +“Safe from what.” Jason said. “Father and Quentin cant hurt you.” + +Mother put her handkerchief under her veil. “Stop it, Mother.” Jason +said. “Do you want to get that damn loony to bawling in the middle of +the square. Drive on, T. P.” + +“Hum up, Queenie.” T. P. said. + +“It’s a judgment on me.” Mother said. “But I’ll be gone too, soon.” + +“Here.” Jason said. + +“Whoa.” T. P. said. Jason said, + +“Uncle Maury’s drawing on you for fifty. What do you want to do about +it.” + +“Why ask me.” Mother said. “I dont have any say so. I try not to worry +you and Dilsey. I’ll be gone soon, and then you” + +“Go on, T. P.” Jason said. + +“Hum up, Queenie.” T. P. said. The shapes flowed on. The ones on the +other side began again, bright and fast and smooth, like when Caddy says +we are going to sleep. + +_Cry baby, Luster said. Aint you shamed. We went through the barn. The +stalls were all open. You aint got no spotted pony to ride now, Luster +said. The floor was dry and dusty. The roof was falling. The slanting +holes were full of spinning yellow. What do you want to go that way for. +You want to get your head knocked off with one of them balls._ + +“Keep your hands in your pockets.” Caddy said, “Or they’ll be froze. You +dont want your hands froze on Christmas, do you.” + +We went around the barn. The big cow and the little one were standing in +the door, and we could hear Prince and Queenie and Fancy stomping inside +the barn. “If it wasn’t so cold, we’d ride Fancy.” Caddy said, “But it’s +too cold to hold on today.” Then we could see the branch, where the +smoke was blowing. “That’s where they are killing the pig.” Caddy said. +“We can come back by there and see them.” We went down the hill. + +“You want to carry the letter.” Caddy said. “You can carry it.” She took +the letter out of her pocket and put it in mine. “It’s a Christmas +present.” Caddy said. “Uncle Maury is going to surprise Mrs Patterson +with it. We got to give it to her without letting anybody see it. Keep +your hands in your pockets good, now.” We came to the branch. + +“It’s froze.” Caddy said, “Look.” She broke the top of the water and +held a piece of it against my face. “Ice. That means how cold it is.” +She helped me across and we went up the hill. “We cant even tell Mother +and Father. You know what I think it is. I think it’s a surprise for +Mother and Father and Mr Patterson both, because Mr Patterson sent you +some candy. Do you remember when Mr Patterson sent you some candy last +summer.” + +There was a fence. The vine was dry, and the wind rattled in it. + +“Only I dont see why Uncle Maury didn’t send Versh.” Caddy said. “Versh +wont tell.” Mrs Patterson was looking out the window. “You wait here.” +Caddy said. “Wait right here, now. I’ll be back in a minute. Give me the +letter.” She took the letter out of my pocket. “Keep your hands in your +pockets.” She climbed the fence with the letter in her hand and went +through the brown, rattling flowers. Mrs Patterson came to the door and +opened it and stood there. + +_Mr Patterson was chopping in the green flowers. He stopped chopping and +looked at me. Mrs Patterson came across the garden, running. When I saw +her eyes I began to cry. You idiot, Mrs Patterson said, I told him never +to send you alone again. Give it to me. Quick. Mr Patterson came fast, +with the hoe. Mrs Patterson leaned across the fence, reaching her hand. +She was trying to climb the fence. Give it to me, she said, Give it to +me. Mr Patterson climbed the fence. He took the letter. Mrs Patterson’s +dress was caught on the fence. I saw her eyes again and I ran down the +hill._ + +“They aint nothing over yonder but houses.” Luster said. “We going down +to the branch.” + +They were washing down at the branch. One of them was singing. I could +smell the clothes flapping, and the smoke blowing across the branch. + +“You stay down here.” Luster said. “You aint got no business up yonder. +Them folks hit you, sho.” + +“What he want to do.” + +“He dont know what he want to do.” Luster said. “He think he want to go +up yonder where they knocking that ball. You sit down here and play with +your jimson weed. Look at them chillen playing in the branch, if you got +to look at something. How come you cant behave yourself like folks.” I +sat down on the bank, where they were washing, and the smoke blowing +blue. + +“Is you all seen anything of a quarter down here.” Luster said. + +“What quarter.” + +“The one I had here this morning.” Luster said. “I lost it somewhere. It +fell through this here hole in my pocket. If I dont find it I cant go to +the show tonight.” + +“Where’d you get a quarter, boy. Find it in white folks’ pocket while +they aint looking.” + +“Got it at the getting place.” Luster said. “Plenty more where that one +come from. Only I got to find that one. Is you all found it yet.” + +“I aint studying no quarter. I got my own business to tend to.” + +“Come on here.” Luster said. “Help me look for it.” + +“He wouldn’t know a quarter if he was to see it, would he.” + +“He can help look just the same.” Luster said. “You all going to the +show tonight.” + +“Dont talk to me about no show. Time I get done over this here tub I be +too tired to lift my hand to do nothing.” + +“I bet you be there.” Luster said. “I bet you was there last night. I +bet you all be right there when that tent open.” + +“Be enough niggers there without me. Was last night.” + +“Nigger’s money good as white folks, I reckon.” + +“White folks gives nigger money because know first white man comes along +with a band going to get it all back, so nigger can go to work for some +more.” + +“Aint nobody going make you go to that show.” + +“Aint yet. Aint thought of it, I reckon.” + +“What you got against white folks.” + +“Aint got nothing against them. I goes my way and lets white folks go +theirs. I aint studying that show.” + +“Got a man in it can play a tune on a saw. Play it like a banjo.” + +“You go last night.” Luster said. “I going tonight. If I can find where +I lost that quarter.” + +“You going take him with you, I reckon.” + +“Me.” Luster said. “You reckon I be found anywhere with him, time he +start bellering.” + +“What does you do when he start bellering.” + +“I whips him.” Luster said. He sat down and rolled up his overalls. They +played in the branch. + +“You all found any balls yet.” Luster said. + +“Aint you talking biggity. I bet you better not let your grandmammy hear +you talking like that.” + +Luster got into the branch, where they were playing. He hunted in the +water, along the bank. + +“I had it when we was down here this morning.” Luster said. + +“Where ’bouts you lose it.” + +“Right out this here hole in my pocket.” Luster said. They hunted in the +branch. Then they all stood up quick and stopped, then they splashed and +fought in the branch. Luster got it and they squatted in the water, +looking up the hill through the bushes. + +“Where is they.” Luster said. + +“Aint in sight yet.” + +Luster put it in his pocket. They came down the hill. + +“Did a ball come down here.” + +“It ought to be in the water. Didn’t any of you boys see it or hear it.” + +“Aint heard nothing come down here.” Luster said. “Heard something hit +that tree up yonder. Dont know which way it went.” + +They looked in the branch. + +“Hell. Look along the branch. It came down here. I saw it.” + +They looked along the branch. Then they went back up the hill. + +“Have you got that ball.” the boy said. + +“What I want with it.” Luster said. “I aint seen no ball.” + +The boy got in the water. He went on. He turned and looked at Luster +again. He went on down the branch. + +The man said “Caddie” up the hill. The boy got out of the water and went +up the hill. + +“Now, just listen at you.” Luster said. “Hush up.” + +“What he moaning about now.” + +“Lawd knows.” Luster said. “He just starts like that. He been at it all +morning. Cause it his birthday, I reckon.” + +“How old he.” + +“He thirty-three.” Luster said. “Thirty-three this morning.” + +“You mean, he been three years old thirty years.” + +“I going by what mammy say.” Luster said. “I dont know. We going to have +thirty-three candles on a cake, anyway. Little cake. Wont hardly hold +them. Hush up. Come on back here.” He came and caught my arm. “You old +loony.” he said. “You want me to whip you.” + +“I bet you will.” + +“I is done it. Hush, now.” Luster said. “Aint I told you you cant go up +there. They’ll knock your head clean off with one of them balls. Come +on, here.” He pulled me back. “Sit down.” I sat down and he took off my +shoes and rolled up my trousers. “Now, git in that water and play and +see can you stop that slobbering and moaning.” + +I hushed and got in the water _and Roskus came and said to come to +supper and Caddy said_, + +_It’s not supper time yet. I’m not going._ + +She was wet. We were playing in the branch and Caddy squatted down and +got her dress wet and Versh said, + +“Your mommer going to whip you for getting your dress wet.” + +“She’s not going to do any such thing.” Caddy said. + +“How do you know.” Quentin said. + +“That’s all right how I know.” Caddy said. “How do you know.” + +“She said she was.” Quentin said. “Besides, I’m older than you.” + +“I’m seven years old.” Caddy said, “I guess I know.” + +“I’m older than that.” Quentin said. “I go to school. Dont I, Versh.” + +“I’m going to school next year.” Caddy said, “When it comes. Aint I, +Versh.” + +“You know she whip you when you get your dress wet.” Versh said. + +“It’s not wet.” Caddy said. She stood up in the water and looked at her +dress. “I’ll take it off.” she said. “Then it’ll dry.” + +“I bet you wont.” Quentin said. + +“I bet I will.” Caddy said. + +“I bet you better not.” Quentin said. + +Caddy came to Versh and me and turned her back. + +“Unbutton it, Versh.” she said. + +“Dont you do it, Versh.” Quentin said. + +“Taint none of my dress.” Versh said. + +“You unbutton it, Versh.” Caddy said, “Or I’ll tell Dilsey what you did +yesterday.” So Versh unbuttoned it. + +“You just take your dress off.” Quentin said. Caddy took her dress off +and threw it on the bank. Then she didn’t have on anything but her +bodice and drawers, and Quentin slapped her and she slipped and fell +down in the water. When she got up she began to splash water on Quentin, +and Quentin splashed water on Caddy. Some of it splashed on Versh and me +and Versh picked me up and put me on the bank. He said he was going to +tell on Caddy and Quentin, and then Quentin and Caddy began to splash +water at Versh. He got behind a bush. + +“I’m going to tell mammy on you all.” Versh said. + +Quentin climbed up the bank and tried to catch Versh, but Versh ran away +and Quentin couldn’t. When Quentin came back Versh stopped and hollered +that he was going to tell. Caddy told him that if he wouldn’t tell, +they’d let him come back. So Versh said he wouldn’t, and they let him. + +“Now I guess you’re satisfied.” Quentin said, “We’ll both get whipped +now.” + +“I dont care.” Caddy said. “I’ll run away.” + +“Yes you will.” Quentin said. + +“I’ll run away and never come back.” Caddy said. I began to cry. Caddy +turned around and said “Hush.” So I hushed. Then they played in the +branch. Jason was playing too. He was by himself further down the +branch. Versh came around the bush and lifted me down into the water +again. Caddy was all wet and muddy behind, and I started to cry and she +came and squatted in the water. + +“Hush now.” she said. “I’m not going to run away.” So I hushed. Caddy +smelled like trees in the rain. + +_What is the matter with you, Luster said. Cant you get done with that +moaning and play in the branch like folks._ + +_Whyn’t you take him on home. Didn’t they told you not to take him off +the place._ + +_He still think they own this pasture, Luster said. Cant nobody see down +here from the house, noways._ + +_We can. And folks dont like to look at a loony. Taint no luck in it._ + +Roskus came and said to come to supper and Caddy said it wasn’t supper +time yet. + +“Yes tis.” Roskus said. “Dilsey say for you all to come on to the house. +Bring them on, Versh.” He went up the hill, where the cow was lowing. + +“Maybe we’ll be dry by the time we get to the house.” Quentin said. + +“It was all your fault.” Caddy said. “I hope we do get whipped.” She put +her dress on and Versh buttoned it. + +“They wont know you got wet.” Versh said. “It dont show on you. Less me +and Jason tells.” + +“Are you going to tell, Jason.” Caddy said. + +“Tell on who.” Jason said. + +“He wont tell.” Quentin said. “Will you, Jason.” + +“I bet he does tell.” Caddy said. “He’ll tell Damuddy.” + +“He cant tell her.” Quentin said. “She’s sick. If we walk slow it’ll be +too dark for them to see.” + +“I dont care whether they see or not.” Caddy said. “I’m going to tell, +myself. You carry him up the hill, Versh.” + +“Jason wont tell.” Quentin said. “You remember that bow and arrow I made +you, Jason.” + +“It’s broke now.” Jason said. + +“Let him tell.” Caddy said. “I dont give a cuss. Carry Maury up the +hill, Versh.” Versh squatted and I got on his back. + +_See you all at the show tonight, Luster said. Come on, here. We got to +find that quarter._ + +“If we go slow, it’ll be dark when we get there.” Quentin said. + +“I’m not going slow.” Caddy said. We went up the hill, but Quentin +didn’t come. He was down at the branch when we got to where we could +smell the pigs. They were grunting and snuffing in the trough in the +corner. Jason came behind us, with his hands in his pockets. Roskus was +milking the cow in the barn door. + +_The cows came jumping out of the barn._ + +“Go on.” T. P. said. “Holler again. I going to holler myself. Whooey.” +Quentin kicked T. P. again. He kicked T. P. into the trough where the +pigs ate and T. P. lay there. “Hot dogs.” T. P. said, “Didn’t he get me +then. You see that white man kick me that time. Whooey.” + +I wasn’t crying, but I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t crying, but the ground +wasn’t still, and then I was crying. The ground kept sloping up and the +cows ran up the hill. T. P. tried to get up. He fell down again and the +cows ran down the hill. Quentin held my arm and we went toward the barn. +Then the barn wasn’t there and we had to wait until it came back. I +didn’t see it come back. It came behind us and Quentin set me down in +the trough where the cows ate. I held on to it. It was going away too, +and I held to it. The cows ran down the hill again, across the door. I +couldn’t stop. Quentin and T. P. came up the hill, fighting. T. P. was +falling down the hill and Quentin dragged him up the hill. Quentin hit +T. P. I couldn’t stop. + +“Stand up.” Quentin said, “You stay right here. Dont you go away until I +get back.” + +“Me and Benjy going back to the wedding.” T. P. said. “Whooey.” + +Quentin hit T. P. again. Then he began to thump T. P. against the wall. +T. P. was laughing. Every time Quentin thumped him against the wall he +tried to say Whooey, but he couldn’t say it for laughing. I quit crying, +but I couldn’t stop. T. P. fell on me and the barn door went away. It +went down the hill and T. P. was fighting by himself and he fell down +again. He was still laughing, and I couldn’t stop, and I tried to get up +and I fell down, and I couldn’t stop. Versh said, + +“You sho done it now. I’ll declare if you aint. Shut up that yelling.” + +T. P. was still laughing. He flopped on the door and laughed. “Whooey.” +he said, “Me and Benjy going back to the wedding. Sassprilluh.” T. P. +said. + +“Hush.” Versh said. “Where you get it.” + +“Out the cellar.” T. P. said. “Whooey.” + +“Hush up.” Versh said, “Where’bouts in the cellar.” + +“Anywhere.” T. P. said. He laughed some more. “Moren a hundred bottles +left. Moren a million. Look out, nigger, I going to holler.” + +Quentin said, “Lift him up.” + +Versh lifted me up. + +“Drink this, Benjy.” Quentin said. The glass was hot. “Hush, now.” +Quentin said. “Drink it.” + +“Sassprilluh.” T. P. said. “Lemme drink it, Mr Quentin.” + +“You shut your mouth.” Versh said, “Mr Quentin wear you out.” + +“Hold him, Versh.” Quentin said. + +They held me. It was hot on my chin and on my shirt. “Drink.” Quentin +said. They held my head. It was hot inside me, and I began again. I was +crying now, and something was happening inside me and I cried more, and +they held me until it stopped happening. Then I hushed. It was still +going around, and then the shapes began. “Open the crib, Versh.” They +were going slow. “Spread those empty sacks on the floor.” They were +going faster, almost fast enough. “Now. Pick up his feet.” They went on, +smooth and bright. I could hear T. P. laughing. I went on with them, up +the bright hill. + +_At the top of the hill Versh put me down._ “Come on here, Quentin.” he +called, looking back down the hill. Quentin was still standing there by +the branch. He was chunking into the shadows where the branch was. + +“Let the old skizzard stay there.” Caddy said. She took my hand and we +went on past the barn and through the gate. There was a frog on the +brick walk, squatting in the middle of it. Caddy stepped over it and +pulled me on. + +“Come on, Maury.” she said. It still squatted there until Jason poked at +it with his toe. + +“He’ll make a wart on you.” Versh said. The frog hopped away. + +“Come on, Maury.” Caddy said. + +“They got company tonight.” Versh said. + +“How do you know.” Caddy said. + +“With all them lights on.” Versh said, “Light in every window.” + +“I reckon we can turn all the lights on without company, if we want to.” +Caddy said. + +“I bet it’s company.” Versh said. “You all better go in the back and +slip upstairs.” + +“I dont care.” Caddy said. “I’ll walk right in the parlor where they +are.” + +“I bet your pappy whip you if you do.” Versh said. + +“I dont care.” Caddy said. “I’ll walk right in the parlor. I’ll walk +right in the dining room and eat supper.” + +“Where you sit.” Versh said. + +“I’d sit in Damuddy’s chair.” Caddy said. “She eats in bed.” + +“I’m hungry.” Jason said. He passed us and ran on up the walk. He had +his hands in his pockets and he fell down. Versh went and picked him up. + +“If you keep them hands out your pockets, you could stay on your feet.” +Versh said. “You cant never get them out in time to catch yourself, fat +as you is.” + +Father was standing by the kitchen steps. + +“Where’s Quentin.” he said. + +“He coming up the walk.” Versh said. Quentin was coming slow. His shirt +was a white blur. + +“Oh.” Father said. Light fell down the steps, on him. + +“Caddy and Quentin threw water on each other.” Jason said. + +We waited. + +“They did.” Father said. Quentin came, and Father said, “You can eat +supper in the kitchen tonight.” He stopped and took me up, and the light +came tumbling down the steps on me too, and I could look down at Caddy +and Jason and Quentin and Versh. Father turned toward the steps. “You +must be quiet, though.” he said. + +“Why must we be quiet, Father.” Caddy said. “Have we got company.” + +“Yes.” Father said. + +“I told you they was company.” Versh said. + +“You did not.” Caddy said, “I was the one that said there was. I said I +would” + +“Hush.” Father said. They hushed and Father opened the door and we +crossed the back porch and went in to the kitchen. Dilsey was there, and +Father put me in the chair and closed the apron down and pushed it to +the table, where supper was. It was steaming up. + +“You mind Dilsey, now.” Father said. “Dont let them make any more noise +than they can help, Dilsey.” + +“Yes, sir.” Dilsey said. Father went away. + +“Remember to mind Dilsey, now.” he said behind us. I leaned my face over +where the supper was. It steamed up on my face. + +“Let them mind me tonight, Father.” Caddy said. + +“I wont.” Jason said. “I’m going to mind Dilsey.” + +“You’ll have to, if Father says so.” Caddy said. “Let them mind me, +Father.” + +“I wont.” Jason said, “I wont mind you.” + +“Hush.” Father said. “You all mind Caddy, then. When they are done, +bring them up the back stairs, Dilsey.” + +“Yes, sir.” Dilsey said. + +“There.” Caddy said, “Now I guess you’ll mind me.” + +“You all hush, now.” Dilsey said. “You got to be quiet tonight.” + +“Why do we have to be quiet tonight.” Caddy whispered. + +“Never you mind.” Dilsey said, “You’ll know in the Lawd’s own time.” She +brought my bowl. The steam from it came and tickled my face. “Come here, +Versh.” Dilsey said. + +“When is the Lawd’s own time, Dilsey.” Caddy said. + +“It’s Sunday.” Quentin said. “Dont you know anything.” + +“Shhhhhh.” Dilsey said. “Didn’t Mr Jason say for you all to be quiet. +Eat your supper, now. Here, Versh. Git his spoon.” Versh’s hand came +with the spoon, into the bowl. The spoon came up to my mouth. The steam +tickled into my mouth. Then we quit eating and we looked at each other +and we were quiet, and then we heard it again and I began to cry. + +“What was that.” Caddy said. She put her hand on my hand. + +“That was Mother.” Quentin said. The spoon came up and I ate, then I +cried again. + +“Hush.” Caddy said. But I didn’t hush and she came and put her arms +around me. Dilsey went and closed both the doors and then we couldn’t +hear it. + +“Hush, now.” Caddy said. I hushed and ate. Quentin wasn’t eating, but +Jason was. + +“That was Mother.” Quentin said. He got up. + +“You set right down.” Dilsey said. “They got company in there, and you +in them muddy clothes. You set down too, Caddy, and get done eating.” + +“She was crying.” Quentin said. + +“It was somebody singing.” Caddy said. “Wasn’t it, Dilsey.” + +“You all eat your supper, now, like Mr Jason said.” Dilsey said. “You’ll +know in the Lawd’s own time.” Caddy went back to her chair. + +“I told you it was a party.” she said. + +Versh said, “He done et all that.” + +“Bring his bowl here.” Dilsey said. The bowl went away. + +“Dilsey.” Caddy said, “Quentin’s not eating his supper. Hasn’t he got to +mind me.” + +“Eat your supper, Quentin.” Dilsey said, “You all got to get done and +get out of my kitchen.” + +“I dont want any more supper.” Quentin said. + +“You’ve got to eat if I say you have.” Caddy said. “Hasn’t he, Dilsey.” + +The bowl steamed up to my face, and Versh’s hand dipped the spoon in it +and the steam tickled into my mouth. + +“I dont want any more.” Quentin said. “How can they have a party when +Damuddy’s sick.” + +“They’ll have it down stairs.” Caddy said. “She can come to the landing +and see it. That’s what I’m going to do when I get my nightie on.” + +“Mother was crying.” Quentin said. “Wasn’t she crying, Dilsey.” + +“Dont you come pestering at me, boy.” Dilsey said. “I got to get supper +for all them folks soon as you all get done eating.” + +After a while even Jason was through eating, and he began to cry. + +“Now you got to tune up.” Dilsey said. + +“He does it every night since Damuddy was sick and he cant sleep with +her.” Caddy said. “Cry baby.” + +“I’m going to tell on you.” Jason said. + +He was crying. “You’ve already told.” Caddy said. “There’s not anything +else you can tell, now.” + +“You all needs to go to bed.” Dilsey said. She came and lifted me down +and wiped my face and hands with a warm cloth. “Versh, can you get them +up the back stairs quiet. You, Jason, shut up that crying.” + +“It’s too early to go to bed now.” Caddy said. “We dont ever have to go +to bed this early.” + +“You is tonight.” Dilsey said. “Your pa say for you to come right on up +stairs when you et supper. You heard him.” + +“He said to mind me.” Caddy said. + +“I’m not going to mind you.” Jason said. + +“You have to.” Caddy said. “Come on, now. You have to do like I say.” + +“Make them be quiet, Versh.” Dilsey said. “You all going to be quiet, +aint you.” + +“What do we have to be so quiet for, tonight.” Caddy said. + +“Your mommer aint feeling well.” Dilsey said. “You all go on with Versh, +now.” + +“I told you Mother was crying.” Quentin said. Versh took me up and +opened the door onto the back porch. We went out and Versh closed the +door black. I could smell Versh and feel him. “You all be quiet, now. +We’re not going up stairs yet. Mr Jason said for you to come right up +stairs. He said to mind me. I’m not going to mind you. But he said for +all of us to. Didn’t he, Quentin.” I could feel Versh’s head. I could +hear us. “Didn’t he, Versh. Yes, that’s right. Then I say for us to go +out doors a while. Come on.” Versh opened the door and we went out. + +We went down the steps. + +“I expect we’d better go down to Versh’s house, so we’ll be quiet.” +Caddy said. Versh put me down and Caddy took my hand and we went down +the brick walk. + +“Come on.” Caddy said, “That frog’s gone. He’s hopped way over to the +garden, by now. Maybe we’ll see another one.” Roskus came with the milk +buckets. He went on. Quentin wasn’t coming with us. He was sitting on +the kitchen steps. We went down to Versh’s house. I liked to smell +Versh’s house. _There was a fire in it and T. P. squatting in his shirt +tail in front of it, chunking it into a blaze._ + +Then I got up and T. P. dressed me and we went to the kitchen and ate. +Dilsey was singing and I began to cry and she stopped. + +“Keep him away from the house, now.” Dilsey said. + +“We cant go that way.” T. P. said. + +We played in the branch. + +“We cant go around yonder.” T. P. said. “Dont you know mammy say we +cant.” + +Dilsey was singing in the kitchen and I began to cry. + +“Hush.” T. P. said. “Come on. Lets go down to the barn.” + +Roskus was milking at the barn. He was milking with one hand, and +groaning. Some birds sat on the barn door and watched him. One of them +came down and ate with the cows. I watched Roskus milk while T. P. was +feeding Queenie and Prince. The calf was in the pig pen. It nuzzled at +the wire, bawling. + +“T. P.” Roskus said. T. P. said Sir, in the barn. Fancy held her head +over the door, because T. P. hadn’t fed her yet. “Git done there.” +Roskus said. “You got to do this milking. I cant use my right hand no +more.” + +T. P. came and milked. + +“Whyn’t you get the doctor.” T. P. said. + +“Doctor cant do no good.” Roskus said. “Not on this place.” + +“What wrong with this place.” T. P. said. + +“Taint no luck on this place.” Roskus said. “Turn that calf in if you +done.” + +_Taint no luck on this place, Roskus said. The fire rose and fell behind +him and Versh, sliding on his and Versh’s face. Dilsey finished putting +me to bed. The bed smelled like T. P. I liked it._ + +“What you know about it.” Dilsey said. “What trance you been in.” + +“Dont need no trance.” Roskus said. “Aint the sign of it laying right +there on that bed. Aint the sign of it been here for folks to see +fifteen years now.” + +“Spose it is.” Dilsey said. “It aint hurt none of you and yourn, is it. +Versh working and Frony married off your hands and T. P. getting big +enough to take your place when rheumatism finish getting you.” + +“They been two, now.” Roskus said. “Going to be one more. I seen the +sign, and you is too.” + +“I heard a squinch owl that night.” T. P. said. “Dan wouldn’t come and +get his supper, neither. Wouldn’t come no closer than the barn. Begun +howling right after dark. Versh heard him.” + +“Going to be more than one more.” Dilsey said. “Show me the man what +aint going to die, bless Jesus.” + +“Dying aint all.” Roskus said. + +“I knows what you thinking.” Dilsey said. “And they aint going to be no +luck in saying that name, lessen you going to set up with him while he +cries.” + +“They aint no luck on this place.” Roskus said. “I seen it at first but +when they changed his name I knowed it.” + +“Hush your mouth.” Dilsey said. She pulled the covers up. It smelled +like T. P. “You all shut up now, till he get to sleep.” + +“I seen the sign.” Roskus said. + +“Sign T. P. got to do all your work for you.” Dilsey said. _Take him and +Quentin down to the house and let them play with Luster, where Frony can +watch them, T. P., and go and help your pa._ + +We finished eating. T. P. took Quentin up and we went down to T. P.’s +house. Luster was playing in the dirt. T. P. put Quentin down and she +played in the dirt too. Luster had some spools and he and Quentin fought +and Quentin had the spools. Luster cried and Frony came and gave Luster +a tin can to play with, and then I had the spools and Quentin fought me +and I cried. + +“Hush.” Frony said, “Aint you shamed of yourself. Taking a baby’s play +pretty.” She took the spools from me and gave them back to Quentin. + +“Hush, now.” Frony said, “Hush, I tell you.” + +“Hush up.” Frony said. “You needs whipping, that’s what you needs.” She +took Luster and Quentin up. “Come on here.” she said. We went to the +barn. T. P. was milking the cow. Roskus was sitting on the box. + +“What’s the matter with him now.” Roskus said. + +“You have to keep him down here.” Frony said. “He fighting these babies +again. Taking they play things. Stay here with T. P. now, and see can +you hush a while.” + +“Clean that udder good now.” Roskus said. “You milked that young cow dry +last winter. If you milk this one dry, they aint going to be no more +milk.” + +Dilsey was singing. + +“Not around yonder.” T. P. said. “Dont you know mammy say you cant go +around there.” + +They were singing. + +“Come on.” T. P. said. “Lets go play with Quentin and Luster. Come on.” + +Quentin and Luster were playing in the dirt in front of T. P.’s house. +There was a fire in the house, rising and falling, with Roskus sitting +black against it. + +“That’s three, thank the Lawd.” Roskus said. “I told you two years ago. +They aint no luck on this place.” + +“Whyn’t you get out, then.” Dilsey said. She was undressing me. “Your +bad luck talk got them Memphis notions into Versh. That ought to satisfy +you.” + +“If that all the bad luck Versh have.” Roskus said. + +Frony came in. + +“You all done.” Dilsey said. + +“T. P. finishing up.” Frony said. “Miss Cahline want you to put Quentin +to bed.” + +“I’m coming just as fast as I can.” Dilsey said. “She ought to know by +this time I aint got no wings.” + +“That’s what I tell you.” Roskus said. “They aint no luck going be on no +place where one of they own chillens’ name aint never spoke.” + +“Hush.” Dilsey said. “Do you want to get him started” + +“Raising a child not to know its own mammy’s name.” Roskus said. + +“Dont you bother your head about her.” Dilsey said. “I raised all of +them and I reckon I can raise one more. Hush now. Let him get to sleep +if he will.” + +“Saying a name.” Frony said. “He dont know nobody’s name.” + +“You just say it and see if he dont.” Dilsey said. “You say it to him +while he sleeping and I bet he hear you.” + +“He know lot more than folks thinks.” Roskus said. “He knowed they time +was coming, like that pointer done. He could tell you when hisn coming, +if he could talk. Or yours. Or mine.” + +“You take Luster outen that bed, mammy.” Frony said. “That boy conjure +him.” + +“Hush your mouth.” Dilsey said, “Aint you got no better sense than that. +What you want to listen to Roskus for, anyway. Get in, Benjy.” + +Dilsey pushed me and I got in the bed, where Luster already was. He was +asleep. Dilsey took a long piece of wood and laid it between Luster and +me. “Stay on your side now.” Dilsey said “Luster little, and you don’t +want to hurt him.” + +_You can’t go yet, T. P. said. Wait._ + +We looked around the corner of the house and watched the carriages go +away. + +“Now.” T. P. said. He took Quentin up and we ran down to the corner of +the fence and watched them pass. “There he go,” T. P. said. “See that +one with the glass in it. Look at him. He laying in there. See him.” + +_Come on, Luster said, I going to take this here ball down home, where I +wont lose it. Naw, sir, you cant have it. If them men sees you with it, +they’ll say you stole it. Hush up, now. You cant have it. What business +you got with it. You cant play no ball._ + +Frony and T. P. were playing in the dirt by the door. T. P. had +lightning bugs in a bottle. + +“How did you all get back out.” Frony said. + +“We’ve got company.” Caddy said. “Father said for us to mind me tonight. +I expect you and T. P. will have to mind me too.” + +“I’m not going to mind you.” Jason said. “Frony and T. P. dont have to +either.” + +“They will if I say so.” Caddy said. “Maybe I wont say for them to.” + +“T. P. dont mind nobody.” Frony said. “Is they started the funeral yet.” + +“What’s a funeral.” Jason said. + +“Didn’t mammy tell you not to tell them.” Versh said. + +“Where they moans.” Frony said. “They moaned two days on Sis Beulah +Clay.” + +_They moaned at Dilsey’s house. Dilsey was moaning. When Dilsey moaned +Luster said, Hush, and we hushed, and then I began to cry and Blue +howled under the kitchen steps. Then Dilsey stopped and we stopped._ + +“Oh.” Caddy said, “That’s niggers. White folks dont have funerals.” + +“Mammy said us not to tell them, Frony.” Versh said. + +“Tell them what.” Caddy said. + +_Dilsey moaned, and when it got to the place I began to cry and Blue +howled under the steps. Luster, Frony said in the window, Take them down +to the barn. I cant get no cooking done with all that racket. That hound +too. Get them outen here._ + +_I aint going down there, Luster said. I might meet pappy down there. I +seen him last night, waving his arms in the barn._ + +“I like to know why not.” Frony said. “White folks dies too. Your +grandmammy dead as any nigger can get, I reckon.” + +“Dogs are dead.” Caddy said, “And when Nancy fell in the ditch and +Roskus shot her and the buzzards came and undressed her.” + +The bones rounded out of the ditch, where the dark vines were in the +black ditch, into the moonlight, like some of the shapes had stopped. +Then they all stopped and it was dark, and when I stopped to start again +I could hear Mother, and feet walking fast away, and I could smell it. +Then the room came, but my eyes went shut. I didn’t stop. I could smell +it. T. P. unpinned the bed clothes. + +“Hush.” he said, “Shhhhhhhh.” + +But I could smell it. T. P. pulled me up and he put on my clothes fast. + +“Hush, Benjy.” he said. “We going down to our house. You want to go down +to our house, where Frony is. Hush. Shhhhh.” + +He laced my shoes and put my cap on and we went out. There was a light +in the hall. Across the hall we could hear Mother. + +“Shhhhhh, Benjy.” T. P. said, “We’ll be out in a minute.” + +A door opened and I could smell it more than ever, and a head came out. +It wasn’t Father. Father was sick there. + +“Can you take him out of the house.” + +“That’s where we going.” T. P. said. Dilsey came up the stairs. + +“Hush.” she said, “Hush. Take him down home, T. P. Frony fixing him a +bed. You all look after him, now. Hush, Benjy. Go on with T. P.” + +She went where we could hear Mother. + +“Better keep him there.” It wasn’t Father. He shut the door, but I could +still smell it. + +We went down stairs. The stairs went down into the dark and T. P. took +my hand, and we went out the door, out of the dark. Dan was sitting in +the back yard, howling. + +“He smell it.” T. P. said. “Is that the way you found it out.” + +We went down the steps, where our shadows were. + +“I forgot your coat.” T. P. said. “You ought to had it. But I aint going +back.” + +Dan howled. + +“Hush now.” T. P. said. Our shadows moved, but Dan’s shadow didn’t move +except to howl when he did. + +“I cant take you down home, bellering like you is.” T. P. said. “You was +bad enough before you got that bullfrog voice. Come on.” + +We went along the brick walk, with our shadows. The pig pen smelled like +pigs. The cow stood in the lot, chewing at us. Dan howled. + +“You going to wake the whole town up.” T. P. said. “Cant you hush.” + +We saw Fancy, eating by the branch. The moon shone on the water when we +got there. + +“Naw, sir.” T. P. said, “This too close. We cant stop here. Come on. +Now, just look at you. Got your whole leg wet. Come on, here.” Dan +howled. + +The ditch came up out of the buzzing grass. The bones rounded out of the +black vines. + +“Now.” T. P. said. “Beller your head off if you want to. You got the +whole night and a twenty acre pasture to beller in.” + +T. P. lay down in the ditch and I sat down, watching the bones where the +buzzards ate Nancy, flapping black and slow and heavy out of the ditch. + +_I had it when we was down here before, Luster said. I showed it to you. +Didn’t you see it. I took it out of my pocket right here and showed it +to you._ + +“Do you think buzzards are going to undress Damuddy.” Caddy said. +“You’re crazy.” + +“You’re a skizzard.” Jason said. He began to cry. + +“You’re a knobnot.” Caddy said. Jason cried. His hands were in his +pockets. + +“Jason going to be rich man.” Versh said. “He holding his money all the +time.” + +Jason cried. + +“Now you’ve got him started.” Caddy said. “Hush up, Jason. How can +buzzards get in where Damuddy is. Father wouldn’t let them. Would you +let a buzzard undress you. Hush up, now.” + +Jason hushed. “Frony said it was a funeral.” he said. + +“Well it’s not.” Caddy said. “It’s a party. Frony dont know anything +about it. He wants your lightning bugs, T. P. Let him hold it a while.” + +T. P. gave me the bottle of lightning bugs. + +“I bet if we go around to the parlor window we can see something.” Caddy +said. “Then you’ll believe me.” + +“I already knows.” Frony said. “I dont need to see.” + +“You better hush your mouth, Frony.” Versh said. “Mammy going whip you.” + +“What is it.” Caddy said. + +“I knows what I knows.” Frony said. + +“Come on.” Caddy said, “Let’s go around to the front.” + +We started to go. + +“T. P. wants his lightning bugs.” Frony said. + +“Let him hold it a while longer, T. P.” Caddy said. “We’ll bring it +back.” + +“You all never caught them.” Frony said. + +“If I say you and T. P. can come too, will you let him hold it.” Caddy +said. + +“Aint nobody said me and T. P. got to mind you.” Frony said. + +“If I say you dont have to, will you let him hold it.” Caddy said. + +“All right.” Frony said. “Let him hold it, T. P. We going to watch them +moaning.” + +“They aint moaning.” Caddy said. “I tell you it’s a party. Are they +moaning, Versh.” + +“We aint going to know what they doing, standing here.” Versh said. + +“Come on.” Caddy said. “Frony and T. P. dont have to mind me. But the +rest of us do. You better carry him, Versh. It’s getting dark.” + +Versh took me up and we went on around the kitchen. + +_When we looked around the corner we could see the lights coming up the +drive. T. P. went back to the cellar door and opened it._ + +_You know what’s down there, T. P. said. Soda water. I seen Mr Jason +come up with both hands full of them. Wait here a minute._ + +_T. P. went and looked in the kitchen door. Dilsey said, What are you +peeping in here for. Where’s Benjy._ + +_He out here, T. P. said._ + +_Go on and watch him, Dilsey said. Keep him out the house now._ + +_Yessum, T. P. said. Is they started yet._ + +_You go on and keep that boy out of sight, Dilsey said. I got all I can +tend to._ + +A snake crawled out from under the house. Jason said he wasn’t afraid of +snakes and Caddy said he was but she wasn’t and Versh said they both +were and Caddy said to be quiet, like father said. + +_You aint got to start bellering now, T. P. said. You want some this +sassprilluh._ + +_It tickled my nose and eyes._ + +_If you aint going to drink it, let me get to it, T. P. said. All right, +here tis. We better get another bottle while aint nobody bothering us. +You be quiet, now._ + +We stopped under the tree by the parlor window. Versh set me down in the +wet grass. It was cold. There were lights in all the windows. + +“That’s where Damuddy is.” Caddy said. “She’s sick every day now. When +she gets well we’re going to have a picnic.” + +“I knows what I knows.” Frony said. + +The trees were buzzing, and the grass. + +“The one next to it is where we have the measles.” Caddy said. “Where do +you and T. P. have the measles, Frony.” + +“Has them just wherever we is, I reckon.” Frony said. + +“They haven’t started yet.” Caddy said. + +_They getting ready to start, T. P. said. You stand right here now while +I get that box so we can see in the window. Here, les finish drinking +this here sassprilluh. It make me feel just like a squinch owl inside._ + +We drank the sassprilluh and T. P. pushed the bottle through the +lattice, under the house, and went away. I could hear them in the parlor +and I clawed my hands against the wall. T. P. dragged the box. He fell +down, and he began to laugh. He lay there, laughing into the grass. He +got up and dragged the box under the window, trying not to laugh. + +“I skeered I going to holler.” T. P. said. “Git on the box and see is +they started.” + +“They haven’t started because the band hasn’t come yet.” Caddy said. + +“They aint going to have no band.” Frony said. + +“How do you know.” Caddy said. + +“I knows what I knows.” Frony said. + +“You dont know anything.” Caddy said. She went to the tree. “Push me up, +Versh.” + +“Your paw told you to stay out that tree.” Versh said. + +“That was a long time ago.” Caddy said. “I expect he’s forgotten about +it. Besides, he said to mind me tonight. Didn’t he say to mind me +tonight.” + +“I’m not going to mind you.” Jason said. “Frony and T. P. are not going +to either.” + +“Push me up, Versh.” Caddy said. + +“All right.” Versh said. “You the one going to get whipped. I aint.” He +went and pushed Caddy up into the tree to the first limb. We watched the +muddy bottom of her drawers. Then we couldn’t see her. We could hear the +tree thrashing. + +“Mr Jason said if you break that tree he whip you.” Versh said. + +“I’m going to tell on her too.” Jason said. + +The tree quit thrashing. We looked up into the still branches. + +“What you seeing.” Frony whispered. + +_I saw them. Then I saw Caddy, with flowers in her hair, and a long veil +like shining wind. Caddy Caddy_ + +“Hush.” T. P. said, “They going to hear you. Get down quick.” He pulled +me. Caddy. I clawed my hands against the wall Caddy. T. P. pulled me. + +“Hush.” he said, “Hush. Come on here quick.” He pulled me on. Caddy +“Hush up, Benjy. You want them to hear you. Come on, les drink some more +sassprilluh, then we can come back if you hush. We better get one more +bottle or we both be hollering. We can say Dan drunk it. Mr Quentin +always saying he so smart, we can say he sassprilluh dog, too.” + +The moonlight came down the cellar stairs. We drank some more +sassprilluh. + +“You know what I wish.” T. P. said. “I wish a bear would walk in that +cellar door. You know what I do. I walk right up to him and spit in he +eye. Gimme that bottle to stop my mouth before I holler.” + +T. P. fell down. He began to laugh, and the cellar door and the +moonlight jumped away and something hit me. + +“Hush up.” T. P. said, trying not to laugh, “Lawd, they’ll all hear us. +Get up.” T. P. said, “Get up, Benjy, quick.” He was thrashing about and +laughing and I tried to get up. The cellar steps ran up the hill in the +moonlight and T. P. fell up the hill, into the moonlight, and I ran +against the fence and T. P. ran behind me saying “Hush up hush up” Then +he fell into the flowers, laughing, and I ran into the box. But when I +tried to climb onto it it jumped away and hit me on the back of the head +and my throat made a sound. It made the sound again and I stopped trying +to get up, and it made the sound again and I began to cry. But my throat +kept on making the sound while T. P. was pulling me. It kept on making +it and I couldn’t tell if I was crying or not, and T. P. fell down on +top of me, laughing, and it kept on making the sound and Quentin kicked +T. P. and Caddy put her arms around me, and her shining veil, and I +couldn’t smell trees anymore and I began to cry. + +_Benjy, Caddy said, Benjy. She put her arms around me again, but I went +away._ “What is it, Benjy.” she said, “Is it this hat.” She took her hat +off and came again, and I went away. + +“Benjy.” she said, “What is it, Benjy. What has Caddy done.” + +“He dont like that prissy dress.” Jason said. “You think you’re grown +up, dont you. You think you’re better than anybody else, dont you. +Prissy.” + +“You shut your mouth.” Caddy said, “You dirty little beast. Benjy.” + +“Just because you are fourteen, you think you’re grown up, dont you.” +Jason said. “You think you’re something. Dont you.” + +“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said. “You’ll disturb Mother. Hush.” + +But I didn’t hush, and when she went away I followed, and she stopped on +the stairs and waited and I stopped too. + +“What is it, Benjy.” Caddy said, “Tell Caddy. She’ll do it. Try.” + +“Candace.” Mother said. + +“Yessum.” Caddy said. + +“Why are you teasing him.” Mother said. “Bring him here.” + +We went to Mother’s room, where she was lying with the sickness on a +cloth on her head. + +“What is the matter now.” Mother said. “Benjamin.” + +“Benjy.” Caddy said. She came again, but I went away. + +“You must have done something to him.” Mother said. “Why wont you let +him alone, so I can have some peace. Give him the box and please go on +and let him alone.” + +Caddy got the box and set it on the floor and opened it. It was full of +stars. When I was still, they were still. When I moved, they glinted and +sparkled. I hushed. + +Then I heard Caddy walking and I began again. + +“Benjamin.” Mother said, “Come here.” I went to the door. “You, +Benjamin.” Mother said. + +“What is it now.” Father said, “Where are you going.” + +“Take him downstairs and get someone to watch him, Jason.” Mother said. +“You know I’m ill, yet you” + +Father shut the door behind us. + +“T. P.” he said. + +“Sir.” T. P. said downstairs. + +“Benjy’s coming down.” Father said. “Go with T. P.” + +I went to the bathroom door. I could hear the water. + +“Benjy.” T. P. said downstairs. + +I could hear the water. I listened to it. + +“Benjy.” T. P. said downstairs. + +I listened to the water. + +I couldn’t hear the water, and Caddy opened the door. + +“Why, Benjy.” she said. She looked at me and I went and she put her arms +around me. “Did you find Caddy again.” she said. “Did you think Caddy +had run away.” Caddy smelled like trees. + +We went to Caddy’s room. She sat down at the mirror. She stopped her +hands and looked at me. + +“Why, Benjy. What is it.” she said. “You mustn’t cry. Caddy’s not going +away. See here.” she said. She took up the bottle and took the stopper +out and held it to my nose. “Sweet. Smell. Good.” + +I went away and I didn’t hush, and she held the bottle in her hand, +looking at me. + +“Oh.” she said. She put the bottle down and came and put her arms around +me. “So that was it. And you were trying to tell Caddy and you couldn’t +tell her. You wanted to, but you couldn’t, could you. Of course Caddy +wont. Of course Caddy wont. Just wait till I dress.” + +Caddy dressed and took up the bottle again and we went down to the +kitchen. + +“Dilsey.” Caddy said, “Benjy’s got a present for you.” She stooped down +and put the bottle in my hand. “Hold it out to Dilsey, now.” Caddy held +my hand out and Dilsey took the bottle. + +“Well I’ll declare.” Dilsey said, “If my baby aint give Dilsey a bottle +of perfume. Just look here, Roskus.” + +Caddy smelled like trees. “We dont like perfume ourselves.” Caddy said. + +_She smelled like trees._ + +“Come on, now.” Dilsey said, “You too big to sleep with folks. You a big +boy now. Thirteen years old. Big enough to sleep by yourself in Uncle +Maury’s room.” Dilsey said. + +Uncle Maury was sick. His eye was sick, and his mouth. Versh took his +supper up to him on the tray. + +“Maury says he’s going to shoot the scoundrel.” Father said. “I told him +he’d better not mention it to Patterson before hand.” He drank. + +“Jason.” Mother said. + +“Shoot who, Father.” Quentin said. “What’s Uncle Maury going to shoot +him for.” + +“Because he couldn’t take a little joke.” Father said. + +“Jason.” Mother said, “How can you. You’d sit right there and see Maury +shot down in ambush, and laugh.” + +“Then Maury’d better stay out of ambush.” Father said. + +“Shoot who, Father.” Quentin said, “Who’s Uncle Maury going to shoot.” + +“Nobody.” Father said. “I dont own a pistol.” + +Mother began to cry. “If you begrudge Maury your food, why aren’t you +man enough to say so to his face. To ridicule him before the children, +behind his back.” + +“Of course I dont.” Father said, “I admire Maury. He is invaluable to my +own sense of racial superiority. I wouldn’t swap Maury for a matched +team. And do you know why, Quentin.” + +“No, sir.” Quentin said. + +“_Et ego in arcadia_ I have forgotten the latin for hay.” Father said. +“There, there.” he said, “I was just joking.” He drank and set the glass +down and went and put his hand on Mother’s shoulder. + +“It’s no joke.” Mother said. “My people are every bit as well born as +yours. Just because Maury’s health is bad.” + +“Of course.” Father said. “Bad health is the primary reason for all +life. Created by disease, within putrefaction, into decay. Versh.” + +“Sir.” Versh said behind my chair. + +“Take the decanter and fill it.” + +“And tell Dilsey to come and take Benjamin up to bed.” Mother said. + +“You a big boy.” Dilsey said, “Caddy tired sleeping with you. Hush now, +so you can go to sleep.” The room went away, but I didn’t hush, and the +room came back and Dilsey came and sat on the bed, looking at me. + +“Aint you going to be a good boy and hush.” Dilsey said. “You aint, is +you. See can you wait a minute, then.” + +She went away. There wasn’t anything in the door. Then Caddy was in it. + +“Hush.” Caddy said. “I’m coming.” + +I hushed and Dilsey turned back the spread and Caddy got in between the +spread and the blanket. She didn’t take off her bathrobe. + +“Now.” she said, “Here I am.” Dilsey came with a blanket and spread it +over her and tucked it around her. + +“He be gone in a minute.” Dilsey said. “I leave the light on in your +room.” + +“All right.” Caddy said. She snuggled her head beside mine on the +pillow. “Goodnight, Dilsey.” + +“Goodnight, honey.” Dilsey said. The room went black. _Caddy smelled +like trees._ + +We looked up into the tree where she was. + +“What she seeing, Versh.” Frony whispered. + +“Shhhhhhh.” Caddy said in the tree. Dilsey said, + +“You come on here.” She came around the corner of the house. “Whyn’t you +all go on up stairs, like your paw said, stead of slipping out behind my +back. Where’s Caddy and Quentin.” + +“I told her not to climb up that tree.” Jason said. “I’m going to tell +on her.” + +“Who in what tree.” Dilsey said. She came and looked up into the tree. +“Caddy.” Dilsey said. The branches began to shake again. + +“You, Satan.” Dilsey said. “Come down from there.” + +“Hush.” Caddy said, “Dont you know Father said to be quiet.” Her legs +came in sight and Dilsey reached up and lifted her out of the tree. + +“Aint you got any better sense than to let them come around here.” +Dilsey said. + +“I couldn’t do nothing with her.” Versh said. + +“What you all doing here.” Dilsey said. “Who told you to come up to the +house.” + +“She did.” Frony said. “She told us to come.” + +“Who told you you got to do what she say.” Dilsey said. “Get on home, +now.” Frony and T. P. went on. We couldn’t see them when they were still +going away. + +“Out here in the middle of the night.” Dilsey said. She took me up and +we went to the kitchen. + +“Slipping out behind my back.” Dilsey said. “When you knowed it’s past +your bedtime.” + +“Shhhh, Dilsey.” Caddy said. “Dont talk so loud. We’ve got to be quiet.” + +“You hush your mouth and get quiet, then.” Dilsey said. “Where’s +Quentin.” + +“Quentin’s mad because he had to mind me tonight.” Caddy said. “He’s +still got T. P.’s bottle of lightning bugs.” + +“I reckon T. P. can get along without it.” Dilsey said. “You go and find +Quentin, Versh. Roskus say he seen him going towards the barn.” Versh +went on. We couldn’t see him. + +“They’re not doing anything in there.” Caddy said. “Just sitting in +chairs and looking.” + +“They dont need no help from you all to do that.” Dilsey said. We went +around the kitchen. + +_Where you want to go now, Luster said. You going back to watch them +knocking ball again. We done looked for it over there. Here. Wait a +minute. You wait right here while I go back and get that ball. I done +thought of something._ + +The kitchen was dark. The trees were black on the sky. Dan came waddling +out from under the steps and chewed my ankle. I went around the kitchen, +where the moon was. Dan came scuffling along, into the moon. + +“Benjy.” T. P. said in the house. + +The flower tree by the parlor window wasn’t dark, but the thick trees +were. The grass was buzzing in the moonlight where my shadow walked on +the grass. + +“You, Benjy.” T. P. said in the house. “Where you hiding. You slipping +off. I knows it.” + +_Luster came back. Wait, he said. Here. Dont go over there. Miss Quentin +and her beau in the swing yonder. You come on this way. Come back here, +Benjy._ + +It was dark under the trees. Dan wouldn’t come. He stayed in the +moonlight. Then I could see the swing and I began to cry. + +_Come away from there, Benjy, Luster said. You know Miss Quentin going +to get mad._ + +It was two now, and then one in the swing. Caddy came fast, white in the +darkness. + +“Benjy,” she said. “How did you slip out. Where’s Versh.” + +She put her arms around me and I hushed and held to her dress and tried +to pull her away. + +“Why, Benjy.” she said. “What is it. T. P.” she called. + +The one in the swing got up and came, and I cried and pulled Caddy’s +dress. + +“Benjy.” Caddy said. “It’s just Charlie. Dont you know Charlie.” + +“Where’s his nigger.” Charlie said. “What do they let him run around +loose for.” + +“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said. “Go away, Charlie. He doesn’t like you.” +Charlie went away and I hushed. I pulled at Caddy’s dress. + +“Why, Benjy.” Caddy said. “Aren’t you going to let me stay here and talk +to Charlie awhile.” + +“Call that nigger.” Charlie said. He came back. I cried louder and +pulled at Caddy’s dress. + +“Go away, Charlie.” Caddy said. Charlie came and put his hands on Caddy +and I cried more. I cried loud. + +“No, no.” Caddy said. “No. No.” + +“He cant talk.” Charlie said. “Caddy.” + +“Are you crazy.” Caddy said. She began to breathe fast. “He can see. +Dont. Dont.” Caddy fought. They both breathed fast. “Please. Please.” +Caddy whispered. + +“Send him away.” Charlie said. + +“I will.” Caddy said. “Let me go.” + +“Will you send him away.” Charlie said. + +“Yes.” Caddy said. “Let me go.” Charlie went away. “Hush.” Caddy said. +“He’s gone.” I hushed. I could hear her and feel her chest going. + +“I’ll have to take him to the house.” she said. She took my hand. “I’m +coming.” she whispered. + +“Wait.” Charlie said. “Call the nigger.” + +“No.” Caddy said. “I’ll come back. Come on, Benjy.” + +“Caddy.” Charlie whispered, loud. We went on. “You better come back. Are +you coming back.” Caddy and I were running. “Caddy.” Charlie said. We +ran out into the moonlight, toward the kitchen. + +“Caddy.” Charlie said. + +Caddy and I ran. We ran up the kitchen steps, onto the porch, and Caddy +knelt down in the dark and held me. I could hear her and feel her chest. +“I wont.” she said. “I wont anymore, ever. Benjy. Benjy.” Then she was +crying, and I cried, and we held each other. “Hush.” she said. “Hush. I +wont anymore.” So I hushed and Caddy got up and we went into the kitchen +and turned the light on and Caddy took the kitchen soap and washed her +mouth at the sink, hard. Caddy smelled like trees. + +_I kept a telling you to stay away from there, Luster said. They sat up +in the swing, quick. Quentin had her hands on her hair. He had a red +tie._ + +_You old crazy loon, Quentin said. I’m going to tell Dilsey about the +way you let him follow everywhere I go. I’m going to make her whip you +good._ + +“I couldn’t stop him.” Luster said. “Come on here, Benjy.” + +“Yes you could.” Quentin said. “You didn’t try. You were both snooping +around after me. Did Grandmother send you all out here to spy on me.” +She jumped out of the swing. “If you dont take him right away this +minute and keep him away, I’m going to make Jason whip you.” + +“I cant do nothing with him.” Luster said. “You try it if you think you +can.” + +“Shut your mouth.” Quentin said. “Are you going to get him away.” + +“Ah, let him stay.” he said. He had a red tie. The sun was red on it. +“Look here, Jack.” He struck a match and put it in his mouth. Then he +took the match out of his mouth. It was still burning. “Want to try it.” +he said. I went over there. “Open your mouth.” he said. I opened my +mouth. Quentin hit the match with her hand and it went away. + +“Goddamn you.” Quentin said. “Do you want to get him started. Dont you +know he’ll beller all day. I’m going to tell Dilsey on you.” She went +away running. + +“Here, kid.” he said. “Hey. Come on back. I aint going to fool with +him.” + +Quentin ran on to the house. She went around the kitchen. + +“You played hell then, Jack.” he said. “Aint you.” + +“He cant tell what you saying.” Luster said. “He deef and dumb.” + +“Is.” he said. “How long’s he been that way.” + +“Been that way thirty-three years today.” Luster said. “Born looney. Is +you one of them show folks.” + +“Why.” he said. + +“I dont ricklick seeing you around here before.” Luster said. + +“Well, what about it.” he said. + +“Nothing.” Luster said. “I going tonight.” + +He looked at me. + +“You aint the one can play a tune on that saw, is you.” Luster said. + +“It’ll cost you a quarter to find that out.” he said. He looked at me. +“Why dont they lock him up.” he said. “What’d you bring him out here +for.” + +“You aint talking to me.” Luster said. “I cant do nothing with him. I +just come over here looking for a quarter I lost so I can go to the show +tonight. Look like now I aint going to get to go.” Luster looked on the +ground. “You aint got no extra quarter, is you.” Luster said. + +“No.” he said. “I aint.” + +“I reckon I just have to find that other one, then.” Luster said. He put +his hand in his pocket. “You dont want to buy no golf ball neither, does +you.” Luster said. + +“What kind of ball.” he said. + +“Golf ball.” Luster said. “I dont want but a quarter.” + +“What for.” he said. “What do I want with it.” + +“I didn’t think you did.” Luster said. “Come on here, mulehead.” he +said. “Come on here and watch them knocking that ball. Here. Here +something you can play with along with that jimson weed.” Luster picked +it up and gave it to me. It was bright. + +“Where’d you get that.” he said. His tie was red in the sun, walking. + +“Found it under this here bush.” Luster said. “I thought for a minute it +was that quarter I lost.” + +He came and took it. + +“Hush.” Luster said. “He going to give it back when he done looking at +it.” + +“Agnes Mabel Becky.” he said. He looked toward the house. + +“Hush.” Luster said. “He fixing to give it back.” + +He gave it to me and I hushed. + +“Who come to see her last night.” he said. + +“I dont know.” Luster said. “They comes every night she can climb down +that tree. I dont keep no track of them.” + +“Damn if one of them didn’t leave a track.” he said. He looked at the +house. Then he went and lay down in the swing. “Go away.” he said. “Dont +bother me.” + +“Come on here.” Luster said. “You done played hell now. Time Miss +Quentin get done telling on you.” + +We went to the fence and looked through the curling flower spaces. +Luster hunted in the grass. + +“I had it right here.” he said. I saw the flag flapping, and the sun +slanting on the broad grass. + +“They’ll be some along soon.” Luster said. “There some now, but they +going away. Come on and help me look for it.” + +We went along the fence. + +“Hush.” Luster said. “How can I make them come over here, if they aint +coming. Wait. They’ll be some in a minute. Look yonder. Here they come.” + +I went along the fence, to the gate, where the girls passed with their +booksatchels. “You, Benjy.” Luster said. “Come back here.” + +_You cant do no good looking through the gate, T. P. said. Miss Caddy +done gone long ways away. Done got married and left you. You cant do no +good, holding to the gate and crying. She cant hear you._ + +_What is it he wants, T. P. Mother said. Cant you play with him and keep +him quiet._ + +_He want to go down yonder and look through the gate, T. P. said._ + +_Well, he cannot do it, Mother said. It’s raining. You will just have to +play with him and keep him quiet. You, Benjamin._ + +_Aint nothing going to quiet him, T. P. said. He think if he down to the +gate, Miss Caddy come back._ + +_Nonsense, Mother said._ + +I could hear them talking. I went out the door and I couldn’t hear them, +and I went down to the gate, where the girls passed with their +booksatchels. They looked at me, walking fast, with their heads turned. +I tried to say, but they went on, and I went along the fence, trying to +say, and they went faster. Then they were running and I came to the +corner of the fence and I couldn’t go any further, and I held to the +fence, looking after them and trying to say. + +“You, Benjy.” T. P. said. “What you doing, slipping out. Dont you know +Dilsey whip you.” + +“You cant do no good, moaning and slobbering through the fence.” T. P. +said. “You done skeered them chillen. Look at them, walking on the other +side of the street.” + +_How did he get out, Father said. Did you leave the gate unlatched when +you came in, Jason._ + +_Of course not, Jason said. Dont you know I’ve got better sense than to +do that. Do you think I wanted anything like this to happen. This family +is bad enough, God knows. I could have told you, all the time. I reckon +you’ll send him to Jackson, now. If Mrs Burgess dont shoot him first._ + +_Hush, Father said._ + +_I could have told you, all the time, Jason said._ + +It was open when I touched it, and I held to it in the twilight. I +wasn’t crying, and I tried to stop, watching the girls coming along in +the twilight. I wasn’t crying. + +“There he is.” + +They stopped. + +“He cant get out. He wont hurt anybody, anyway. Come on.” + +“I’m scared to. I’m scared. I’m going to cross the street.” + +“He cant get out.” + +I wasn’t crying. + +“Dont be a ’fraid cat. Come on.” + +They came on in the twilight. I wasn’t crying, and I held to the gate. +They came slow. + +“I’m scared.” + +“He wont hurt you. I pass here every day. He just runs along the fence.” + +They came on. I opened the gate and they stopped, turning. I was trying +to say, and I caught her, trying to say, and she screamed and I was +trying to say and trying and the bright shapes began to stop and I tried +to get out. I tried to get it off of my face, but the bright shapes were +going again. They were going up the hill to where it fell away and I +tried to cry. But when I breathed in, I couldn’t breathe out again to +cry, and I tried to keep from falling off the hill and I fell off the +hill into the bright, whirling shapes. + +_Here, loony, Luster said. Here come some. Hush your slobbering and +moaning, now._ + +They came to the flag. He took it out and they hit, then he put the flag +back. + +“Mister.” Luster said. + +He looked around. “What.” he said. + +“Want to buy a golf ball.” Luster said. + +“Let’s see it.” he said. He came to the fence and Luster reached the +ball through. + +“Where’d you get it.” he said. + +“Found it.” Luster said. + +“I know that.” he said. “Where. In somebody’s golf bag.” + +“I found it laying over here in the yard.” Luster said. “I’ll take a +quarter for it.” + +“What makes you think it’s yours.” he said. + +“I found it.” Luster said. + +“Then find yourself another one.” he said. He put it in his pocket and +went away. + +“I got to go to that show tonight.” Luster said. + +“That so.” he said. He went to the table. “Fore, caddie.” he said. He +hit. + +“I’ll declare.” Luster said. “You fusses when you dont see them and you +fusses when you does. Why cant you hush. Dont you reckon folks gets +tired of listening to you all the time. Here. You dropped your jimson +weed.” He picked it up and gave it back to me. “You needs a new one. You +’bout wore that one out.” We stood at the fence and watched them. + +“That white man hard to get along with.” Luster said. “You see him take +my ball.” They went on. We went on along the fence. We came to the +garden and we couldn’t go any further. I held to the fence and looked +through the flower spaces. They went away. + +“Now you aint got nothing to moan about.” Luster said. “Hush up. I the +one got something to moan over, you aint. Here. Whyn’t you hold on to +that weed. You be bellering about it next.” He gave me the flower. +“Where you heading now.” + +Our shadows were on the grass. They got to the trees before we did. Mine +got there first. Then we got there, and then the shadows were gone. +There was a flower in the bottle. I put the other flower in it. + +“Aint you a grown man, now.” Luster said. “Playing with two weeds in a +bottle. You know what they going to do with you when Miss Cahline die. +They going to send you to Jackson, where you belong. Mr Jason say so. +Where you can hold the bars all day long with the rest of the looneys +and slobber. How you like that.” + +Luster knocked the flowers over with his hand. “That’s what they’ll do +to you at Jackson when you starts bellering.” + +I tried to pick up the flowers. Luster picked them up, and they went +away. I began to cry. + +“Beller.” Luster said. “Beller. You want something to beller about. All +right, then. Caddy.” he whispered. “Caddy. Beller now. Caddy.” + +“Luster.” Dilsey said from the kitchen. + +The flowers came back. + +“Hush.” Luster said. “Here they is. Look. It’s fixed back just like it +was at first. Hush, now.” + +“You, Luster.” Dilsey said. + +“Yessum.” Luster said. “We coming. You done played hell. Get up.” He +jerked my arm and I got up. We went out of the trees. Our shadows were +gone. + +“Hush.” Luster said. “Look at all them folks watching you. Hush.” + +“You bring him on here.” Dilsey said. She came down the steps. + +“What you done to him now.” she said. + +“Aint done nothing to him.” Luster said. “He just started bellering.” + +“Yes you is.” Dilsey said. “You done something to him. Where you been.” + +“Over yonder under them cedars.” Luster said. + +“Getting Quentin all riled up.” Dilsey said. “Why cant you keep him away +from her. Dont you know she dont like him where she at.” + +“Got as much time for him as I is.” Luster said. “He aint none of my +uncle.” + +“Dont you sass me, nigger boy.” Dilsey said. + +“I aint done nothing to him.” Luster said. “He was playing there, and +all of a sudden he started bellering.” + +“Is you been projecking with his graveyard.” Dilsey said. + +“I aint touched his graveyard.” Luster said. + +“Dont lie to me, boy.” Dilsey said. We went up the steps and into the +kitchen. Dilsey opened the firedoor and drew a chair up in front of it +and I sat down. I hushed. + +_What you want to get her started for, Dilsey said. Whyn’t you keep him +out of there._ + +_He was just looking at the fire, Caddy said. Mother was telling him his +new name. We didn’t mean to get her started._ + +_I knows you didn’t, Dilsey said. Him at one end of the house and her at +the other. You let my things alone, now. Dont you touch nothing till I +get back._ + +“Aint you shamed of yourself.” Dilsey said. “Teasing him.” She set the +cake on the table. + +“I aint been teasing him.” Luster said. “He was playing with that bottle +full of dogfennel and all of a sudden he started up bellering. You heard +him.” + +“You aint done nothing to his flowers.” Dilsey said. + +“I aint touched his graveyard.” Luster said. “What I want with his +truck. I was just hunting for that quarter.” + +“You lost it, did you.” Dilsey said. She lit the candles on the cake. +Some of them were little ones. Some were big ones cut into little +pieces. “I told you to go put it away. Now I reckon you want me to get +you another one from Frony.” + +“I got to go to that show, Benjy or no Benjy.” Luster said. “I aint +going to follow him around day and night both.” + +“You going to do just what he want you to, nigger boy.” Dilsey said. +“You hear me.” + +“Aint I always done it.” Luster said. “Dont I always does what he wants. +Dont I, Benjy.” + +“Then you keep it up.” Dilsey said. “Bringing him in here, bawling and +getting her started too. You all go ahead and eat this cake, now, before +Jason come. I dont want him jumping on me about a cake I bought with my +own money. Me baking a cake here, with him counting every egg that comes +into this kitchen. See can you let him alone now, less you dont want to +go to that show tonight.” + +Dilsey went away. + +“You cant blow out no candles.” Luster said. “Watch me blow them out.” +He leaned down and puffed his face. The candles went away. I began to +cry. “Hush.” Luster said. “Here. Look at the fire whiles I cuts this +cake.” + +_I could hear the clock, and I could hear Caddy standing behind me, and +I could hear the roof. It’s still raining, Caddy said. I hate rain. I +hate everything. And then her head came into my lap and she was crying, +holding me, and I began to cry. Then I looked at the fire again and the +bright, smooth shapes went again. I could hear the clock and the roof +and Caddy._ + +I ate some cake. Luster’s hand came and took another piece. I could hear +him eating. I looked at the fire. + +A long piece of wire came across my shoulder. It went to the door, and +then the fire went away. I began to cry. + +“What you howling for now.” Luster said. “Look there.” The fire was +there. I hushed. “Cant you set and look at the fire and be quiet like +mammy told you.” Luster said. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. +Here. Here’s you some more cake.” + +“What you done to him now.” Dilsey said. “Cant you never let him alone.” + +“I was just trying to get him to hush up and not sturb Miss Cahline.” +Luster said. “Something got him started again.” + +“And I know what that something name.” Dilsey said. “I’m going to get +Versh to take a stick to you when he comes home. You just trying +yourself. You been doing it all day. Did you take him down to the +branch.” + +“Nome.” Luster said. “We been right here in this yard all day, like you +said.” + +His hand came for another piece of cake. Dilsey hit his hand. “Reach it +again, and I chop it right off with this here butcher knife.” Dilsey +said. “I bet he aint had one piece of it.” + +“Yes he is.” Luster said. “He already had twice as much as me. Ask him +if he aint.” + +“Reach hit one more time.” Dilsey said. “Just reach it.” + +_That’s right, Dilsey said. I reckon it’ll be my time to cry next. +Reckon Maury going to let me cry on him a while, too._ + +_His name’s Benjy now, Caddy said._ + +_How come it is, Dilsey said. He aint wore out the name he was born with +yet, is he._ + +_Benjamin came out of the bible, Caddy said. It’s a better name for him +than Maury was._ + +_How come it is, Dilsey said._ + +_Mother says it is, Caddy said._ + +_Huh, Dilsey said. Name aint going to help him. Hurt him, neither. Folks +dont have no luck, changing names. My name been Dilsey since fore I +could remember and it be Dilsey when they’s long forgot me._ + +_How will they know it’s Dilsey, when it’s long forgot, Dilsey, Caddy +said._ + +_It’ll be in the Book, honey, Dilsey said. Writ out._ + +_Can you read it, Caddy said._ + +_Wont have to, Dilsey said. They’ll read it for me. All I got to do is +say Ise here._ + +The long wire came across my shoulder, and the fire went away. I began +to cry. + +Dilsey and Luster fought. + +“I seen you.” Dilsey said. “Oho, I seen you.” She dragged Luster out of +the corner, shaking him. “Wasn’t nothing bothering him, was they. You +just wait till your pappy come home. I wish I was young like I use to +be, I’d tear them years right off your head. I good mind to lock you up +in that cellar and not let you go to that show tonight, I sho is.” + +“Ow, mammy.” Luster said. “Ow, mammy.” + +I put my hand out to where the fire had been. + +“Catch him.” Dilsey said. “Catch him back.” + +My hand jerked back and I put it in my mouth and Dilsey caught me. I +could still hear the clock between my voice. Dilsey reached back and hit +Luster on the head. My voice was going loud every time. + +“Get that soda.” Dilsey said. She took my hand out of my mouth. My voice +went louder then and my hand tried to go back to my mouth, but Dilsey +held it. My voice went loud. She sprinkled soda on my hand. + +“Look in the pantry and tear a piece off of that rag hanging on the +nail.” she said. “Hush, now. You dont want to make your ma sick again, +does you. Here, look at the fire. Dilsey make your hand stop hurting in +just a minute. Look at the fire.” She opened the fire door. I looked at +the fire, but my hand didn’t stop and I didn’t stop. My hand was trying +to go to my mouth but Dilsey held it. + +She wrapped the cloth around it. Mother said, + +“What is it now. Cant I even be sick in peace. Do I have to get up out +of bed to come down to him, with two grown negroes to take care of him.” + +“He all right now.” Dilsey said. “He going to quit. He just burnt his +hand a little.” + +“With two grown negroes, you must bring him into the house, bawling.” +Mother said. “You got him started on purpose, because you know I’m +sick.” She came and stood by me. “Hush.” she said. “Right this minute. +Did you give him this cake.” + +“I bought it.” Dilsey said. “It never come out of Jason’s pantry. I +fixed him some birthday.” + +“Do you want to poison him with that cheap store cake.” Mother said. “Is +that what you are trying to do. Am I never to have one minute’s peace.” + +“You go on back up stairs and lay down.” Dilsey said. “It’ll quit +smarting him in a minute now, and he’ll hush. Come on, now.” + +“And leave him down here for you all to do something else to.” Mother +said. “How can I lie there, with him bawling down here. Benjamin. Hush +this minute.” + +“They aint nowhere else to take him.” Dilsey said. “We aint got the room +we use to have. He cant stay out in the yard, crying where all the +neighbors can see him.” + +“I know, I know.” Mother said. “It’s all my fault. I’ll be gone soon, +and you and Jason will both get along better.” She began to cry. + +“You hush that, now.” Dilsey said. “You’ll get yourself down again. You +come on back up stairs. Luster going to take him to the liberry and play +with him till I get his supper done.” + +Dilsey and Mother went out. + +“Hush up.” Luster said. “You hush up. You want me to burn your other +hand for you. You aint hurt. Hush up.” + +“Here.” Dilsey said. “Stop crying, now.” She gave me the slipper, and I +hushed. “Take him to the liberry.” she said. “And if I hear him again, I +going to whip you myself.” + +We went to the library. Luster turned on the light. The windows went +black, and the dark tall place on the wall came and I went and touched +it. It was like a door, only it wasn’t a door. + +The fire came behind me and I went to the fire and sat on the floor, +holding the slipper. The fire went higher. It went onto the cushion in +Mother’s chair. + +“Hush up.” Luster said. “Cant you never get done for a while. Here I +done built you a fire, and you wont even look at it.” + +_Your name is Benjy. Caddy said. Do you hear. Benjy. Benjy._ + +_Dont tell him that, Mother said. Bring him here._ + +_Caddy lifted me under the arms._ + +_Get up, Mau—I mean Benjy, she said._ + +_Dont try to carry him, Mother said. Cant you lead him over here. Is +that too much for you to think of._ + +_I can carry him_, Caddy said. “Let me carry him up, Dilsey.” + +“Go on, Minute.” Dilsey said. “You aint big enough to tote a flea. You +go on and be quiet, like Mr. Jason said.” + +There was a light at the top of the stairs. Father was there, in his +shirt sleeves. The way he looked said Hush. Caddy whispered, + +“Is Mother sick.” + +_Versh set me down and we went into Mother’s room. There was a fire. It +was rising and falling on the walls. There was another fire in the +mirror. I could smell the sickness. It was a cloth folded on Mother’s +head. Her hair was on the pillow. The fire didn’t reach it, but it shone +on her hand, where her rings were jumping._ + +“Come and tell Mother goodnight.” Caddy said. We went to the bed. The +fire went out of the mirror. Father got up from the bed and lifted me up +and Mother put her hand on my head. + +“What time is it.” Mother said. Her eyes were closed. + +“Ten minutes to seven.” Father said. + +“It’s too early for him to go to bed.” Mother said. “He’ll wake up at +daybreak, and I simply cannot bear another day like today.” + +“There, there.” Father said. He touched Mother’s face. + +“I know I’m nothing but a burden to you.” Mother said. “But I’ll be gone +soon. Then you will be rid of my bothering.” + +“Hush.” Father said. “I’ll take him downstairs awhile.” He took me up. +“Come on, old fellow. Let’s go downstairs awhile. We’ll have to be quiet +while Quentin is studying, now.” + +Caddy went and leaned her face over the bed and Mother’s hand came into +the firelight. Her rings jumped on Caddy’s back. + +_Mother’s sick, Father said. Dilsey will put you to bed. Where’s +Quentin._ + +_Versh getting him, Dilsey said._ + +Father stood and watched us go past. We could hear Mother in her room. +Caddy said “Hush.” Jason was still climbing the stairs. He had his hands +in his pockets. + +“You all must be good tonight.” Father said. “And be quiet, so you wont +disturb Mother.” + +“We’ll be quiet.” Caddy said. “You must be quiet now, Jason.” she said. +We tiptoed. + +_We could hear the roof. I could see the fire in the mirror too. Caddy +lifted me again._ + +“Come on, now.” she said. “Then you can come back to the fire. Hush, +now.” + +“Candace.” Mother said. + +“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said. “Mother wants you a minute. Like a good boy. +Then you can come back. Benjy.” + +Caddy let me down, and I hushed. + +“Let him stay here, Mother. When he’s through looking at the fire, then +you can tell him.” + +“Candace.” Mother said. Caddy stooped and lifted me. We staggered. +“Candace.” Mother said. + +“Hush.” Caddy said. “You can still see it. Hush.” + +“Bring him here.” Mother said. “He’s too big for you to carry. You must +stop trying. You’ll injure your back. All of our women have prided +themselves on their carriage. Do you want to look like a washer-woman.” + +“He’s not too heavy.” Caddy said. “I can carry him.” + +“Well, I dont want him carried, then.” Mother said. “A five year old +child. No, no. Not in my lap. Let him stand up.” + +“If you’ll hold him, he’ll stop.” Caddy said. “Hush.” she said. “You can +go right back. Here. Here’s your cushion. See.” + +“Dont, Candace.” Mother said. + +“Let him look at it and he’ll be quiet.” Caddy said. “Hold up just a +minute while I slip it out. There, Benjy. Look.” + +I looked at it and hushed. + +“You humour him too much.” Mother said. “You and your father both. You +dont realise that I am the one who has to pay for it. Damuddy spoiled +Jason that way and it took him two years to outgrow it, and I am not +strong enough to go through the same thing with Benjamin.” + +“You dont need to bother with him.” Caddy said. “I like to take care of +him. Dont I, Benjy.” + +“Candace.” Mother said. “I told you not to call him that. It was bad +enough when your father insisted on calling you by that silly nickname, +and I will not have him called by one. Nicknames are vulgar. Only common +people use them. Benjamin.” she said. + +“Look at me.” Mother said. + +“Benjamin.” she said. She took my face in her hands and turned it to +hers. + +“Benjamin.” she said. “Take that cushion away, Candace.” + +“He’ll cry.” Caddy said. + +“Take that cushion away, like I told you.” Mother said. “He must learn +to mind.” + +The cushion went away. + +“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said. + +“You go over there and sit down.” Mother said. “Benjamin.” She held my +face to hers. + +“Stop that.” she said. “Stop it.” + +But I didn’t stop and Mother caught me in her arms and began to cry, and +I cried. Then the cushion came back and Caddy held it above Mother’s +head. She drew Mother back in the chair and Mother lay crying against +the red and yellow cushion. + +“Hush, Mother.” Caddy said. “You go upstairs and lay down, so you can be +sick. I’ll go get Dilsey.” She led me to the fire and I looked at the +bright, smooth shapes. I could hear the fire and the roof. + +Father took me up. He smelled like rain. + +“Well, Benjy.” he said. “Have you been a good boy today.” + +Caddy and Jason were fighting in the mirror. + +“You, Caddy.” Father said. + +They fought. Jason began to cry. + +“Caddy.” Father said. Jason was crying. He wasn’t fighting anymore but +we could see Caddy fighting in the mirror and Father put me down and +went into the mirror and fought too. He lifted Caddy up. She fought. +Jason lay on the floor, crying. He had the scissors in his hand. Father +held Caddy. + +“He cut up all Benjy’s dolls.” Caddy said. “I’ll slit his gizzle.” + +“Candace.” Father said. + +“I will.” Caddy said. “I will.” She fought. Father held her. She kicked +at Jason. He rolled into the corner, out of the mirror. Father brought +Caddy to the fire. They were all out of the mirror. Only the fire was in +it. Like the fire was in a door. + +“Stop that.” Father said. “Do you want to make Mother sick in her room.” + +Caddy stopped. “He cut up all the dolls Mau—Benjy and I made.” Caddy +said. “He did it just for meanness.” + +“I didn’t.” Jason said. He was sitting up, crying. “I didn’t know they +were his. I just thought they were some old papers.” + +“You couldn’t help but know.” Caddy said. “You did it just.” + +“Hush.” Father said. “Jason.” he said. + +“I’ll make you some more tomorrow.” Caddy said. “We’ll make a lot of +them. Here, you can look at the cushion, too.” + +_Jason came in._ + +_I kept telling you to hush, Luster said._ + +_What’s the matter now, Jason said._ + +“He just trying hisself.” Luster said. “That the way he been going on +all day.” + +“Why dont you let him alone, then.” Jason said. “If you cant keep him +quiet, you’ll have to take him out to the kitchen. The rest of us cant +shut ourselves up in a room like Mother does.” + +“Mammy say keep him out the kitchen till she get supper.” Luster said. + +“Then play with him and keep him quiet.” Jason said. “Do I have to work +all day and then come home to a mad house.” He opened the paper and read +it. + +_You can look at the fire and the mirror and the cushion too, Caddy +said. You wont have to wait until supper to look at the cushion, now. We +could hear the roof. We could hear Jason too, crying loud beyond the +wall._ + +Dilsey said, “You come, Jason. You letting him alone, is you.” + +“Yessum.” Luster said. + +“Where Quentin.” Dilsey said. “Supper near bout ready.” + +“I dont know’m.” Luster said. “I aint seen her.” + +Dilsey went away. “Quentin.” she said in the hall. “Quentin. Supper +ready.” + +_We could hear the roof. Quentin smelled like rain, too._ + +_What did Jason do, he said._ + +_He cut up all Benjy’s dolls, Caddy said._ + +_Mother said to not call him Benjy, Quentin said. He sat on the rug by +us. I wish it wouldn’t rain, he said. You cant do anything._ + +_You’ve been in a fight, Caddy said. Haven’t you._ + +_It wasn’t much, Quentin said._ + +_You can tell it, Caddy said. Father’ll see it._ + +_I dont care, Quentin said. I wish it wouldn’t rain._ + +Quentin said, “Didn’t Dilsey say supper was ready.” + +“Yessum.” Luster said. Jason looked at Quentin. Then he read the paper +again. Quentin came in. “She say it bout ready.” Luster said. Quentin +jumped down in Mother’s chair. Luster said, + +“Mr Jason.” + +“What.” Jason said. + +“Let me have two bits.” Luster said. + +“What for.” Jason said. + +“To go to the show tonight.” Luster said. + +“I thought Dilsey was going to get a quarter from Frony for you.” Jason +said. + +“She did.” Luster said. “I lost it. Me and Benjy hunted all day for that +quarter. You can ask him.” + +“Then borrow one from him.” Jason said. “I have to work for mine.” He +read the paper. Quentin looked at the fire. The fire was in her eyes and +on her mouth. Her mouth was red. + +“I tried to keep him away from there.” Luster said. + +“Shut your mouth.” Quentin said. Jason looked at her. + +“What did I tell you I was going to do if I saw you with that show +fellow again.” he said. Quentin looked at the fire. “Did you hear me.” +Jason said. + +“I heard you.” Quentin said. “Why dont you do it, then.” + +“Dont you worry.” Jason said. + +“I’m not.” Quentin said. Jason read the paper again. + +_I could hear the roof. Father leaned forward and looked at Quentin._ + +_Hello, he said. Who won._ + +“Nobody.” Quentin said. “They stopped us. Teachers.” + +“Who was it.” Father said. “Will you tell.” + +“It was all right.” Quentin said. “He was as big as me.” + +“That’s good.” Father said. “Can you tell what it was about.” + +“It wasn’t anything.” Quentin said. “He said he would put a frog in her +desk and she wouldn’t dare to whip him.” + +“Oh.” Father said. “She. And then what.” + +“Yes, sir.” Quentin said. “And then I kind of hit him.” + +We could hear the roof and the fire, and a snuffling outside the door. + +“Where was he going to get a frog in November.” Father said. + +“I dont know, sir.” Quentin said. + +We could hear them. + +“Jason.” Father said. We could hear Jason. + +“Jason.” Father said. “Come in here and stop that.” + +We could hear the roof and the fire and Jason. + +“Stop that, now.” Father said. “Do you want me to whip you again.” +Father lifted Jason up into the chair by him. Jason snuffled. We could +hear the fire and the roof. Jason snuffled a little louder. + +“One more time.” Father said. We could hear the fire and the roof. + +_Dilsey said, All right. You all can come on to supper._ + +_Versh smelled like rain. He smelled like a dog, too. We could hear the +fire and the roof._ + +We could hear Caddy walking fast. Father and Mother looked at the door. +Caddy passed it, walking fast, She didn’t look. She walked fast. + +“Candace.” Mother said. Caddy stopped walking. + +“Yes, Mother.” she said. + +“Hush, Caroline.” Father said. + +“Come here.” Mother said. + +“Hush, Caroline.” Father said. “Let her alone.” + +Caddy came to the door and stood there, looking at Father and Mother. +Her eyes flew at me, and away. I began to cry. It went loud and I got +up. Caddy came in and stood with her back to the wall, looking at me. I +went toward her, crying, and she shrank against the wall and I saw her +eyes and I cried louder and pulled at her dress. She put her hands out +but I pulled at her dress. Her eyes ran. + +_Versh said, Your name Benjamin now. You know how come your name +Benjamin now. They making a bluegum out of you. Mammy say in old time +your granpa changed nigger’s name, and_ _he turn preacher, and when they +look at him, he bluegum too. Didn’t use to be bluegum, neither. And when +family woman look him in the eye in the full of the moon, chile born +bluegum. And one evening, when they was about a dozen them bluegum +chillen running round the place, he never come home. Possum hunters +found him in the woods, et clean. And you know who et him. Them bluegum +chillen did._ + +We were in the hall. Caddy was still looking at me. Her hand was against +her mouth and I saw her eyes and I cried. We went up the stairs. She +stopped again, against the wall, looking at me and I cried and she went +on and I came on, crying, and she shrank against the wall, looking at +me. She opened the door to her room, but I pulled at her dress and we +went to the bathroom and she stood against the door, looking at me. Then +she put her arm across her face and I pushed at her, crying. + +_What are you doing to him, Jason said. Why cant you let him alone._ + +_I aint touching him, Luster said. He been doing this way all day long. +He needs whipping._ + +_He needs to be sent to Jackson, Quentin said. How can anybody live in a +house like this._ + +_If you dont like it, young lady, you’d better get out, Jason said._ + +_I’m going to, Quentin said. Dont you worry._ + +Versh said, “You move back some, so I can dry my legs off.” He shoved me +back a little. “Dont you start bellering, now. You can still see it. +That’s all you have to do. You aint had to be out in the rain like I is. +You’s born lucky and dont know it.” He lay on his back before the fire. + +“You know how come your name Benjamin now.” Versh said. “Your mamma too +proud for you. What mammy say.” + +“You be still there and let me dry my legs off.” Versh said. “Or you +know what I’ll do. I’ll skin your rinktum.” + +We could hear the fire and the roof and Versh. + +Versh got up quick and jerked his legs back. Father said, “All right, +Versh.” + +“I’ll feed him tonight.” Caddy said. “Sometimes he cries when Versh +feeds him.” + +“Take this tray up,” Dilsey said. “And hurry back and feed Benjy.” + +“Dont you want Caddy to feed you.” Caddy said. + +_Has he got to keep that old dirty slipper on the table, Quentin said. +Why dont you feed him in the kitchen. It’s like eating with a pig._ + +_If you dont like the way we eat, you’d better not come to the table, +Jason said._ + +Steam came off of Roskus. He was sitting in front of the stove. The oven +door was open and Roskus had his feet in it. Steam came off the bowl. +Caddy put the spoon into my mouth easy. There was a black spot on the +inside of the bowl. + +_Now, now, Dilsey said. He aint going to bother you no more._ + +It got down below the mark. Then the bowl was empty. It went away. “He’s +hungry tonight.” Caddy said. The bowl came back. I couldn’t see the +spot. Then I could. “He’s starved, tonight.” Caddy said. “Look how much +he’s eaten.” + +_Yes he will, Quentin said. You all send him out to spy on me. I hate +this house. I’m going to run away._ + +Roskus said, “It going to rain all night.” + +_You’ve been running a long time, not to ’ve got any further off than +mealtime, Jason said._ + +_See if I dont, Quentin said._ + +“Then I dont know what I going to do.” Dilsey said. “It caught me in the +hip so bad now I cant scarcely move. Climbing them stairs all evening.” + +_Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised, Jason said. I wouldn’t be surprised at +anything you’d do._ + +_Quentin threw her napkin on the table._ + +_Hush your mouth, Jason, Dilsey said. She went and put her arm around +Quentin. Sit down, honey, Dilsey said. He ought to be shamed of hisself, +throwing what aint your fault up to you._ + +“She sulling again, is she.” Roskus said. + +“Hush your mouth.” Dilsey said. + +_Quentin pushed Dilsey away. She looked at Jason. Her mouth was red. She +picked up her glass of water and swung her arm back, looking at Jason. +Dilsey caught her arm. They fought. The glass_ _broke on the table, and +the water ran into the table. Quentin was running._ + +“Mother’s sick again.” Caddy said. + +“Sho she is.” Dilsey said. “Weather like this make anybody sick. When +you going to get done eating, boy.” + +_Goddamn you, Quentin said. Goddamn you. We could hear her running on +the stairs. We went to the library._ + +Caddy gave me the cushion, and I could look at the cushion and the +mirror and the fire. + +“We must be quiet while Quentin’s studying.” Father said. “What are you +doing, Jason.” + +“Nothing.” Jason said. + +“Suppose you come over here to do it, then.” Father said. + +Jason came out of the corner. + +“What are you chewing.” Father said. + +“Nothing.” Jason said. + +“He’s chewing paper again.” Caddy said. + +“Come here, Jason.” Father said. + +Jason threw into the fire. It hissed, uncurled, turning black. Then it +was gray. Then it was gone. Caddy and Father and Jason were in Mother’s +chair. Jason’s eyes were puffed shut and his mouth moved, like tasting. +Caddy’s head was on Father’s shoulder. Her hair was like fire, and +little points of fire were in her eyes, and I went and Father lifted me +into the chair too, and Caddy held me. She smelled like trees. + +_She smelled like trees. In the corner it was dark, but I could see the +window. I squatted there, holding the slipper. I couldn’t see it, but my +hands saw it, and I could hear it getting night, and my hands saw the +slipper but I couldn’t see myself, but my hands could see the slipper, +and I squatted there, hearing it getting dark._ + +_Here you is, Luster said. Look what I got. He showed it to me. You know +where I got it. Miss Quentin gave it to me. I knowed they couldn’t keep +me out. What you doing, off in here. I thought you done slipped back out +doors. Aint you done enough moaning and slobbering today, without hiding +off in this here empty room, mumbling and taking on. Come on here to +bed, so I can get up there before it starts. I cant fool with you all +night tonight. Just let them horns toot the first toot and I done gone._ + +We didn’t go to our room. + +“This is where we have the measles.” Caddy said. “Why do we have to +sleep in here tonight.” + +“What you care where you sleep.” Dilsey said. She shut the door and sat +down and began to undress me. Jason began to cry. “Hush.” Dilsey said. + +“I want to sleep with Damuddy.” Jason said. + +“She’s sick.” Caddy said. “You can sleep with her when she gets well. +Cant he, Dilsey.” + +“Hush, now.” Dilsey said. Jason hushed. + +“Our nighties are here, and everything.” Caddy said. “It’s like moving.” + +“And you better get into them.” Dilsey said. “You be unbuttoning Jason.” + +Caddy unbuttoned Jason. He began to cry. + +“You want to get whipped.” Dilsey said. Jason hushed. + +_Quentin, Mother said in the hall._ + +_What, Quentin said beyond the wall. We heard Mother lock the door. She +looked in our door and came in and stooped over the bed and kissed me on +the forehead._ + +_When you get him to bed, go and ask Dilsey if she objects to my having +a hot water bottle, Mother said. Tell her that if she does, I’ll try to +get along without it. Tell her I just want to know._ + +_Yessum, Luster said. Come on. Get your pants off._ + +Quentin and Versh came in. Quentin had his face turned away. “What are +you crying for.” Caddy said. + +“Hush.” Dilsey said. “You all get undressed, now. You can go on home, +Versh.” + +_I got undressed and I looked at myself, and I began to cry. Hush, +Luster said. Looking for them aint going to do no good. They’re gone. +You keep on like this, and we aint going have you no more birthday. He +put my gown on. I hushed, and then Luster stopped, his head toward the +window. Then he went to the window and looked out. He came back and took +my arm. Here she come, he said. Be quiet, now. We went to the window and +looked out. It came out of Quentin’s window and climbed across into the +tree. We watched the tree shaking. The shaking went down the tree, than_ +_it came out and we watched it go away across the grass. Then we +couldn’t see it. Come on, Luster said. There now. Hear them horns. You +get in that bed while my foots behaves._ + +There were two beds. Quentin got in the other one. He turned his face to +the wall. Dilsey put Jason in with him. Caddy took her dress off. + +“Just look at your drawers.” Dilsey said. “You better be glad your ma +aint seen you.” + +“I already told on her.” Jason said. + +“I bound you would.” Dilsey said. + +“And see what you got by it.” Caddy said. “Tattletale.” + +“What did I get by it.” Jason said. + +“Whyn’t you get your nightie on.” Dilsey said. She went and helped Caddy +take off her bodice and drawers. “Just look at you.” Dilsey said. She +wadded the drawers and scrubbed Caddy behind with them. “It done soaked +clean through onto you.” she said. “But you wont get no bath this night. +Here.” She put Caddy’s nightie on her and Caddy climbed into the bed and +Dilsey went to the door and stood with her hand on the light. “You all +be quiet now, you hear.” she said. + +“All right.” Caddy said. “Mother’s not coming in tonight.” she said. “So +we still have to mind me.” + +“Yes.” Dilsey said. “Go to sleep, now.” + +“Mother’s sick.” Caddy said. “She and Damuddy are both sick.” + +“Hush.” Dilsey said. “You go to sleep.” + +The room went black, except the door. Then the door went black. Caddy +said, “Hush, Maury,” putting her hand on me. So I stayed hushed. We +could hear us. We could hear the dark. + +It went away, and Father looked at us. He looked at Quentin and Jason, +then he came and kissed Caddy and put his hand on my head. + +“Is Mother very sick.” Caddy said. + +“No.” Father said. “Are you going to take good care of Maury.” + +“Yes.” Caddy said. + +Father went to the door and looked at us again. Then the dark came back, +and he stood black in the door, and then the door turned black again. +Caddy held me and I could hear us all, and the darkness, and something I +could smell. And then I could see the windows, where the trees were +buzzing. Then the dark began to go in smooth, bright shapes, like it +always does, even when Caddy says that I have been asleep. + + + + + JUNE SECOND, 1910 + + +When the shadow of the sash appeared on the curtains it was between +seven and eight oclock and then I was in time again, hearing the watch. +It was Grandfather’s and when Father gave it to me he said, Quentin, I +give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire; it’s rather +excrutiating-ly apt that you will use it to gain the reducto absurdum of +all human experience which can fit your individual needs no better than +it fitted his or his father’s. I give it to you not that you may +remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment +and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is +ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to +man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of +philosophers and fools. + +It was propped against the collar box and I lay listening to it. Hearing +it, that is. I dont suppose anybody ever deliberately listens to a watch +or a clock. You dont have to. You can be oblivious to the sound for a +long while, then in a second of ticking it can create in the mind +unbroken the long diminishing parade of time you didn’t hear. Like +Father said down the long and lonely light-rays you might see Jesus +walking, like. And the good Saint Francis that said Little Sister Death, +that never had a sister. + +Through the wall I heard Shreve’s bed-springs and then his slippers on +the floor hishing. I got up and went to the dresser and slid my hand +along it and touched the watch and turned it face-down and went back to +bed. But the shadow of the sash was still there and I had learned to +tell almost to the minute, so I’d have to turn my back to it, feeling +the eyes animals used to have in the back of their heads when it was on +top, itching. It’s always the idle habits you acquire which you will +regret. Father said that. That Christ was not crucified: he was worn +away by a minute clicking of little wheels. That had no sister. + +And so as soon as I knew I couldn’t see it, I began to wonder what time +it was. Father said that constant speculation regarding the position of +mechanical hands on an arbitrary dial which is a symptom of +mind-function. Excrement Father said like sweating. And I saying All +right. Wonder. Go on and wonder. + +If it had been cloudy I could have looked at the window, thinking what +he said about idle habits. Thinking it would be nice for them down at +New London if the weather held up like this. Why shouldn’t it? The month +of brides, the voice that breathed _She ran right out of the mirror, out +of the banked scent. Roses. Roses. Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson +announce the marriage of._ Roses. Not virgins like dogwood, milkweed. I +said I have committed incest, Father I said. Roses. Cunning and serene. +If you attend Harvard one year, but dont see the boat-race, there should +be a refund. Let Jason have it. Give Jason a year at Harvard. + +Shreve stood in the door, putting his collar on, his glasses glinting +rosily, as though he had washed them with his face. “You taking a cut +this morning?” + +“Is it that late?” + +He looked at his watch. “Bell in two minutes.” + +“I didn’t know it was that late.” He was still looking at the watch, his +mouth shaping. “I’ll have to hustle. I cant stand another cut. The dean +told me last week—” He put the watch back into his pocket. Then I quit +talking. + +“You’d better slip on your pants and run,” he said. He went out. + +I got up and moved about, listening to him through the wall. He entered +the sitting-room, toward the door. + +“Aren’t you ready yet?” + +“Not yet. Run along. I’ll make it.” + +He went out. The door closed. His feet went down the corridor. Then I +could hear the watch again. I quit moving around and went to the window +and drew the curtains aside and watched them running for chapel, the +same ones fighting the same heaving coat-sleeves, the same books and +flapping collars flushing past like debris on a flood, and Spoade. +Calling Shreve my husband. Ah let him alone, Shreve said, if he’s got +better sense than to chase after the little dirty sluts, whose business. +In the South you are ashamed of being a virgin. Boys. Men. They lie +about it. Because it means less to women, Father said. He said it was +men invented virginity not women. Father said it’s like death, only a +state in which the others are left and I said, But to believe it doesn’t +matter and he said, That’s what’s so sad about anything: not only +virginity, and I said, Why couldn’t it have been me and not her who is +unvirgin and he said, That’s why that’s sad too; nothing is even worth +the changing of it, and Shreve said if he’s got better sense than to +chase after the little dirty sluts and I said Did you ever have a +sister? Did you? Did you? + +Spoade was in the middle of them like a terrapin in a street full of +scuttering dead leaves, his collar about his ears, moving at his +customary unhurried walk. He was from South Carolina, a senior. It was +his club’s boast that he never ran for chapel and had never got there on +time and had never been absent in four years and had never made either +chapel or first lecture with a shirt on his back and socks on his feet. +About ten oclock he’d come in Thompson’s, get two cups of coffee, sit +down and take his socks out of his pocket and remove his shoes and put +them on while the coffee cooled. About noon you’d see him with a shirt +and collar on, like anybody else. The others passed him running, but he +never increased his pace at all. After a while the quad was empty. + +A sparrow slanted across the sunlight, onto the window ledge, and cocked +his head at me. His eye was round and bright. First he’d watch me with +one eye, then flick! and it would be the other one, his throat pumping +faster than any pulse. The hour began to strike. The sparrow quit +swapping eyes and watched me steadily with the same one until the chimes +ceased, as if he were listening too. Then he flicked off the ledge and +was gone. + +It was a while before the last stroke ceased vibrating. It stayed in the +air, more felt than heard, for a long time. Like all the bells that ever +rang still ringing in the long dying light-rays and Jesus and Saint +Francis talking about his sister. Because if it were just to hell; if +that were all of it. Finished. If things just finished themselves. +Nobody else there but her and me. If we could just have done something +so dreadful that they would have fled hell except us. _I have committed +incest I said Father it was I it was not Dalton Ames_ And when he put +Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. When he put the pistol in my hand +I didn’t. That’s why I didn’t. He would be there and she would and I +would. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. If we could have just done +something so dreadful and Father said That’s sad too, people cannot do +anything that dreadful they cannot do anything very dreadful at all they +cannot even remember tomorrow what seemed dreadful today and I said, You +can shirk all things and he said, Ah can you. And I will look down and +see my murmuring bones and the deep water like wind, like a roof of +wind, and after a long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the +lonely and inviolate sand. Until on the Day when He says Rise only the +flat-iron would come floating up. It’s not when you realise that nothing +can help you—religion, pride, anything—it’s when you realise that you +dont need any aid. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. If I could +have been his mother lying with open body lifted laughing, holding his +father with my hand refraining, seeing, watching him die before he +lived. _One minute she was standing in the door_ + +I went to the dresser and took up the watch, with the face still down. I +tapped the crystal on the corner of the dresser and caught the fragments +of glass in my hand and put them into the ashtray and twisted the hands +off and put them in the tray. The watch ticked on. I turned the face up, +the blank dial with little wheels clicking and clicking behind it, not +knowing any better. Jesus walking on Galilee and Washington not telling +lies. Father brought back a watch-charm from the Saint Louis Fair to +Jason: a tiny opera glass into which you squinted with one eye and saw a +skyscraper, a ferris wheel all spidery, Niagara Falls on a pinhead. +There was a red smear on the dial. When I saw it my thumb began to +smart. I put the watch down and went into Shreve’s room and got the +iodine and painted the cut. I cleaned the rest of the glass out of the +rim with the towel. + +I laid out two suits of underwear, with socks, shirts, collars and ties, +and packed my trunk. I put in everything except my new suit and an old +one and two pairs of shoes and two hats, and my books. I carried the +books into the sitting-room and stacked them on the table, the ones I +had brought from home and the ones _Father said it used to be a +gentleman was known by his books; nowadays he is known by the ones he +has not returned_ and locked the trunk and addressed it. The quarter +hour sounded. I stopped and listened to it until the chimes ceased. + +I bathed and shaved. The water made my finger smart a little, so I +painted it again. I put on my new suit and put my watch on and packed +the other suit and the accessories and my razor and brushes in my hand +bag, and wrapped the trunk key into a sheet of paper and put it in an +envelope and addressed it to Father, and wrote the two notes and sealed +them. + +The shadow hadn’t quite cleared the stoop. I stopped inside the door, +watching the shadow move. It moved almost perceptibly, creeping back +inside the door, driving the shadow back into the door. _Only she was +running already when I heard it. In the mirror she was running before I +knew what it was. That quick, her train caught up over her arm she ran +out of the mirror like a cloud, her veil swirling in long glints her +heels brittle and fast clutching her dress onto her shoulder with the +other hand, running out of the mirror the smells roses roses the voice +that breathed o’er Eden. Then she was across the porch I couldn’t hear +her heels then in the moonlight like a cloud, the floating shadow of the +veil running across the grass, into the bellowing. She ran out of her +dress, clutching her bridal, running into the bellowing where T. P. in +the dew Whooey Sassprilluh Benjy under the box bellowing. Father had a +V-shaped silver cuirass on his running chest_ + +Shreve said, “Well, you didn’t. . . . Is it a wedding or a wake?” + +“I couldn’t make it,” I said. + +“Not with all that primping. What’s the matter? You think this was +Sunday?” + +“I reckon the police wont get me for wearing my new suit one time,” I +said. + +“I was thinking about the Square students. Have you got too proud to +attend classes too?” + +“I’m going to eat first.” The shadow on the stoop was gone. I stepped +into sunlight, finding my shadow again. I walked down the steps just +ahead of it. The half hour went. Then the chimes ceased and died away. + +Deacon wasn’t at the postoffice either. I stamped the two envelopes and +mailed the one to Father and put Shreve’s in my inside pocket, and then +I remembered where I had last seen the Deacon. It was on Decoration Day, +in a G. A. R. uniform, in the middle of the parade. If you waited long +enough on any corner you would see him in whatever parade came along. +The one before was on Columbus’ or Garibaldi’s or somebody’s birthday. +He was in the Street Sweeper’s section, in a stovepipe hat, carrying a +two inch Italian flag, smoking a cigar among the brooms and scoops. But +the last time was the G. A. R. one, because Shreve said: + +“There now. Just look at what your grandpa did to that poor old nigger.” + +“Yes,” I said, “Now he can spend day after day marching in parades. If +it hadn’t been for my grandfather, he’d have to work like whitefolks.” + +I didn’t see him anywhere. But I never knew even a working nigger that +you could find when you wanted him, let alone one that lived off the fat +of the land. A car came along. I went over to town and went to Parker’s +and had a good breakfast. While I was eating I heard a clock strike the +hour. But then I suppose it takes at least one hour to lose time in, who +has been longer than history getting into the mechanical progression of +it. + +When I finished breakfast I bought a cigar. The girl said a fifty cent +one was the best, so I took one and lit it and went out to the street. I +stood there and took a couple of puffs, then I held it in my hand and +went on toward the corner. I passed a jeweller’s window, but I looked +away in time. At the corner two bootblacks caught me, one on either +side, shrill and raucous, like blackbirds. I gave the cigar to one of +them, and the other one a nickel. Then they let me alone. The one with +the cigar was trying to sell it to the other for the nickel. + +There was a clock, high up in the sun, and I thought about how, when you +dont want to do a thing, your body will try to trick you into doing it, +sort of unawares. I could feel the muscles in the back of my neck, and +then I could hear my watch ticking away in my pocket and after a while I +had all the other sounds shut away, leaving only the watch in my pocket. +I turned back up the street, to the window. He was working at the table +behind the window. He was going bald. There was a glass in his eye—a +metal tube screwed into his face. I went in. + +The place was full of ticking, like crickets in September grass, and I +could hear a big clock on the wall above his head. He looked up, his eye +big and blurred and rushing beyond the glass. I took mine out and handed +it to him. + +“I broke my watch.” + +He flipped it over in his hand. “I should say you have. You must have +stepped on it.” + +“Yes, sir. I knocked it off the dresser and stepped on it in the dark. +It’s still running though.” + +He pried the back open and squinted into it. “Seems to be all right. I +cant tell until I go over it, though. I’ll go into it this afternoon.” + +“I’ll bring it back later,” I said. “Would you mind telling me if any of +those watches in the window are right?” + +He held my watch on his palm and looked up at me with his blurred +rushing eye. + +“I made a bet with a fellow,” I said, “And I forgot my glasses this +morning.” + +“Why, all right,” he said. He laid the watch down and half rose on his +stool and looked over the barrier. Then he glanced up at the wall. “It’s +twen—” + +“Dont tell me,” I said, “please sir. Just tell me if any of them are +right.” + +He looked at me again. He sat back on the stool and pushed the glass up +onto his forehead. It left a red circle around his eye and when it was +gone his whole face looked naked. “What’re you celebrating today?” he +said. “That boat race aint until next week, is it?” + +“No, sir. This is just a private celebration. Birthday. Are any of them +right?” + +“No. But they haven’t been regulated and set yet. If you’re thinking of +buying one of them—” + +“No, sir. I dont need a watch. We have a clock in our sitting room. I’ll +have this one fixed when I do.” I reached my hand. + +“Better leave it now.” + +“I’ll bring it back later.” He gave me the watch. I put it in my pocket. +I couldn’t hear it now, above all the others. “I’m much obliged to you. +I hope I haven’t taken up your time.” + +“That’s all right. Bring it in when you are ready. And you better put +off this celebration until after we win that boat race.” + +“Yes, sir. I reckon I had.” + +I went out, shutting the door upon the ticking. I looked back into the +window. He was watching me across the barrier. There were about a dozen +watches in the window, a dozen different hours and each with the same +assertive and contradictory assurance that mine had, without any hands +at all. Contradicting one another. I could hear mine, ticking away +inside my pocket, even though nobody could see it, even though it could +tell nothing if anyone could. + +And so I told myself to take that one. Because Father said clocks slay +time. He said time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little +wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life. The hands were +extended, slightly off the horizontal at a faint angle, like a gull +tilting into the wind. Holding all I used to be sorry about like the new +moon holding water, niggers say. The jeweler was working again, bent +over his bench, the tube tunnelled into his face. His hair was parted in +the center. The part ran up into the bald spot, like a drained marsh in +December. + +I saw the hardware store from across the street. I didn’t know you +bought flat-irons by the pound. + +The clerk said, “These weigh ten pounds.” Only they were bigger than I +thought. So I got two six-pound little ones, because they would look +like a pair of shoes wrapped up. They felt heavy enough together, but I +thought again how Father had said about the reducto absurdum of human +experience, thinking how the only opportunity I seemed to have for the +application of Harvard. Maybe by next year; thinking maybe it takes two +years in school to learn to do that properly. + +But they felt heavy enough in the air. A street car came. I got on. I +didn’t see the placard on the front. It was full, mostly prosperous +looking people reading newspapers. The only vacant seat was beside a +nigger. He wore a derby and shined shoes and he was holding a dead cigar +stub. I used to think that a Southerner had to be always conscious of +niggers. I thought that Northerners would expect him to. When I first +came East I kept thinking You’ve got to remember to think of them as +coloured people not niggers, and if it hadn’t happened that I wasn’t +thrown with many of them, I’d have wasted a lot of time and trouble +before I learned that the best way to take all people, black or white, +is to take them for what they think they are, then leave them alone. +That was when I realised that a nigger is not a person so much as a form +of behaviour; a sort of obverse reflection of the white people he lives +among. But I thought at first that I ought to miss having a lot of them +around me because I thought that Northerners thought I did, but I didn’t +know that I really had missed Roskus and Dilsey and them until that +morning in Virginia. The train was stopped when I waked and I raised the +shade and looked out. The car was blocking a road crossing, where two +white fences came down a hill and then sprayed outward and downward like +part of the skeleton of a horn, and there was a nigger on a mule in the +middle of the stiff ruts, waiting for the train to move. How long he had +been there I didn’t know, but he sat straddle of the mule, his head +wrapped in a piece of blanket, as if they had been built there with the +fence and the road, or with the hill, carved out of the hill itself, +like a sign put there saying You are home again. He didn’t have a saddle +and his feet dangled almost to the ground. The mule looked like a +rabbit. I raised the window. + +“Hey, Uncle,” I said, “Is this the way?” + +“Suh?” He looked at me, then he loosened the blanket and lifted it away +from his ear. + +“Christmas gift!” I said. + +“Sho comin, boss. You done caught me, aint you?” + +“I’ll let you off this time.” I dragged my pants out of the little +hammock and got a quarter out. “But look out next time. I’ll be coming +back through here two days after New Year, and look out then.” I threw +the quarter out the window. “Buy yourself some Santy Claus.” + +“Yes, suh,” he said. He got down and picked up the quarter and rubbed it +on his leg. “Thanky, young marster. Thanky.” Then the train began to +move. I leaned out the window, into the cold air, looking back. He stood +there beside the gaunt rabbit of a mule, the two of them shabby and +motionless and unimpatient. The train swung around the curve, the engine +puffing with short, heavy blasts, and they passed smoothly from sight +that way, with that quality about them of shabby and timeless patience, +of static serenity: that blending of childlike and ready incompetence +and paradoxical reliability that tends and protects them it loves out of +all reason and robs them steadily and evades responsibility and +obligations by means too barefaced to be called subterfuge even and is +taken in theft or evasion with only that frank and spontaneous +admiration for the victor which a gentleman feels for anyone who beats +him in a fair contest, and withal a fond and unflagging tolerance for +whitefolks’ vagaries like that of a grandparent for unpredictable and +troublesome children, which I had forgotten. And all that day, while the +train wound through rushing gaps and along ledges where movement was +only a labouring sound of the exhaust and groaning wheels and the +eternal mountains stood fading into the thick sky, I thought of home, of +the bleak station and the mud and the niggers and country folks +thronging slowly about the square, with toy monkeys and wagons and candy +in sacks and roman candles sticking out, and my insides would move like +they used to do in school when the bell rang. + +I wouldn’t begin counting until the clock struck three. Then I would +begin, counting to sixty and folding down one finger and thinking of the +other fourteen fingers waiting to be folded down, or thirteen or twelve +or eight or seven, until all of a sudden I’d realise silence and the +unwinking minds, and I’d say “Ma’am?” “Your name is Quentin, isn’t it?” +Miss Laura said. Then more silence and the cruel unwinking minds and +hands jerking into the silence. “Tell Quentin who discovered the +Mississippi River, Henry.” “DeSoto.” Then the minds would go away, and +after a while I’d be afraid I had gotten behind and I’d count fast and +fold down another finger, then I’d be afraid I was going too fast and +I’d slow up, then I’d get afraid and count fast again. So I never could +come out even with the bell, and the released surging of feet moving +already, feeling earth in the scuffed floor, and the day like a pane of +glass struck a light, sharp blow, and my insides would move, sitting +still. _Moving sitting still. One minute she was standing in the door. +Benjy. Bellowing. Benjamin the child of mine old age bellowing. Caddy! +Caddy!_ + +_I’m going to run away. He began to cry she went and touched him. Hush. +I’m not going to. Hush. He hushed. Dilsey._ + +_He smell what you tell him when he want to. Dont have to listen nor +talk._ + +_Can he smell that new name they give him? Can he smell bad luck?_ + +_What he want to worry about luck for? Luck cant do him no hurt._ + +_What they change his name for then if aint trying to help his luck?_ + +The street car stopped, started, stopped again. Below the window I +watched the crowns of people’s heads passing beneath new straw hats not +yet unbleached. There were women in the car now, with market baskets, +and men in work-clothes were beginning to outnumber the shined shoes and +collars. + +The nigger touched my knee. “Pardon me,” he said. I swung my legs out +and let him pass. We were going beside a blank wall, the sound +clattering back into the car, at the women with market baskets on their +knees and a man in a stained hat with a pipe stuck in the band. I could +smell water, and in a break in the wall I saw a glint of water and two +masts, and a gull motionless in midair, like on an invisible wire +between the masts, and I raised my hand and through my coat touched the +letters I had written. When the car stopped I got off. + +The bridge was open to let a schooner through. She was in tow, the tug +nudging along under her quarter, trailing smoke, but the ship herself +was like she was moving without visible means. A man naked to the waist +was coiling down a line on the fo’c’s’le head. His body was burned the +colour of leaf tobacco. Another man in a straw hat without any crown was +at the wheel. The ship went through the bridge, moving under bare poles +like a ghost in broad day, with three gulls hovering above the stern +like toys on invisible wires. + +When it closed I crossed to the other side and leaned on the rail above +the boathouses. The float was empty and the doors were closed. The crew +just pulled in the late afternoon now, resting up before. The shadow of +the bridge, the tiers of railing, my shadow leaning flat upon the water, +so easily had I tricked it that would not quit me. At least fifty feet +it was, and if I only had something to blot it into the water, holding +it until it was drowned, the shadow of the package like two shoes +wrapped up lying on the water. Niggers say a drowned man’s shadow was +watching for him in the water all the time. It twinkled and glinted, +like breathing, the float slow like breathing too, and debris half +submerged, healing out to the sea and the caverns and the grottoes of +the sea. The displacement of water is equal to the something of +something. Reducto absurdum of all human experience, and two six-pound +flat-irons weigh more than one tailor’s goose. What a sinful waste +Dilsey would say. Benjy knew it when Damuddy died. He cried. _He smell +hit. He smell hit._ + +The tug came back downstream, the water shearing in long rolling +cylinders, rocking the float at last with the echo of passage, the float +lurching onto the rolling cylinder with a plopping sound and a long +jarring noise as the door rolled back and two men emerged, carrying a +shell. They set it in the water and a moment later Bland came out, with +the sculls. He wore flannels, a grey jacket and a stiff straw hat. +Either he or his mother had read somewhere that Oxford students pulled +in flannels and stiff hats, so early one March they bought Gerald a one +pair shell and in his flannels and stiff hat he went on the river. The +folks at the boathouses threatened to call a policeman, but he went +anyway. His mother came down in a hired auto, in a fur suit like an +arctic explorer’s, and saw him off in a twenty-five mile wind and a +steady drove of ice floes like dirty sheep. Ever since then I have +believed that God is not only a gentleman and a sport; He is a +Kentuckian too. When he sailed away she made a detour and came down to +the river again and drove along parallel with him, the car in low gear. +They said you couldn’t have told they’d ever seen one another before, +like a King and Queen, not even looking at one another, just moving side +by side across Massachusetts on parallel courses like a couple of +planets. + +He got in and pulled away. He pulled pretty well now. He ought to. They +said his mother tried to make him give rowing up and do something else +the rest of his class couldn’t or wouldn’t do, but for once he was +stubborn. If you could call it stubbornness, sitting in his attitudes of +princely boredom, with his curly yellow hair and his violet eyes and his +eyelashes and his New York clothes, while his mamma was telling us about +Gerald’s horses and Gerald’s niggers and Gerald’s women. Husbands and +fathers in Kentucky must have been awful glad when she carried Gerald +off to Cambridge. She had an apartment over in town, and Gerald had one +there too, besides his rooms in college. She approved of Gerald +associating with me because I at least revealed a blundering sense of +noblesse oblige by getting myself born below Mason and Dixon, and a few +others whose geography met the requirements (minimum) Forgave, at least. +Or condoned. But since she met Spoade coming out of chapel one He said +she couldn’t be a lady no lady would be out at that hour of the night +she never had been able to forgive him for having five names, including +that of a present English ducal house. I’m sure she solaced herself by +being convinced that some misfit Maingault or Mortemar had got mixed up +with the lodge-keeper’s daughter. Which was quite probable, whether she +invented it or not. Spoade was the world’s champion sitter-around, no +holds barred and gouging discretionary. + +The shell was a speck now, the oars catching the sun in spaced glints, +as if the hull were winking itself along. _Did you ever have a sister? +No but they’re all bitches. Did you ever have a sister? One minute she +was. Bitches. Not bitch one minute she stood in the door_ Dalton Ames. +Dalton Ames. Dalton Shirts. I thought all the time they were khaki, army +issue khaki, until I saw they were of heavy Chinese silk or finest +flannel because they made his face so brown his eyes so blue. Dalton +Ames. It just missed gentility. Theatrical fixture. Just papier-mache, +then touch. Oh. Asbestos. Not quite bronze. _But wont see him at the +house._ + +_Caddy’s a woman too, remember. She must do things for women’s reasons, +too._ + +_Why wont you bring him to the house, Caddy? Why must you do like nigger +women do in the pasture the ditches the dark woods hot hidden furious in +the dark woods._ + +And after a while I had been hearing my watch for some time and I could +feel the letters crackle through my coat, against the railing, and I +leaned on the railing, watching my shadow, how I had tricked it. I moved +along the rail, but my suit was dark too and I could wipe my hands, +watching my shadow, how I had tricked it. I walked it into the shadow of +the quai. Then I went east. + +_Harvard my Harvard boy Harvard harvard_ That pimple-faced infant she +met at the field-meet with coloured ribbons. Skulking along the fence +trying to whistle her out like a puppy. Because they couldn’t cajole him +into the diningroom Mother believed he had some sort of spell he was +going to cast on her when he got her alone. Yet any blackguard _He was +lying beside the box under the window bellowing_ that could drive up in +a limousine with a flower in his buttonhole. _Harvard. Quentin this is +Herbert. My Harvard boy. Herbert will be a big brother has already +promised Jason a position in the bank._ + +Hearty, celluloid like a drummer. Face full of teeth white but not +smiling. _I’ve heard of him up there._ All teeth but not smiling. _You +going to drive?_ + +_Get in Quentin._ + +_You going to drive._ + +_It’s her car aren’t you proud of your little sister owns first auto in +town Herbert his present. Louis has been giving her lessons every +morning didn’t you get my letter_ Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson +announce the marriage of their daughter Candace to Mr Sydney Herbert +Head on the twenty-fifth of April one thousand nine hundred and ten at +Jefferson Mississippi. At home after the first of August number +Something Something Avenue South Bend Indiana. Shreve said Aren’t you +even going to open it? _Three days. Times. Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond +Compson_ Young Lochinvar rode out of the west a little too soon, didn’t +he? + +I’m from the south. You’re funny, aren’t you. + +O yes I knew it was somewhere in the country. + +You’re funny, aren’t you. You ought to join the circus. + +I did. That’s how I ruined my eyes watering the elephant’s fleas. _Three +times_ These country girls. You cant even tell about them, can you. +Well, anyway Byron never had his wish, thank God. _But not hit a man in +glasses._ Aren’t you even going to open it? _It lay on the table a +candle burning at each corner upon the envelope tied in a soiled pink +garter two artificial flowers. Not hit a man in glasses._ + +Country people poor things they never saw an auto before lots of them +honk the horn Candace so _She wouldn’t look at me_ they’ll get out of +the way _wouldn’t look at me_ your father wouldn’t like it if you were +to injure one of them I’ll declare your father will simply have to get +an auto now I’m almost sorry you brought it down Herbert I’ve enjoyed it +so much of course there’s the carriage but so often when I’d like to go +out Mr Compson has the darkies doing something it would be worth my head +to interrupt he insists that Roskus is at my call all the time but I +know what that means I know how often people make promises just to +satisfy their consciences are you going to treat my little baby girl +that way Herbert but I know you wont Herbert has spoiled us all to death +Quentin did I write you that he is going to take Jason into his bank +when Jason finishes high school Jason will make a splendid banker he is +the only one of my children with any practical sense you can thank me +for that he takes after my people the others are all Compson _Jason +furnished the flour. They made kites on the back porch and sold them for +a nickle a piece, he and the Patterson boy. Jason was treasurer._ + +There was no nigger in this street car, and the hats unbleached as yet +flowing past under the window. Going to Harvard. We have sold Benjy’s +_He lay on the ground under the window, bellowing. We have sold Benjy’s +pasture so that Quentin may go to Harvard_ a brother to you. Your little +brother. + +You should have a car it’s done you no end of good dont you think so +Quentin I call him Quentin at once you see I have heard so much about +him from Candace. + +Why shouldn’t you I want my boys to be more than friends yes Candace and +Quentin more than friends _Father I have committed_ what a pity you had +no brother or sister _No sister no sister had no sister_ Dont ask +Quentin he and Mr Compson both feel a little insulted when I am strong +enough to come down to the table I am going on nerve now I’ll pay for it +after it’s all over and you have taken my little daughter away from me +_My little sister had no. If I could say Mother. Mother_ + +Unless I do what I am tempted to and take you instead I dont think Mr +Compson could overtake the car. + +Ah Herbert Candace do you hear that _She wouldn’t look at me soft +stubborn jaw-angle not back-looking_ You needn’t be jealous though it’s +just an old woman he’s flattering a grown married daughter I cant +believe it. + +Nonsense you look like a girl you are lots younger than Candace colour +in your cheeks like a girl _A face reproachful tearful an odour of +camphor and of tears a voice weeping steadily and softly beyond the +twilit door the twilight-coloured smell of honeysuckle. Bringing empty +trunks down the attic stairs they sounded like coffins French Lick. +Found not death at the salt lick_ + +Hats not unbleached and not hats. In three years I can not wear a hat. I +could not. Was. Will there be hats then since I was not and not Harvard +then. Where the best of thought Father said clings like dead ivy vines +upon old dead brick. Not Harvard then. Not to me, anyway. Again. Sadder +than was. Again. Saddest of all. Again. + +Spoade had a shirt on; then it must be. When I can see my shadow again +if not careful that I tricked into the water shall tread again upon my +impervious shadow. But no sister. I wouldn’t have done it. _I wont have +my daughter spied on_ I wouldn’t have. + +_How can I control any of them when you have always taught them to have +no respect for me and my wishes I know you look down on my people but is +that any reason for teaching my children my own children I suffered for +to have no respect_ Trampling my shadow’s bones into the concrete with +hard heels and then I was hearing the watch, and I touched the letters +through my coat. + +_I will not have my daughter spied on by you or Quentin or anybody no +matter what you think she has done_ + +_At least you agree there is reason for having her watched_ + +I wouldn’t have I wouldn’t have. _I know you wouldn’t I didn’t mean to +speak so sharply but women have no respect for each other for +themselves_ + +_But why did she_ The chimes began as I stepped on my shadow, but it was +the quarter hour. The Deacon wasn’t in sight anywhere. _think I would +have could have_ + +_She didn’t mean that that’s the way women do things its because she +loves Caddy_ + +_The street lamps would go down the hill then rise toward town_ I walked +upon the belly of my shadow. I could extend my hand beyond it. _feeling +Father behind me beyond the rasping darkness of summer and August the +street lamps_ Father and I protect women from one another from +themselves our women _Women are like that they dont acquire knowledge of +people we are for that they are just born with a practical fertility of +suspicion that makes a crop every so often and usually right they have +an affinity for evil for supplying whatever the evil lacks in itself for +drawing it about them instinctively as you do bedclothing in slumber +fertilising the mind for it until the evil has served its purpose +whether it ever existed or no_ He was coming along between a couple of +freshmen. He hadn’t quite recovered from the parade, for he gave me a +salute, a very superior-officerish kind. + +“I want to see you a minute,” I said, stopping. + +“See me? All right. See you again, fellows,” he said, stopping and +turning back; “glad to have chatted with you.” That was the Deacon, all +over. Talk about your natural psychologists. They said he hadn’t missed +a train at the beginning of school in forty years, and that he could +pick out a Southerner with one glance. He never missed, and once he had +heard you speak, he could name your state. He had a regular uniform he +met trains in, a sort of Uncle Tom’s cabin outfit, patches and all. + +“Yes, suh. Right dis way, young marster, hyer we is,” taking your bags. +“Hyer, boy, come hyer and git dese grips.” Whereupon a moving mountain +of luggage would edge up, revealing a white boy of about fifteen, and +the Deacon would hang another bag on him somehow and drive him off. +“Now, den, dont you drap hit. Yes, suh, young marster, jes give de old +nigger yo room number, and hit’ll be done got cold dar when you +arrives.” + +From then on until he had you completely subjugated he was always in or +out of your room, ubiquitous and garrulous, though his manner gradually +moved northward as his raiment improved, until at last when he had bled +you until you began to learn better he was calling you Quentin or +whatever, and when you saw him next he’d be wearing a cast-off Brooks +suit and a hat with a Princeton club I forget which band that someone +had given him and which he was pleasantly and unshakably convinced was a +part of Abe Lincoln’s military sash. Someone spread the story years ago, +when he first appeared around college from wherever he came from, that +he was a graduate of the divinity school. And when he came to understand +what it meant he was so taken with it that he began to retail the story +himself, until at last he must come to believe he really had. Anyway he +related long pointless anecdotes of his undergraduate days, speaking +familiarly of dead and departed professors by their first names, usually +incorrect ones. But he had been guide mentor and friend to unnumbered +crops of innocent and lonely freshmen, and I suppose that with all his +petty chicanery and hypocrisy he stank no higher in heaven’s nostrils +than any other. + +“Haven’t seen you in three-four days,” he said, staring at me from his +still military aura. “You been sick?” + +“No. I’ve been all right. Working, I reckon. I’ve seen you, though.” + +“Yes?” + +“In the parade the other day.” + +“Oh, that. Yes, I was there. I dont care nothing about that sort of +thing, you understand, but the boys likes to have me with them, the +vet’runs does. Ladies wants all the old vet’runs to turn out, you know. +So I has to oblige them.” + +“And on that Wop holiday too,” I said. “You were obliging the W. C. T. +U. then, I reckon.” + +“That? I was doing that for my son-in-law. He aims to get a job on the +city forces. Street cleaner. I tells him all he wants is a broom to +sleep on. You saw me, did you?” + +“Both times. Yes.” + +“I mean, in uniform. How’d I look?” + +“You looked fine. You looked better than any of them. They ought to make +you a general, Deacon.” + +He touched my arm, lightly, his hand that worn, gentle quality of +niggers’ hands. “Listen. This aint for outside talking. I dont mind +telling you because you and me’s the same folks, come long and short.” +He leaned a little to me, speaking rapidly, his eyes not looking at me. +“I’ve got strings out, right now. Wait till next year. Just wait. Then +see where I’m marching. I wont need to tell you how I’m fixing it; I +say, just wait and see, my boy.” He looked at me now and clapped me +lightly on the shoulder and rocked back on his heels, nodding at me. +“Yes, sir. I didnt turn Democrat three years ago for nothing. My +son-in-law on the city; me—Yes, sir. If just turning Democrat’ll make +that son of a bitch go to work. . . . And me: just you stand on that +corner yonder a year from two days ago, and see.” + +“I hope so. You deserve it, Deacon. And while I think about it—” I took +the letter from my pocket. “Take this around to my room tomorrow and +give it to Shreve. He’ll have something for you. But not till tomorrow, +mind.” + +He took the letter and examined it. “It’s sealed up.” + +“Yes. And it’s written inside, Not good until tomorrow.” + +“H’m,” he said. He looked at the envelope, his mouth pursed. “Something +for me, you say?” + +“Yes. A present I’m making you.” + +He was looking at me now, the envelope white in his black hand, in the +sun. His eyes were soft and irisless and brown, and suddenly I saw +Roskus watching me from behind all his white-folks’ claptrap of uniforms +and politics and Harvard manner, diffident, secret, inarticulate and +sad. “You aint playing a joke on the old nigger, is you?” + +“You know I’m not. Did any Southerner ever play a joke on you?” + +“You’re right. They’re fine folks. But you cant live with them.” + +“Did you ever try?” I said. But Roskus was gone. Once more he was that +self he had long since taught himself to wear in the world’s eye, +pompous, spurious, not quite gross. + +“I’ll confer to your wishes, my boy.” + +“Not until tomorrow, remember.” + +“Sure,” he said; “understood, my boy. Well—” + +“I hope—” I said. He looked down at me, benignant, profound. Suddenly I +held out my hand and we shook, he gravely, from the pompous height of +his municipal and military dream. “You’re a good fellow, Deacon. I +hope. . . . You’ve helped a lot of young fellows, here and there.” + +“I’ve tried to treat all folks right,” he said. “I draw no petty social +lines. A man to me is a man, wherever I find him.” + +“I hope you’ll always find as many friends as you’ve made.” + +“Young fellows. I get along with them. They dont forget me, neither,” he +said, waving the envelope. He put it into his pocket and buttoned his +coat. “Yes, sir,” he said, “I’ve had good friends.” + +The chimes began again, the half hour. I stood in the belly of my shadow +and listened to the strokes spaced and tranquil along the sunlight, +among the thin, still little leaves. Spaced and peaceful and serene, +with that quality of autumn always in bells even in the month of brides. +_Lying on the ground under the window bellowing_ He took one look at her +and knew. Out of the mouths of babes. _The street lamps_ The chimes +ceased. I went back to the postoffice, treading my shadow into pavement. +_go down the hill then they rise toward town like lanterns hung one +above another on a wall._ Father said because she loves Caddy she loves +people through their shortcomings. Uncle Maury straddling his legs +before the fire must remove one hand long enough to drink Christmas. +Jason ran on, his hands in his pockets fell down and lay there like a +trussed fowl until Versh set him up. _Whyn’t you keep them hands outen +your pockets when you running you could stand up then_ Rolling his head +in the cradle rolling it flat across the back. Caddy told Jason Versh +said that the reason Uncle Maury didn’t work was that he used to roll +his head in the cradle when he was little. + +Shreve was coming up the walk, shambling, fatly earnest, his glasses +glinting beneath the running leaves like little pools. + +“I gave Deacon a note for some things. I may not be in this afternoon, +so dont you let him have anything until tomorrow, will you?” + +“All right.” He looked at me. “Say, what’re you doing today, anyhow? All +dressed up and mooning around like the prologue to a suttee. Did you go +to Psychology this morning?” + +“I’m not doing anything. Not until tomorrow, now.” + +“What’s that you got there?” + +“Nothing. Pair of shoes I had half-soled. Not until tomorrow, you hear?” + +“Sure. All right. Oh, by the way, did you get a letter off the table +this morning?” + +“No.” + +“It’s there. From Semiramis. Chauffeur brought it before ten o’clock.” + +“All right. I’ll get it. Wonder what she wants now.” + +“Another band recital, I guess. Tumpty ta ta Gerald blah. ‘A little +louder on the drum, Quentin.’ God, I’m glad I’m not a gentleman.” He +went on, nursing a book, a little shapeless, fatly intent. _The street +lamps_ do you think so because one of our forefathers was a governor and +three were generals and Mother’s weren’t + +any live man is better than any dead man but no live or dead man is very +much better than any other live or dead man _Done in Mother’s mind +though. Finished. Finished. Then we were all poisoned_ you are confusing +sin and morality women dont do that your Mother is thinking of morality +whether it be sin or not has not occurred to her + +Jason I must go away you keep the others I’ll take Jason and go where +nobody knows us so he’ll have a chance to grow up and forget all this +the others dont love me they have never loved anything with that streak +of Compson selfishness and false pride Jason was the only one my heart +went out to without dread + +nonsense Jason is all right I was thinking that as soon as you feel +better you and Caddy might go up to French Lick + +and leave Jason here with nobody but you and the darkies + +she will forget him then all the talk will die away _found not death at +the salt licks_ + +maybe I could find a husband for her _not death at the salt licks_ + +The car came up and stopped. The bells were still ringing the half hour. +I got on and it went on again, blotting the half hour. No: the three +quarters. Then it would be ten minutes anyway. To leave Harvard _your +Mother’s dream for sold Benjy’s pasture for_ + +what have I done to have been given children like these Benjamin was +punishment enough and now for her to have no more regard for me her own +mother I’ve suffered for her dreamed and planned and sacrificed I went +down into the valley yet never since she opened her eyes has she given +me one unselfish thought at times I look at her I wonder if she can be +my child except Jason he has never given me one moment’s sorrow since I +first held him in my arms I knew then that he was to be my joy and my +salvation I thought that Benjamin was punishment enough for any sins I +have committed I thought he was my punishment for putting aside my pride +and marrying a man who held himself above me I dont complain I loved him +above all of them because of it because my duty though Jason pulling at +my heart all the while but I see now that I have not suffered enough I +see now that I must pay for your sins as well as mine what have you done +what sins have your high and mighty people visited upon me but you’ll +take up for them you always have found excuses for your own blood only +Jason can do wrong because he is more Bascomb than Compson while your +own daughter my little daughter my baby girl she is she is no better +than that when I was a girl I was unfortunate I was only a Bascomb I was +taught that there is no halfway ground that a woman is either a lady or +not but I never dreamed when I held her in my arms that any daughter of +mine could let herself dont you know I can look at her eyes and tell you +may think she’d tell you but she doesn’t tell things she is secretive +you dont know her I know things she’s done that I’d die before I’d have +you know that’s it go on criticise Jason accuse me of setting him to +watch her as if it were a crime while your own daughter can I know you +dont love him that you wish to believe faults against him you never have +yes ridicule him as you always have Maury you cannot hurt me any more +than your children already have and then I’ll be gone and Jason with no +one to love him shield him from this I look at him every day dreading to +see this Compson blood beginning to show in him at last with his sister +slipping out to see what do you call it then have you ever laid eyes on +him will you even let me try to find out who he is it’s not for myself I +couldn’t bear to see him it’s for your sake to protect you but who can +fight against bad blood you wont let me try we are to sit back with our +hands folded while she not only drags your name in the dirt but corrupts +the very air your children breathe Jason you must let me go away I +cannot stand it let me have Jason and you keep the others they’re not my +flesh and blood like he is strangers nothing of mine and I am afraid of +them I can take Jason and go where we are not known I’ll go down on my +knees and pray for the absolution of my sins that he may escape this +curse try to forget that the others ever were + +If that was the three quarters, not over ten minutes now. One car had +just left, and people were already waiting for the next one. I asked, +but he didn’t know whether another one would leave before noon or not +because you’d think that interurbans. So the first one was another +trolley. I got on. You can feel noon. I wonder if even miners in the +bowels of the earth. That’s why whistles: because people that sweat, and +if just far enough from sweat you wont hear whistles and in eight +minutes you should be that far from sweat in Boston. Father said a man +is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you’d think misfortune would get +tired, but then time is your misfortune Father said. A gull on an +invisible wire attached through space dragged. You carry the symbol of +your frustration into eternity. Then the wings are bigger Father said +only who can play a harp. + +I could hear my watch whenever the car stopped, but not often they were +already eating _Who would play a_ Eating the business of eating inside +of you space too space and time confused Stomach saying noon brain +saying eat oclock All right I wonder what time it is what of it. People +were getting out. The trolley didn’t stop so often now, emptied by +eating. + +Then it was past. I got off and stood in my shadow and after a while a +car came along and I got on and went back to the interurban station. +There was a car ready to leave, and I found a seat next the window and +it started and I watched it sort of frazzle out into slack tide flats, +and then trees. Now and then I saw the river and I thought how nice it +would be for them down at New London if the weather and Gerald’s shell +going solemnly up the glinting forenoon and I wondered what the old +woman would be wanting now, sending me a note before ten oclock in the +morning. What picture of Gerald I to be one of the _Dalton Ames oh +asbestos Quentin has shot_ background. Something with girls in it. +Women do have _always his voice above the gabble voice that breathed_ an +affinity for evil, for believing that no woman is to be trusted, but +that some men are too innocent to protect themselves. Plain girls. +Remote cousins and family friends whom mere acquaintanceship invested +with a sort of blood obligation noblesse oblige. And she sitting there +telling us before their faces what a shame it was that Gerald should +have all the family looks because a man didn’t need it, was better off +without it but without it a girl was simply lost. Telling us about +Gerald’s women in a _Quentin has shot Herbert he shot his voice through +the floor of Caddy’s room_ tone of smug approbation. “When he was +seventeen I said to him one day ‘What a shame that you should have a +mouth like that it should be on a girls face’ and can you imagine _the +curtains leaning in on the twilight upon the odour of the apple tree her +head against the twilight her arms behind her head kimono-winged the +voice that breathed o’er eden clothes upon the bed by the nose seen +above the apple_ what he said? just seventeen, mind. ‘Mother’ he said +‘it often is.’ ” And him sitting there in attitudes regal watching two +or three of them through his eyelashes. They gushed like swallows +swooping his eyelashes. Shreve said he always had _Are you going to look +after Benjy and Father_ + +_The less you say about Benjy and Father the better when have you ever +considered them Caddy_ + +_Promise_ + +_You needn’t worry about them you’re getting out in good shape_ + +_Promise I’m sick you’ll have to promise_ wondered who invented that +joke but then he always had considered Mrs Bland a remarkably preserved +woman he said she was grooming Gerald to seduce a duchess sometime. She +called Shreve that fat Canadian youth twice she arranged a new room-mate +for me without consulting me at all, once for me to move out, once for + +He opened the door in the twilight. His face looked like a pumpkin pie. + +“Well, I’ll say a fond farewell. Cruel fate may part us, but I will +never love another. Never.” + +“What are you talking about?” + +“I’m talking about cruel fate in eight yards of apricot silk and more +metal pound for pound than a galley slave and the sole owner and +proprietor of the unchallenged peripatetic john of the late +Confederacy.” Then he told me how she had gone to the proctor to have +him moved out and how the proctor had revealed enough low stubbornness +to insist on consulting Shreve first. Then she suggested that he send +for Shreve right off and do it, and he wouldnt do that, so after that +she was hardly civil to Shreve. “I make it a point never to speak +harshly of females,” Shreve said, “but that woman has got more ways like +a bitch than any lady in these sovereign states and dominions.” and now +Letter on the table by hand, command orchid scented coloured If she knew +I had passed almost beneath the window knowing it there without My +dear Madam I have not yet had an opportunity of receiving your +communication but I beg in advance to be excused today or yesterday and +tomorrow or when As I remember that the next one is to be how Gerald +throws his nigger downstairs and how the nigger plead to be allowed to +matriculate in the divinity school to be near marster marse gerald and +How he ran all the way to the station beside the carriage with tears in +his eyes when marse gerald rid away I will wait until the day for the +one about the sawmill husband came to the kitchen door with a shotgun +Gerald went down and bit the gun in two and handed it back and wiped his +hands on a silk handkerchief threw the handkerchief in the stove I’ve +only heard that one twice + +_shot him through the_ I saw you come in here so I watched my chance and +came along thought we might get acquainted have a cigar + +Thanks I dont smoke + +No things must have changed up there since my day mind if I light up + +Help yourself + +Thanks I’ve heard a lot I guess your mother wont mind if I put the match +behind the screen will she a lot about you Candace talked about you all +the time up there at the Licks I got pretty jealous I says to myself +who is this Quentin anyway I must see what this animal looks like +because I was hit pretty hard see soon as I saw the little girl I dont +mind telling you it never occurred to me it was her brother she kept +talking about she couldnt have talked about you any more if you’d been +the only man in the world husband wouldnt have been in it you wont +change your mind and have a smoke + +I dont smoke + +In that case I wont insist even though it is a pretty fair weed cost me +twenty-five bucks a hundred wholesale friend in Havana yes I guess there +are lots of changes up there I keep promising myself a visit but I never +get around to it been hitting the ball now for ten years I cant get away +from the bank during school fellow’s habits change things that seem +important to an undergraduate you know tell me about things up there + +I’m not going to tell Father and Mother if that’s what you are getting +at + +Not going to tell not going to oh that that’s what you are talking about +is it you understand that I dont give a damn whether you tell or not +understand that a thing like that unfortunate but no police crime I +wasn’t the first or the last I was just unlucky you might have been +luckier + +You lie + +Keep your shirt on I’m not trying to make you tell anything you dont +want to meant no offense of course a young fellow like you would +consider a thing of that sort a lot more serious than you will in five +years + +I dont know but one way to consider cheating I dont think I’m likely to +learn different at Harvard + +We’re better than a play you must have made the Dramat well you’re right +no need to tell them we’ll let bygones be bygones eh no reason why you +and I should let a little thing like that come between us I like you +Quentin I like your appearance you dont look like these other hicks I’m +glad we’re going to hit it off like this I’ve promised your mother to do +something for Jason but I would like to give you a hand too Jason would +be just as well off here but there’s no future in a hole like this for a +young fellow like you + +Thanks you’d better stick to Jason he’d suit you better than I would + +I’m sorry about that business but a kid like I was then I never had a +mother like yours to teach me the finer points it would just hurt her +unnecessarily to know it yes you’re right no need to that includes +Candace of course + +I said Mother and Father + +Look here take a look at me how long do you think you’d last with me + +I wont have to last long if you learned to fight up at school too try +and see how long I would + +You damned little what do you think you’re getting at + +Try and see + +My God the cigar what would your mother say if she found a blister on +her mantel just in time too look here Quentin we’re about to do +something we’ll both regret I like you liked you as soon as I saw you I +says he must be a damned good fellow whoever he is or Candace wouldnt be +so keen on him listen I’ve been out in the world now for ten years +things dont matter so much then you’ll find that out let’s you and I get +together on this thing sons of old Harvard and all I guess I wouldnt +know the place now best place for a young fellow in the world I’m going +to send my sons there give them a better chance than I had wait dont go +yet let’s discuss this thing a young man gets these ideas and I’m all +for them does him good while he’s in school forms his character good for +tradition the school but when he gets out into the world he’ll have to +get his the best way he can because he’ll find that everybody else is +doing the same thing and be damned to here let’s shake hands and let +bygones by bygones for your mother’s sake remember her health come on +give me your hand here look at it it’s just out of convent look not a +blemish not even been creased yet see here + +To hell with your money + +No no come on I belong to the family now see I know how it is with a +young fellow he has lots of private affairs it’s always pretty hard to +get the old man to stump up for I know havent I been there and not so +long ago either but now I’m getting married and all specially up there +come on dont be a fool listen when we get a chance for a real talk I +want to tell you about a little widow over in town + +I’ve heard that too keep your damned money + +Call it a loan then just shut your eyes a minute and you’ll be fifty + +Keep your hands off of me you’d better get that cigar off the mantel + +Tell and be damned then see what it gets you if you were not a damned +fool you’d have seen that I’ve got them too tight for any half-baked +Galahad of a brother your mother’s told me about your sort with your +head swelled up come in oh come in dear Quentin and I were just getting +acquainted talking about Harvard did you want me cant stay away from the +old man can she + +Go out a minute Herbert I want to talk to Quentin + +Come in come in let’s all have a gabfest and get acquainted I was just +telling Quentin + +Go on Herbert go out a while + +Well all right then I suppose you and bubber do want to see one another +once more eh + +You’d better take that cigar off the mantel + +Right as usual my boy then I’ll toddle along let them order you around +while they can Quentin after day after tomorrow it’ll be pretty please +to the old man wont it dear give us a kiss honey + +Oh stop that save that for day after tomorrow + +I’ll want interest then dont let Quentin do anything he cant finish oh +by the way did I tell Quentin the story about the man’s parrot and what +happened to it a sad story remind me of that think of it yourself ta-ta +see you in the funnypaper + +Well + +Well + +What are you up to now + +Nothing + +You’re meddling in my business again didn’t you get enough of that last +summer + +Caddy you’ve got fever _You’re sick how are you sick_ + +_I’m just sick. I cant ask._ + +_Shot his voice through the_ + +Not that blackguard Caddy + +Now and then the river glinted beyond things in sort of swooping glints, +across noon and after. Well after now, though we had passed where he was +still pulling upstream majestical in the face of god gods. Better. Gods. +God would be canaille too in Boston in Massachusetts. Or maybe just not +a husband. The wet oars winking him along in bright winks and female +palms. Adulant. Adulant if not a husband he’d ignore God. _That +blackguard, Caddy_ The river glinted away beyond a swooping curve. + +_I’m sick you’ll have to promise_ + +_Sick how are you sick_ + +_I’m just sick I cant ask anybody yet promise you will_ + +_If they need any looking after it’s because of you how are you sick_ +Under the window we could hear the car leaving for the station, the 8:10 +train. To bring back cousins. Heads. Increasing himself head by head but +not barbers. Manicure girls. We had a blood horse once. In the stable +yes, but under leather a cur. _Quentin has shot all of their voices +through the floor of Caddy’s room_ + +The car stopped. I got off, into the middle of my shadow. A road crossed +the track. There was a wooden marquee with an old man eating something +out of a paper bag, and then the car was out of hearing too. The road +went into the trees, where it would be shady, but June foliage in New +England not much thicker than April at home in Mississippi. I could see +a smoke stack. I turned my back to it, tramping my shadow into the dust. +_There was something terrible in me sometimes at night I could see it +grinning at me I could see it through them grinning at me through their +faces it’s gone now and I’m sick_ + +_Caddy_ + +_Dont touch me just promise_ + +_If you’re sick you cant_ + +_Yes I can after that it’ll be all right it wont matter dont let them +send him to Jackson promise_ + +_I promise Caddy Caddy_ + +_Dont touch me dont touch me_ + +_What does it look like Caddy_ + +_What_ + +_That that grins at you that thing through them_ + +I could still see the smoke stack. That’s where the water would be, +heading out to the sea and the peaceful grottoes. Tumbling peacefully +they would, and when He said Rise only the flat irons. When Versh and I +hunted all day we wouldn’t take any lunch, and at twelve oclock I’d get +hungry. I’d stay hungry until about one, then all of a sudden I’d even +forget that I wasn’t hungry anymore. _The street lamps go down the hill +then heard the car go down the hill. The chair-arm flat cool smooth +under my forehead shaping the chair the apple tree leaning on my hair +above the eden clothes by the nose seen_ You’ve got fever I felt it +yesterday it’s like being near a stove. + +Dont touch me. + +Caddy you cant do it if you are sick. That blackguard. + +I’ve got to marry somebody. _Then they told me the bone would have to be +broken again_ + +At last I couldn’t see the smoke stack. The road went beside a wall. +Trees leaned over the wall, sprayed with sunlight. The stone was cool. +Walking near it you could feel the coolness. Only our country was not +like this country. There was something about just walking through it. A +kind of still and violent fecundity that satisfied ever bread-hunger +like. Flowing around you, not brooding and nursing every niggard stone. +Like it were put to makeshift for enough green to go around among the +trees and even the blue of distance not that rich chimaera. _told me the +bone would have to be broken again and inside me it began to say Ah Ah +Ah and I began to sweat. What do I care I know what a broken leg is all +it is it wont be anything I’ll just have to stay in the house a little +longer that’s all and my jaw-muscles getting numb and my mouth saying +Wait Wait just a minute through the sweat ah ah ah behind my teeth and +Father damn that horse damn that horse. Wait it’s my fault. He came +along the fence every morning with a basket toward the kitchen dragging +a stick along the fence every morning I dragged myself to the window +cast and all and laid for him with a piece of coal Dilsey said you goin +to ruin yoself aint you got no mo sense than that not fo days since you +bruck hit. Wait I’ll get used to it in a minute wait just a minute I’ll +get_ + +Even sound seemed to fail in this air, like the air was worn out with +carrying sounds so long. A dog’s voice carries further than a train, in +the darkness anyway. And some people’s. Niggers. Louis Hatcher never +even used his horn carrying it and that old lantern. I said, “Louis, +when was the last time you cleaned that lantern?” + +“I cleant hit a little while back. You member when all dat floodwatter +wash dem folks away up yonder? I cleant hit dat ve’y day. Old woman and +me settin fore de fire dat night and she say ‘Louis, whut you gwine do +ef dat flood git out dis fur?’ and I say ‘Dat’s a fack. I reckon I had +better clean dat lantun up.’ So I cleant hit dat night.” + +“That flood was way up in Pennsylvania,” I said. “It couldn’t even have +got down this far.” + +“Dat’s whut you says,” Louis said. “Watter kin git des ez high en wet in +Jefferson ez hit kin in Pennsylvaney, I reckon. Hit’s de folks dat says +de high watter cant git dis fur dat comes floatin out on de ridge-pole, +too.” + +“Did you and Martha get out that night?” + +“We done jest that. I cleant dat lantun and me and her sot de balance of +de night on top o dat knoll back de graveyard. En ef I’d a knowed of +aihy one higher, we’d a been on hit instead.” + +“And you haven’t cleaned that lantern since then.” + +“Whut I want to clean hit when dey aint no need?” + +“You mean, until another flood comes along?” + +“Hit kep us outen dat un.” + +“Oh, come on, Uncle Louis,” I said. + +“Yes, suh. You do you way en I do mine. Ef all I got to do to keep outen +de high watter is to clean dis yere lantun, I wont quoil wid no man.” + +“Unc’ Louis wouldn’t ketch nothin wid a light he could see by,” Versh +said. + +“I wuz huntin possums in dis country when dey was still drowndin nits in +yo pappy’s head wid coal oil, boy,” Louis said. “Ketchin um, too.” + +“Dat’s de troof,” Versh said. “I reckon Unc’ Louis done caught mo +possums than aihy man in dis country.” + +“Yes, suh,” Louis said, “I got plenty light fer possums to see, all +right. I aint heard none o dem complainin. Hush, now. Dar he. Whooey. +Hum awn, dawg.” And we’d sit in the dry leaves that whispered a little +with the slow respiration of our waiting and with the slow breathing of +the earth and the windless October, the rank smell of the lantern +fouling the brittle air, listening to the dogs and to the echo of Louis’ +voice dying away. He never raised it, yet on a still night we have heard +it from our front porch. When he called the dogs in he sounded just like +the horn he carried slung on his shoulder and never used, but clearer, +mellower, as though his voice were a part of darkness and silence, +coiling out of it, coiling into it again. WhoOoooo. WhoOoooo. +WhoOooooooooooooooo. _Got to marry somebody_ + +_Have there been very many Caddy_ + +_I dont know too many will you look after Benjy and Father_ + +_You dont know whose it is then does he know_ + +_Dont touch me will you look after Benjy and Father_ + +I began to feel the water before I came to the bridge. The bridge was of +grey stone, lichened, dappled with slow moisture where the fungus crept. +Beneath it the water was clear and still in the shadow, whispering and +clucking about the stone in fading swirls of spinning sky. _Caddy that_ + +_I’ve got to marry somebody_ Versh told me about a man mutilated +himself. He went into the woods and did it with a razor, sitting in a +ditch. A broken razor flinging them backward over his shoulder the same +motion complete the jerked skein of blood backward not looping. But +that’s not it. It’s not not having them. It’s never to have had them +then I could say O That That’s Chinese I dont know Chinese. And Father +said it’s because you are a virgin: dont you see? Women are never +virgins. Purity is a negative state and therefore contrary to nature. +It’s nature is hurting you not Caddy and I said That’s just words and he +said So is virginity and I said you dont know. You cant know and he said +Yes. On the instant when we come to realise that tragedy is second-hand. + +Where the shadow of the bridge fell I could see down for a long way, but +not as far as the bottom. When you leave a leaf in water a long time +after awhile the tissue will be gone and the delicate fibers waving slow +as the motion of sleep. They dont touch one another, no matter how +knotted up they once were, no matter how close they lay once to the +bones. And maybe when He says Rise the eyes will come floating up too, +out of the deep quiet and the sleep, to look on glory. And after awhile +the flat irons would come floating up. I hid them under the end of the +bridge and went back and leaned on the rail. + +I could not see the bottom, but I could see a long way into the motion +of the water before the eye gave out, and then I saw a shadow hanging +like a fat arrow stemming into the current. Mayflies skimmed in and out +of the shadow of the bridge just above the surface. _If it could just be +a hell beyond that: the clean flame the two of us more than dead. Then +you will have only me then only me then the two of us amid the pointing +and the horror beyond the clean flame_ The arrow increased without +motion, then in a quick swirl the trout lipped a fly beneath the surface +with that sort of gigantic delicacy of an elephant picking up a peanut. +The fading vortex drifted away down stream and then I saw the arrow +again, nose into the current, wavering delicately to the motion of the +water above which the May flies slanted and poised. _Only you and me +then amid the pointing and the horror walled by the clean flame_ + +The trout hung, delicate and motionless among the wavering shadows. +Three boys with fishing poles came onto the bridge and we leaned on the +rail and looked down at the trout. They knew the fish. He was a +neighbourhood character. + +“They’ve been trying to catch that trout for twenty-five years. There’s +a store in Boston offers a twenty-five dollar fishing rod to anybody +that can catch him.” + +“Why dont you all catch him, then? Wouldnt you like to have a +twenty-five dollar fishing rod?” + +“Yes,” they said. They leaned on the rail, looking down at the trout. “I +sure would,” one said. + +“I wouldnt take the rod,” the second said. “I’d take the money instead.” + +“Maybe they wouldnt do that,” the first said. “I bet he’d make you take +the rod.” + +“Then I’d sell it.” + +“You couldnt get twenty-five dollars for it.” + +“I’d take what I could get, then. I can catch just as many fish with +this pole as I could with a twenty-five dollar one.” Then they talked +about what they would do with twenty-five dollars. They all talked at +once, their voices insistent and contradictory and impatient, making of +unreality a possibility, then a probability, then an incontrovertible +fact, as people will when their desires become words. + +“I’d buy a horse and wagon,” the second said. + +“Yes you would,” the others said. + +“I would. I know where I can buy one for twenty-five dollars. I know the +man.” + +“Who is it?” + +“That’s all right who it is. I can buy it for twenty-five dollars.” + +“Yah,” the others said, “He dont know any such thing. He’s just +talking.” + +“Do you think so?” the boy said. They continued to jeer at him, but he +said nothing more. He leaned on the rail, looking down at the trout +which he had already spent, and suddenly the acrimony, the conflict, was +gone from their voices, as if to them too it was as though he had +captured the fish and bought his horse and wagon, they too partaking of +that adult trait of being convinced of anything by an assumption of +silent superiority. I suppose that people, using themselves and each +other so much by words, are at least consistent in attributing wisdom to +a still tongue, and for a while I could feel the other two seeking +swiftly for some means by which to cope with him, to rob him of his +horse and wagon. + +“You couldnt get twenty-five dollars for that pole,” the first said. “I +bet anything you couldnt.” + +“He hasnt caught that trout yet,” the third said suddenly, then they +both cried: + +“Yah, wha’d I tell you? What’s the man’s name? I dare you to tell. There +aint any such man.” + +“Ah, shut up,” the second said. “Look, Here he comes again.” They leaned +on the rail, motionless, identical, their poles slanting slenderly in +the sunlight, also identical. The trout rose without haste, a shadow in +faint wavering increase; again the little vortex faded slowly +downstream. “Gee,” the first one murmured. + +“We dont try to catch him anymore,” he said. “We just watch Boston folks +that come out and try.” + +“Is he the only fish in this pool?” + +“Yes. He ran all the others out. The best place to fish around here is +down at the Eddy.” + +“No it aint,” the second said. “It’s better at Bigelow’s Mill two to +one.” Then they argued for a while about which was the best fishing and +then left off all of a sudden to watch the trout rise again and the +broken swirl of water suck down a little of the sky. I asked how far it +was to the nearest town. They told me. + +“But the closest car line is that way,” the second said, pointing back +down the road. “Where are you going?” + +“Nowhere. Just walking.” + +“You from the college?” + +“Yes. Are there any factories in that town?” + +“Factories?” They looked at me. + +“No,” the second said. “Not there.” They looked at my clothes. “You +looking for work?” + +“How about Bigelow’s Mill?” the third said. “That’s a factory.” + +“Factory my eye. He means a sure enough factory.” + +“One with a whistle,” I said. “I havent heard any one oclock whistles +yet.” + +“Oh,” the second said. “There’s a clock in the Unitarian steeple. You +can find out the time from that. Havent you got a watch on that chain?” + +“I broke it this morning.” I showed them my watch. They examined it +gravely. + +“It’s still running,” the second said. “What does a watch like that +cost?” + +“It was a present,” I said. “My father gave it to me when I graduated +from high school.” + +“Are you a Canadian?” the third said. He had red hair. + +“Canadian?” + +“He dont talk like them,” the second said. “I’ve heard them talk. He +talks like they do in minstrel shows.” + +“Say,” the third said, “Aint you afraid he’ll hit you?” + +“Hit me?” + +“You said he talks like a coloured man.” + +“Ah, dry up,” the second said. “You can see the steeple when you get +over that hill there.” + +I thanked them. “I hope you have good luck. Only dont catch that old +fellow down there. He deserves to be let alone.” + +“Cant anybody catch that fish,” the first said. They leaned on the rail, +looking down into the water, the three poles like three slanting threads +of yellow fire in the sun. I walked upon my shadow, tramping it into the +dappled shade of trees again. The road curved, mounting away from the +water. It crossed the hill, then descended winding, carrying the eye, +the mind on ahead beneath a still green tunnel, and the square cupola +above the trees and the round eye of the clock but far enough. I sat +down at the roadside. The grass was ankle deep, myriad. The shadows on +the road were as still as if they had been put there with a stencil, +with slanting pencils of sunlight. But it was only a train, and after a +while it died away beyond the trees, the long sound, and then I could +hear my watch and the train dying away, as though it were running +through another month or another summer somewhere, rushing away under +the poised gull and all things rushing. Except Gerald. He would be sort +of grand too, pulling in lonely state across the noon, rowing himself +right out of noon, up the long bright air like an apotheosis, mounting +into a drowsing infinity where only he and the gull, the one +terrifically motionless, the other in a steady and measured pull and +recover that partook of inertia itself, the world punily beneath their +shadows on the sun. Caddy that blackguard that blackguard Caddy + +Their voices came over the hill, and the three slender poles like +balanced threads of running fire. They looked at me passing, not +slowing. + +“Well,” I said, “I dont see him.” + +“We didnt try to catch him,” the first said. “You cant catch that fish.” + +“There’s the clock,” the second said, pointing. “You can tell the time +when you get a little closer.” + +“Yes,” I said, “All right.” I got up. “You all going to town?” + +“We’re going to the Eddy for chub,” the first said. + +“You cant catch anything at the Eddy,” the second said. + +“I guess you want to go to the mill, with a lot of fellows splashing and +scaring all the fish away.” + +“You cant catch any fish at the Eddy.” + +“We wont catch none nowhere if we dont go on,” the third said. + +“I dont see why you keep on talking about the Eddy,” the second said. +“You cant catch anything there.” + +“You dont have to go,” the first said. “You’re not tied to me.” + +“Let’s go to the mill and go swimming,” the third said. + +“I’m going to the Eddy and fish,” the first said. “You can do as you +please.” + +“Say, how long has it been since you heard of anybody catching a fish at +the Eddy?” the second said to the third. + +“Let’s go to the mill and go swimming,” the third said. The cupola sank +slowly beyond the trees, with the round face of the clock far enough +yet. We went on in the dappled shade. We came to an orchard, pink and +white. It was full of bees; already we could hear them. + +“Let’s go to the mill and go swimming,” the third said. A lane turned +off beside the orchard. The third boy slowed and halted. The first went +on, flecks of sunlight slipping along the pole across his shoulder and +down the back of his shirt. “Come on,” the third said. The second boy +stopped too. _Why must you marry somebody Caddy_ + +_Do you want me to say it do you think that if I say it it wont be_ + +“Let’s go up to the mill,” he said. “Come on.” + +The first boy went on. His bare feet made no sound, falling softer than +leaves in the thin dust. In the orchard the bees sounded like a wind +getting up, a sound caught by a spell just under crescendo and +sustained. The lane went along the wall, arched over, shattered with +bloom, dissolving into trees. Sunlight slanted into it, sparse and +eager. Yellow butterflies flickered along the shade like flecks of sun. + +“What do you want to go to the Eddy for?” the second boy said. “You can +fish at the mill if you want to.” + +“Ah, let him go,” the third said. They looked after the first boy. +Sunlight slid patchily across his walking shoulders, glinting along the +pole like yellow ants. + +“Kenny,” the second said. _Say it to Father will you I will am my +fathers Progenitive I invented him created I him Say it to him it will +not be for he will say I was not and then you and I since +philoprogenitive_ + +“Ah, come on,” the boy said, “They’re already in.” They looked after the +first boy. “Yah,” they said suddenly, “go on then, mamma’s boy. If he +goes swimming he’ll get his head wet and then he’ll get a licking.” They +turned into the lane and went on, the yellow butterflies slanting about +them along the shade. + +_it is because there is nothing else I believe there is something else +but there may not be and then I You will find that even injustice is +scarcely worthy of what you believe yourself to be_ He paid me no +attention, his jaw set in profile, his face turned a little away beneath +his broken hat. + +“Why dont you go swimming with them?” I said. _that blackguard Caddy_ + +_Were you trying to pick a fight with him were you_ + +_A liar and a scoundrel Caddy was dropped from his club for cheating at +cards got sent to Coventry caught cheating at midterm exams and +expelled_ + +_Well what about it I’m not going to play cards with_ + +“Do you like fishing better than swimming?” I said. The sound of the +bees diminished, sustained yet, as though instead of sinking into +silence, silence merely increased between us, as water rises. The road +curved again and became a street between shady lawns with white houses. +_Caddy that blackguard can you think of Benjy and Father and do it not +of me_ + +_What else can I think about what else have I thought about_ The boy +turned from the street. He climbed a picket fence without looking back +and crossed the lawn to a tree and laid the pole down and climbed into +the fork of the tree and sat there, his back to the road and the dappled +sun motionless at last upon his white shirt. _Else have I thought about +I cant even cry I died last year I told you I had but I didnt know then +what I meant I didnt know what I was saying_ Some days in late August at +home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in +it sad and nostalgic and familiar. Man the sum of his climatic +experiences Father said. Man the sum of what have you. A problem in +impure properties carried tediously to an unvarying nil: stalemate of +dust and desire. _But now I know I’m dead I tell you_ + +_Then why must you listen we can go away you and Benjy and me where +nobody knows us where_ The buggy was drawn by a white horse, his feet +clopping in the thin dust; spidery wheels chattering thin and dry, +moving uphill beneath a rippling shawl of leaves. Elm. No: ellum. Ellum. + +_On what on your school money the money they sold the pasture for so you +could go to Harvard dont you see you’ve got to finish now if you dont +finish he’ll have nothing_ + +_Sold the pasture_ His white shirt was motionless in the fork, in the +flickering shade. The wheels were spidery. Beneath the sag of the buggy +the hooves neatly rapid like the motions of a lady doing embroidery, +diminishing without progress like a figure on a treadmill being drawn +rapidly offstage. The street turned again. I could see the white cupola, +the round stupid assertion of the clock. _Sold the pasture_ + +_Father will be dead in a year they say if he doesnt stop drinking and +he wont stop he cant stop since I since last summer and then they’ll +send Benjy to Jackson I cant cry I cant even cry one minute she was +standing in the door the next minute he was pulling at her dress and +bellowing his voice hammered back and forth between the walls in waves +and she shrinking against the wall getting smaller and smaller with her +white face her eyes like thumbs dug into it until he pushed her out of +the room his voice hammering back and forth as though its own momentum +would not let it stop as though there were no place for it in silence +bellowing_ + +When you opened the door a bell tinkled, but just once, high and clear +and small in the neat obscurity above the door, as though it were gauged +and tempered to make that single clear small sound so as not to wear the +bell out nor to require the expenditure of too much silence in restoring +it when the door opened upon the recent warm scent of baking; a little +dirty child with eyes like a toy bear’s and two patent-leather +pig-tails. + +“Hello, sister.” Her face was like a cup of milk dashed with coffee in +the sweet warm emptiness. “Anybody here?” + +But she merely watched me until a door opened and the lady came. Above +the counter where the ranks of crisp shapes behind the glass her neat +grey face her hair tight and sparse from her neat grey skull, spectacles +in neat grey rims riding approaching like something on a wire, like a +cash box in a store. She looked like a librarian. Something among dusty +shelves of ordered certitudes long divorced from reality, desiccating +peacefully, as if a breath of that air which sees injustice done + +“Two of these, please, ma’am.” + +From under the counter she produced a square cut from a newspaper and +laid it on the counter and lifted the two buns out. The little girl +watched them with still and unwinking eyes like two currants floating +motionless in a cup of weak coffee Land of the kike home of the wop. +Watching the bread, the neat grey hands, a broad gold band on the left +forefinger, knuckled there by a blue knuckle. + +“Do you do your own baking, ma’am?” + +“Sir?” she said. Like that. Sir? Like on the stage. Sir? “Five cents. +Was there anything else?” + +“No, ma’am. Not for me. This lady wants something.” She was not tall +enough to see over the case, so she went to the end of the counter and +looked at the little girl. + +“Did you bring her in here?” + +“No, ma’am. She was here when I came.” + +“You little wretch,” she said. She came out around the counter, but she +didnt touch the little girl. “Have you got anything in your pockets?” + +“She hasnt got any pockets,” I said. “She wasnt doing anything. She was +just standing here, waiting for you.” + +“Why didnt the bell ring, then?” She glared at me. She just needed a +bunch of switches, a blackboard behind her 2 X 2 e 5. “She’ll hide it +under her dress and a body’d never know it. You, child. How’d you get in +here?” + +The little girl said nothing. She looked at the woman, then she gave me +a flying black glance and looked at the woman again, “Them foreigners,” +the woman said. “How’d she get in without the bell ringing?” + +“She came in when I opened the door,” I said. “It rang once for both of +us. She couldnt reach anything from here, anyway. Besides, I dont think +she would. Would you, sister?” The little girl looked at me, secretive, +contemplative. “What do you want? bread?” + +She extended her fist. It uncurled upon a nickel, moist and dirty, moist +dirt ridged into her flesh. The coin was damp and warm. I could smell +it, faintly metallic. + +“Have you got a five cent loaf, please, ma’am?” + +From beneath the counter she produced a square cut from a newspaper +sheet and laid it on the counter and wrapped a loaf into it. I laid the +coin and another one on the counter. “And another one of those buns, +please, ma’am.” + +She took another bun from the case. “Give me that parcel,” she said. I +gave it to her and she unwrapped it and put the third bun in and wrapped +it and took up the coins and found two coppers in her apron and gave +them to me. I handed them to the little girl. Her fingers closed about +them, damp and hot, like worms. + +“You going to give her that bun?” the woman said. + +“Yessum,” I said. “I expect your cooking smells as good to her as it +does to me.” + +I took up the two packages and gave the bread to the little girl, the +woman all iron-grey behind the counter, watching us with cold certitude. +“You wait a minute,” she said. She went to the rear. The door opened +again and closed. The little girl watched me, holding the bread against +her dirty dress. + +“What’s your name?” I said. She quit looking at me, but she was still +motionless. She didnt even seem to breathe. The woman returned. She had +a funny looking thing in her hand. She carried it sort of like it might +have been a dead pet rat. + +“Here,” she said. The child looked at her. “Take it,” the woman said, +jabbing it at the little girl. “It just looks peculiar. I calculate you +wont know the difference when you eat it. Here. I cant stand here all +day.” The child took it, still watching her. The woman rubbed her hands +on her apron. “I got to have that bell fixed,” she said. She went to the +door and jerked it open. The little bell tinkled once, faint and clear +and invisible. We moved toward the door and the woman’s peering back. + +“Thank you for the cake,” I said. + +“Them foreigners,” she said, staring up into the obscurity where the +bell tinkled. “Take my advice and stay clear of them, young man.” + +“Yessum,” I said. “Come on, sister.” We went out. “Thank you, ma’am.” + +She swung the door to, then jerked it open again, making the bell give +forth its single small note. “Foreigners,” she said, peering up at the +bell. + +We went on. “Well,” I said, “How about some ice cream?” She was eating +the gnarled cake. “Do you like ice cream?” She gave me a black still +look, chewing. “Come on.” + +We came to the drugstore and had some ice cream. She wouldn’t put the +loaf down. “Why not put it down so you can eat better?” I said, offering +to take it. But she held to it, chewing the ice cream like it was taffy. +The bitten cake lay on the table. She ate the ice cream steadily, then +she fell to on the cake again, looking about at the showcases. I +finished mine and we went out. + +“Which way do you live?” I said. + +A buggy, the one with the white horse it was. Only Doc Peabody is fat. +Three hundred pounds. You ride with him on the uphill side, holding on. +Children. Walking easier than holding uphill. _Seen the doctor yet have +you seen Caddy_ + +_I dont have to I cant ask now afterward it will be all right it wont +matter_ + +Because women so delicate so mysterious Father said. Delicate +equilibrium of periodical filth between two moons balanced. Moons he +said full and yellow as harvest moons her hips thighs. Outside outside +of them always but. Yellow. Feet soles with walking like. Then know that +some man that all those mysterious and imperious concealed. With all +that inside of them shapes an outward suavity waiting for a touch to. +Liquid putrefaction like drowned things floating like pale rubber +flabbily filled getting the odour of honeysuckle all mixed up. + +“You’d better take your bread on home, hadnt you?” + +She looked at me. She chewed quietly and steadily; at regular intervals +a small distension passed smoothly down her throat. I opened my package +and gave her one of the buns. “Goodbye,” I said. + +I went on. Then I looked back. She was behind me. “Do you live down this +way?” She said nothing. She walked beside me, under my elbow sort of, +eating. We went on. It was quiet, hardly anyone about _getting the odour +of honeysuckle all mixed She would have told me not to let me sit there +on the steps hearing her door twilight slamming hearing Benjy still +crying Supper she would have to come down then getting honeysuckle all +mixed up in it_ We reached the corner. + +“Well, I’ve got to go down this way,” I said, “Goodbye.” She stopped +too. She swallowed the last of the cake, then she began on the bun, +watching me across it. “Goodbye,” I said. I turned into the street and +went on, but I went to the next corner before I stopped. + +“Which way do you live?” I said. “This way?” I pointed down the street. +She just looked at me. “Do you live over that way? I bet you live close +to the station, where the trains are. Dont you?” She just looked at me, +serene and secret and chewing. The street was empty both ways, with +quiet lawns and houses neat among the trees, but no one at all except +back there. We turned and went back. Two men sat in chairs in front of a +store. + +“Do you all know this little girl? She sort of took up with me and I +cant find where she lives.” + +They quit looking at me and looked at her. + +“Must be one of them new Italian families,” one said. He wore a rusty +frock coat. “I’ve seen her before. What’s your name, little girl?” She +looked at them blackly for awhile, her jaws moving steadily. She +swallowed without ceasing to chew. + +“Maybe she cant speak English,” the other said. + +“They sent her after bread,” I said. “She must be able to speak +something.” + +“What’s your pa’s name?” the first said. “Pete? Joe? name John huh?” She +took another bite from the bun. + +“What must I do with her?” I said. “She just follows me. I’ve got to get +back to Boston.” + +“You from the college?” + +“Yes, sir. And I’ve got to get on back.” + +“You might go up the street and turn her over to Anse. He’ll be up at +the livery stable. The marshall.” + +“I reckon that’s what I’ll have to do,” I said. “I’ve got to do +something with her. Much obliged. Come on, sister.” + +We went up the street, on the shady side, where the shadow of the broken +façade blotted slowly across the road. We came to the livery stable. The +marshall wasnt there. A man sitting in a chair tilted in the broad low +door, where a dark cool breeze smelling of ammonia blew among the ranked +stalls, said to look at the postoffice. He didn’t know her either. + +“Them furriners. I cant tell one from another. You might take her across +the tracks where they live, and maybe somebody’ll claim her.” + +We went to the postoffice. It was back down the street. The man in the +frock coat was opening a newspaper. + +“Anse just drove out of town,” he said. “I guess you’d better go down +past the station and walk past them houses by the river. Somebody +there’ll know her.” + +“I guess I’ll have to,” I said. “Come on, sister.” She pushed the last +piece of the bun into her mouth and swallowed it. “Want another?” I +said. She looked at me, chewing, her eyes black and unwinking and +friendly. I took the other two buns out and gave her one and bit into +the other. I asked a man where the station was and he showed me. “Come +on, sister.” + +We reached the station and crossed the tracks, where the river was. A +bridge crossed it, and a street of jumbled frame houses followed the +river, backed onto it. A shabby street, but with an air heterogeneous +and vivid too. In the center of an untrimmed plot enclosed by a fence of +gaping and broken pickets stood an ancient lopsided surrey and a +weathered house from an upper window of which hung a garment of vivid +pink. + +“Does that look like your house?” I said. She looked at me over the bun. +“This one?” I said, pointing. She just chewed, but it seemed to me that +I discerned something affirmative, acquiescent even if it wasn’t eager, +in her air. “This one?” I said. “Come on, then.” I entered the broken +gate. I looked back at her. “Here?” I said. “This look like your house?” + +She nodded her head rapidly, looking at me, gnawing into the damp +halfmoon of the bread. We went on. A walk of broken random flags, +speared by fresh coarse blades of grass, led to the broken stoop. There +was no movement about the house at all, and the pink garment hanging in +no wind from the upper window. There was a bell pull with a porcelain +knob, attached to about six feet of wire when I stopped pulling and +knocked. The little girl had the crust edgeways in her chewing mouth. + +A woman opened the door. She looked at me, then she spoke rapidly to the +little girl in Italian, with a rising inflexion, then a pause, +interrogatory. She spoke to her again, the little girl looking at her +across the end of the crust, pushing it into her mouth with a dirty +hand. + +“She says she lives here,” I said. “I met her down town. Is this your +bread?” + +“No spika,” the woman said. She spoke to the little girl again. The +little girl just looked at her. + +“No live here?” I said. I pointed to the girl, then at her, then at the +door. The woman shook her head. She spoke rapidly. She came to the edge +of the porch and pointed down the road, speaking. + +I nodded violently too. “You come show?” I said. I took her arm, waving +my other hand toward the road. She spoke swiftly, pointing. “You come +show,” I said, trying to lead her down the steps. + +“Si, si,” she said, holding back, showing me whatever it was. I nodded +again. + +“Thanks. Thanks. Thanks.” I went down the steps and walked toward the +gate, not running, but pretty fast. I reached the gate and stopped and +looked at her for a while. The crust was gone now, and she looked at me +with her black, friendly stare. The woman stood on the stoop, watching +us. + +“Come on, then,” I said. “We’ll have to find the right one sooner or +later.” + +She moved along just under my elbow. We went on. The houses all seemed +empty. Not a soul in sight. A sort of breathlessness that empty houses +have. Yet they couldnt all be empty. All the different rooms, if you +could just slice the walls away all of a sudden Madam, your daughter, if +you please. No. Madam, for God’s sake, your daughter. She moved along +just under my elbow, her shiny tight pigtails, and then the last house +played out and the road curved out of sight beyond a wall, following the +river. The woman was emerging from the broken gate, with a shawl over +her head and clutched under her chin. The road curved on, empty. I found +a coin and gave it to the little girl. A quarter. “Goodbye, sister,” I +said. Then I ran. + +I ran fast, not looking back. Just before the road curved away I looked +back. She stood in the road, a small figure clasping the loaf of bread +to her filthy little dress, her eyes still and black and unwinking. I +ran on. + +A lane turned from the road. I entered it and after a while I slowed to +a fast walk. The lane went between back premises—unpainted houses with +more of those gay and startling coloured garments on lines, a barn +broken-backed, decaying quietly among rank orchard trees, unpruned and +weed-choked, pink and white and murmurous with sunlight and with bees. I +looked back. The entrance to the lane was empty. I slowed still more, my +shadow pacing me, dragging its head through the weeds that hid the +fence. + +The lane went back to a barred gate, became defunctive in grass, a mere +path scarred quietly into new grass. I climbed the gate into a woodlot +and crossed it and came to another wall and followed that one, my shadow +behind me now. There were vines and creepers where at home would be +honeysuckle. Coming and coming especially in the dusk when it rained, +getting honeysuckle all mixed up in it as though it were not enough +without that, not unbearable enough. _What did you let him for kiss +kiss_ + +_I didn’t let him I made him watching me getting mad What do you think +of that? Red print of my hand coming up through her face like turning a +light on under your hand her eyes going bright_ + +_It’s not for kissing I slapped you. Girl’s elbows at fifteen Father +said you swallow like you had a fishbone in your throat what’s the +matter with you and Caddy across the table not to look at me. It’s for +letting it be some darn town squirt I slapped you you will will you now +I guess you say calf rope. My red hand coming up out of her face. What +do you think of that scouring her head into the. Grass sticks +crisscrossed into the flesh tingling scouring her head. Say calf rope +say it_ + +_I didnt kiss a dirty girl like Natalie anyway_ The wall went into +shadow, and then my shadow, I had tricked it again. I had forgot about +the river curving along the road. I climbed the wall. And then she +watched me jump down, holding the loaf against her dress. + +I stood in the weeds and we looked at one another for a while. + +“Why didnt you tell me you lived out this way, sister?” The loaf was +wearing slowly out of the paper; already it needed a new one. “Well, +come on then and show me the house.” _not a dirty girl like Natalie. It +was raining we could hear it on the roof, sighing through the high sweet +emptiness of the barn._ + +_There? touching her_ + +_Not there_ + +_There? not raining hard but we couldnt hear anything but the roof and +as if it was my blood or her blood_ + +_She pushed me down the ladder and ran off and left me Caddy did_ + +_Was it there it hurt you when Caddy did ran off was it there_ + +_Oh_ She walked just under my elbow, the top of her patent leather head, +the loaf fraying out of the newspaper. + +“If you dont get home pretty soon you’re going to wear that loaf out. +And then what’ll your mamma say?” _I bet I can lift you up_ + +_You cant I’m too heavy_ + +_Did Caddy go away did she go to the house you cant see the barn from +our house did you ever try to see the barn from_ + +_It was her fault she pushed me she ran away_ + +_I can lift you up see how I can_ + +_Oh her blood or my blood Oh_ We went on in the thin dust, our feet +silent as rubber in the thin dust where pencils of sun slanted in the +trees. And I could feel water again running swift and peaceful in the +secret shade. + +“You live a long way, dont you. You’re mighty smart to go this far to +town by yourself.” _It’s like dancing sitting down did you ever dance +sitting down? We could hear the rain, a rat in the crib, the empty barn +vacant with horses. How do you hold to dance do you hold like this_ + +_Oh_ + +_I used to hold like this you thought I wasnt strong enough didn’t you_ + +_Oh Oh Oh Oh_ + +_I hold to use like this I mean did you hear what I said I said_ + +_oh oh oh oh_ + +The road went on, still and empty, the sun slanting more and more. Her +stiff little pigtails were bound at the tips with bits of crimson cloth. +A corner of the wrapping flapped a little as she walked, the nose of the +loaf naked. I stopped. + +“Look here. Do you live down this road? We havent passed a house in a +mile, almost.” + +She looked at me, black and secret and friendly. + +“Where do you live, sister? Dont you live back there in town?” + +There was a bird somewhere in the woods, beyond the broken and +infrequent slanting of sunlight. + +“Your papa’s going to be worried about you. Dont you reckon you’ll get a +whipping for not coming straight home with that bread?” + +The bird whistled again, invisible, a sound meaningless and profound, +inflexionless, ceasing as though cut off with the blow of a knife, and +again, and that sense of water swift and peaceful above secret places, +felt, not seen not heard. + +“Oh, hell, sister.” About half the paper hung limp. “That’s not doing +any good now.” I tore it off and dropped it beside the road. “Come on. +We’ll have to go back to town. We’ll go back along the river.” + +We left the road. Among the moss little pale flowers grew, and the sense +of water mute and unseen. _I hold to use like this I mean I use to hold +She stood in the door looking at us her hands on her hips_ + +_You pushed me it was your fault it hurt me too_ + +_We were dancing sitting down I bet Caddy cant dance sitting down_ + +_Stop that stop that_ + +_I was just brushing the trash off the back of your dress_ + +_You keep your nasty old hands off of me it was your fault you pushed me +down I’m mad at you_ + +_I dont care she looked at us stay mad she went away_ We began to hear +the shouts, the splashings; I saw a brown body gleam for an instant. + +_Stay mad. My shirt was getting wet and my hair. Across the roof hearing +the roof loud now I could see Natalie going through the garden among the +rain. Get wet I hope you catch pneumonia go on home Cowface. I jumped +hard as I could into the hogwallow the mud yellowed up to my waist +stinking I kept on plunging until I fell down and rolled over in it_ +“Hear them in swimming, sister? I wouldn’t mind doing that myself.” If I +had time. When I have time. I could hear my watch. _mud was warmer than +the rain it smelled awful. She had her back turned I went around in +front of her. You know what I was doing? She turned her back I went +around in front of her the rain creeping into the mud flatting her +bodice through her dress it smelled horrible. I was hugging her that’s +what I was doing. She turned her back I went around in front of her. I +was hugging her I tell you._ + +_I dont give a damn what you were doing_ + +_You dont you dont I’ll make you I’ll make you give a damn. She hit my +hands away I smeared mud on her with the other hand I couldn’t feel the +wet smacking of her hand I wiped mud from my legs smeared it on her wet +hard turning body hearing her fingers going into my face but I couldn’t +feel it even when the rain began to taste sweet on my lips_ + +They saw us from the water first, heads and shoulders. They yelled and +one rose squatting and sprang among them. They looked like beavers, the +water lipping about their chins, yelling. + +“Take that girl away! What did you want to bring a girl here for? Go on +away!” + +“She wont hurt you. We just want to watch you for a while.” + +They squatted in the water. Their heads drew into a clump, watching us, +then they broke and rushed toward us, hurling water with their hands. We +moved quick. + +“Look out, boys; she wont hurt you.” + +“Go on away, Harvard!” It was the second boy, the one that thought the +horse and wagon back there at the bridge. “Splash them, fellows!” + +“Let’s get out and throw them in,” another said. “I aint afraid of any +girl.” + +“Splash them! Splash them!” They rushed toward us, hurling water. We +moved back. “Go on away!” they yelled. “Go on away!” + +We went away. They huddled just under the bank, their slick heads in a +row against the bright water. We went on. “That’s not for us, is it.” +The sun slanted through to the moss here and there, leveller. “Poor kid, +you’re just a girl.” Little flowers grew among the moss, littler than I +had ever seen. “You’re just a girl. Poor kid.” There was a path, curving +along beside the water. Then the water was still again, dark and still +and swift. “Nothing but a girl. Poor sister.” _We lay in the wet grass +panting the rain like cold shot on my back. Do you care now do you do +you_ + +_My Lord we sure are in a mess get up. Where the rain touched my +forehead it began to smart my hand came red away streaking off pink in +the rain. Does it hurt_ + +_Of course it does what do you reckon_ + +_I tried to scratch your eyes out my Lord we sure do stink we better try +to wash it off in the branch_ “There’s town again, sister. You’ll have +to go home now. I’ve got to get back to school. Look how late it’s +getting. You’ll go home now, wont you?” But she just looked at me with +her black, secret, friendly gaze, the half-naked loaf clutched to her +breast. “It’s wet. I thought we jumped back in time.” I took my +handkerchief and tried to wipe the loaf, but the crust began to come +off, so I stopped. “We’ll just have to let it dry itself. Hold it like +this.” She held it like that. It looked kind of like rats had been +eating it now. _and the water building and building up the squatting +back the sloughed mud stinking surfaceward pocking the pattering surface +like grease on a hot stove. I told you I’d make you_ + +_I dont give a goddam what you do_ + +Then we heard the running and we stopped and looked back and saw him +coming up the path running, the level shadows flicking upon his legs. + +“He’s in a hurry. We’d—” then I saw another man, an oldish man running +heavily, clutching a stick, and a boy naked from the waist up, clutching +his pants as he ran. + +“There’s Julio,” the little girl said, and then I saw his Italian face +and his eyes as he sprang upon me. We went down. His hands were jabbing +at my face and he was saying something and trying to bite me, I reckon, +and then they hauled him off and held him heaving and thrashing and +yelling and they held his arms and he tried to kick me until they +dragged him back. The little girl was howling, holding the loaf in both +arms. The half-naked boy was darting and jumping up and down, clutching +his trousers and someone pulled me up in time to see another stark naked +figure come around the tranquil bend in the path running and change +direction in midstride and leap into the woods, a couple of garments +rigid as boards behind it. Julio still struggled. The man who had pulled +me up said, “Whoa, now. We got you.” He wore a vest but no coat. Upon it +was a metal shield. In his other hand he clutched a knotted, polished +stick. + +“You’re Anse, aren’t you?” I said. “I was looking for you. What’s the +matter?” + +“I warn you that anything you say will be used against you,” he said. +“You’re under arrest.” + +“I killa heem,” Julio said. He struggled. Two men held him. The little +girl howled steadily, holding the bread. “You steala my seester,” Julio +said. “Let go, meesters.” + +“Steal his sister?” I said. “Why, I’ve been—” + +“Shet up,” Anse said. “You can tell that to Squire.” + +“Steal his sister?” I said. Julio broke from the men and sprang at me +again, but the marshall met him and they struggled until the other two +pinioned his arms again. Anse released him, panting. + +“You durn furriner,” he said, “I’ve a good mind to take you up too, for +assault and battery.” He turned to me again. “Will you come peaceable, +or do I handcuff you?” + +“I’ll come peaceable,” I said. “Anything, just so I can find someone—do +something with—Stole his sister,” I said. “Stole his—” + +“I’ve warned you,” Anse said, “He aims to charge you with meditated +criminal assault. Here, you, make that gal shut up that noise.” + +“Oh,” I said. Then I began to laugh. Two more boys with plastered heads +and round eyes came out of the bushes, buttoning shirts that had already +dampened onto their shoulders and arms, and I tried to stop the +laughter, but I couldnt. + +“Watch him, Anse, he’s crazy, I believe.” + +“I’ll h-have to qu-quit,” I said, “It’ll stop in a mu-minute. The other +time it said ah ah ah,” I said, laughing. “Let me sit down a while.” I +sat down, they watching me, and the little girl with her streaked face +and the gnawed looking loaf, and the water swift and peaceful below the +path. After a while the laughter ran out. But my throat wouldnt quit +trying to laugh, like retching after your stomach is empty. + +“Whoa, now,” Anse said. “Get a grip on yourself.” + +“Yes,” I said, tightening my throat. There was another yellow butterfly, +like one of the sunflecks had come loose. After a while I didnt have to +hold my throat so tight. I got up. “I’m ready. Which way?” + +We followed the path, the two others watching Julio and the little girl +and the boys somewhere in the rear. The path went along the river to the +bridge. We crossed it and the tracks, people coming to the doors to look +at us and more boys materializing from somewhere until when we turned +into the main street we had quite a procession. Before the drugstore +stood an auto, a big one, but I didn’t recognise them until Mrs Bland +said, + +“Why, Quentin! Quentin Compson!” Then I saw Gerald, and Spoade in the +back seat, sitting on the back of his neck. And Shreve. I didnt know the +two girls. + +“Quentin Compson!” Mrs Bland said. + +“Good afternoon,” I said, raising my hat. “I’m under arrest. I’m sorry I +didnt get your note. Did Shreve tell you?” + +“Under arrest?” Shreve said. “Excuse me,” he said. He heaved himself up +and climbed over their feet and got out. He had on a pair of my flannel +pants, like a glove. I didnt remember forgetting them. I didnt remember +how many chins Mrs Bland had, either. The prettiest girl was with Gerald +in front, too. They watched me through veils, with a kind of delicate +horror. “Who’s under arrest?” Shreve said. “What’s this, mister?” + +“Gerald,” Mrs Bland said, “Send these people away. You get in this car, +Quentin.” + +Gerald got out. Spoade hadnt moved. + +“What’s he done, Cap?” he said. “Robbed a hen house?” + +“I warn you,” Anse said. “Do you know the prisoner?” + +“Know him,” Shreve said. “Look here—” + +“Then you can come along to the squire’s. You’re obstructing justice. +Come along.” He shook my arm. + +“Well, good afternoon,” I said. “I’m glad to have seen you all. Sorry I +couldnt be with you.” + +“You, Gerald,” Mrs Bland said. + +“Look here, constable,” Gerald said. + +“I warn you you’re interfering with an officer of the law,” Anse said. +“If you’ve anything to say, you can come to the squire’s and make +cognizance of the prisoner.” We went on. Quite a procession now, Anse +and I leading. I could hear them telling them what it was, and Spoade +asking questions, and then Julio said something violently in Italian and +I looked back and saw the little girl standing at the curb, looking at +me with her friendly, inscrutable regard. + +“Git on home,” Julio shouted at her, “I beat hell outa you.” + +We went down the street and turned into a bit of lawn in which, set back +from the street, stood a one storey building of brick trimmed with +white. We went up the rock path to the door, where Anse halted everyone +except us and made them remain outside. We entered a bare room smelling +of stale tobacco. There was a sheet iron stove in the center of a wooden +frame filled with sand, and a faded map on the wall and the dingy plat +of a township. Behind a scarred littered table a man with a fierce roach +of iron grey hair peered at us over steel spectacles. + +“Got him, did ye, Anse?” he said. + +“Got him, Squire.” + +He opened a huge dusty book and drew it to him and dipped a foul pen +into an inkwell filled with what looked like coal dust. + +“Look here, mister,” Shreve said. + +“The prisoner’s name,” the squire said. I told him. He wrote it slowly +into the book, the pen scratching with excruciating deliberation. + +“Look here, mister,” Shreve said, “We know this fellow. We—” + +“Order in the court,” Anse said. + +“Shut up, bud,” Spoade said. “Let him do it his way. He’s going to +anyhow.” + +“Age,” the squire said. I told him. He wrote that, his mouth moving as +he wrote. “Occupation.” I told him. “Harvard student, hey?” he said. He +looked up at me, bowing his neck a little to see over the spectacles. +His eyes were clear and cold, like a goat’s. “What are you up to, coming +out here kidnapping children?” + +“They’re crazy, Squire,” Shreve said. “Whoever says this boy’s +kidnapping—” + +Julio moved violently. “Crazy?” he said. “Dont I catcha heem, eh? Dont I +see weetha my own eyes—” + +“You’re a liar,” Shreve said. “You never—” + +“Order, order,” Anse said, raising his voice. + +“You fellers shet up,” the squire said. “If they dont stay quiet, turn +’em out, Anse.” They got quiet. The squire looked at Shreve, then at +Spoade, then at Gerald. “You know this young man?” he said to Spoade. + +“Yes, your honour,” Spoade said. “He’s just a country boy in school up +there. He dont mean any harm. I think the marshall’ll find it’s a +mistake. His father’s a congregational minister.” + +“H’m,” the squire said. “What was you doing, exactly?” I told him, he +watching me with his cold, pale eyes. “How about it, Anse?” + +“Might have been,” Anse said. “Them durn furriners.” + +“I American,” Julio said. “I gotta da pape’.” + +“Where’s the gal?” + +“He sent her home,” Anse said. + +“Was she scared or anything?” + +“Not till Julio there jumped on the prisoner. They were just walking +along the river path, towards town. Some boys swimming told us which way +they went.” + +“It’s a mistake, Squire,” Spoade said. “Children and dogs are always +taking up with him like that. He cant help it.” + +“H’m,” the squire said. He looked out of the window for a while. We +watched him. I could hear Julio scratching himself. The squire looked +back. + +“Air you satisfied the gal aint took any hurt, you, there?” + +“No hurt now,” Julio said sullenly. + +“You quit work to hunt for her?” + +“Sure I quit. I run. I run like hell. Looka here, looka there, then man +tella me he seen him giva her she eat. She go weetha.” + +“H’m,” the squire said. “Well, son, I calculate you owe Julio something +for taking him away from his work.” + +“Yes, sir,” I said. “How much?” + +“Dollar, I calculate.” + +I gave Julio a dollar. + +“Well,” Spoade said, “If that’s all—I reckon he’s discharged, your +honour?” + +The squire didn’t look at him. “How far’d you run him, Anse?” + +“Two miles, at least. It was about two hours before we caught him.” + +“H’m,” the squire said. He mused a while. We watched him, his stiff +crest, the spectacles riding low on his nose. The yellow shape of the +window grew slowly across the floor, reached the wall, climbing. Dust +motes whirled and slanted. “Six dollars.” + +“Six dollars?” Shreve said. “What’s that for?” + +“Six dollars,” the squire said. He looked at Shreve a moment, then at me +again. + +“Look here,” Shreve said. + +“Shut up,” Spoade said. “Give it to him, bud, and let’s get out of here. +The ladies are waiting for us. You got six dollars?” + +“Yes,” I said. I gave him six dollars. + +“Case dismissed,” he said. + +“You get a receipt,” Shreve said. “You get a signed receipt for that +money.” + +The squire looked at Shreve mildly. “Case dismissed,” he said without +raising his voice. + +“I’ll be damned—” Shreve said. + +“Come on here,” Spoade said, taking his arm. “Good afternoon, Judge. +Much obliged.” As we passed out the door Julio’s voice rose again, +violent, then ceased. Spoade was looking at me, his brown eyes +quizzical, a little cold. “Well, bud, I reckon you’ll do your girl +chasing in Boston after this.” + +“You damned fool,” Shreve said, “What the hell do you mean anyway, +straggling off here, fooling with these damn wops?” + +“Come on,” Spoade said, “They must be getting impatient.” + +Mrs Bland was talking to them. They were Miss Holmes and Miss +Daingerfield and they quit listening to her and looked at me again with +that delicate and curious horror, their veils turned back upon their +little white noses and their eyes fleeing and mysterious beneath the +veils. + +“Quentin Compson,” Mrs Bland said, “What would your mother say? A young +man naturally gets into scrapes, but to be arrested on foot by a country +policeman. What did they think he’d done, Gerald?” + +“Nothing,” Gerald said. + +“Nonsense. What was it, you, Spoade?” + +“He was trying to kidnap that little dirty girl, but they caught him in +time,” Spoade said. + +“Nonsense,” Mrs Bland said, but her voice sort of died away and she +stared at me for a moment, and the girls drew their breaths in with a +soft concerted sound. “Fiddlesticks,” Mrs Bland said briskly, “If that +isn’t just like these ignorant lowclass Yankees. Get in, Quentin.” + +Shreve and I sat on two small collapsible seats. Gerald cranked the car +and got in and we started. + +“Now, Quentin, you tell me what all this foolishness is about,” Mrs +Bland said. I told them, Shreve hunched and furious on his little seat +and Spoade sitting again on the back of his neck beside Miss +Daingerfield. + +“And the joke is, all the time Quentin had us all fooled,” Spoade said. +“All the time we thought he was the model youth that anybody could trust +a daughter with, until the police showed him up at his nefarious work.” + +“Hush up, Spoade,” Mrs Bland said. We drove down the street and crossed +the bridge and passed the house where the pink garment hung in the +window. “That’s what you get for not reading my note. Why didnt you come +and get it? Mr MacKenzie says he told you it was there.” + +“Yessum. I intended to, but I never went back to the room.” + +“You’d have let us sit there waiting I dont know how long, if it hadnt +been for Mr MacKenzie. When he said you hadnt come back, that left an +extra place, so we asked him to come. We’re very glad to have you +anyway, Mr MacKenzie.” Shreve said nothing. His arms were folded and he +glared straight ahead past Gerald’s cap. It was a cap for motoring in +England. Mrs Bland said so. We passed that house, and three others, and +another yard where the little girl stood by the gate. She didnt have the +bread now, and her face looked like it had been streaked with coaldust. +I waved my hand, but she made no reply, only her head turned slowly as +the car passed, following us with her unwinking gaze. Then we ran beside +the wall, our shadows running along the wall, and after a while we +passed a piece of torn newspaper lying beside the road and I began to +laugh again. I could feel it in my throat and I looked off into the +trees where the afternoon slanted, thinking of afternoon and of the bird +and the boys in swimming. But still I couldnt stop it and then I knew +that if I tried too hard to stop it I’d be crying and I thought about +how I’d thought about I could not be a virgin, with so many of them +walking along in the shadows and whispering with their soft girlvoices +lingering in the shadowy places and the words coming out and perfume and +eyes you could feel not see, but if it was that simple to do it wouldnt +be anything and if it wasnt anything, what was I and then Mrs Bland +said, “Quentin? Is he sick, Mr MacKenzie?” and then Shreve’s fat hand +touched my knee and Spoade began talking and I quit trying to stop it. + +“If that hamper is in his way, Mr MacKenzie, move it over on your side. +I brought a hamper of wine because I think young gentlemen should drink +wine, although my father, Gerald’s grandfather” _ever do that Have you +ever done that In the grey darkness a little light her hands locked +about_ + +“They do, when they can get it,” Spoade said. “Hey, Shreve?” _her knees +her face looking at the sky the smell of honeysuckle upon her face and +throat_ + +“Beer, too,” Shreve said. His hand touched my knee again. I moved my +knee again. _like a thin wash of lilac coloured paint talking about him +bringing_ + +“You’re not a gentleman,” Spoade said. _him between us until the shape +of her blurred not with dark_ + +“No. I’m Canadian,” Shreve said. _talking about him the oar blades +winking him along winking the Cap made for motoring in England and all +time rushing beneath and they two blurred within the other forever more +he had been in the army had killed men_ + +“I adore Canada,” Miss Daingerfield said. “I think it’s marvellous.” + +“Did you ever drink perfume?” Spoade said. _with one hand he could lift +her to his shoulder and run with her running Running_ + +“No,” Shreve said. _running the beast with two backs and she blurred in +the winking oars running the swine of Euboeleus running coupled within +how many Caddy_ + +“Neither did I,” Spoade said. _I dont know too many there was +something terrible in me terrible in me Father I have committed Have you +ever done that We didnt we didnt do that did we do that_ + +“and Gerald’s grandfather always picked his own mint before breakfast, +while the dew was still on it. He wouldnt even let old Wilkie touch it +do you remember Gerald but always gathered it himself and made his own +julep. He was as crochety about his julep as an old maid, measuring +everything by a recipe in his head. There was only one man he ever gave +that recipe to; that was” _we did how can you not know it if youll just +wait I’ll tell you how it was it was a crime we did a terrible crime it +cannot be hid you think it can but wait Poor Quentin youve never done +that have you and I’ll tell you how it was I’ll tell Father then itll +have to be because you love Father then we’ll have to go away amid the +pointing and the horror the clean flame I’ll make you say we did I’m +stronger than you I’ll make you know we did you thought it was them but_ +_it was me listen I fooled you all the time it was me you thought I was +in the house where that damn honeysuckle trying not to think the swing +the cedars the secret surges the breathing locked drinking the wild +breath the yes Yes Yes yes_ “never be got to drink wine himself, but he +always said that a hamper what book did you read that in the one where +Geralds rowing suit of wine was a necessary part of any gentlemen’s +picnic basket” _did you love them Caddy did you love them When they +touched me I died_ + +one minute she was standing there the next he was yelling and pulling at +her dress they went into the hall and up the stairs yelling and shoving +at her up the stairs to the bathroom door and stopped her back against +the door and her arm across her face yelling and trying to shove her +into the bathroom when she came in to supper T. P. was feeding him he +started again just whimpering at first until she touched him then he +yelled she stood there her eyes like cornered rats then I was running in +the grey darkness it smelled of rain and all flower scents the damp warm +air released and crickets sawing away in the grass pacing me with a +small travelling island of silence Fancy watched me across the fence +blotchy like a quilt on a line I thought damn that nigger he forgot to +feed her again I ran down the hill in that vacuum of crickets like a +breath travelling across a mirror she was lying in the water her head on +the sand spit the water flowing about her hips there was a little more +light in the water her skirt half saturated flopped along her flanks to +the waters motion in heavy ripples going nowhere renewed themselves of +their own movement I stood on the bank I could smell the honeysuckle on +the water gap the air seemed to drizzle with honeysuckle and with the +rasping of crickets a substance you could feel on the flesh + +is Benjy still crying + +I dont know yes I dont know + +poor Benjy + +I sat down on the bank the grass was damp a little then I found my shoes +wet + +get out of that water are you crazy + +but she didnt move her face was a white blur framed out of the blur of +the sand by her hair + +get out now + +she sat up then she rose her skirt flopped against her draining she +climbed the bank her clothes flopping sat down + +why dont you wring it out do you want to catch cold + +yes + +the water sucked and gurgled across the sand spit and on in the dark +among the willows across the shallow the water rippled like a piece of +cloth holding still a little light as water does + +he’s crossed all the oceans all around the world + +then she talked about him clasping her wet knees her face tilted back in +the grey light the smell of honeysuckle there was a light in mothers +room and in Benjys where T. P. was putting him to bed + +do you love him + +her hand came out I didnt move it fumbled down my arm and she held my +hand flat against her chest her heart thudding + +no no + +did he make you then he made you do it let him he was stronger than you +and he tomorrow Ill kill him I swear I will father neednt know until +afterward and then you and I nobody need ever know we can take my school +money we can cancel my matriculation Caddy you hate him dont you dont +you + +she held my hand against her chest her heart thudding I turned and +caught her arm + +Caddy you hate him dont you + +she moved my hand up against her throat her heart was hammering there + +poor Quentin + +her face looked at the sky it was low so low that all smells and sounds +of night seemed to have been crowded down like under a slack tent +especially the honeysuckle it had got into my breathing it was on her +face and throat like paint her blood pounded against my hand I was +leaning on my other arm it began to jerk and jump and I had to pant to +get any air at all out of that thick grey honeysuckle + +yes I hate him I would die for him I’ve already died for him I die for +him over and over again everytime this goes + +when I lifted my hand I could still feel crisscrossed twigs and grass +burning into the palm + +poor Quentin + +she leaned back on her arms her hands locked about her knees + +youve never done that have you + +what done what + +that what I have what I did + +yes yes lots of times with lots of girls + +then I was crying her hand touched me again and I was crying against her +damp blouse then she lying on her back looking past my head into the sky +I could see a rim of white under her irises I opened my knife + +do you remember the day damuddy died when you sat down in the water in +your drawers + +yes + +I held the point of the knife at her throat + +it wont take but a second just a second then I can do mine I can do mine +then + +all right can you do yours by yourself + +yes the blades long enough Benjys in bed by now + +yes + +it wont take but a second Ill try not to hurt + +all right + +will you close your eyes + +no like this youll have to push it harder + +touch your hand to it + +but she didnt move her eyes were wide open looking past my head at the +sky + +Caddy do you remember how Dilsey fussed at you because your drawers were +muddy + +dont cry + +Im not crying Caddy + +push it are you going to + +do you want me to + +yes push it + +touch your hand to it + +dont cry poor Quentin + +but I couldnt stop she held my head against her damp hard breast I could +hear her heart going firm and slow now not hammering and the water +gurgling among the willows in the dark and waves of honeysuckle coming +up the air my arm and shoulder were twisted under me + +what is it what are you doing + +her muscles gathered I sat up + +its my knife I dropped it + +she sat up + +what time is it + +I dont know + +she rose to her feet I fumbled along the ground + +Im going let it go + +I could feel her standing there I could smell her damp clothes feeling +her there + +its right here somewhere + +let it go you can find it tomorrow come on + +wait a minute I’ll find it + +are you afraid to + +here it is it was right here all the time + +was it come on + +I got up and followed we went up the hill the crickets hushing before us + +its funny how you can sit down and drop something and have to hunt all +around for it + +the grey it was grey with dew slanting up into the grey sky then the +trees beyond + +damn that honeysuckle I wish it would stop + +you used to like it + +we crossed the crest and went on toward the trees she walked into me she +gave over a little the ditch was a black scar on the grey grass she +walked into me again she looked at me and gave over we reached the ditch + +lets go this way + +what for + +lets see if you can still see Nancys bones I havent thought to look in a +long time have you + +it was matted with vines and briers dark + +they were right here you cant tell whether you see them or not can you + +stop Quentin + +come on + +the ditch narrowed closed she turned toward the trees + +stop Quentin + +Caddy + +I got in front of her again + +Caddy + +stop it + +I held her + +Im stronger than you + +she was motionless hard unyielding but still + +I wont fight stop youd better stop + +Caddy dont Caddy + +it wont do any good dont you know it wont let me go + +the honeysuckle drizzled and drizzled I could hear the crickets watching +us in a circle she moved back went around me on toward the trees + +you go on back to the house you neednt come + +I went on + +why dont you go on back to the house + +damn that honeysuckle + +we reached the fence she crawled through I crawled through when I rose +from stooping he was coming out of the trees into the grey toward us +coming toward us tall and flat and still even moving like he was still +she went to him + +this is Quentin Im wet Im wet all over you dont have to if you dont want +to + +their shadows one shadow her head rose it was above his on the sky +higher their two heads + +you dont have to if you dont want to + +then not two heads the darkness smelled of rain of damp grass and leaves +the grey light drizzling like rain the honeysuckle coming up in damp +waves I could see her face a blur against his shoulder he held her in +one arm like she was no bigger than a child he extended his hand + +glad to know you + +we shook hands then we stood there her shadow high against his shadow +one shadow + +whatre you going to do Quentin + +walk a while I think Ill go through the woods to the road and come back +through town + +I turned away going + +goodnight + +Quentin + +I stopped + +what do you want + +in the woods the tree frogs were going smelling rain in the air they +sounded like toy music boxes that were hard to turn and the honeysuckle + +come here + +what do you want + +come here Quentin + +I went back she touched my shoulder leaning down her shadow the blur of +her face leaning down from his high shadow I drew back + +look out + +you go on home + +Im not sleepy Im going to take a walk + +wait for me at the branch + +Im going for a walk + +Ill be there soon wait for me you wait + +no Im going through the woods + +I didnt look back the tree frogs didnt pay me any mind the grey light +like moss in the trees drizzling but still it wouldnt rain after a while +I turned went back to the edge of the woods as soon as I got there I +began to smell honeysuckle again I could see the lights on the +courthouse clock and the glare of town the square on the sky and the +dark willows along the branch and the light in mothers windows the light +still on in Benjys room and I stooped through the fence and went across +the pasture running I ran in the grey grass among the crickets the +honeysuckle getting stronger and stronger and the smell of water then I +could see the water the colour of grey honeysuckle I lay down on the +bank with my face close to the ground so I couldnt smell the honeysuckle +I couldnt smell it then and I lay there feeling the earth going through +my clothes listening to the water and after a while I wasnt breathing so +hard and I lay there thinking that if I didnt move my face I wouldnt +have to breathe hard and smell it and then I wasnt thinking about +anything at all she came along the bank and stopped I didnt move + +its late you go on home + +what + +you go on home its late + +all right + +her clothes rustled I didnt move they stopped rustling + +are you going in like I told you + +I didnt hear anything + +Caddy + +yes I will if you want me to I will + +I sat up she was sitting on the ground her hands clasped about her knee + +go on to the house like I told you + +yes Ill do anything you want me to anything yes + +she didnt even look at me I caught her shoulder and shook her hard + +you shut up + +I shook her + +you shut up you shut up + +yes + +she lifted her face then I saw she wasnt even looking at me at all I +could see that white rim + +get up + +I pulled her she was limp I lifted her to her feet + +go on now + +was Benjy still crying when you left + +go on + +we crossed the branch the roof came in sight then the windows upstairs + +hes asleep now + +I had to stop and fasten the gate she went on in the grey light the +smell of rain and still it wouldnt rain and honeysuckle beginning to +come from the garden fence beginning she went into the shadow I could +hear her feet then + +Caddy + +I stopped at the steps I couldnt hear her feet + +Caddy + +I heard her feet then my hand touched her not warm not cool just still +her clothes a little damp still + +do you love him now + +not breathing except slow like far away breathing + +Caddy do you love him now + +I dont know + +outside the grey light the shadows of things like dead things in +stagnant water + +I wish you were dead + +do you you coming in now + +are you thinking about him now + +I dont know + +tell me what youre thinking about tell me + +stop stop Quentin + +you shut up you shut up you hear me you shut up are you going to shut up + +all right I will stop we’ll make too much noise + +Ill kill you do you hear + +lets go out to the swing theyll hear you here + +Im not crying do you say Im crying + +no hush now we’ll wake Benjy up + +you go on into the house go on now + +I am dont cry Im bad anyway you cant help it + +theres a curse on us its not our fault is it our fault + +hush come on and go to bed now + +you cant make me theres a curse on us + +finally I saw him he was just going into the barbershop he looked out I +went on and waited + +Ive been looking for you two or three days + +you wanted to see me + +Im going to see you + +he rolled the cigarette quickly with about two motions he struck the +match with his thumb + +we cant talk here suppose I meet you somewhere + +Ill come to your room are you at the hotel + +no thats not so good you know that bridge over the creek in there back +of + +yes all right + +at one oclock right + +yes + +I turned away + +Im obliged to you + +look + +I stopped looked back + +she all right + +he looked like he was made out of bronze his khaki shirt + +she need me for anything now + +I’ll be there at one + +she heard me tell T. P. to saddle Prince at one oclock she kept watching +me not eating much she came too + +what are you going to do + +nothing cant I go for a ride if I want to + +youre going to do something what is it + +none of your business whore whore + +T. P. had Prince at the side door + +I wont want him Im going to walk + +I went down the drive and out the gate I turned into the lane then I ran +before I reached the bridge I saw him leaning on the rail the horse was +hitched in the woods he looked over his shoulder then he turned his back +he didnt look up until I came onto the bridge and stopped he had a piece +of bark in his hands breaking pieces from it and dropping them over the +rail into the water + +I came to tell you to leave town + +he broke a piece of bark deliberately dropped it carefully into the +water watched it float away + +I said you must leave town + +he looked at me + +did she send you to me + +I say you must go not my father not anybody I say it + +listen save this for a while I want to know if shes all right have they +been bothering her up there + +thats something you dont need to trouble yourself about + +then I heard myself saying Ill give you until sundown to leave town + +he broke a piece of bark and dropped it into the water then he laid the +bark on the rail and rolled a cigarette with those two swift motions +spun the match over the rail + +what will you do if I dont leave + +Ill kill you dont think that just because I look like a kid to you + +the smoke flowed in two jets from his nostrils across his face + +how old are you + +I began to shake my hands were on the rail I thought if I hid them hed +know why + +Ill give you until tonight + +listen buddy whats your name Benjys the natural isnt he you are + +Quentin + +my mouth said it I didnt say it at all + +Ill give you till sundown + +Quentin + +he raked the cigarette ash carefully off against the rail he did it +slowly and carefully like sharpening a pencil my hands had quit shaking + +listen no good taking it so hard its not your fault kid it would have +been some other fellow + +did you ever have a sister did you + +no but theyre all bitches + +I hit him my open hand beat the impulse to shut it to his face his hand +moved as fast as mine the cigarette went over the rail I swung with the +other hand he caught it too before the cigarette reached the water he +held both my wrists in the same hand his other hand flicked to his +armpit under his coat behind him the sun slanted and a bird singing +somewhere beyond the sun we looked at one another while the bird singing +he turned my hands loose + +look here + +he took the bark from the rail and dropped it into the water it bobbed +up the current took it floated away his hand lay on the rail holding the +pistol loosely we waited + +you cant hit it now + +no + +it floated on it was quite still in the woods I heard the bird again and +the water afterward the pistol came up he didnt aim at all the bark +disappeared then pieces of it floated up spreading he hit two more of +them pieces of bark no bigger than silver dollars + +thats enough I guess + +he swung the cylinder out and blew into the barrel a thin wisp of smoke +dissolved he reloaded the three chambers shut the cylinder he handed it +to me butt first + +what for I wont try to beat that + +youll need it from what you said Im giving you this one because youve +seen what itll do + +to hell with your gun + +I hit him I was still trying to hit him long after he was holding my +wrists but I still tried then it was like I was looking at him through a +piece of coloured glass I could hear my blood and then I could see the +sky again and branches against it and the sun slanting through them and +he holding me on my feet + +did you hit me + +I couldnt hear + +what + +yes how do you feel + +all right let go + +he let me go I leaned against the rail + +do you feel all right + +let me alone Im all right + +can you make it home all right + +go on let me alone + +youd better not try to walk take my horse + +no you go on + +you can hang the reins on the pommel and turn him loose he’ll go back to +the stable + +let me alone you go on and let me alone + +I leaned on the rail looking at the water I heard him untie the horse +and ride off and after a while I couldnt hear anything but the water and +then the bird again I left the bridge and sat down with my back against +a tree and leaned my head against the tree and shut my eyes a patch of +sun came through and fell across my eyes and I moved a little further +around the tree I heard the bird again and the water and then everything +sort of rolled away and I didnt feel anything at all I felt almost good +after all those days and the nights with honeysuckle coming up out of +the darkness into my room where I was trying to sleep even when after a +while I knew that he hadnt hit me that he had lied about that for her +sake too and that I had just passed out like a girl but even that didnt +matter anymore and I sat there against the tree with little flecks of +sunlight brushing across my face like yellow leaves on a twig listening +to the water and not thinking about anything at all even when I heard +the horse coming fast I sat there with my eyes closed and heard its feet +bunch scuttering the hissing sand and feet running and her hard running +hands + +fool fool are you hurt + +I opened my eyes her hands running on my face + +I didnt know which way until I heard the pistol I didnt know where I +didnt think he and you running off slipping I didnt think he would have + +she held my face between her hands bumping my head against the tree + +stop stop that + +I caught her wrists + +quit that quit it + +I knew he wouldnt I knew he wouldnt + +she tried to bump my head against the tree + +I told him never to speak to me again I told him + +she tried to break her wrists free + +let me go + +stop it I’m stronger than you stop it now + +let me go Ive got to catch him and ask his let me go Quentin please let +me go let me go + +all at once she quit her wrists went lax + +yes I can tell him I can make him believe anytime I can make him + +Caddy + +she hadnt hitched Prince he was liable to strike out for home if the +notion took him + +anytime he will believe me + +do you love him Caddy + +do I what + +she looked at me then everything emptied out of her eyes and they looked +like the eyes in the statues blank and unseeing and serene + +put your hand against my throat + +she took my hand and held it flat against her throat + +now say his name + +Dalton Ames + +I felt the first surge of blood there it surged in strong accelerating +beats + +say it again + +her face looked off into the trees where the sun slanted and where the +bird + +say it again + +Dalton Ames + +her blood surged steadily beating and beating against my hand + +It kept on running for a long time, but my face felt cold and sort of +dead, and my eye, and the cut place on my finger was smarting again. I +could hear Shreve working the pump, then he came back with the basin and +a round blob of twilight wobbling in it, with a yellow edge like a +fading balloon, then my reflection. I tried to see my face in it. + +“Has it stopped?” Shreve said. “Give me the rag.” He tried to take it +from my hand. + +“Look out,” I said, “I can do it. Yes, it’s about stopped now.” I dipped +the rag again, breaking the balloon. The rag stained the water. “I wish +I had a clean one.” + +“You need a piece of beefsteak for that eye,” Shreve said. “Damn if you +wont have a shiner tomorrow. The son of a bitch,” he said. + +“Did I hurt him any?” I wrung out the handkerchief and tried to clean +the blood off of my vest. + +“You cant get that off,” Shreve said. “You’ll have to send it to the +cleaner’s. Come on, hold it on your eye, why dont you.” + +“I can get some of it off,” I said. But I wasn’t doing much good. “What +sort of shape is my collar in?” + +“I dont know,” Shreve said. “Hold it against your eye. Here.” + +“Look out,” I said. “I can do it. Did I hurt him any?” + +“You may have hit him. I may have looked away just then or blinked or +something. He boxed the hell out of you. He boxed you all over the +place. What did you want to fight him with your fists for? You goddamn +fool. How do you feel?” + +“I feel fine,” I said. “I wonder if I can get something to clean my +vest.” + +“Oh, forget your damn clothes. Does your eye hurt?” + +“I feel fine,” I said. Everything was sort of violet and still, the sky +green paling into gold beyond the gable of the house and a plume of +smoke rising from the chimney without any wind. I heard the pump again. +A man was filling a pail, watching us across his pumping shoulder. A +woman crossed the door, but she didnt look out. I could hear a cow +lowing somewhere. + +“Come on,” Shreve said, “Let your clothes alone and put that rag on your +eye. I’ll send your suit out first thing tomorrow.” + +“All right. I’m sorry I didn’t bleed on him a little, at least.” + +“Son of a bitch,” Shreve said. Spoade came out of the house, talking to +the woman I reckon, and crossed the yard. He looked at me with his cold, +quizzical eyes. + +“Well, bud,” he said, looking at me, “I’ll be damned if you dont go to a +lot of trouble to have your fun. Kidnapping, then fighting. What do you +do on your holidays? burn houses?” + +“I’m all right,” I said. “What did Mrs Bland say?” + +“She’s giving Gerald hell for bloodying you up. She’ll give you hell for +letting him, when she sees you. She dont object to the fighting, it’s +the blood that annoys her. I think you lost caste with her a little by +not holding your blood better. How do you feel?” + +“Sure,” Shreve said, “If you cant be a Bland, the next best thing is to +commit adultery with one or get drunk and fight him, as the case may +be.” + +“Quite right,” Spoade said. “But I didnt know Quentin was drunk.” + +“He wasnt,” Shreve said. “Do you have to be drunk to want to hit that +son of a bitch?” + +“Well, I think I’d have to be pretty drunk to try it, after seeing how +Quentin came out. Where’d he learn to box?” + +“He’s been going to Mike’s every day, over in town,” I said. + +“He has?” Spoade said. “Did you know that when you hit him?” + +“I dont know,” I said. “I guess so. Yes.” + +“Wet it again,” Shreve said. “Want some fresh water?” + +“This is all right,” I said. I dipped the cloth again and held it to my +eye. “Wish I had something to clean my vest.” Spoade was still watching +me. + +“Say,” he said, “What did you hit him for? What was it he said?” + +“I dont know. I dont know why I did.” + +“The first I knew was when you jumped up all of a sudden and said, ‘Did +you ever have a sister? Did you?’ and when he said No, you hit him. I +noticed you kept on looking at him, but you didnt seem to be paying any +attention to what anybody was saying until you jumped up and asked him +if he had any sisters.” + +“Ah, he was blowing off as usual,” Shreve said, “about his women. You +know: like he does, before girls, so they dont know exactly what he’s +saying. All his damn innuendo and lying and a lot of stuff that dont +make sense even. Telling us about some wench that he made a date with to +meet at a dance hall in Atlantic City and stood her up and went to the +hotel and went to bed and how he lay there being sorry for her waiting +on the pier for him, without him there to give her what she wanted. +Talking about the body’s beauty and the sorry ends thereof and how tough +women have it, without anything else they can do except lie on their +backs. Leda lurking in the bushes, whimpering and moaning for the swan, +see. The son of a bitch. I’d hit him myself. Only I’d grabbed up her +damn hamper of wine and done it if it had been me.” + +“Oh,” Spoade said, “the champion of dames. Bud, you excite not only +admiration, but horror.” He looked at me, cold and quizzical. “Good +God,” he said. + +“I’m sorry I hit him,” I said. “Do I look too bad to go back and get it +over with?” + +“Apologies, hell,” Shreve said, “Let them go to hell. We’re going to +town.” + +“He ought to go back so they’ll know he fights like a gentleman,” Spoade +said. “Gets licked like one, I mean.” + +“Like this?” Shreve said, “With his clothes all over blood?” + +“Why, all right,” Spoade said, “You know best.” + +“He cant go around in his undershirt,” Shreve said, “He’s not a senior +yet. Come on, let’s go to town.” + +“You neednt come,” I said. “You go on back to the picnic.” + +“Hell with them,” Shreve said. “Come on here.” + +“What’ll I tell them?” Spoade said. “Tell them you and Quentin had a +fight too?” + +“Tell them nothing,” Shreve said. “Tell her her option expired at +sunset. Come on, Quentin. I’ll ask that woman where the nearest +interurban—” + +“No,” I said, “I’m not going back to town.” + +Shreve stopped, looking at me. Turning, his glasses looked like small +yellow moons. + +“What are you going to do?” + +“I’m not going back to town yet. You go on back to the picnic. Tell them +I wouldnt come back because my clothes were spoiled.” + +“Look here,” he said, “What are you up to?” + +“Nothing. I’m all right. You and Spoade go on back. I’ll see you +tomorrow.” I went on across the yard, toward the road. + +“Do you know where the station is?” Shreve said. + +“I’ll find it. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Tell Mrs Bland I’m sorry I +spoiled her party.” They stood watching me. I went around the house. A +rock path went down to the road. Roses grew on both sides of the path. I +went through the gate, onto the road. It dropped downhill, toward the +woods, and I could make out the auto beside the road. I went up the +hill. The light increased as I mounted, and before I reached the top I +heard a car. It sounded far away across the twilight and I stopped and +listened to it. I couldnt make out the auto any longer, but Shreve was +standing in the road before the house, looking up the hill. Behind him +the yellow light lay like a wash of paint on the roof of the house. I +lifted my hand and went on over the hill, listening to the car. Then the +house was gone and I stopped in the green and yellow light and heard the +car growing louder and louder, until just as it began to die away it +ceased all together. I waited until I heard it start again. Then I went +on. + +As I descended the light dwindled slowly, yet at the same time without +altering its quality, as if I and not light were changing, decreasing, +though even when the road ran into trees you could have read a +newspaper. Pretty soon I came to a lane. I turned into it. It was closer +and darker than the road, but when it came out at the trolley +stop—another wooden marquee—the light was still unchanged. After the +lane it seemed brighter, as though I had walked through night in the +lane and come out into morning again. Pretty soon the car came. I got on +it, they turning to look at my eye, and found a seat on the left side. + +The lights were on in the car, so while we ran between trees I couldnt +see anything except my own face and a woman across the aisle with a hat +sitting right on top of her head, with a broken feather in it, but when +we ran out of the trees I could see the twilight again, that quality of +light as if time really had stopped for a while, with the sun hanging +just under the horizon, and then we passed the marquee where the old man +had been eating out of the sack, and the road going on under the +twilight, into twilight and the sense of water peaceful and swift +beyond. Then the car went on, the draught building steadily up in the +open door until it was drawing steadily through the car with the odour +of summer and darkness except honeysuckle. Honeysuckle was the saddest +odour of all, I think. I remember lots of them. Wistaria was one. On the +rainy days when Mother wasnt feeling quite bad enough to stay away from +the windows we used to play under it. When Mother stayed in bed Dilsey +would put old clothes on us and let us go out in the rain because she +said rain never hurt young folks. But if Mother was up we always began +by playing on the porch until she said we were making too much noise, +then we went out and played under the wistaria frame. + +This was where I saw the river for the last time this morning, about +here. I could feel water beyond the twilight, smell. When it bloomed in +the spring and it rained the smell was everywhere you didnt notice it so +much at other times but when it rained the smell began to come into the +house at twilight either it would rain more at twilight or there was +something in the light itself but it always smelled strongest then until +I would lie in bed thinking when will it stop when will it stop. The +draft in the door smelled of water, a damp steady breath. Sometimes I +could put myself to sleep saying that over and over until after the +honeysuckle got all mixed up in it the whole thing came to symbolise +night and unrest I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking +down a long corridor of grey halflight where all stable things had +become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt +suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without +relevance inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they +should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who. + +I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last +light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken mirror, +then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little +like butterflies hovering a long way off. Benjamin the child of. How he +used to sit before that mirror. Refuge unfailing in which conflict +tempered silenced reconciled. Benjamin the child of mine old age held +hostage into Egypt. O Benjamin. Dilsey said it was because Mother was +too proud for him. They come into white people’s lives like that in +sudden sharp black trickles that isolate white facts for an instant in +unarguable truth like under a microscope; the rest of the time just +voices that laugh when you see nothing to laugh at, tears when no reason +for tears. They will bet on the odd or even number of mourners at a +funeral. A brothel full of them in Memphis went into a religious trance +ran naked into the street. It took three policemen to subdue one of +them. Yes Jesus O good man Jesus O that good man. + +The car stopped. I got out, with them looking at my eye. When the +trolley came it was full. I stopped on the back platform. + +“Seats up front,” the conductor said. I looked into the car. There were +no seats on the left side. + +“I’m not going far,” I said. “I’ll just stand here.” + +We crossed the river. The bridge, that is, arching slow and high into +space, between silence and nothingness where lights—yellow and red and +green—trembled in the clear air, repeating themselves. + +“Better go up front and get a seat,” the conductor said. + +“I get off pretty soon,” I said. “A couple of blocks.” + +I got off before we reached the postoffice. They’d all be sitting around +somewhere by now though, and then I was hearing my watch and I began to +listen for the chimes and I touched Shreve’s letter through my coat, the +bitten shadows of the elms flowing upon my hand. And then as I turned +into the quad the chimes did begin and I went on while the notes came up +like ripples on a pool and passed me and went on, saying Quarter to +what? All right. Quarter to what. + +Our windows were dark. The entrance was empty. I walked close to the +left wall when I entered, but it was empty: just the stairs curving up +into shadows echoes of feet in the sad generations like light dust upon +the shadows, my feet waking them like dust, lightly to settle again. + +I could see the letter before I turned the light on, propped against a +book on the table so I would see it. Calling him my husband. And then +Spoade said they were going somewhere, would not be back until late, and +Mrs Bland would need another cavalier. But I would have seen him and he +cannot get another car for an hour because after six oclock. I took out +my watch and listened to it clicking away, not knowing it couldnt even +lie. Then I laid it face up on the table and took Mrs Bland’s letter and +tore it across and dropped the pieces into the waste basket and took off +my coat, vest, collar, tie and shirt. The tie was spoiled too, but then +niggers. Maybe a pattern of blood he could call that the one Christ was +wearing. I found the gasoline in Shreve’s room and spread the vest on +the table, where it would be flat, and opened the gasoline. + +_the first car in town a girl Girl that’s what Jason couldn’t bear smell +of gasoline making him sick then got madder than ever because a girl +Girl had no sister but Benjamin Benjamin the child of my sorrowful if +I’d just had a mother so I could say Mother Mother_ It took a lot of +gasoline, and then I couldnt tell if it was still the stain or just the +gasoline. It had started the cut to smarting again so when I went to +wash I hung the vest on a chair and lowered the light cord so that the +bulb would be drying the splotch. I washed my face and hands, but even +then I could smell it within the soap stinging, constricting the +nostrils a little. Then I opened the bag and took the shirt and collar +and tie out and put the bloody ones in and closed the bag, and dressed. +While I was brushing my hair the half hour went. But there was until the +three quarters anyway, except suppose _seeing on the rushing darkness +only his own face no broken feather unless two of them but not two like +that going to Boston the same night then my face his face for an instant +across the crashing when out of darkness two lighted windows in rigid +fleeing crash gone his face and mine just I see saw did I see not +goodbye the marquee empty of eating the road empty in darkness in +silence the bridge arching into silence darkness sleep the water +peaceful and swift not goodbye_ + +I turned out the light and went into my bedroom, out of the gasoline but +I could still smell it. I stood at the window the curtains moved slow +out of the darkness touching my face like someone breathing asleep, +breathing slow into the darkness again, leaving the touch. _After they +had gone up stairs Mother lay back in her chair, the camphor +handkerchief to her mouth. Father hadn’t moved he still sat beside her +holding her hand the bellowing hammering away like no place for it in +silence_ When I was little there was a picture in one of our books, a +dark place into which a single weak ray of light came slanting upon two +faces lifted out of the shadow. _You know what I’d do if I were King?_ +she never was a queen or a fairy she was always a king or a giant or a +general _I’d break that place open and drag them out and I’d whip them +good_ It was torn out, jagged out. I was glad. I’d have to turn back to +it until the dungeon was Mother herself she and Father upward into weak +light holding hands and us lost somewhere below even them without even a +ray of light. Then the honeysuckle got into it. As soon as I turned off +the light and tried to go to sleep it would begin to come into the room +in waves building and building up until I would have to pant to get any +air at all out of it until I would have to get up and feel my way like +when I was a little boy _hands can see touching in the mind shaping +unseen door Door now nothing hands can see_ My nose could see gasoline, +the vest on the table, the door. The corridor was still empty of all the +feet in sad generations seeking water. _yet the eyes unseeing clenched +like teeth not disbelieving doubting even the absence of pain shin ankle +knee the long invisible flowing of the stair-railing where a misstep in +the darkness filled with sleeping Mother Father Caddy Jason Maury door I +am not afraid only Mother Father Caddy Jason Maury getting so far ahead +sleeping I will sleep fast when I door Door door_ It was empty too, the +pipes, the porcelain, the stained quiet walls, the throne of +contemplation. I had forgotten the glass, but I could _hands can see +cooling fingers invisible swan-throat where less than Moses rod the +glass touch tentative not to drumming lean cool throat drumming cooling +the metal the glass full overfull cooling the glass the fingers flushing +sleep leaving the taste of dampened sleep in the long silence of the +throat_ I returned up the corridor, waking the lost feet in whispering +battalions in the silence, into the gasoline, the watch telling its +furious lie on the dark table. Then the curtains breathing out of the +dark upon my face, leaving the breathing upon my face. A quarter hour +yet. And then I’ll not be. The peacefullest words. Peacefullest words. +_Non fui. Sum. Fui. Nom sum._ Somewhere I heard bells once. Mississippi +or Massachusetts. I was. I am not. Massachusetts or Mississippi. Shreve +has a bottle in his trunk. _Aren’t you even going to open it_ Mr and Mrs +Jason Richmond Compson announce the _Three times. Days. Aren’t you even +going to open it_ marriage of their daughter Candace _that liquor +teaches you to confuse the means with the end_. I am. Drink. I was not. +Let us sell Benjy’s pasture so that Quentin may go to Harvard and I may +knock my bones together and together. I will be dead in. Was it one year +Caddy said. Shreve has a bottle in his trunk. Sir I will not need +Shreve’s I have sold Benjy’s pasture and I can be dead in Harvard Caddy +said in the caverns and the grottoes of the sea tumbling peacefully to +the wavering tides because Harvard is such a fine sound forty acres is +no high price for a fine sound. A find dead sound we will swap Benjy’s +pasture for a fine dead sound. It will last him a long time because he +cannot hear it unless he can smell it _as soon as she came in the door +he began to cry_ I thought all the time it was just one of those town +squirts that Father was always teasing her about until. I didnt notice +him any more than any other stranger drummer or what thought they were +army shirts until all of a sudden I knew he wasn’t thinking of me at all +as a potential source of harm, but was thinking of her when he looked at +me was looking at me through her like through a piece of coloured glass +_why must you meddle with me dont you know it wont do any good I thought +you’d have left that for Mother and Jason_ + +_did Mother set Jason to spy on you_ I wouldnt have. + +_Women only use other people’s codes of honour it’s because she loves +Caddy_ staying downstairs even when she was sick so Father couldnt kid +Uncle Maury before Jason Father said Uncle Maury was too poor a +classicist to risk the blind immortal boy in person he should have +chosen Jason because Jason would have made only the same kind of blunder +Uncle Maury himself would have made not one to get him a black eye the +Patterson boy was smaller than Jason too they sold the kites for a +nickel apiece until the trouble over finances Jason got a new partner +still smaller one small enough anyway because T. P. said Jason still +treasurer but Father said why should Uncle Maury work if he father could +support five or six niggers that did nothing at all but sit with their +feet in the oven he certainly could board and lodge Uncle Maury now and +then and lend him a little money who kept his Father’s belief in the +celestial derivation of his own species at such a fine heat then Mother +would cry and say that Father believed his people were better than hers +that he was ridiculing Uncle Maury to teach us the same thing she +couldnt see that Father was teaching us that all men are just +accumulations dolls stuffed with sawdust swept up from the trash heaps +where all previous dolls had been thrown away the sawdust flowing from +what wound in what side that not for me died not. It used to be I +thought of death as a man something like Grandfather a friend of his a +kind of private and particular friend like we used to think of +Grandfather’s desk not to touch it not even to talk loud in the room +where it was I always thought of them as being together somewhere all +the time waiting for old Colonel Sartoris to come down and sit with them +waiting on a high place beyond cedar trees Colonel Sartoris was on a +still higher place looking out across at something and they were waiting +for him to get done looking at it and come down Grandfather wore his +uniform and we could hear the murmur of their voices from beyond the +cedars they were always talking and Grandfather was always right + +The three quarters began. The first note sounded, measured and tranquil, +serenely peremptory, emptying the unhurried silence for the next one and +that’s it if people could only change one another forever that way merge +like a flame swirling up for an instant then blown cleanly out along the +cool eternal dark instead of lying there trying not to think of the +swing until all cedars came to have that vivid dead smell of perfume +that Benjy hated so. Just by imagining the clump it seemed to me that I +could hear whispers secret surges smell the beating of hot blood under +wild unsecret flesh watching against red eyelids the swine untethered in +pairs rushing coupled into the sea and he we must just stay awake and +see evil done for a little while its not always and i it doesnt have to +be even that long for a man of courage and he do you consider that +courage and i yes sir dont you and he every man is the arbiter of his +own virtues whether or not you consider it courageous is of more +importance than the act itself than any act otherwise you could not be +in earnest and i you dont believe i am serious and he i think you are +too serious to give me any cause for alarm you wouldn’t have felt driven +to the expedient of telling me you have committed incest otherwise and i +i wasnt lying i wasnt lying and he you wanted to sublimate a piece of +natural human folly into a horror and then exorcise it with truth and i +it was to isolate her out of the loud world so that it would have to +flee us of necessity and then the sound of it would be as though it had +never been and he did you try to make her do it and i i was afraid to i +was afraid she might and then it wouldnt have done any good but if i +could tell you we did it would have been so and then the others wouldnt +be so and then the world would roar away and he and now this other you +are not lying now either but you are still blind to what is in yourself +to that part of general truth the sequence of natural events and their +causes which shadows every mans brow even benjys you are not thinking of +finitude you are contemplating an apotheosis in which a temporary state +of mind will become symmetrical above the flesh and aware both of itself +and of the flesh it will not quite discard you will not even be dead and +i temporary and he you cannot bear to think that someday it will no +longer hurt you like this now were getting at it you seem to regard it +merely as an experience that will whiten your hair overnight so to speak +without altering your appearance at all you wont do it under these +conditions it will be a gamble and the strange thing is that man who is +conceived by accident and whose every breath is a fresh cast with dice +already loaded against him will not face that final main which he knows +before hand he has assuredly to face without essaying expedients ranging +all the way from violence to petty chicanery that would not deceive a +child until someday in very disgust he risks everything on a single +blind turn of a card no man ever does that under the first fury of +despair or remorse or bereavement he does it only when he has realised +that even the despair or remorse or bereavement is not particularly +important to the dark diceman and i temporary and he it is hard +believing to think that a love or a sorrow is a bond purchased without +design and which matures willynilly and is recalled without warning to +be replaced by whatever issue the gods happen to be floating at the time +no you will not do that until you come to believe that even she was not +quite worth despair perhaps and i i will never do that nobody knows what +i know and he i think youd better go on up to cambridge right away you +might go up into maine for a month you can afford it if you are careful +it might be a good thing watching pennies has healed more scars than +jesus and i suppose i realise what you believe i will realise up there +next week or next month and he then you will remember that for you to go +to harvard has been your mothers dream since you were born and no +compson has ever disappointed a lady and i temporary it will be better +for me for all of us and he every man is the arbiter of his own virtues +but let no man prescribe for another mans wellbeing and i temporary and +he was the saddest word of all there is nothing else in the world its +not despair until time its not even time until it was + +The last note sounded. At last it stopped vibrating and the darkness was +still again. I entered the sitting room and turned on the light. I put +my vest on. The gasoline was faint now, barely noticeable, and in the +mirror the stain didnt show. Not like my eye did, anyway. I put on my +coat. Shreve’s letter crackled through the cloth and I took it out and +examined the address, and put it in my side pocket. Then I carried the +watch into Shreve’s room and put it in his drawer and went to my room +and got a fresh handkerchief and went to the door and put my hand on the +light switch. Then I remembered I hadnt brushed my teeth, so I had to +open the bag again. I found my toothbrush and got some of Shreve’s paste +and went out and brushed my teeth. I squeezed the brush as dry as I +could and put it back in the bag and shut it, and went to the door +again. Before I snapped the light out I looked around to see if there +was anything else, then I saw that I had forgotten my hat. I’d have to +go by the postoffice and I’d be sure to meet some of them, and they’d +think I was a Harvard Square student making like he was a senior. I had +forgotten to brush it too, but Shreve had a brush, so I didnt have to +open the bag any more. + + + + + APRIL SIXTH, 1928 + + +Once a bitch always a bitch, what I say. I says you’re lucky if her +playing out of school is all that worries you. I says she ought to be +down there in that kitchen right now, instead of up there in her room, +gobbing paint on her face and waiting for six niggers that cant even +stand up out of a chair unless they’ve got a pan full of bread and meat +to balance them, to fix breakfast for her. And Mother says, + +“But to have the school authorities think that I have no control over +her, that I cant—” + +“Well,” I says, “You cant, can you? You never have tried to do anything +with her,” I says, “How do you expect to begin this late, when she’s +seventeen years old?” + +She thought about that for a while. + +“But to have them think that . . . I didn’t even know she had a report +card. She told me last fall that they had quit using them this year. And +now for Professor Junkin to call me on the telephone and tell me if +she’s absent one more time, she will have to leave school. How does she +do it? Where does she go? You’re down town all day; you ought to see her +if she stays on the streets.” + +“Yes,” I says, “If she stayed on the streets. I dont reckon she’d be +playing out of school just to do something she could do in public,” I +says. + +“What do you mean?” she says. + +“I dont mean anything,” I says. “I just answered your question.” Then +she begun to cry again, talking about how her own flesh and blood rose +up to curse her. + +“You asked me,” I says. + +“I dont mean you,” she says. “You are the only one of them that isn’t a +reproach to me.” + +“Sure,” I says, “I never had time to be. I never had time to go to +Harvard like Quentin or drink myself into the ground like Father. I had +to work. But of course if you want me to follow her around and see what +she does, I can quit the store and get a job where I can work at night. +Then I can watch her during the day and you can use Ben for the night +shift.” + +“I know I’m just a trouble and a burden to you,” she says, crying on the +pillow. + +“I ought to know it,” I says. “You’ve been telling me that for thirty +years. Even Ben ought to know it now. Do you want me to say anything to +her about it?” + +“Do you think it will do any good?” she says. + +“Not if you come down there interfering just when I get started,” I +says. “If you want me to control her, just say so and keep your hands +off. Everytime I try to, you come butting in and then she gives both of +us the laugh.” + +“Remember she’s your own flesh and blood,” she says. + +“Sure,” I says, “that’s just what I’m thinking of—flesh. And a little +blood too, if I had my way. When people act like niggers, no matter who +they are the only thing to do is treat them like a nigger.” + +“I’m afraid you’ll lose your temper with her,” she says. + +“Well,” I says, “You haven’t had much luck with your system. You want me +to do anything about it, or not? Say one way or the other; I’ve got to +get on to work.” + +“I know you have to slave your life away for us,” she says. “You know if +I had my way, you’d have an office of your own to go to, and hours that +became a Bascomb. Because you are a Bascomb, despite your name. I know +that if your father could have forseen—” + +“Well,” I says, “I reckon he’s entitled to guess wrong now and then, +like anybody else, even a Smith or a Jones.” She begun to cry again. + +“To hear you speak bitterly of your dead father,” she says. + +“All right,” I says, “all right. Have it your way. But as I haven’t got +an office, I’ll have to get on to what I have got. Do you want me to say +anything to her?” + +“I’m afraid you’ll lose your temper with her,” she says. + +“All right,” I says, “I wont say anything, then.” + +“But something must be done,” she says. “To have people think I permit +her to stay out of school and run about the streets, or that I cant +prevent her doing it. . . . Jason, Jason,” she says, “How could you. How +could you leave me with these burdens.” + +“Now, now,” I says, “You’ll make yourself sick. Why dont you either lock +her up all day too, or turn her over to me and quit worrying over her?” + +“My own flesh and blood,” she says, crying. So I says, + +“All right. I’ll tend to her. Quit crying, now.” + +“Dont lose your temper,” she says. “She’s just a child, remember.” + +“No,” I says, “I wont.” I went out, closing the door. + +“Jason,” she says. I didn’t answer. I went down the hall. “Jason,” she +says beyond the door. I went on down stairs. There wasn’t anybody in the +diningroom, then I heard her in the kitchen. She was trying to make +Dilsey let her have another cup of coffee. I went in. + +“I reckon that’s your school costume, is it?” I says. “Or maybe today’s +a holiday?” + +“Just a half a cup, Dilsey,” she says. “Please.” + +“No, suh,” Dilsey says, “I aint gwine do it. You aint got no business +wid mo’n one cup, a seventeen year old gal, let lone whut Miss Cahline +say. You go on and git dressed for school, so you kin ride to town wid +Jason. You fixin to be late again.” + +“No she’s not,” I says. “We’re going to fix that right now.” She looked +at me, the cup in her hand. She brushed her hair back from her face, her +kimono slipping off her shoulder. “You put that cup down and come in +here a minute,” I says. + +“What for?” she says. + +“Come on,” I says. “Put that cup in the sink and come in here.” + +“What you up to now, Jason?” Dilsey says. + +“You may think you can run over me like you do your grandmother and +everybody else,” I says, “But you’ll find out different. I’ll give you +ten seconds to put that cup down like I told you.” + +She quit looking at me. She looked at Dilsey. “What time is it, Dilsey?” +she says. “When it’s ten seconds, you whistle. Just a half a cup. +Dilsey, pl—” + +I grabbed her by the arm. She dropped the cup. It broke on the floor and +she jerked back, looking at me, but I held her arm. Dilsey got up from +her chair. + +“You, Jason,” she says. + +“You turn me loose,” Quentin says, “I’ll slap you.” + +“You will, will you?” I says, “You will will you?” She slapped at me. I +caught that hand too and held her like a wildcat. “You will, will you?” +I says. “You think you will?” + +“You, Jason!” Dilsey says. I dragged her into the diningroom. Her kimono +came unfastened, flapping about her, damn near naked. Dilsey came +hobbling along. I turned and kicked the door shut in her face. + +“You keep out of here,” I says. + +Quentin was leaning against the table, fastening her kimono. I looked at +her. + +“Now,” I says, “I want to know what you mean, playing out of school and +telling your grandmother lies and forging her name on your report and +worrying her sick. What do you mean by it?” + +She didn’t say anything. She was fastening her kimono up under her chin, +pulling it tight around her, looking at me. She hadn’t got around to +painting herself yet and her face looked like she had polished it with a +gun rag. I went and grabbed her wrist. “What do you mean?” I says. + +“None of your damn business,” she says. “You turn me loose.” + +Dilsey came in the door. “You, Jason,” she says. + +“You get out of here, like I told you,” I says, not even looking back. +“I want to know where you go when you play out of school,” I says. “You +keep off the streets, or I’d see you. Who do you play out with? Are you +hiding out in the woods with one of those damn slick-headed jellybeans? +Is that where you go?” + +“You—you old goddamn!” she says. She fought, but I held her. “You damn +old goddamn!” she says. + +“I’ll show you,” I says. “You may can scare an old woman off, but I’ll +show you who’s got hold of you now.” I held her with one hand, then she +quit fighting and watched me, her eyes getting wide and black. + +“What are you going to do?” she says. + +“You wait until I get this belt out and I’ll show you,” I says, pulling +my belt out. Then Dilsey grabbed my arm. + +“Jason,” she says, “You, Jason! Aint you shamed of yourself.” + +“Dilsey,” Quentin says, “Dilsey.” + +“I aint gwine let him,” Dilsey says, “Dont you worry, honey.” She held +to my arm. Then the belt came out and I jerked loose and flung her away. +She stumbled into the table. She was so old she couldn’t do any more +than move hardly. But that’s all right: we need somebody in the kitchen +to eat up the grub the young ones cant tote off. She came hobbling +between us, trying to hold me again. “Hit me, den,” she says, “ef nothin +else but hittin somebody wont do you. Hit me,” she says. + +“You think I wont?” I says. + +“I dont put no devilment beyond you,” she says. Then I heard Mother on +the stairs. I might have known she wasn’t going to keep out of it. I let +go. She stumbled back against the wall, holding her kimono shut. + +“All right,” I says, “We’ll just put this off a while. But dont think +you can run it over me. I’m not an old woman, nor an old half dead +nigger, either. You damn little slut,” I says. + +“Dilsey,” she says, “Dilsey, I want my mother.” + +Dilsey went to her. “Now, now,” she says, “He aint gwine so much as lay +his hand on you while Ise here.” Mother came on down the stairs. + +“Jason,” she says, “Dilsey.” + +“Now, now,” Dilsey says, “I aint gwine let him tech you.” She put her +hand on Quentin. She knocked it down. + +“You damn old nigger,” she says. She ran toward the door. + +“Dilsey,” Mother says on the stairs. Quentin ran up the stairs, passing +her. “Quentin,” Mother says, “You, Quentin.” Quentin ran on. I could +hear her when she reached the top, then in the hall. Then the door +slammed. + +Mother had stopped. Then she came on. “Dilsey,” she says. + +“All right,” Dilsey says, “Ise comin. You go on and git dat car and wait +now,” she says, “so you kin cahy her to school.” + +“Dont you worry,” I says. “I’ll take her to school and I’m going to see +that she stays there. I’ve started this thing, and I’m going through +with it.” + +“Jason,” Mother says on the stairs. + +“Go on, now,” Dilsey says, going toward the door. “You want to git her +started too? Ise comin, Miss Cahline.” + +I went on out. I could hear them on the steps. “You go on back to bed +now,” Dilsey was saying, “Dont you know you aint feeling well enough to +git up yet? Go on back, now. I’m gwine to see she gits to school in +time.” + +I went on out the back to back the car out, then I had to go all the way +round to the front before I found them. + +“I thought I told you to put that tire on the back of the car,” I says. + +“I aint had time,” Luster says. “Aint nobody to watch him till mammy git +done in de kitchen.” + +“Yes,” I says, “I feed a whole damn kitchen full of niggers to follow +around after him, but if I want an automobile tire changed, I have to do +it myself.” + +“I aint had nobody to leave him wid,” he says. Then he begun moaning and +slobbering. + +“Take him on round to the back,” I says. “What the hell makes you want +to keep him around here where people can see him?” I made them go on, +before he got started bellowing good. It’s bad enough on Sundays, with +that damn field full of people that haven’t got a side show and six +niggers to feed, knocking a damn oversize mothball around. He’s going to +keep on running up and down that fence and bellowing every time they +come in sight until first thing I know they’re going to begin charging +me golf dues, then Mother and Dilsey’ll have to get a couple of china +door knobs and a walking stick and work it out, unless I play at night +with a lantern. Then they’d send us all to Jackson, maybe. God knows, +they’d hold Old Home week when that happened. + +I went on back to the garage. There was the tire, leaning against the +wall, but be damned if I was going to put it on. I backed out and turned +around. She was standing by the drive. I says, + +“I know you haven’t got any books: I just want to ask you what you did +with them, if it’s any of my business. Of course I haven’t got any right +to ask,” I says, “I’m just the one that paid $11.65 for them last +September.” + +“Mother buys my books,” she says. “There’s not a cent of your money on +me. I’d starve first.” + +“Yes?” I says. “You tell your grandmother that and see what she says. +You dont look all the way naked,” I says, “even if that stuff on your +face does hide more of you than anything else you’ve got on.” + +“Do you think your money or hers either paid for a cent of this?” she +says. + +“Ask your grandmother,” I says. “Ask her what became of those checks. +You saw her burn one of them, as I remember.” She wasn’t even listening, +with her face all gummed up with paint and her eyes hard as a fice +dog’s. + +“Do you know what I’d do if I thought your money or hers either bought +one cent of this?” she says, putting her hand on her dress. + +“What would you do?” I says, “Wear a barrel?” + +“I’d tear it right off and throw it into the street,” she says. “Dont +you believe me?” + +“Sure you would,” I says. “You do it every time.” + +“See if I wouldn’t,” She says. She grabbed the neck of her dress in both +hands and made like she would tear it. + +“You tear that dress,” I says, “And I’ll give you a whipping right here +that you’ll remember all your life.” + +“See if I dont,” she says. Then I saw that she really was trying to tear +it, to tear it right off of her. By the time I got the car stopped and +grabbed her hands there was about a dozen people looking. It made me so +mad for a minute it kind of blinded me. + +“You do a thing like that again and I’ll make you sorry you ever drew +breath,” I says. + +“I’m sorry now,” she says. She quit, then her eyes turned kind of funny +and I says to myself if you cry here in this car, on the street, I’ll +whip you. I’ll wear you out. Lucky for her she didn’t, so I turned her +wrists loose and drove on. Luckily we were near an alley, where I could +turn into the back street and dodge the square. They were already +putting the tent up in Beard’s lot. Earl had already given me the two +passes for our show windows. She sat there with her face turned away, +chewing her lip. “I’m sorry now,” she says. “I dont see why I was ever +born.” + +“And I know of at least one other person that dont understand all he +knows about that,” I says. I stopped in front of the school house. The +bell had rung, and the last of them were just going in. “You’re on time +for once, anyway,” I says. “Are you going in there and stay there, or am +I coming with you and make you?” She got out and banged the door. +“Remember what I say,” I says, “I mean it. Let me hear one more time +that you were slipping up and down back alleys with one of those damn +squirts.” + +She turned back at that. “I dont slip around,” she says. “I dare anybody +to know everything I do.” + +“And they all know it, too,” I says. “Everybody in this town knows what +you are. But I wont have it anymore, you hear? I dont care what you do, +myself,” I says, “But I’ve got a position in this town, and I’m not +going to have any member of my family going on like a nigger wench. You +hear me?” + +“I dont care,” she says, “I’m bad and I’m going to hell, and I dont +care. I’d rather be in hell than anywhere where you are.” + +“If I hear one more time that you haven’t been to school, you’ll wish +you were in hell,” I says. She turned and ran on across the yard. “One +more time, remember,” I says. She didn’t look back. + +I went to the postoffice and got the mail and drove on to the store and +parked. Earl looked at me when I came in. I gave him a chance to say +something about my being late, but he just said, + +“Those cultivators have come. You’d better help Uncle Job put them up.” + +I went on to the back, where old Job was uncrating them, at the rate of +about three bolts to the hour. + +“You ought to be working for me,” I says. “Every other no-count nigger +in town eats in my kitchen.” + +“I works to suit de man whut pays me Sat’dy night,” he says. “When I +does dat, it dont leave me a whole lot of time to please other folks.” +He screwed up a nut. “Aint nobody works much in dis country cep de +boll-weevil, noways,” he says. + +“You’d better be glad you’re not a boll-weevil waiting on those +cultivators,” I says. “You’d work yourself to death before they’d be +ready to prevent you.” + +“Dat’s de troof,” he says, “Boll-weevil got tough time. Work ev’y day in +de week out in de hot sun, rain er shine. Aint got no front porch to set +on en watch de wattermilyuns growin and Sat’dy dont mean nothin a-tall +to him.” + +“Saturday wouldn’t mean nothing to you, either,” I says, “if it depended +on me to pay you wages. Get those things out of the crates now and drag +them inside.” + +I opened her letter first and took the check out. Just like a woman. Six +days late. Yet they try to make men believe that they’re capable of +conducting a business. How long would a man that thought the first of +the month came on the sixth last in business. And like as not, when they +sent the bank statement out, she would want to know why I never +deposited my salary until the sixth. Things like that never occur to a +woman. + + “I had no answer to my letter about Quentin’s easter dress. Did + it arrive all right? I’ve had no answer to the last two letters + I wrote her, though the check in the second one was cashed with + the other check. Is she sick? Let me know at once or I’ll come + there and see for myself. You promised you would let me know + when she needed things. I will expect to hear from you before + the 10th. No you’d better wire me at once. You are opening my + letters to her. I know that as well as if I were looking at you. + You’d better wire me at once about her to this address.” + +About that time Earl started yelling at Job, so I put them away and went +over to try to put some life into him. What this country needs is white +labour. Let these damn trifling niggers starve for a couple of years, +then they’d see what a soft thing they have. + +Along toward ten oclock I went up front. There was a drummer there. It +was a couple of minutes to ten, and I invited him up the street to get a +coca-cola. We got to talking about crops. + +“There’s nothing to it,” I says, “Cotton is a speculator’s crop. They +fill the farmer full of hot air and get him to raise a big crop for them +to whipsaw on the market, to trim the suckers with. Do you think the +farmer gets anything out of it except a red neck and a hump in his back? +You think the man that sweats to put it into the ground gets a red cent +more than a bare living,” I says. “Let him make a big crop and it wont +be worth picking; let him make a small crop and he wont have enough to +gin. And what for? so a bunch of damn eastern jews, I’m not talking +about men of the jewish religion,” I says, “I’ve known some jews that +were fine citizens. You might be one yourself,” I says. + +“No,” he says, “I’m an American.” + +“No offense,” I says. “I give every man his due, regardless of religion +or anything else. I have nothing against jews as an individual,” I says. +“It’s just the race. You’ll admit that they produce nothing. They follow +the pioneers into a new country and sell them clothes.” + +“You’re thinking of Armenians,” he says, “aren’t you. A pioneer wouldn’t +have any use for new clothes.” + +“No offense,” I says. “I dont hold a man’s religion against him.” + +“Sure,” he says, “I’m an American. My folks have some French blood, why +I have a nose like this. I’m an American, all right.” + +“So am I,” I says. “Not many of us left. What I’m talking about is the +fellows that sit up there in New York and trim the sucker gamblers.” + +“That’s right,” he says. “Nothing to gambling, for a poor man. There +ought to be a law against it.” + +“Dont you think I’m right?” I says. + +“Yes,” he says, “I guess you’re right. The farmer catches it coming and +going.” + +“I know I’m right,” I says. “It’s a sucker game, unless a man gets +inside information from somebody that knows what’s going on. I happen to +be associated with some people who’re right there on the ground. They +have one of the biggest manipulators in New York for an adviser. Way I +do it,” I says, “I never risk much at a time. It’s the fellow that +thinks he knows it all and is trying to make a killing with three +dollars that they’re laying for. That’s why they are in the business.” + +Then it struck ten. I went up to the telegraph office. It opened up a +little, just like they said. I went into the corner and took out the +telegram again, just to be sure. While I was looking at it a report came +in. It was up two points. They were all buying. I could tell that from +what they were saying. Getting aboard. Like they didn’t know it could go +but one way. Like there was a law or something against doing anything +but buying. Well, I reckon those eastern jews have got to live too. But +I’ll be damned if it hasn’t come to a pretty pass when any damn +foreigner that cant make a living in the country where God put him, can +come to this one and take money right out of an American’s pockets. It +was up two points more. Four points. But hell, they were right there and +knew what was going on. And if I wasn’t going to take the advice, what +was I paying them ten dollars a month for. I went out, then I remembered +and came back and sent the wire. “All well. Q writing today.” + +“Q?” the operator says. + +“Yes,” I says, “Q. Cant you spell Q?” + +“I just asked to be sure,” he says. + +“You send it like I wrote it and I’ll guarantee you to be sure,” I says. +“Send it collect.” + +“What you sending, Jason?” Doc Wright says, looking over my shoulder. +“Is that a code message to buy?” + +“That’s all right about that,” I says. “You boys use your own judgment. +You know more about it than those New York folks do.” + +“Well, I ought to,” Doc says, “I’d a saved money this year raising it at +two cents a pound.” + +Another report came in. It was down a point. + +“Jason’s selling,” Hopkins says. “Look at his face.” + +“That’s all right about what I’m doing,” I says. “You boys follow your +own judgment. Those rich New York jews have got to live like everybody +else,” I says. + +I went on back to the store. Earl was busy up front. I went on back to +the desk and read Lorraine’s letter. “Dear daddy wish you were here. No +good parties when daddys out of town I miss my sweet daddy.” I reckon +she does. Last time I gave her forty dollars. Gave it to her. I never +promise a woman anything nor let her know what I’m going to give her. +That’s the only way to manage them. Always keep them guessing. If you +cant think of any other way to surprise them, give them a bust in the +jaw. + +I tore it up and burned it over the spittoon. I make it a rule never to +keep a scrap of paper bearing a woman’s hand, and I never write them at +all. Lorraine is always after me to write to her but I says anything I +forgot to tell you will save till I get to Memphis again but I says I +dont mind you writing me now and then in a plain envelope, but if you +ever try to call me up on the telephone, Memphis wont hold you I says. I +says when I’m up there I’m one of the boys, but I’m not going to have +any woman calling me on the telephone. Here I says, giving her the forty +dollars. If you ever get drunk and take a notion to call me on the +phone, just remember this and count ten before you do it. + +“When’ll that be?” she says. + +“What?” I says. + +“When you’re coming back,” she says. + +“I’ll let you know,” I says. Then she tried to buy a beer, but I +wouldn’t let her. “Keep your money,” I says. “Buy yourself a dress with +it.” I gave the maid a five, too. After all, like I say money has no +value; it’s just the way you spend it. It dont belong to anybody, so why +try to hoard it. It just belongs to the man that can get it and keep it. +There’s a man right here in Jefferson made a lot of money selling rotten +goods to niggers, lived in a room over the store about the size of a +pigpen, and did his own cooking. About four or five years ago he was +taken sick. Scared the hell out of him so that when he was up again he +joined the church and bought himself a Chinese missionary, five thousand +dollars a year. I often think how mad he’ll be if he was to die and find +out there’s not any heaven, when he thinks about that five thousand a +year. Like I say, he’d better go on and die now and save money. + +When it was burned good I was just about to shove the others into my +coat when all of a sudden something told me to open Quentin’s before I +went home, but about that time Earl started yelling for me up front, so +I put them away and went and waited on the damn redneck while he spent +fifteen minutes deciding whether he wanted a twenty cent hame string or +a thirty-five cent one. + +“You’d better take that good one,” I says. “How do you fellows ever +expect to get ahead, trying to work with cheap equipment?” + +“If this one aint any good,” he says, “why have you got it on sale?” + +“I didn’t say it wasn’t any good,” I says, “I said it’s not as good as +that other one.” + +“How do you know it’s not,” he says. “You ever use airy one of them?” + +“Because they dont ask thirty-five cents for it,” I says. “That’s how I +know it’s not as good.” + +He held the twenty cent one in his hands, drawing it through his +fingers. “I reckon I’ll take this hyer one,” he says. I offered to take +it and wrap it, but he rolled it up and put it in his overalls. Then he +took out a tobacco sack and finally got it untied and shook some coins +out. He handed me a quarter. “That fifteen cents will buy me a snack of +dinner,” he says. + +“All right,” I says, “You’re the doctor. But dont come complaining to me +next year when you have to buy a new outfit.” + +“I aint makin next year’s crop yit,” he says. Finally I got rid of him, +but every time I took that letter out something would come up. They were +all in town for the show, coming in in droves to give their money to +something that brought nothing to the town and wouldn’t leave anything +except what those grafters in the Mayor’s office will split among +themselves, and Earl chasing back and forth like a hen in a coop, saying +“Yes, ma’am, Mr Compson will wait on you. Jason, show this lady a churn +or a nickel’s worth of screen hooks.” + +Well, Jason likes work. I says no I never had university advantages +because at Harvard they teach you how to go for a swim at night without +knowing how to swim and at Sewanee they dont even teach you what water +is. I says you might send me to the state University; maybe I’ll learn +how to stop my clock with a nose spray and then you can send Ben to the +Navy I says or to the cavalry anyway, they use geldings in the cavalry. +Then when she sent Quentin home for me to feed too I says I guess that’s +right too, instead of me having to go way up north for a job they sent +the job down here to me and then Mother begun to cry and I says it’s not +that I have any objection to having it here; if it’s any satisfaction to +you I’ll quit work and nurse it myself and let you and Dilsey keep the +flour barrel full, or Ben. Rent him out to a sideshow; there must be +folks somewhere that would pay a dime to see him, then she cried more +and kept saying my poor afflicted baby and I says yes he’ll be quite a +help to you when he gets his growth not being more than one and a half +times as high as me now and she says she’d be dead soon and then we’d +all be better off and so I says all right, all right, have it your way. +It’s your grandchild, which is more than any other grandparents it’s got +can say for certain. Only I says it’s only a question of time. If you +believe she’ll do what she says and not try to see it, you fool yourself +because the first time that was that Mother kept on saying thank God you +are not a Compson except in name, because you are all I have left now, +you and Maury, and I says well I could spare Uncle Maury myself and then +they came and said they were ready to start. Mother stopped crying then. +She pulled her veil down and we went down stairs. Uncle Maury was coming +out of the diningroom, his handkerchief to his mouth. They kind of made +a lane and we went out the door just in time to see Dilsey driving Ben +and T. P. back around the corner. We went down the steps and got in. +Uncle Maury kept saying Poor little sister, poor little sister, talking +around his mouth and patting Mother’s hand. Talking around whatever it +was. + +“Have you got your band on?” she says. “Why dont they go on, before +Benjamin comes out and makes a spectacle. Poor little boy. He doesn’t +know. He cant even realise.” + +“There, there,” Uncle Maury says, patting her hand, talking around his +mouth. “It’s better so. Let him be unaware of bereavement until he has +to.” + +“Other women have their children to support them in times like this,” +Mother says. + +“You have Jason and me,” he says. + +“It’s so terrible to me,” she says, “Having the two of them like this, +in less than two years.” + +“There, there,” he says. After a while he kind of sneaked his hand to +his mouth and dropped them out the window. Then I knew what I had been +smelling. Clove stems. I reckon he thought that the least he could do at +Father’s funeral or maybe the sideboard thought it was still Father and +tripped him up when he passed. Like I say, if he had to sell something +to send Quentin to Harvard we’d all been a damn sight better off if he’d +sold that sideboard and bought himself a one-armed strait jacket with +part of the money. I reckon the reason all the Compson gave out before +it got to me like Mother says, is that he drank it up. At least I never +heard of him offering to sell anything to send me to Harvard. + +So he kept on patting her hand and saying “Poor little sister,” patting +her hand with one of the black gloves that we got the bill for four days +later because it was the twenty-sixth because it was the same day one +month that Father went up there and got it and brought it home and +wouldn’t tell anything about where she was or anything and Mother crying +and saying “And you didn’t even see him? You didn’t even try to get him +to make any provision for it?” and Father says “No she shall not touch +his money not one cent of it” and Mother says “He can be forced to by +law. He can prove nothing, unless—Jason Compson,” she says, “Were you +fool enough to tell—” + +“Hush, Caroline,” Father says, then he sent me to help Dilsey get that +old cradle out of the attic and I says, + +“Well, they brought my job home tonight” because all the time we kept +hoping they’d get things straightened out and he’d keep her because +Mother kept saying she would at least have enough regard for the family +not to jeopardize my chance after she and Quentin had had theirs. + +“And whar else do she belong?” Dilsey says, “Who else gwine raise her +’cep me? Aint I raised eve’y one of y’all?” + +“And a damn fine job you made of it,” I says. “Anyway it’ll give her +something to sure enough worry over now.” So we carried the cradle down +and Dilsey started to set it up in her old room. Then Mother started +sure enough. + +“Hush, Miss Cahline,” Dilsey says, “You gwine wake her up.” + +“In there?” Mother says, “To be contaminated by that atmosphere? It’ll +be hard enough as it is, with the heritage she already has.” + +“Hush,” Father says, “Dont be silly.” + +“Why aint she gwine sleep in here,” Dilsey says, “In the same room whar +I put her ma to bed ev’y night of her life since she was big enough to +sleep by herself.” + +“You dont know,” Mother says, “To have my own daughter cast off by her +husband. Poor little innocent baby,” she says, looking at Quentin. “You +will never know the suffering you’ve caused.” + +“Hush, Caroline,” Father says. + +“What you want to go on like that fo Jason fer?” Dilsey says. + +“I’ve tried to protect him,” Mother says. “I’ve always tried to protect +him from it. At least I can do my best to shield her.” + +“How sleepin in dis room gwine hurt her, I like to know,” Dilsey says. + +“I cant help it,” Mother says. “I know I’m just a troublesome old woman. +But I know that people cannot flout God’s laws with impunity.” + +“Nonsense,” Father said. “Fix it in Miss Caroline’s room then, Dilsey.” + +“You can say nonsense,” Mother says. “But she must never know. She must +never even learn that name. Dilsey, I forbid you ever to speak that name +in her hearing. If she could grow up never to know that she had a +mother, I would thank God.” + +“Dont be a fool,” Father says. + +“I have never interfered with the way you brought them up,” Mother says, +“But now I cannot stand anymore. We must decide this now, tonight. +Either that name is never to be spoken in her hearing, or she must go, +or I will go. Take your choice.” + +“Hush,” Father says, “You’re just upset. Fix it in here, Dilsey.” + +“En you’s about sick too,” Dilsey says. “You looks like a hant. You git +in bed and I’ll fix you a toddy and see kin you sleep. I bet you aint +had a full night’s sleep since you lef.” + +“No,” Mother says, “Dont you know what the doctor says? Why must you +encourage him to drink? That’s what’s the matter with him now. Look at +me, I suffer too, but I’m not so weak that I must kill myself with +whiskey.” + +“Fiddlesticks,” Father says, “What do doctors know? They make their +livings advising people to do whatever they are not doing at the time, +which is the extent of anyone’s knowledge of the degenerate ape. You’ll +have a minister in to hold my hand next.” Then Mother cried, and he went +out. Went down stairs, and then I heard the sideboard. I woke up and +heard him going down again. Mother had gone to sleep or something, +because the house was quiet at last. He was trying to be quiet too, +because I couldn’t hear him, only the bottom of his nightshirt and his +bare legs in front of the sideboard. + +Dilsey fixed the cradle and undressed her and put her in it. She never +had waked up since he brought her in the house. + +“She pretty near too big fer hit,” Dilsey says. “Dar now. I gwine spread +me a pallet right acrost de hall, so you wont need to git up in de +night.” + +“I wont sleep,” Mother says. “You go on home. I wont mind. I’ll be happy +to give the rest of my life to her, if I can just prevent—” + +“Hush, now,” Dilsey says. “We gwine take keer of her. En you go on to +bed too,” she says to me, “You got to go to school tomorrow.” + +So I went out, then Mother called me back and cried on me awhile. + +“You are my only hope,” she says. “Every night I thank God for you.” +While we were waiting there for them to start she says Thank God if he +had to be taken too, it is you left me and not Quentin. Thank God you +are not a Compson, because all I have left now is you and Maury and I +says, Well I could spare Uncle Maury myself. Well, he kept on patting +her hand with his black glove, talking away from her. He took them off +when his turn with the shovel came. He got up near the first, where they +were holding the umbrellas over them, stamping every now and then and +trying to kick the mud off their feet and sticking to the shovels so +they’d have to knock it off, making a hollow sound when it fell on it, +and when I stepped back around the hack I could see him behind a +tombstone, taking another one out of a bottle. I thought he never was +going to stop because I had on my new suit too, but it happened that +there wasn’t much mud on the wheels yet, only Mother saw it and says I +dont know when you’ll ever have another one and Uncle Maury says, “Now, +now. Dont you worry at all. You have me to depend on, always.” + +And we have. Always. The fourth letter was from him. But there wasn’t +any need to open it. I could have written it myself, or recited it to +her from memory, adding ten dollars just to be safe. But I had a hunch +about that other letter. I just felt that it was about time she was up +to some of her tricks again. She got pretty wise after that first time. +She found out pretty quick that I was a different breed of cat from +Father. When they begun to get it filled up toward the top Mother +started crying sure enough, so Uncle Maury got in with her and drove +off. He says You can come in with somebody; they’ll be glad to give you +a lift. I’ll have to take your mother on and I thought about saying, Yes +you ought to brought two bottles instead of just one only I thought +about where we were, so I let them go on. Little they cared how wet I +got, because then Mother could have a whale of a time being afraid I was +taking pneumonia. + +Well, I got to thinking about that and watching them throwing dirt into +it, slapping it on anyway like they were making mortar or something or +building a fence, and I began to feel sort of funny and so I decided to +walk around a while. I thought that if I went toward town they’d catch +up and be trying to make me get in one of them, so I went on back toward +the nigger graveyard. I got under some cedars, where the rain didn’t +come much, only dripping now and then, where I could see when they got +through and went away. After a while they were all gone and I waited a +minute and came out. + +I had to follow the path to keep out of the wet grass so I didn’t see +her until I was pretty near there, standing there in a black cloak, +looking at the flowers. I knew who it was right off, before she turned +and looked at me and lifted up her veil. + +“Hello, Jason,” she says, holding out her hand. We shook hands. + +“What are you doing here?” I says. “I thought you promised her you +wouldn’t come back here. I thought you had more sense than that.” + +“Yes?” she says. She looked at the flowers again. There must have been +fifty dollars’ worth. Somebody had put one bunch on Quentin’s. “You +did?” she says. + +“I’m not surprised though,” I says. “I wouldn’t put anything past you. +You dont mind anybody. You dont give a damn about anybody.” + +“Oh,” she says, “that job.” She looked at the grave. “I’m sorry about +that, Jason.” + +“I bet you are,” I says. “You’ll talk mighty meek now. But you needn’t +have come back. There’s not anything left. Ask Uncle Maury, if you dont +believe me.” + +“I dont want anything,” she says. She looked at the grave. “Why didn’t +they let me know?” she says. “I just happened to see it in the paper. On +the back page. Just happened to.” + +I didn’t say anything. We stood there, looking at the grave, and then I +got to thinking about when we were little and one thing and another and +I got to feeling funny again, kind of mad or something, thinking about +now we’d have Uncle Maury around the house all the time, running things +like the way he left me to come home in the rain by myself. I says, + +“A fine lot you care, sneaking in here soon as he’s dead. But it wont do +you any good. Dont think that you can take advantage of this to come +sneaking back. If you cant stay on the horse you’ve got, you’ll have to +walk,” I says. “We dont even know your name at that house,” I says. “Do +you know that? We don’t even know you with him and Quentin,” I says. “Do +you know that?” + +“I know it,” she says. “Jason,” she says, looking at the grave, “if +you’ll fix it so I can see her a minute I’ll give you fifty dollars.” + +“You haven’t got fifty dollars,” I says. + +“Will you?” she says, not looking at me. + +“Let’s see it,” I says. “I dont believe you’ve got fifty dollars.” + +I could see where her hands were moving under her cloak, then she held +her hand out. Damn if it wasn’t full of money. I could see two or three +yellow ones. + +“Does he still give you money?” I says. “How much does he send you?” + +“I’ll give you a hundred,” she says. “Will you?” + +“Just a minute,” I says, “And just like I say. I wouldn’t have her know +it for a thousand dollars.” + +“Yes,” she says. “Just like you say do it. Just so I see her a minute. I +wont beg or do anything. I’ll go right on away.” + +“Give me the money,” I says. + +“I’ll give it to you afterward,” she says. + +“Dont you trust me?” I says. + +“No,” she says. “I know you. I grew up with you.” + +“You’re a fine one to talk about trusting people,” I says. “Well,” I +says, “I got to get on out of the rain. Goodbye.” I made to go away. + +“Jason,” she says. I stopped. + +“Yes?” I says. “Hurry up. I’m getting wet.” + +“All right,” she says. “Here.” There wasn’t anybody in sight. I went +back and took the money. She still held to it. “You’ll do it?” she says, +looking at me from under the veil, “You promise?” + +“Let go,” I says, “You want somebody to come along and see us?” + +She let go. I put the money in my pocket. “You’ll do it, Jason?” she +says. “I wouldn’t ask you, if there was any other way.” + +“You’re damn right there’s no other way,” I says. “Sure I’ll do it. I +said I would, didn’t I? Only you’ll have to do just like I say, now.” + +“Yes,” she says, “I will.” So I told her where to be, and went to the +livery stable. I hurried and got there just as they were unhitching the +hack. I asked if they had paid for it yet and he said No and I said Mrs +Compson forgot something and wanted it again, so they let me take it. +Mink was driving. I bought him a cigar, so we drove around until it +begun to get dark on the back streets where they wouldn’t see him. Then +Mink said he’d have to take the team on back and so I said I’d buy him +another cigar and so we drove into the lane and I went across the yard +to the house. I stopped in the hall until I could hear Mother and Uncle +Maury upstairs, then I went on back to the kitchen. She and Ben were +there with Dilsey. I said Mother wanted her and I took her into the +house. I found Uncle Maury’s raincoat and put it around her and picked +her up and went back to the lane and got in the hack. I told Mink to +drive to the depot. He was afraid to pass the stable, so we had to go +the back way and I saw her standing on the corner under the light and I +told Mink to drive close to the walk and when I said Go on, to give the +team a bat. Then I took the raincoat off of her and held her to the +window and Caddy saw her and sort of jumped forward. + +“Hit ’em, Mink!” I says, and Mink gave them a cut and we went past her +like a fire engine. “Now get on that train like you promised,” I says. I +could see her running after us through the back window. “Hit ’em again,” +I says, “Let’s get on home.” When we turned the corner she was still +running. + +And so I counted the money again that night and put it away, and I +didn’t feel so bad. I says I reckon that’ll show you. I reckon you’ll +know now that you cant beat me out of a job and get away with it. It +never occurred to me she wouldn’t keep her promise and take that train. +But I didn’t know much about them then; I didn’t have any more sense +than to believe what they said, because the next morning damn if she +didn’t walk right into the store, only she had sense enough to wear the +veil and not speak to anybody. It was Saturday morning, because I was at +the store, and she came right on back to the desk where I was, walking +fast. + +“Liar,” she says, “Liar.” + +“Are you crazy?” I says. “What do you mean? coming in here like this?” +She started in, but I shut her off. I says, “You already cost me one +job; do you want me to lose this one too? If you’ve got anything to say +to me, I’ll meet you somewhere after dark. What have you got to say to +me?” I says, “Didn’t I do everything I said? I said see her a minute, +didn’t I? Well, didn’t you?” She just stood there looking at me, shaking +like an ague-fit, her hands clenched and kind of jerking. “I did just +what I said I would,” I says, “You’re the one that lied. You promised to +take that train. Didn’t you Didn’t you promise? If you think you can get +that money back, just try it,” I says. “If it’d been a thousand dollars, +you’d still owe me after the risk I took. And if I see or hear you’re +still in town after number 17 runs,” I says, “I’ll tell Mother and Uncle +Maury. Then hold your breath until you see her again.” She just stood +there, looking at me, twisting her hands together. + +“Damn you,” she says, “Damn you.” + +“Sure,” I says, “That’s all right too. Mind what I say, now. After +number 17, and I tell them.” + +After she was gone I felt better. I says I reckon you’ll think twice +before you deprive me of a job that was promised me. I was a kid then. I +believed folks when they said they’d do things. I’ve learned better +since. Besides, like I say I guess I dont need any man’s help to get +along I can stand on my own feet like I always have. Then all of a +sudden I thought of Dilsey and Uncle Maury. I thought how she’d get +around Dilsey and that Uncle Maury would do anything for ten dollars. +And there I was, couldn’t even get away from the store to protect my own +Mother. Like she says, if one of you had to be taken, thank God it was +you left me I can depend on you and I says well I dont reckon I’ll ever +get far enough from the store to get out of your reach. Somebody’s got +to hold on to what little we have left, I reckon. + +So as soon as I got home I fixed Dilsey. I told Dilsey she had leprosy +and I got the bible and read where a man’s flesh rotted off and I told +her that if she ever looked at her or Ben or Quentin they’d catch it +too. So I thought I had everything all fixed until that day when I came +home and found Ben bellowing. Raising hell and nobody could quiet him. +Mother said, Well, get him the slipper then. Dilsey made out she didn’t +hear. Mother said it again and I says I’d go I couldn’t stand that damn +noise. Like I say I can stand lots of things I dont expect much from +them but if I have to work all day long in a damn store damn if I dont +think I deserve a little peace and quiet to eat dinner in. So I says I’d +go and Dilsey says quick, “Jason!” + +Well, like a flash I knew what was up, but just to make sure I went and +got the slipper and brought it back, and just like I thought, when he +saw it you’d thought we were killing him. So I made Dilsey own up, then +I told Mother. We had to take her up to bed then, and after things got +quieted down a little I put the fear of God into Dilsey. As much as you +can into a nigger, that is. That’s the trouble with nigger servants, +when they’ve been with you for a long time they get so full of self +importance that they’re not worth a damn. Think they run the whole +family. + +“I like to know whut’s de hurt in lettin dat po chile see her own baby,” +Dilsey says. “If Mr Jason was still here hit ud be different.” + +“Only Mr Jason’s not here,” I says. “I know you wont pay me any mind, +but I reckon you’ll do what Mother says. You keep on worrying her like +this until you get her into the graveyard too, then you can fill the +whole house full of ragtag and bobtail. But what did you want to let +that damn idiot see her for?” + +“You’s a cold man, Jason, if man you is,” she says. “I thank de Lawd I +got mo heart dan dat, even ef hit is black.” + +“At least I’m man enough to keep that flour barrel full,” I says. “And +if you do that again, you wont be eating out of it either.” + +So the next time I told her that if she tried Dilsey again, Mother was +going to fire Dilsey and send Ben to Jackson and take Quentin and go +away. She looked at me for a while. There wasn’t any street light close +and I couldn’t see her face much. But I could feel her looking at me. +When we were little when she’d get mad and couldn’t do anything about it +her upper lip would begin to jump. Everytime it jumped it would leave a +little more of her teeth showing, and all the time she’d be as still as +a post, not a muscle moving except her lip jerking higher and higher up +her teeth. But she didn’t say anything. She just said, + +“All right. How much?” + +“Well, if one look through a hack window was worth a hundred,” I says. +So after that she behaved pretty well, only one time she asked to see a +statement of the bank account. + +“I know they have Mother’s indorsement on them,” she says, “But I want +to see the bank statement. I want to see myself where those checks go.” + +“That’s in Mother’s private business,” I says. “If you think you have +any right to pry into her private affairs I’ll tell her you believe +those checks are being misappropriated and you want an audit because you +dont trust her.” + +She didn’t say anything or move. I could hear her whispering Damn you oh +damn you oh damn you. + +“Say it out,” I says, “I dont reckon it’s any secret what you and I +think of one another. Maybe you want the money back,” I says. + +“Listen, Jason,” she says, “Dont lie to me now. About her. I wont ask to +see anything. If that isn’t enough, I’ll send more each month. Just +promise that she’ll—that she—You can do that. Things for her. Be kind +to her. Little things that I cant, they wont let. . . . But you wont. +You never had a drop of warm blood in you. Listen,” she says, “If you’ll +get Mother to let me have her back, I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” + +“You haven’t got a thousand dollars,” I says, “I know you’re lying now.” + +“Yes I have. I will have. I can get it.” + +“And I know how you’ll get it,” I says, “You’ll get it the same way you +got her. And when she gets big enough—” Then I thought she really was +going to hit at me, and then I didn’t know what she was going to do. She +acted for a minute like some kind of a toy that’s wound up too tight and +about to burst all to pieces. + +“Oh, I’m crazy,” she says, “I’m insane. I can’t take her. Keep her. What +am I thinking of. Jason,” she says, grabbing my arm. Her hands were hot +as fever. “You’ll have to promise to take care of her, to—She’s kin to +you; your own flesh and blood. Promise, Jason. You have Father’s name: +do you think I’d have to ask him twice? once, even?” + +“That’s so,” I says, “He did leave me something. What do you want me to +do,” I says, “Buy an apron and a go-cart? I never got you into this,” I +says. “I run more risk than you do, because you haven’t got anything at +stake. So if you expect—” + +“No,” she says, then she begun to laugh and to try to hold it back all +at the same time. “No. I have nothing at stake,” she says, making that +noise, putting her hands to her mouth, “Nuh-nuh-nothing,” she says. + +“Here,” I says, “Stop that!” + +“I’m tr-trying to,” she says, holding her hands over her mouth. “Oh God, +oh God.” + +“I’m going away from here,” I says, “I cant be seen here. You get on out +of town now, you hear?” + +“Wait,” she says, catching my arm. “I’ve stopped. I wont again. You +promise, Jason?” she says, and me feeling her eyes almost like they were +touching my face, “You promise? Mother—that money—if sometimes she +needs things—If I send checks for her to you, other ones besides those, +you’ll give them to her? You wont tell? You’ll see that she has things +like other girls?” + +“Sure,” I says, “As long as you behave and do like I tell you.” + +And so when Earl came up front with his hat on he says, “I’m going to +step up to Rogers’ and get a snack. We wont have time to go home to +dinner, I reckon.” + +“What’s the matter we wont have time?” I says. + +“With this show in town and all,” he says. “They’re going to give an +afternoon performance too, and they’ll all want to get done trading in +time to go to it. So we’d better just run up to Rogers’.” + +“All right,” I says, “It’s your stomach. If you want to make a slave of +yourself to your business, it’s all right with me.” + +“I reckon you’ll never be a slave to any business,” he says. + +“Not unless it’s Jason Compson’s business,” I says. + +So when I went back and opened it the only thing that surprised me was +it was a money order not a check. Yes, sir. You cant trust a one of +them. After all the risk I’d taken, risking Mother finding out about her +coming down here once or twice a year sometimes, and me having to tell +Mother lies about it. That’s gratitude for you. And I wouldn’t put it +past her to try to notify the postoffice not to let anyone except her +cash it. Giving a kid like that fifty dollars. Why I never saw fifty +dollars until I was twenty-one years old, with all the other boys with +the afternoon off and all day Saturday and me working in a store. Like I +say, how can they expect anybody to control her, with her giving her +money behind our backs. She has the same home you had I says, and the +same raising. I reckon Mother is a better judge of what she needs than +you are, that haven’t even got a home. “If you want to give her money,” +I says, “You send it to Mother, dont be giving it to her. If I’ve got to +run this risk every few months, you’ll have to do like I say, or it’s +out.” + +And just about the time I got ready to begin on it because if Earl +thought I was going to dash up the street and gobble two bits worth of +indigestion on his account he was bad fooled. I may not be sitting with +my feet on a mahogany desk but I am being paid for what I do inside this +building and if I cant manage to live a civilised life outside of it +I’ll go where I can. I can stand on my own feet; I dont need any man’s +mahogany desk to prop me up. So just about the time I got ready to start +I’d have to drop everything and run to sell some redneck a dime’s worth +of nails or something, and Earl up there gobbling a sandwich and half +way back already, like as not, and then I found that all the blanks were +gone. I remembered then that I had aimed to get some more, but it was +too late now, and then I looked up and there Quentin came. In the back +door. I heard her asking old Job if I was there. I just had time to +stick them in the drawer and close it. + +She came around to the desk. I looked at my watch. + +“You been to dinner already?” I says. “It’s just twelve; I just heard it +strike. You must have flown home and back.” + +“I’m not going home to dinner,” she says. “Did I get a letter today?” + +“Were you expecting one?” I says. “Have you got a sweetie that can +write?” + +“From Mother,” she says. “Did I get a letter from Mother?” she says, +looking at me. + +“Mother got one from her,” I says. “I haven’t opened it. You’ll have to +wait until she opens it. She’ll let you see it, I imagine.” + +“Please, Jason,” she says, not paying any attention, “Did I get one?” + +“What’s the matter?” I says. “I never knew you to be this anxious about +anybody. You must expect some money from her.” + +“She said she—” she says. “Please, Jason,” she says, “Did I?” + +“You must have been to school today, after all,” I says, “Somewhere +where they taught you to say please. Wait a minute, while I wait on that +customer.” + +I went and waited on him. When I turned to come back she was out of +sight behind the desk. I ran. I ran around the desk and caught her as +she jerked her hand out of the drawer. I took the letter away from her, +beating her knuckles on the desk until she let go. + +“You would, would you?” I says. + +“Give it to me,” she says, “You’ve already opened it. Give it to me. +Please, Jason. It’s mine. I saw the name.” + +“I’ll take a hame string to you,” I says. “That’s what I’ll give you. +Going into my papers.” + +“Is there some money in it?” she says, reaching for it. “She said she +would send me some money. She promised she would. Give it to me.” + +“What do you want with money?” I says. + +“She said she would,” she says, “Give it to me. Please, Jason. I wont +ever ask you anything again, if you’ll give it to me this time.” + +“I’m going to, if you’ll give me time,” I says. I took the letter and +the money order out and gave her the letter. She reached for the money +order, not hardly glancing at the letter. “You’ll have to sign it +first,” I says. + +“How much is it?” she says. + +“Read the letter,” I says. “I reckon it’ll say.” + +She read it fast, in about two looks. + +“It dont say,” she says, looking up. She dropped the letter to the +floor. “How much is it?” + +“It’s ten dollars,” I says. + +“Ten dollars?” she says, staring at me. + +“And you ought to be damn glad to get that,” I says, “A kid like you. +What are you in such a rush for money all of a sudden for?” + +“Ten dollars?” she says, like she was talking in her sleep, “Just ten +dollars?” She made a grab at the money order. “You’re lying,” she says. +“Thief!” she says, “Thief!” + +“You would, would you?” I says, holding her off. + +“Give it to me!” she says, “It’s mine. She sent it to me. I will see it. +I will.” + +“You will?” I says, holding her, “How’re you going to do it?” + +“Just let me see it, Jason,” she says, “Please. I wont ask you for +anything again.” + +“Think I’m lying, do you?” I says. “Just for that you wont see it.” + +“But just ten dollars,” she says, “She told me she—she told me—Jason, +please please please. I’ve got to have some money. I’ve just got to. +Give it to me, Jason. I’ll do anything if you will.” + +“Tell me what you’ve got to have money for,” I says. + +“I’ve got to have it,” she says. She was looking at me. Then all of a +sudden she quit looking at me without moving her eyes at all. I knew she +was going to lie. “It’s some money I owe,” she says. “I’ve got to pay +it. I’ve got to pay it today.” + +“Who to?” I says. Her hands were sort of twisting. I could watch her +trying to think of a lie to tell. “Have you been charging things at +stores again?” I says. “You needn’t bother to tell me that. If you can +find anybody in this town that’ll charge anything to you after what I +told them, I’ll eat it.” + +“It’s a girl,” she says, “It’s a girl. I borrowed some money from a +girl. I’ve got to pay it back. Jason, give it to me. Please. I’ll do +anything. I’ve got to have it. Mother will pay you. I’ll write to her to +pay you and that I wont ever ask her for anything again. You can see the +letter. Please, Jason. I’ve got to have it.” + +“Tell me what you want with it, and I’ll see about it,” I says. “Tell +me.” She just stood there, with her hands working against her dress. +“All right,” I says, “If ten dollars is too little for you, I’ll just +take it home to Mother, and you know what’ll happen to it then. Of +course, if you’re so rich you dont need ten dollars—” + +She stood there, looking at the floor, kind of mumbling to herself. “She +said she would send me some money. She said she sends money here and you +say she dont send any. She said she’s sent a lot of money here. She says +it’s for me. That it’s for me to have some of it. And you say we haven’t +got any money.” + +“You know as much about that as I do,” I says. “You’ve seen what happens +to those checks.” + +“Yes,” she says, looking at the floor. “Ten dollars,” she says, “Ten +dollars.” + +“And you’d better thank your stars it’s ten dollars,” I says. “Here,” I +says. I put the money order face down on the desk, holding my hand on +it, “Sign it.” + +“Will you let me see it?” she says. “I just want to look at it. Whatever +it says, I wont ask for but ten dollars. You can have the rest. I just +want to see it.” + +“Not after the way you’ve acted,” I says. “You’ve got to learn one +thing, and that is that when I tell you to do something, you’ve got it +to do. You sign your name on that line.” + +She took the pen, but instead of signing it she just stood there with +her head bent and the pen shaking in her hand. Just like her mother. +“Oh, God,” she says, “oh, God.” + +“Yes,” I says, “That’s one thing you’ll have to learn if you never learn +anything else. Sign it now, and get on out of here.” + +She signed it. “Where’s the money?” she says. I took the order and +blotted it and put it in my pocket. Then I gave her the ten dollars. + +“Now you go on back to school this afternoon, you hear?” I says. She +didn’t answer. She crumpled the bill up in her hand like it was a rag or +something and went on out the front door just as Earl came in. A +customer came in with him and they stopped up front. I gathered up the +things and put on my hat and went up front. + +“Been much busy?” Earl says. + +“Not much,” I says. He looked out the door. + +“That your car over yonder?” he says. “Better not try to go out home to +dinner. We’ll likely have another rush just before the show opens. Get +you a lunch at Rogers’ and put a ticker in the drawer.” + +“Much obliged,” I says. “I can still manage to feed myself, I reckon.” + +And right there he’d stay, watching that door like a hawk until I came +through it again. Well, he’d just have to watch it for a while; I was +doing the best I could. The time before I says that’s the last one now; +you’ll have to remember to get some more right away. But who can +remember anything in all this hurrah. And now this damn show had to come +here the one day I’d have to hunt all over town for a blank check, +besides all the other things I had to do to keep the house running, and +Earl watching the door like a hawk. + +I went to the printing shop and told him I wanted to play a joke on a +fellow, but he didn’t have anything. Then he told me to have a look in +the old opera house, where somebody had stored a lot of papers and junk +out of the old Merchants’ and Farmers’ Bank when it failed, so I dodged +up a few more alleys so Earl couldn’t see me and finally found old man +Simmons and got the key from him and went up there and dug around. At +last I found a pad on a Saint Louis bank. And of course she’d pick this +one time to look at it close. Well, it would have to do. I couldn’t +waste any more time now. + +I went back to the store. “Forgot some papers Mother wants to go to the +bank,” I says. I went back to the desk and fixed the check. Trying to +hurry and all, I says to myself it’s a good thing her eyes are giving +out, with that little whore in the house, a Christian forbearing woman +like Mother. I says you know just as well as I do what she’s going to +grow up into but I says that’s your business, if you want to keep her +and raise her in your house just because of Father. Then she would begin +to cry and say it was her own flesh and blood so I just says All right. +Have it your way. I can stand it if you can. + +I fixed the letter up again and glued it back and went out. + +“Try not to be gone any longer than you can help,” Earl says. + +“All right,” I says. I went to the telegraph office. The smart boys were +all there. + +“Any of you boys made a million yet?” I says. + +“Who can do anything, with a market like that?” Doc says. + +“What’s it doing?” I says. I went in and looked. It was three points +under the opening. “You boys are not going to let a little thing like +the cotton market beat you, are you?” I says. “I thought you were too +smart for that.” + +“Smart, hell,” Doc says. “It was down twelve points at twelve o’clock. +Cleaned me out.” + +“Twelve points?” I says. “Why the hell didn’t somebody let me know? Why +didn’t you let me know?” I says to the operator. + +“I take it as it comes in,” he says. “I’m not running a bucket shop.” + +“You’re smart, aren’t you?” I says. “Seems to me, with the money I spend +with you, you could take time to call me up. Or maybe your damn +company’s in a conspiracy with those damn eastern sharks.” + +He didn’t say anything. He made like he was busy. + +“You’re getting a little too big for your pants,” I says. “First thing +you know you’ll be working for a living.” + +“What’s the matter with you?” Doc says. “You’re still three points to +the good.” + +“Yes,” I says, “If I happened to be selling. I haven’t mentioned that +yet, I think. You boys all cleaned out?” + +“I got caught twice,” Doc says. “I switched just in time.” + +“Well,” I. O. Snopes says, “I’ve picked hit; I reckon taint no more +than fair fer hit to pick me once in a while.” + +So I left them buying and selling among themselves at a nickel a point. +I found a nigger and sent him for my car and stood on the corner and +waited. I couldn’t see Earl looking up and down the street, with one eye +on the clock, because I couldn’t see the door from here. After about a +week he got back with it. + +“Where the hell have you been?” I says, “Riding around where the wenches +could see you?” + +“I come straight as I could,” he says, “I had to drive clean around the +square, wid all dem wagons.” + +I never found a nigger yet that didn’t have an airtight alibi for +whatever he did. But just turn one loose in a car and he’s bound to show +off. I got in and went on around the square. I caught a glimpse of Earl +in the door across the square. + +I went straight to the kitchen and told Dilsey to hurry up with dinner. + +“Quentin aint come yit,” she says. + +“What of that?” I says. “You’ll be telling me next that Luster’s not +quite ready to eat yet. Quentin knows when meals are served in this +house. Hurry up with it, now.” + +Mother was in her room. I gave her the letter. She opened it and took +the check out and sat holding it in her hand. I went and got the shovel +from the corner and gave her a match. “Come on,” I says, “Get it over +with. You’ll be crying in a minute.” + +She took the match, but she didn’t strike it. She sat there, looking at +the check. Just like I said it would be. + +“I hate to do it,” she says, “To increase your burden by adding +Quentin. . . .” + +“I guess we’ll get along,” I says. “Come on. Get it over with.” + +But she just sat there, holding the check. + +“This one is on a different bank,” she says. “They have been on an +Indianapolis bank.” + +“Yes,” I says. “Women are allowed to do that too.” + +“Do what?” she says. + +“Keep money in two different banks,” I says. + +“Oh,” she says. She looked at the check a while. “I’m glad to know she’s +so . . . she has so much . . . God sees that I am doing right,” she +says. + +“Come on,” I says, “Finish it. Get the fun over.” + +“Fun?” she says, “When I think—” + +“I thought you were burning this two hundred dollars a month for fun,” I +says. “Come on, now. Want me to strike the match?” + +“I could bring myself to accept them,” she says, “For my childrens’ +sake. I have no pride.” + +“You’d never be satisfied,” I says, “You know you wouldn’t. You’ve +settled that once, let it stay settled. We can get along.” + +“I leave everything to you,” she says. “But sometimes I become afraid +that in doing this I am depriving you all of what is rightfully yours. +Perhaps I shall be punished for it. If you want me to, I will smother my +pride and accept them.” + +“What would be the good in beginning now, when you’ve been destroying +them for fifteen years?” I says. “If you keep on doing it, you have lost +nothing, but if you’d begin to take them now, you’ll have lost fifty +thousand dollars. We’ve got along so far, haven’t we?” I says. “I +haven’t seen you in the poorhouse yet.” + +“Yes,” she says, “We Bascombs need nobody’s charity. Certainly not that +of a fallen woman.” + +She struck the match and lit the check and put it in the shovel, and +then the envelope, and watched them burn. + +“You dont know what it is,” she says, “Thank God you will never know +what a mother feels.” + +“There are lots of women in this world no better than her,” I says. + +“But they are not my daughters,” she says. “It’s not myself,” she says, +“I’d gladly take her back, sins and all, because she is my flesh and +blood. It’s for Quentin’s sake.” + +Well, I could have said it wasn’t much chance of anybody hurting Quentin +much, but like I say I dont expect much but I do want to eat and sleep +without a couple of women squabbling and crying in the house. + +“And yours,” she says. “I know how you feel toward her.” + +“Let her come back,” I says, “far as I’m concerned.” + +“No,” she says. “I owe that to your father’s memory.” + +“When he was trying all the time to persuade you to let her come home +when Herbert threw her out?” I says. + +“You dont understand,” she says. “I know you dont intend to make it more +difficult for me. But it’s my place to suffer for my children,” she +says. “I can bear it.” + +“Seems to me you go to a lot of unnecessary trouble doing it,” I says. +The paper burned out. I carried it to the grate and put it in. “It just +seems a shame to me to burn up good money,” I says. + +“Let me never see the day when my children will have to accept that, the +wages of sin,” she says. “I’d rather see even you dead in your coffin +first.” + +“Have it your way,” I says. “Are we going to have dinner soon?” I says, +“Because if we’re not, I’ll have to go on back. We’re pretty busy +today.” She got up. “I’ve told her once,” I says. “It seems she’s +waiting on Quentin or Luster or somebody. Here, I’ll call her. Wait.” +But she went to the head of the stairs and called. + +“Quentin aint come yit,” Dilsey says. + +“Well, I’ll have to get on back,” I says. “I can get a sandwich +downtown. I dont want to interfere with Dilsey’s arrangements,” I says. +Well, that got her started again, with Dilsey hobbling and mumbling back +and forth, saying, + +“All right, all right, Ise puttin hit on fast as I kin.” + +“I try to please you all,” Mother says, “I try to make things as easy +for you as I can.” + +“I’m not complaining, am I?” I says. “Have I said a word except I had to +go back to work?” + +“I know,” she says, “I know you haven’t had the chance the others had, +that you’ve had to bury yourself in a little country store. I wanted you +to get ahead. I knew your father would never realise that you were the +only one who had any business sense, and then when everything else +failed I believed that when she married, and Herbert . . . after his +promise . . .” + +“Well, he was probably lying too,” I says. “He may not have even had a +bank. And if he had, I dont reckon he’d have to come all the way to +Mississippi to get a man for it.” + +We ate awhile. I could hear Ben in the kitchen, where Luster was feeding +him. Like I say, if we’ve got to feed another mouth and she wont take +that money, why not send him down to Jackson. He’ll be happier there, +with people like him. I says God knows there’s little enough room for +pride in this family, but it dont take much pride to not like to see a +thirty year old man playing around the yard with a nigger boy, running +up and down the fence and lowing like a cow whenever they play golf over +there. I says if they’d sent him to Jackson at first we’d all be better +off today. I says, you’ve done your duty by him; you’ve done all anybody +can expect of you and more than most folks would do, so why not send him +there and get that much benefit out of the taxes we pay. Then she says, +“I’ll be gone soon. I know I’m just a burden to you” and I says “You’ve +been saying that so long that I’m beginning to believe you” only I says +you’d better be sure and not let me know you’re gone because I’ll sure +have him on number seventeen that night and I says I think I know a +place where they’ll take her too and the name of it’s not Milk street +and Honey avenue either. Then she begun to cry and I says All right all +right I have as much pride about my kinfolks as anybody even if I dont +always know where they come from. + +We ate for awhile. Mother sent Dilsey to the front to look for Quentin +again. + +“I keep telling you she’s not coming to dinner,” I says. + +“She knows better than that,” Mother says, “She knows I dont permit her +to run about the streets and not come home at meal time. Did you look +good, Dilsey?” + +“Dont let her, then,” I says. + +“What can I do,” she says. “You have all of you flouted me. Always.” + +“If you wouldn’t come interfering, I’d make her mind,” I says. “It +wouldn’t take me but about one day to straighten her out.” + +“You’d be too brutal with her,” she says. “You have your Uncle Maury’s +temper.” + +That reminded me of the letter. I took it out and handed it to her. “You +wont have to open it,” I says. “The bank will let you know how much it +is this time.” + +“It’s addressed to you,” she says. + +“Go on and open it,” I says. She opened it and read it and handed it to +me. + +“ ‘My dear young nephew,’ it says, + + ‘You will be glad to learn that I am now in a position to avail + myself of an opportunity regarding which, for reasons which I + shall make obvious to you, I shall not go into details until I + have an opportunity to divulge it to you in a more secure + manner. My business experience has taught me to be chary of + committing anything of a confidential nature to any more + concrete medium than speech, and my extreme precaution in this + instance should give you some inkling of its value. Needless to + say, I have just completed a most exhaustive examination of all + its phases, and I feel no hesitancy in telling you that it is + that sort of golden chance that comes but once in a lifetime, + and I now see clearly before me that goal toward which I have + long and unflaggingly striven: i.e., the ultimate solidification + of my affairs by which I may restore to its rightful position + that family of which I have the honour to be the sole remaining + male descendant; that family in which I have ever included your + lady mother and her children. + + ‘As it so happens, I am not quite in a position to avail myself + of this opportunity to the uttermost which it warrants, but + rather than go out of the family to do so, I am today drawing + upon your Mother’s bank for the small sum necessary to + complement my own initial investment, for which I herewith + enclose, as a matter of formality, my note of hand at eight + percent per annum. Needless to say, this is merely a formality, + to secure your Mother in the event of that circumstance of which + man is ever the plaything and sport. For naturally I shall + employ this sum as though it were my own and so permit your + Mother to avail herself of this opportunity which my exhaustive + investigation has shown to be a bonanza—if you will permit the + vulgarism—of the first water and purest ray serene. + + ‘This is in confidence, you will understand, from one business + man to another; we will harvest our own vineyards, eh? And + knowing your Mother’s delicate health and that timorousness + which such delicately nutured Southern ladies would naturally + feel regarding matters of business, and their charming proneness + to divulge unwittingly such matters in conversation, I would + suggest that you do not mention it to her at all. On second + thought, I advise you not to do so. It might be better to simply + restore this sum to the bank at some future date, say, in a lump + sum with the other small sums for which I am indebted to her, + and say nothing about it at all. It is our duty to shield her + from the crass material world as much as possible. + + ‘Your affectionate Uncle, + ‘Maury L. Bascomb.’ ” + +“What do you want to do about it?” I says, flipping it across the table. + +“I know you grudge what I give him,” she says. + +“It’s your money,” I says. “If you want to throw it to the birds even, +it’s your business.” + +“He’s my own brother,” Mother says. “He’s the last Bascomb. When we are +gone there wont be any more of them.” + +“That’ll be hard on somebody, I guess,” I says. “All right, all right,” +I says, “It’s your money. Do as you please with it. You want me to tell +the bank to pay it?” + +“I know you begrudge him,” she says. “I realise the burden on your +shoulders. When I’m gone it will be easier on you.” + +“I could make it easier right now,” I says. “All right, all right, I +wont mention it again. Move all bedlam in here if you want to.” + +“He’s your own brother,” she says, “Even if he is afflicted.” + +“I’ll take your bank book,” I says. “I’ll draw my check today.” + +“He kept you waiting six days,” she says. “Are you sure the business is +sound? It seems strange to me that a solvent business cannot pay its +employees promptly.” + +“He’s all right,” I says, “Safe as a bank. I tell him not to bother +about mine until we get done collecting every month. That’s why it’s +late sometimes.” + +“I just couldn’t bear to have you lose the little I had to invest for +you,” she says. “I’ve often thought that Earl is not a good business +man. I know he doesn’t take you into his confidence to the extent that +your investment in the business should warrant. I’m going to speak to +him.” + +“No, you let him alone,” I says. “It’s his business.” + +“You have a thousand dollars in it.” + +“You let him alone,” I says, “I’m watching things. I have your power of +attorney. It’ll be all right.” + +“You dont know what a comfort you are to me,” she says. “You have always +been my pride and joy, but when you came to me of your own accord and +insisted on banking your salary each month in my name, I thanked God it +was you left me if they had to be taken.” + +“They were all right,” I says. “They did the best they could, I reckon.” + +“When you talk that way I know you are thinking bitterly of your +father’s memory,” she says. “You have a right to, I suppose. But it +breaks my heart to hear you.” + +I got up. “If you’ve got any crying to do,” I says, “you’ll have to do +it alone, because I’ve got to get on back. I’ll get the bank book.” + +“I’ll get it,” she says. + +“Keep still,” I says, “I’ll get it.” I went upstairs and got the bank +book out of her desk and went back to town. I went to the bank and +deposited the check and the money order and the other ten, and stopped +at the telegraph office. It was one point above the opening. I had +already lost thirteen points, all because she had to come helling in +there at twelve, worrying me about that letter. + +“What time did that report come in?” I says. + +“About an hour ago,” he says. + +“An hour ago?” I says. “What are we paying you for?” I says, “Weekly +reports? How do you expect a man to do anything? The whole damn top +could blow off and we’d not know it.” + +“I dont expect you to do anything,” he says. “They changed that law +making folks play the cotton market.” + +“They have?” I says. “I hadn’t heard. They must have sent the news out +over the Western Union.” + +I went back to the store. Thirteen points. Damn if I believe anybody +knows anything about the damn thing except the ones that sit back in +those New York offices and watch the country suckers come up and beg +them to take their money. Well, a man that just calls shows he has no +faith in himself, and like I say if you aren’t going to take the advice, +what’s the use in paying money for it. Besides, these people are right +up there on the ground; they know everything that’s going on. I could +feel the telegram in my pocket. I’d just have to prove that they were +using the telegraph company to defraud. That would constitute a bucket +shop. And I wouldn’t hesitate that long, either. Only be damned if it +doesn’t look like a company as big and rich as the Western Union could +get a market report out on time. Half as quick as they’ll get a wire to +you saying Your account closed out. But what the hell do they care about +the people. They’re hand in glove with that New York crowd. Anybody +could see that. + +When I came in Earl looked at his watch. But he didn’t say anything +until the customer was gone. Then he says, + +“You go home to dinner?” + +“I had to go to the dentist,” I says because it’s not any of his +business where I eat but I’ve got to be in the store with him all the +afternoon. And with his jaw running off after all I’ve stood. You take a +little two by four country storekeeper like I say it takes a man with +just five hundred dollars to worry about it fifty thousand dollars’ +worth. + +“You might have told me,” he says. “I expected you back right away.” + +“I’ll trade you this tooth and give you ten dollars to boot, any time,” +I says. “Our agreement was an hour for dinner,” I says, “and if you dont +like the way I do, you know what you can do about it.” + +“I’ve known that some time,” he says. “If it hadn’t been for your mother +I’d have done it before now, too. She’s a lady I’ve got a lot of +sympathy for, Jason. Too bad some other folks I know cant say as much.” + +“Then you can keep it,” I says. “When we need any sympathy I’ll let you +know in plenty of time.” + +“I’ve protected you about that business a long time, Jason,” he says. + +“Yes?” I says, letting him go on. Listening to what he would say before +I shut him up. + +“I believe I know more about where that automobile came from than she +does.” + +“You think so, do you?” I says. “When are you going to spread the news +that I stole it from my mother?” + +“I dont say anything,” he says, “I know you have her power of attorney. +And I know she still believes that thousand dollars is in this +business.” + +“All right,” I says, “Since you know so much, I’ll tell you a little +more: go to the bank and ask them whose account I’ve been depositing a +hundred and sixty dollars on the first of every month for twelve years.” + +“I dont say anything,” he says, “I just ask you to be a little more +careful after this.” + +I never said anything more. It doesn’t do any good. I’ve found that when +a man gets into a rut the best thing you can do is let him stay there. +And when a man gets it in his head that he’s got to tell something on +you for your own good, good-night. I’m glad I haven’t got the sort of +conscience I’ve got to nurse like a sick puppy all the time. If I’d ever +be as careful over anything as he is to keep his little shirt tail full +of business from making him more then eight percent. I reckon he thinks +they’d get him on the usury law if he netted more than eight percent. +What the hell chance has a man got, tied down in a town like this and to +a business like this. Why I could take his business in one year and fix +him so he’d never have to work again, only he’d give it all away to the +church or something. If there’s one thing gets under my skin, it’s a +damn hypocrite. A man that thinks anything he dont understand all about +must be crooked and that first chance he gets he’s morally bound to tell +the third party what’s none of his business to tell. Like I say if I +thought every time a man did something I didn’t know all about he was +bound to be a crook, I reckon I wouldn’t have any trouble finding +something back there on those books that you wouldn’t see any use for +running and telling somebody I thought ought to know about it, when for +all I knew they might know a damn sight more about it now than I did, +and if they didn’t it was damn little of my business anyway and he says, +“My books are open to anybody. Anybody that has any claim or believes +she has any claim on this business can go back there and welcome.” + +“Sure, you wont tell,” I says, “You couldn’t square your conscience with +that. You’ll just take her back there and let her find it. You wont +tell, yourself.” + +“I’m not trying to meddle in your business,” he says. “I know you missed +out on some things like Quentin had. But your mother has had a +misfortunate life too, and if she was to come in here and ask me why you +quit, I’d have to tell her. It aint that thousand dollars. You know +that. It’s because a man never gets anywhere if fact and his ledgers +dont square. And I’m not going to lie to anybody, for myself or anybody +else.” + +“Well, then,” I says, “I reckon that conscience of yours is a more +valuable clerk than I am; it dont have to go home at noon to eat. Only +dont let it interfere with my appetite,” I says, because how the hell +can I do anything right, with that damn family and her not making any +effort to control her nor any of them, like that time when she happened +to see one of them kissing Caddy and all next day she went around the +house in a black dress and a veil and even Father couldn’t get her to +say a word except crying and saying her little daughter was dead and +Caddy about fifteen then only in three years she’d been wearing +haircloth or probably sandpaper at that rate. Do you think I can afford +to have her running bout the streets with every drummer that comes to +town, I says, and them telling the new ones up and down the road where +to pick up a hot one when they made Jefferson. I haven’t got much pride, +I can’t afford it with a kitchen full of niggers to feed and robbing the +state asylum of its star freshman. Blood, I says, governors and +generals. It’s a damn good thing we never had any kings and presidents; +we’d all be down there at Jackson chasing butterflies. I say it’d be bad +enough if it was mine; I’d at least be sure it was a bastard to begin +with, and now even the Lord doesn’t know that for certain probably. + +So after awhile I heard the band start up, and then they begun to clear +out. Headed for the show, every one of them. Haggling over a twenty cent +hame string to save fifteen cents, so they can give it to a bunch of +Yankees that come in and pay maybe ten dollars for the privilege. I went +on out to the back. + +“Well,” I says, “If you dont look out, that bolt will grow into your +hand. And then I’m going to take an axe and chop it out. What do you +reckon the boll-weevils’ll eat if you dont get those cultivators in +shape to raise them a crop?” I says, “sage grass?” + +“Dem folks sho do play dem horns,” he says. “Tell me man in dat show kin +play a tune on a handsaw. Pick hit like a banjo.” + +“Listen,” I says. “Do you know how much that show’ll spend in this town? +About ten dollars,” I says. “The ten dollars Buck Turpin has in his +pocket right now.” + +“Whut dey give Mr Buck ten dollars fer?” he says. + +“For the privilege of showing here,” I says. “You can put the balance of +what they’ll spend in your eye.” + +“You mean dey pays ten dollars jest to give dey show here?” he says. + +“That’s all,” I says. “And how much do you reckon . . .” + +“Gret day,” he says, “You mean to tell me dey chargin um to let um show +here? I’d pay ten dollars to see dat man pick dat saw, ef I had to. I +figures dat tomorrow mawnin I be still owin um nine dollars and six bits +at dat rate.” + +And then a Yankee will talk your head off about niggers getting ahead. +Get them ahead, what I say. Get them so far ahead you cant find one +south of Louisville with a blood hound. Because when I told him about +how they’d pick up Saturday night and carry off at least a thousand +dollars out of the county, he says, + +“I don’t begrudge um. I kin sho afford my two bits.” + +“Two bits hell,” I says. “That dont begin it. How about the dime or +fifteen cents you’ll spend for a damn two cent box of candy or +something. How about the time you’re wasting right now, listening to +that band.” + +“Dat’s de troof,” he says. “Well, ef I lives twell night hit’s gwine to +be two bits mo dey takin out of town, dat’s sho.” + +“Then you’re a fool,” I says. + +“Well,” he says, “I dont spute dat neither. Ef dat uz a crime, all +chain-gangs wouldn’t be black.” + +Well, just about that time I happened to look up the alley and saw her. +When I stepped back and looked at my watch I didn’t notice at the time +who he was because I was looking at the watch. It was just two thirty, +forty-five minutes before anybody but me expected her to be out. So when +I looked around the door the first thing I saw was the red tie he had on +and I was thinking what the hell kind of a man would wear a red tie. But +she was sneaking along the alley, watching the door, so I wasn’t +thinking anything about him until they had gone past. I was wondering if +she’d have so little respect for me that she’d not only play out of +school when I told her not to, but would walk right past the store, +daring me not to see her. Only she couldn’t see into the door because +the sun fell straight into it and it was like trying to see through an +automobile searchlight, so I stood there and watched her go on past, +with her face painted up like a damn clown’s and her hair all gummed and +twisted and a dress that if a woman had come out doors even on Gayoso or +Beale street when I was a young fellow with no more than that to cover +her legs and behind, she’d been thrown in jail. I’ll be damned if they +dont dress like they were trying to make every man they passed on the +street want to reach out and clap his hand on it. And so I was thinking +what kind of a damn man would wear a red tie when all of a sudden I knew +he was one of those show folks well as if she’d told me. Well, I can +stand a lot; if I couldn’t, damn if I wouldn’t be in a hell of a fix, so +when they turned the corner I jumped down and followed. Me, without any +hat, in the middle of the afternoon, having to chase up and down back +alleys because of my mother’s good name. Like I say you cant do anything +with a woman like that, if she’s got it in her. If it’s in her blood, +you cant do anything with her. The only thing you can do is to get rid +of her, let her go on and live with her own sort. + +I went on to the street, but they were out of sight. And there I was, +without any hat, looking like I was crazy too. Like a man would +naturally think, one of them is crazy and another one drowned himself +and the other one was turned out into the street by her husband, what’s +the reason the rest of them are not crazy too. All the time I could see +them watching me like a hawk, waiting for a chance to say Well I’m not +surprised I expected it all the time the whole family’s crazy. Selling +land to send him to Harvard and paying taxes to support a state +University all the time that I never saw except twice at a baseball game +and not letting her daughter’s name be spoken on the place until after a +while Father wouldn’t even come down town anymore but just sat there all +day with the decanter I could see the bottom of his nightshirt and his +bare legs and hear the decanter clinking until finally T. P. had to pour +it for him and she says You have no respect for your Father’s memory and +I says I dont know why not it sure is preserved well enough to last only +if I’m crazy too God knows what I’ll do about it just to look at water +makes me sick and I’d just as soon swallow gasoline as a glass of +whiskey and Lorraine telling them he may not drink but if you dont +believe he’s a man I can tell you how to find out she says If I catch +you fooling with any of these whores you know what I’ll do she says I’ll +whip her grabbing at her I’ll whip her as long as I can find her she +says and I says if I dont drink that’s my business but have you ever +found me short I says I’ll buy you enough beer to take a bath in if you +want it because I’ve got every respect for a good honest whore because +with Mother’s health and the position I try to uphold to have her with +no more respect for what I try to do for her than to make her name and +my name and my Mother’s name a byword in the town. + +She had dodged out of sight somewhere. Saw me coming and dodged into +another alley, running up and down the alleys with a damn show man in a +red tie that everybody would look at and think what kind of a damn man +would wear a red tie. Well, the boy kept speaking to me and so I took +the telegram without knowing I had taken it. I didn’t realise what it +was until I was signing for it, and I tore it open without even caring +much what it was. I knew all the time what it would be, I reckon. That +was the only thing else that could happen, especially holding it up +until I had already had the check entered on the pass book. + +I dont see how a city no bigger than New York can hold enough people to +take the money away from us country suckers. Work like hell all day +every day, send them your money and get a little piece of paper back, +Your account closed at 20.62. Teasing you along, letting you pile up a +little paper profit, then bang! Your account closed at 20.62. And if +that wasn’t enough, paying ten dollars a month to somebody to tell you +how to lose it fast, that either dont know anything about it or is in +cahoots with the telegraph company. Well, I’m done with them. They’ve +sucked me in for the last time. Any fool except a fellow that hasn’t got +any more sense than to take a jew’s word for anything could tell the +market was going up all the time, with the whole damn delta about to be +flooded again and the cotton washed right out of the ground like it was +last year. Let it wash a man’s crop out of the ground year after year, +and them up there in Washington spending fifty thousand dollars a day +keeping an army in Nicaragua or some place. Of course it’ll overflow +again, and then cotton’ll be worth thirty cents a pound. Well, I just +want to hit them one time and get my money back. I don’t want a killing; +only these small town gamblers are out for that, I just want my money +back that these damn jews have gotten with all their guaranteed inside +dope. Then I’m through; they can kiss my foot for every other red cent +of mine they get. + +I went back to the store. It was half past three almost. Damn little +time to do anything in, but then I am used to that. I never had to go to +Harvard to learn that. The band had quit playing. Got them all inside +now, and they wouldn’t have to waste any more wind. Earl says, + +“He found you, did he? He was in here with it a while ago. I thought you +were out back somewhere.” + +“Yes,” I says, “I got it. They couldn’t keep it away from me all +afternoon. The town’s too small. I’ve got to go out home a minute,” I +says. “You can dock me if it’ll make you feel any better.” + +“Go ahead,” he says, “I can handle it now. No bad news, I hope.” + +“You’ll have to go to the telegraph office and find that out,” I says. +“They’ll have time to tell you. I haven’t.” + +“I just asked,” he says. “Your mother knows she can depend on me.” + +“She’ll appreciate it,” I says. “I wont be gone any longer than I have +to.” + +“Take your time,” he says. “I can handle it now. You go ahead.” + +I got the car and went home. Once this morning, twice at noon, and now +again, with her and having to chase all over town and having to beg them +to let me eat a little of the food I am paying for. Sometimes I think +what’s the use of anything. With the precedent I’ve been set I must be +crazy to keep on. And now I reckon I’ll get home just in time to take a +nice long drive after a basket of tomatoes or something and then have to +go back to town smelling like a camphor factory so my head wont explode +right on my shoulders. I keep telling her there’s not a damn thing in +that aspirin except flour and water for imaginary invalids. I says you +dont know what a headache is. I says you think I’d fool with that damn +car at all if it depended on me. I says I can get along without one I’ve +learned to get along without lots of things but if you want to risk +yourself in that old wornout surrey with a halfgrown nigger boy all +right because I says God looks after Ben’s kind, God knows He ought to +do something for him but if you think I’m going to trust a thousand +dollars’ worth of delicate machinery to a halfgrown nigger or a grown +one either, you’d better buy him one yourself because I says you like to +ride in the car and you know you do. + +Dilsey said Mother was in the house. I went on into the hall and +listened, but I didn’t hear anything. I went up stairs, but just as I +passed her door she called me. + +“I just wanted to know who it was,” she says. “I’m here alone so much +that I hear every sound.” + +“You dont have to stay here,” I says. “You could spend the whole day +visiting like other women, if you wanted to.” She came to the door. + +“I thought maybe you were sick,” she says. “Having to hurry through your +dinner like you did.” + +“Better luck next time,” I says. “What do you want?” + +“Is anything wrong?” she says. + +“What could be?” I says. “Cant I come home in the middle of the +afternoon without upsetting the whole house?” + +“Have you seen Quentin?” she says. + +“She’s in school,” I says. + +“It’s after three,” she says. “I heard the clock strike at least a half +an hour ago. She ought to be home by now.” + +“Ought she?” I says. “When have you ever seen her before dark?” + +“She ought to be home,” she says. “When I was a girl . . .” + +“You had somebody to make you behave yourself,” I says. “She hasn’t.” + +“I can’t do anything with her,” she says. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried.” + +“And you wont let me, for some reason,” I says, “So you ought to be +satisfied.” I went on to my room. I turned the key easy and stood there +until the knob turned. Then she says, + +“Jason.” + +“What,” I says. + +“I just thought something was wrong.” + +“Not in here,” I says. “You’ve come to the wrong place.” + +“I dont mean to worry you,” she says. + +“I’m glad to hear that,” I says. “I wasn’t sure. I thought I might have +been mistaken. Do you want anything?” + +After awhile she says, “No. Not any thing.” Then she went away. I took +the box down and counted out the money and hid the box again and +unlocked the door and went out. I thought about the camphor, but it +would be too late now, anyway. And I’d just have one more round trip. +She was at her door, waiting. + +“You want anything from town?” I says. + +“No,” she says. “I dont mean to meddle in your affairs. But I dont know +what I’d do if anything happened to you, Jason.” + +“I’m all right,” I says. “Just a headache.” + +“I wish you’d take some aspirin,” she says. “I know you’re not going to +stop using the car.” + +“What’s the car got to do with it?” I says. “How can a car give a man a +headache?” + +“You know gasoline always made you sick,” she says. “Ever since you were +a child. I wish you’d take some aspirin.” + +“Keep on wishing it,” I says. “It wont hurt you.” + +I got in the car and started back to town. I had just turned onto the +street when I saw a ford coming helling toward me. All of a sudden it +stopped. I could hear the wheels sliding and it slewed around and backed +and whirled and just as I was thinking what the hell they were up to, I +saw that red tie. Then I recognised her face looking back through the +window. It whirled into the alley. I saw it turn again, but when I got +to the back street it was just disappearing, running like hell. + +I saw red. When I recognised that red tie, after all I had told her, I +forgot about everything. I never thought about my head even until I came +to the first forks and had to stop. Yet we spend money and spend money +on roads and damn if it isn’t like trying to drive over a sheet of +corrugated iron roofing. I’d like to know how a man could be expected to +keep up with even a wheelbarrow. I think too much of my car; I’m not +going to hammer it to pieces like it was a ford. Chances were they had +stolen it, anyway, so why should they give a damn. Like I say blood +always tells. If you’ve got blood like that in you, you’ll do anything. +I says whatever claim you believe she has on you has already been +discharged; I says from now on you have only yourself to blame because +you know what any sensible person would do. I says if I’ve got to spend +half my time being a damn detective, at least I’ll go where I can get +paid for it. + +So I had to stop there at the forks. Then I remembered it. It felt like +somebody was inside with a hammer, beating on it. I says I’ve tried to +keep you from being worried by her; I says far as I’m concerned, let her +go to hell as fast as she pleases and the sooner the better. I says what +else do you expect except every drummer and cheap show that comes to +town because even these town jellybeans give her the go-by now. You dont +know what goes on I says, you dont hear the talk that I hear and you can +just bet I shut them up too. I says my people owned slaves here when you +all were running little shirt tail country stores and farming land no +nigger would look at on shares. + +If they ever farmed it. It’s a good thing the Lord did something for +this country; the folks that live on it never have. Friday afternoon, +and from right here I could see three miles of land that hadn’t even +been broken, and every able bodied man in the county in town at that +show. I might have been a stranger starving to death, and there wasn’t a +soul in sight to ask which way to town even. And she trying to get me to +take aspirin. I says when I eat bread I’ll do it at the table. I says +you always talking about how much you give up for us when you could buy +ten new dresses a year on the money you spend for those damn patent +medicines. It’s not something to cure it I need it’s just an even break +not to have to have them but as long as I have to work ten hours a day +to support a kitchen full of niggers in the style they’re accustomed to +and send them to the show with every other nigger in the county, only he +was late already. By the time he got there it would be over. + +After awhile he got up to the car and when I finally got it through his +head if two people in a ford had passed him, he said yes. So I went on, +and when I came to where the wagon road turned off I could see the tire +tracks. Ab Russell was in his lot, but I didn’t bother to ask him and I +hadn’t got out of sight of his barn hardly when I saw the ford. They had +tried to hide it. Done about as well at it as she did at everything else +she did. Like I say it’s not that I object to so much; maybe she cant +help that, it’s because she hasn’t even got enough consideration for her +own family to have any discretion. I’m afraid all the time I’ll run into +them right in the middle of the street or under a wagon on the square, +like a couple of dogs. + +I parked and got out. And now I’d have to go way around and cross a +plowed field, the only one I had seen since I left town, with every step +like somebody was walking along behind me, hitting me on the head with a +club. I kept thinking that when I got across the field at least I’d have +something level to walk on, that wouldn’t jolt me every step, but when I +got into the woods it was full of underbrush and I had to twist around +through it, and then I came to a ditch full of briers. I went along it +for awhile, but it got thicker and thicker, and all the time Earl +probably telephoning home about where I was and getting Mother all upset +again. + +When I finally got through I had had to wind around so much that I had +to stop and figure out just where the car would be. I knew they wouldn’t +be far from it, just under the closest bush, so I turned and worked back +toward the road. Then I couldn’t tell just how far I was, so I’d have to +stop and listen, and then with my legs not using so much blood, it all +would go into my head like it would explode any minute, and the sun +getting down just to where it could shine straight into my eyes and my +ears ringing so I couldn’t hear anything. I went on, trying to move +quiet, then I heard a dog or something and I knew that when he scented +me he’d have to come helling up, then it would be all off. + +I had gotten beggar lice and twigs and stuff all over me, inside my +clothes and shoes and all, and then I happened to look around and I had +my hand right on a bunch of poison oak. The only thing I couldn’t +understand was why it was just poison oak and not a snake or something. +So I didn’t even bother to move it. I just stood there until the dog +went away. Then I went on. + +I didn’t have any idea where the car was now. I couldn’t think about +anything except my head, and I’d just stand in one place and sort of +wonder if I had really seen a ford even, and I didn’t even care much +whether I had or not. Like I say, let her lay out all day and all night +with everything in town that wears pants, what do I care. I dont owe +anything to anybody that has no more consideration for me, that wouldn’t +be a damn bit above planting that ford there and making me spend a whole +afternoon and Earl taking her back there and showing her the books just +because he’s too damn virtuous for this world. I says you’ll have one +hell of a time in heaven, without anybody’s business to meddle in only +dont you ever let me catch you at it I says, I close my eyes to it +because of your grandmother, but just you let me catch you doing it one +time on this place, where my mother lives. These damn little slick +haired squirts, thinking they are raising so much hell, I’ll show them +something about hell I says, and you too. I’ll make him think that damn +red tie is the latch string to hell, if he thinks he can run the woods +with my niece. + +With the sun and all in my eyes and my blood going so I kept thinking +every time my head would go on and burst and get it over with, with +briers and things grabbing at me, then I came onto the sand ditch where +they had been and I recognised the tree where the car was, and just as I +got out of the ditch and started running I heard the car start. It went +off fast, blowing the horn. They kept on blowing it, like it was saying +Yah. Yah. Yaaahhhhhhhh, going out of sight. I got to the road just in +time to see it go out of sight. + +By the time I got up to where my car was, they were clean out of sight, +the horn still blowing. Well, I never thought anything about it except I +was saying Run. Run back to town. Run home and try to convince Mother +that I never saw you in that car. Try to make her believe that I dont +know who he was. Try to make her believe that I didn’t miss ten feet of +catching you in that ditch. Try to make her believe you were standing +up, too. + +It kept on saying Yahhhhh, Yahhhhh, Yaaahhhhhhhhh, getting fainter and +fainter. Then it quit, and I could hear a cow lowing up at Russell’s +barn. And still I never thought. I went up to the door and opened it and +raised my foot. I kind of thought then that the car was leaning a little +more than the slant of the road would be, but I never found it out until +I got in and started off. + +Well, I just sat there. It was getting on toward sundown, and town was +about five miles. They never even had guts enough to puncture it, to jab +a hole in it. They just let the air out. I just stood there for awhile, +thinking about that kitchen full of niggers and not one of them had time +to lift a tire onto the rack and screw up a couple of bolts. It was kind +of funny because even she couldn’t have seen far enough ahead to take +the pump out on purpose, unless she thought about it while he was +letting out the air maybe. But what it probably was, was somebody took +it out and gave it to Ben to play with for a squirt gun because they’d +take the whole car to pieces if he wanted it and Dilsey says, Aint +nobody teched yo car. What we want to fool with hit fer? and I says +You’re a nigger. You’re lucky, do you know it? I says I’ll swap with you +any day because it takes a white man not to have anymore sense than to +worry about what a little slut of a girl does. + +I walked up to Russell’s. He had a pump. That was just an oversight on +their part, I reckon. Only I still couldn’t believe she’d have had the +nerve to. I kept thinking that. I dont know why it is I cant seem to +learn that a woman’ll do anything. I kept thinking, Let’s forget for +awhile how I feel toward you and how you feel toward me: I just wouldn’t +do you this way. I wouldn’t do you this way no matter what you had done +to me. Because like I say blood is blood and you cant get around it. +It’s not playing a joke that any eight year old boy could have thought +of, it’s letting your own uncle be laughed at by a man that would wear a +red tie. They come into town and call us all a bunch of hicks and think +it’s too small to hold them. Well he doesn’t know just how right he is. +And her too. If that’s the way she feels about it, she’d better keep +right on going and a damn good riddance. + +I stopped and returned Russell’s pump and drove on to town. I went to +the drugstore and got a coca-cola and then I went to the telegraph +office. It had closed at 12.21, forty points down. Forty times five +dollars; buy something with that if you can, and she’ll say, I’ve got to +have it I’ve just got to and I’ll say that’s too bad you’ll have to try +somebody else, I haven’t got any money; I’ve been too busy to make any. + +I just looked at him. + +“I’ll tell you some news,” I says, “You’ll be astonished to learn that I +am interested in the cotton market,” I says. “That never occurred to +you, did it?” + +“I did my best to deliver it,” he says. “I tried the store twice and +called up your house, but they didn’t know where you were,” he says, +digging in the drawer. + +“Deliver what?” I says. He handed me a telegram. “What time did this +come?” I says. + +“About half past three,” he says. + +“And now it’s ten minutes past five,” I says. + +“I tried to deliver it,” he says. “I couldn’t find you.” + +“That’s not my fault, is it?” I says. I opened it, just to see what kind +of a lie they’d tell me this time. They must be in one hell of a shape +if they’ve got to come all the way to Mississippi to steal ten dollars a +month. Sell, it says. The market will be unstable, with a general +downward tendency. Do not be alarmed following government report. + +“How much would a message like this cost?” I says. He told me. + +“They paid it,” he says. + +“Then I owe them that much,” I says. “I already knew this. Send this +collect,” I says, taking a blank. Buy, I wrote, Market just on point of +blowing its head off. Occasional flurries for purpose of hooking a few +more country suckers who haven’t got in to the telegraph office yet. Do +not be alarmed. “Send that collect,” I says. + +He looked at the message, then he looked at the clock. “Market closed an +hour ago,” he says. + +“Well,” I says, “That’s not my fault either. I didn’t invent it; I just +bought a little of it while under the impression that the telegraph +company would keep me informed as to what it was doing.” + +“A report is posted whenever it comes in,” he says. + +“Yes,” I says, “And in Memphis they have it on a blackboard every ten +seconds,” I says. “I was within sixty-seven miles of there once this +afternoon.” + +He looked at the message. “You want to send this?” he says. + +“I still haven’t changed my mind,” I says. I wrote the other one out and +counted the money. “And this one too, if you’re sure you can spell +b-u-y.” + +I went back to the store. I could hear the band from down the street. +Prohibition’s a fine thing. Used to be they’d come in Saturday with just +one pair of shoes in the family and him wearing them, and they’d go down +to the express office and get his package; now they all go to the show +barefooted, with the merchants in the door like a row of tigers or +something in a cage, watching them pass. Earl says, + +“I hope it wasn’t anything serious.” + +“What?” I says. He looked at his watch. Then he went to the door and +looked at the courthouse clock. “You ought to have a dollar watch,” I +says. “It wont cost you so much to believe it’s lying each time.” + +“What?” he says. + +“Nothing,” I says. “Hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.” + +“We were not busy much,” he says. “They all went to the show. It’s all +right.” + +“If it’s not all right,” I says, “You know what you can do about it.” + +“I said it was all right,” he says. + +“I heard you,” I says. “And if it’s not all right, you know what you can +do about it.” + +“Do you want to quit?” he says. + +“It’s not my business,” I says. “My wishes dont matter. But dont get the +idea that you are protecting me by keeping me.” + +“You’d be a good business man if you’d let yourself, Jason,” he says. + +“At least I can tend to my own business and let other peoples’ alone,” I +says. + +“I dont know why you are trying to make me fire you,” he says. “You know +you could quit anytime and there wouldn’t be any hard feelings between +us.” + +“Maybe that’s why I dont quit,” I says. “As long as I tend to my job, +that’s what you are paying me for.” I went on to the back and got a +drink of water and went on out to the back door. Job had the cultivators +all set up at last. It was quiet there, and pretty soon my head got a +little easier. I could hear them singing now, and then the band played +again. Well, let them get every quarter and dime in the county; it was +no skin off my back. I’ve done what I could; a man that can live as long +as I have and not know when to quit is a fool. Especially as it’s no +business of mine. If it was my own daughter now it would be different, +because she wouldn’t have time to; she’d have to work some to feed a few +invalids and idiots and niggers, because how could I have the face to +bring anybody there. I’ve too much respect for anybody to do that. I’m a +man, I can stand it, it’s my own flesh and blood and I’d like to see the +colour of the man’s eyes that would speak disrespectful of any woman +that was my friend it’s these damn good women that do it I’d like to see +the good, church-going woman that’s half as square as Lorraine, whore or +no whore. Like I say if I was to get married you’d go up like a balloon +and you know it and she says I want you to be happy to have a family of +your own not to slave your life away for us. But I’ll be gone soon and +then you can take a wife but you’ll never find a woman who is worthy of +you and I says yes I could. You’d get right up out of your grave you +know you would. I says no thank you I have all the women I can take care +of now if I married a wife she’d probably turn out to be a hophead or +something. That’s all we lack in this family, I says. + +The sun was down beyond the Methodist church now, and the pigeons were +flying back and forth around the steeple, and when the band stopped I +could hear them cooing. It hadn’t been four months since Christmas, and +yet they were almost as thick as ever. I reckon Parson Walthall was +getting a belly full of them now. You’d have thought we were shooting +people, with him making speeches and even holding onto a man’s gun when +they came over. Talking about peace on earth good will toward all and +not a sparrow can fall to earth. But what does he care how thick they +get, he hasn’t got anything to do; what does he care what time it is. He +pays no taxes, he doesn’t have to see his money going every year to have +the courthouse clock cleaned to where it’ll run. They had to pay a man +forty-five dollars to clean it. I counted over a hundred half-hatched +pigeons on the ground. You’d think they’d have sense enough to leave +town. It’s a good thing I dont have any more ties than a pigeon, I’ll +say that. + +The band was playing again, a loud fast tune, like they were breaking +up. I reckon they’d be satisfied now. Maybe they’d have enough music to +entertain them while they drove fourteen or fifteen miles home and +unharnessed in the dark and fed the stock and milked. All they’d have to +do would be to whistle the music and tell the jokes to the live stock in +the barn, and then they could count up how much they’d made by not +taking the stock to the show too. They could figure that if a man had +five children and seven mules, he cleared a quarter by taking his family +to the show. Just like that. Earl came back with a couple of packages. + +“Here’s some more stuff going out,” he says. “Where’s Uncle Job?” + +“Gone to the show, I imagine,” I says. “Unless you watched him.” + +“He doesn’t slip off,” he says. “I can depend on him.” + +“Meaning me by that,” I says. + +He went to the door and looked out, listening. + +“That’s a good band,” he says. “It’s about time they were breaking up, +I’d say.” + +“Unless they’re going to spend the night there,” I says. The swallows +had begun, and I could hear the sparrows beginning to swarm in the trees +in the courthouse yard. Every once in a while a bunch of them would come +swirling around in sight above the roof, then go away. They are as big a +nuisance as the pigeons, to my notion. You cant even sit in the +courthouse yard for them. First thing you know, bing. Right on your hat. +But it would take a millionaire to afford to shoot them at five cents a +shot. If they’d just put a little poison out there in the square, they’d +get rid of them in a day, because if a merchant cant keep his stock from +running around the square, he’d better try to deal in something besides +chickens, something that dont eat, like plows or onions. And if a man +dont keep his dogs up, he either dont want it or he hasn’t any business +with one. Like I say if all the businesses in a town are run like +country businesses, you’re going to have a country town. + +“It wont do you any good if they have broke up,” I says. “They’ll have +to hitch up and take out to get home by midnight as it is.” + +“Well,” he says, “They enjoy it. Let them spend a little money on a show +now and then. A hill farmer works pretty hard and gets mighty little for +it.” + +“There’s no law making them farm in the hills,” I says, “Or anywhere +else.” + +“Where would you and me be, if it wasn’t for the farmers?” he says. + +“I’d be home right now,” I says, “Lying down, with an ice pack on my +head.” + +“You have these headaches too often,” he says. “Why dont you have your +teeth examined good? Did he go over them all this morning?” + +“Did who?” I says. + +“You said you went to the dentist this morning.” + +“Do you object to my having the headache on your time?” I says. “Is that +it?” They were crossing the alley now, coming up from the show. + +“There they come,” he says. “I reckon I better get up front.” He went +on. It’s a curious thing how no matter what’s wrong with you, a man’ll +tell you to have your teeth examined and a woman’ll tell you to get +married. It always takes a man that never made much at any thing to tell +you how to run your business, though. Like these college professors +without a whole pair of socks to their name, telling you how to make a +million in ten years, and a woman that couldn’t even get a husband can +always tell you how to raise a family. + +Old man Job came up with the wagon. After a while he got through +wrapping the lines around the whip socket. + +“Well,” I says, “Was it a good show?” + +“I aint been yit,” he says. “But I kin be arrested in dat tent tonight, +dough.” + +“Like hell you haven’t,” I says. “You’ve been away from here since three +oclock. Mr Earl was just back here looking for you.” + +“I been tendin to my business,” he says. “Mr Earl knows whar I been.” + +“You may can fool him,” I says. “I wont tell on you.” + +“Den he’s de onliest man here I’d try to fool,” he says. “Whut I want to +waste my time foolin a man whut I dont keer whether I sees him Sat’dy +night er not? I wont try to fool you,” he says. “You too smart fer me. +Yes, suh,” he says, looking busy as hell, putting five or six little +packages into the wagon, “You’s too smart fer me. Aint a man in dis town +kin keep up wid you fer smartness. You fools a man whut so smart he cant +even keep up wid hisself,” he says, getting in the wagon and unwrapping +the reins. + +“Who’s that?” I says. + +“Dat’s Mr Jason Compson,” he says. “Git up dar, Dan!” + +One of the wheels was just about to come off. I watched to see if he’d +get out of the alley before it did. Just turn any vehicle over to a +nigger, though. I says that old rattletrap’s just an eyesore, yet you’ll +keep it standing there in the carriage house a hundred years just so +that boy can ride to the cemetery once a week. I says he’s not the first +fellow that’ll have to do things he doesn’t want to. I’d make him ride +in that car like a civilised man or stay at home. What does he know +about where he goes or what he goes in, and us keeping a carriage and a +horse so he can take a ride on Sunday afternoon. + +A lot Job cared whether the wheel came off or not, long as he wouldn’t +have too far to walk back. Like I say the only place for them is in the +field, where they’d have to work from sunup to sundown. They cant stand +prosperity or an easy job. Let one stay around white people for a while +and he’s not worth killing. They get so they can outguess you about work +before your very eyes, like Roskus the only mistake he ever made was he +got careless one day and died. Shirking and stealing and giving you a +little more lip and a little more lip until some day you have to lay +them out with a scantling or something. Well, it’s Earl’s business. But +I’d hate to have my business advertised over this town by an old +doddering nigger and a wagon that you thought every time it turned a +corner it would come all to pieces. + +The sun was all high up in the air now, and inside it was beginning to +get dark. I went up front. The square was empty. Earl was back closing +the safe, and then the clock begun to strike. + +“You lock the back door,” he says. I went back and locked it and came +back. “I suppose you’re going to the show tonight,” he says. “I gave you +those passes yesterday, didn’t I?” + +“Yes,” I said. “You want them back?” + +“No, no,” he says, “I just forgot whether I gave them to you or not. No +sense in wasting them.” + +He locked the door and said Goodnight and went on. The sparrows were +still rattling away in the trees, but the square was empty except for a +few cars. There was a ford in front of the drugstore, but I didn’t even +look at it. I know when I’ve had enough of anything. I dont mind trying +to help her, but I know when I’ve had enough. I guess I could teach +Luster to drive it, then they could chase her all day long if they +wanted to, and I could stay home and play with Ben. + +I went in and got a couple of cigars. Then I thought I’d have another +headache shot for luck, and I stood and talked with them awhile. + +“Well,” Mac says, “I reckon you’ve got your money on the Yankees this +year.” + +“What for?” I says. + +“The Pennant,” he says. “Not anything in the League can beat them.” + +“Like hell there’s not,” I says. “They’re shot,” I says. “You think a +team can be that lucky forever?” + +“I dont call it luck,” Mac says. + +“I wouldn’t bet on any team that fellow Ruth played on,” I says. “Even +if I knew it was going to win.” + +“Yes?” Mac says. + +“I can name you a dozen men in either League who’re more valuable than +he is,” I says. + +“What have you got against Ruth?” Mac says. + +“Nothing,” I says. “I haven’t got any thing against him. I dont even +like to look at his picture.” I went on out. The lights were coming on, +and people going along the streets toward home. Sometimes the sparrows +never got still until full dark. The night they turned on the new lights +around the courthouse it waked them up and they were flying around and +blundering into the lights all night long. They kept it up two or three +nights, then one morning they were all gone. Then after about two months +they all came back again. + +I drove on home. There were no lights in the house yet, but they’d all +be looking out the windows, and Dilsey jawing away in the kitchen like +it was her own food she was having to keep hot until I got there. You’d +think to hear her that there wasn’t but one supper in the world, and +that was the one she had to keep back a few minutes on my account. Well +at least I could come home one time without finding Ben and that nigger +hanging on the gate like a bear and a monkey in the same cage. Just let +it come toward sundown and he’d head for the gate like a cow for the +barn, hanging onto it and bobbing his head and sort of moaning to +himself. That’s a hog for punishment for you. If what had happened to +him for fooling with open gates had happened to me, I never would want +to see another one. I often wondered what he’d be thinking about, down +there at the gate, watching the girls going home from school, trying to +want something he couldn’t even remember he didn’t and couldn’t want any +longer. And what he’d think when they’d be undressing him and he’d +happen to take a look at himself and begin to cry like he’d do. But like +I say they never did enough of that. I says I know what you need, you +need what they did to Ben then you’d behave. And if you dont know what +that was I says, ask Dilsey to tell you. + +There was a light in Mother’s room. I put the car up and went on into +the kitchen. Luster and Ben were there. + +“Where’s Dilsey?” I says. “Putting supper on?” + +“She upstairs wid Miss Cahline,” Luster says. “Dey been goin hit. Ever +since Miss Quentin come home. Mammy up there keepin um fum fightin. Is +dat show come, Mr Jason?” + +“Yes,” I says. + +“I thought I heard de band,” he says. “Wish I could go,” he says. “I +could ef I jes had a quarter.” + +Dilsey came in. “You come, is you?” she says. “Whut you been up to dis +evenin? You knows how much work I got to do; whyn’t you git here on +time?” + +“Maybe I went to the show,” I says. “Is supper ready?” + +“Wish I could go,” Luster said. “I could ef I jes had a quarter.” + +“You aint got no business at no show,” Dilsey says. “You go on in de +house and set down,” she says. “Dont you go up stairs and git um started +again, now.” + +“What’s the matter?” I says. + +“Quentin come in a while ago and says you been follerin her around all +evenin and den Miss Cahline jumped on her. Whyn’t you let her alone? +Cant you live in de same house wid you own blood niece widout quoilin?” + +“I cant quarrel with her,” I says, “because I haven’t seen her since +this morning. What does she say I’ve done now? made her go to school? +That’s pretty bad,” I says. + +“Well, you tend to yo business and let her alone,” Dilsey says, “I’ll +take keer of her ef you’n Miss Cahline’ll let me. Go on in dar now and +behave yoself twell I get supper on.” + +“Ef I jes had a quarter,” Luster says, “I could go to dat show.” + +“En ef you had wings you could fly to heaven,” Dilsey says. “I dont want +to hear another word about dat show.” + +“That reminds me,” I says, “I’ve got a couple of tickets they gave me.” +I took them out of my coat. + +“You fixin to use um?” Luster says. + +“Not me,” I says. “I wouldn’t go to it for ten dollars.” + +“Gimme one of um, Mr Jason,” he says. + +“I’ll sell you one,” I says. “How about it?” + +“I aint got no money,” he says. + +“That’s too bad,” I says. I made to go out. + +“Gimme one of um, Mr Jason,” he says. “You aint gwine need um bofe.” + +“Hush yo mouf,” Dilsey says, “Dont you know he aint gwine give nothing +away?” + +“How much you want fer hit?” he says. + +“Five cents,” I says. + +“I aint got dat much,” he says. + +“How much you got?” I says. + +“I aint got nothing,” he says. + +“All right,” I says. I went on. + +“Mr Jason,” he says. + +“Whyn’t you hush up?” Dilsey says. “He jes teasin you. He fixin to use +dem tickets hisself. Go on, Jason, and let him lone.” + +“I dont want them,” I says. I came back to the stove. “I came in here to +burn them up. But if you want to buy one for a nickel?” I says, looking +at him and opening the stove lid. + +“I aint got dat much,” he says. + +“All right,” I says. I dropped one of them in the stove. + +“You, Jason,” Dilsey says, “Aint you shamed?” + +“Mr Jason,” he says, “Please, suh. I’ll fix dem tires ev’ry day fer a +mont’.” + +“I need the cash,” I says. “You can have it for a nickel.” + +“Hush, Luster,” Dilsey says. She jerked him back. “Go on,” she says, +“Drop hit in. Go on. Git hit over with.” + +“You can have it for a nickel,” I says. + +“Go on,” Dilsey says. “He aint got no nickel. Go on. Drop hit in.” + +“All right,” I says. I dropped it in and Dilsey shut the stove. + +“A big growed man like you,” she says. “Git on outen my kitchen. Hush,” +she says to Luster. “Dont you git Benjy started. I’ll git you a quarter +fum Frony tonight and you kin go tomorrow night. Hush up, now.” + +I went on into the living room. I couldn’t hear anything from upstairs. +I opened the paper. After awhile Ben and Luster came in. Ben went to the +dark place on the wall where the mirror used to be, rubbing his hands on +it and slobbering and moaning. Luster begun punching at the fire. + +“What’re you doing?” I says. “We dont need any fire tonight.” + +“I trying to keep him quiet,” he says. “Hit always cold Easter,” he +says. + +“Only this is not Easter,” I says. “Let it alone.” + +He put the poker back and got the cushion out of Mother’s chair and gave +it to Ben, and he hunkered down in front of the fireplace and got quiet. + +I read the paper. There hadn’t been a sound from upstairs when Dilsey +came in and sent Ben and Luster on to the kitchen and said supper was +ready. + +“All right,” I says. She went out. I sat there, reading the paper. After +a while I heard Dilsey looking in at the door. + +“Whyn’t you come on and eat?” she says. + +“I’m waiting for supper,” I says. + +“Hit’s on the table,” she says. “I done told you.” + +“Is it?” I says. “Excuse me. I didn’t hear anybody come down.” + +“They aint comin,” she says. “You come on and eat, so I can take +something up to them.” + +“Are they sick?” I says. “What did the doctor say it was? Not Smallpox, +I hope.” + +“Come on here, Jason,” she says, “So I kin git done.” + +“All right,” I says, raising the paper again. “I’m waiting for supper +now.” + +I could feel her watching me at the door. I read the paper. + +“Whut you want to act like this fer?” she says. “When you knows how much +bother I has anyway.” + +“If Mother is any sicker than she was when she came down to dinner, all +right,” I says. “But as long as I am buying food for people younger than +I am, they’ll have to come down to the table to eat it. Let me know when +supper’s ready,” I says, reading the paper again. I heard her climbing +the stairs, dragging her feet and grunting and groaning like they were +straight up and three feet apart. I heard her at Mother’s door, then I +heard her calling Quentin, like the door was locked, then she went back +to Mother’s room and then Mother went and talked to Quentin. Then they +came down stairs. I read the paper. + +Dilsey came back to the door. “Come on,” she says, “fo you kin think up +some mo devilment. You just tryin yoself tonight.” + +I went to the diningroom. Quentin was sitting with her head bent. She +had painted her face again. Her nose looked like a porcelain insulator. + +“I’m glad you feel well enough to come down,” I says to Mother. + +“It’s little enough I can do for you, to come to the table,” she says. +“No matter how I feel. I realise that when a man works all day he likes +to be surrounded by his family at the supper table. I want to please +you. I only wish you and Quentin got along better. It would be easier +for me.” + +“We get along all right,” I says. “I dont mind her staying locked up in +her room all day if she wants to. But I cant have all this whoop-de-do +and sulking at mealtimes. I know that’s a lot to ask her, but I’m that +way in my own house. Your house, I meant to say.” + +“It’s yours,” Mother says, “You are the head of it now.” + +Quentin hadn’t looked up. I helped the plates and she begun to eat. + +“Did you get a good piece of meat?” I says. “If you didn’t, I’ll try to +find you a better one.” + +She didn’t say anything. + +“I say, did you get a good piece of meat?” I says. + +“What?” she says. “Yes. It’s all right.” + +“Will you have some more rice?” I says. + +“No,” she says. + +“Better let me give you some more,” I says. + +“I dont want any more,” she says. + +“Not at all,” I says, “You’re welcome.” + +“Is your headache gone?” Mother says. + +“Headache?” I says. + +“I was afraid you were developing one,” she says. “When you came in this +afternoon.” + +“Oh,” I says. “No, it didn’t show up. We stayed so busy this afternoon I +forgot about it.” + +“Was that why you were late?” Mother says. I could see Quentin +listening. I looked at her. Her knife and fork were still going, but I +caught her looking at me, then she looked at her plate again. I says, + +“No. I loaned my car to a fellow about three o’clock and I had to wait +until he got back with it.” I ate for a while. + +“Who was it?” Mother says. + +“It was one of those show men,” I says. “It seems his sister’s husband +was out riding with some town woman, and he was chasing them.” + +Quentin sat perfectly still, chewing. + +“You ought not to lend your car to people like that,” Mother says. “You +are too generous with it. That’s why I never call on you for it if I can +help it.” + +“I was beginning to think that myself, for awhile,” I says. “But he got +back, all right. He says he found what he was looking for.” + +“Who was the woman?” Mother says. + +“I’ll tell you later,” I says. “I dont like to talk about such things +before Quentin.” + +Quentin had quit eating. Every once in a while she’d take a drink of +water, then she’d sit there crumbling a biscuit up, her face bent over +her plate. + +“Yes,” Mother says, “I suppose women who stay shut up like I do have no +idea what goes on in this town.” + +“Yes,” I says, “They dont.” + +“My life has been so different from that,” Mother says. “Thank God I +dont know about such wickedness. I dont even want to know about it. I’m +not like most people.” + +I didn’t say any more. Quentin sat there, crumbling the biscuit until I +quit eating, then she says, + +“Can I go now?” without looking at anybody. + +“What?” I says. “Sure, you can go. Were you waiting on us?” + +She looked at me. She had crumbled all the biscuit, but her hands still +went on like they were crumbling it yet and her eyes looked like they +were cornered or something and then she started biting her mouth like it +ought to have poisoned her, with all that red lead. + +“Grandmother,” she says, “Grandmother—” + +“Did you want something else to eat?” I says. + +“Why does he treat me like this, Grandmother?” she says. “I never hurt +him.” + +“I want you all to get along with one another,” Mother says, “You are +all that’s left now, and I do want you all to get along better.” + +“It’s his fault,” she says, “He wont let me alone, and I have to. If he +doesn’t want me here, why wont he let me go back to—” + +“That’s enough,” I says, “Not another word.” + +“Then why wont he let me alone?” she says. “He—he just—” + +“He is the nearest thing to a father you’ve ever had,” Mother says. +“It’s his bread you and I eat. It’s only right that he should expect +obedience from you.” + +“It’s his fault,” she says. She jumped up. “He makes me do it. If he +would just—” she looked at us, her eyes cornered, kind of jerking her +arms against her sides. + +“If I would just what?” I says. + +“Whatever I do, it’s your fault,” she says. “If I’m bad, it’s because I +had to be. You made me. I wish I was dead. I wish we were all dead.” +Then she ran. We heard her run up the stairs. Then a door slammed. + +“That’s the first sensible thing she ever said,” I says. + +“She didn’t go to school today,” Mother says. + +“How do you know?” I says. “Were you down town?” + +“I just know,” she says. “I wish you could be kinder to her.” + +“If I did that I’d have to arrange to see her more than once a day,” I +says. “You’ll have to make her come to the table every meal. Then I +could give her an extra piece of meat every time.” + +“There are little things you could do,” she says. + +“Like not paying any attention when you ask me to see that she goes to +school?” I says. + +“She didn’t go to school today,” she says. “I just know she didn’t. She +says she went for a car ride with one of the boys this afternoon and you +followed her.” + +“How could I,” I says, “When somebody had my car all afternoon? Whether +or not she was in school today is already past,” I says, “If you’ve got +to worry about it, worry about next Monday.” + +“I wanted you and she to get along with one another,” she says. “But she +has inherited all of the headstrong traits. Quentin’s too. I thought at +the time, with the heritage she would already have, to give her that +name, too. Sometimes I think she is the judgment of Caddy and Quentin +upon me.” + +“Good Lord,” I says, “You’ve got a fine mind. No wonder you kept +yourself sick all the time.” + +“What?” she says. “I dont understand.” + +“I hope not,” I says. “A good woman misses a lot she’s better off +without knowing.” + +“They were both that way,” she says, “They would make interest with your +father against me when I tried to correct them. He was always saying +they didn’t need controlling, that they already knew what cleanliness +and honesty were, which was all that anyone could hope to be taught. And +now I hope he’s satisfied.” + +“You’ve got Ben to depend on,” I says, “Cheer up.” + +“They deliberately shut me out of their lives,” she says, “It was always +her and Quentin. They were always conspiring against me. Against you +too, though you were too young to realise it. They always looked on you +and me as outsiders, like they did your Uncle Maury. I always told your +father that they were allowed too much freedom, to be together too much. +When Quentin started to school we had to let her go the next year, so +she could be with him. She couldn’t bear for any of you to do anything +she couldn’t. It was vanity in her, vanity and false pride. And then +when her troubles began I knew that Quentin would feel that he had to do +something just as bad. But I didn’t believe that he would have been so +selfish as to—I didn’t dream that he—” + +“Maybe he knew it was going to be a girl,” I says, “And that one more of +them would be more than he could stand.” + +“He could have controlled her,” she says. “He seemed to be the only +person she had any consideration for. But that is a part of the judgment +too, I suppose.” + +“Yes,” I says, “Too bad it wasn’t me instead of him. You’d be a lot +better off.” + +“You say things like that to hurt me,” she says. “I deserve it though. +When they began to sell the land to send Quentin to Harvard I told your +father that he must make an equal provision for you. Then when Herbert +offered to take you into the bank I said, Jason is provided for now, and +when all the expense began to pile up and I was forced to sell our +furniture and the rest of the pasture, I wrote her at once because I +said she will realise that she and Quentin have had their share and part +of Jason’s too and that it depends on her now to compensate him. I said +she will do that out of respect for her father. I believed that, then. +But I’m just a poor old woman; I was raised to believe that people would +deny themselves for their own flesh and blood. It’s my fault. You were +right to reproach me.” + +“Do you think I need any man’s help to stand on my feet?” I says, “Let +alone a woman that cant name the father of her own child.” + +“Jason,” she says. + +“All right,” I says. “I didn’t mean that. Of course not.” + +“If I believed that were possible, after all my suffering.” + +“Of course it’s not,” I says. “I didn’t mean it.” + +“I hope that at least is spared me,” she says. + +“Sure it is,” I says, “She’s too much like both of them to doubt that.” + +“I couldn’t bear that,” she says. + +“Then quit thinking about it,” I says. “Has she been worrying you any +more about getting out at night?” + +“No. I made her realise that it was for her own good and that she’d +thank me for it some day. She takes her books with her and studies after +I lock the door. I see the light on as late as eleven oclock some +nights.” + +“How do you know she’s studying?” I says. + +“I don’t know what else she’d do in there alone,” she says. “She never +did read any.” + +“No,” I says, “You wouldn’t know. And you can thank your stars for +that,” I says. Only what would be the use in saying it aloud. It would +just have her crying on me again. + +I heard her go up stairs. Then she called Quentin and Quentin says What? +through the door. “Goodnight,” Mother says. Then I heard the key in the +lock, and Mother went back to her room. + +When I finished my cigar and went up, the light was still on. I could +see the empty keyhole, but I couldn’t hear a sound. She studied quiet. +Maybe she learned that in school. I told Mother goodnight and went on to +my room and got the box out and counted it again. I could hear the Great +American Gelding snoring away like a planing mill. I read somewhere +they’d fix men that way to give them women’s voices. But maybe he didn’t +know what they’d done to him. I dont reckon he even knew what he had +been trying to do, or why Mr Burgess knocked him out with the fence +picket. And if they’d just sent him on to Jackson while he was under the +ether, he’d never have known the difference. But that would have been +too simple for a Compson to think of. Not half complex enough. Having to +wait to do it at all until he broke out and tried to run a little girl +down on the street with her own father looking at him. Well, like I say +they never started soon enough with their cutting, and they quit too +quick. I know at least two more that needed something like that, and one +of them not over a mile away, either. But then I dont reckon even that +would do any good. Like I say once a bitch always a bitch. And just let +me have twenty-four hours without any damn New York jew to advise me +what it’s going to do. I dont want to make a killing; save that to suck +in the smart gamblers with. I just want an even chance to get my money +back. And once I’ve done that they can bring all Beale Street and all +bedlam in here and two of them can sleep in my bed and another one can +have my place at the table too. + + + + + APRIL EIGHTH, 1928 + + +The day dawned bleak and chill, a moving wall of grey light out of the +northeast which, instead of dissolving into moisture, seemed to +disintegrate into minute and venomous particles, like dust that, when +Dilsey opened the door of the cabin and emerged, needled laterally into +her flesh, precipitating not so much a moisture as a substance partaking +of the quality of thin, not quite congealed oil. She wore a stiff black +straw hat perched upon her turban, and a maroon velvet cape with a +border of mangy and anonymous fur above a dress of purple silk, and she +stood in the door for awhile with her myriad and sunken face lifted to +the weather, and one gaunt hand flac-soled as the belly of a fish, then +she moved the cape aside and examined the bosom of her gown. + +The gown fell gauntly from her shoulders, across her fallen breasts, +then tightened upon her paunch and fell again, ballooning a little above +the nether garments which she would remove layer by layer as the spring +accomplished and the warm days, in colour regal and moribund. She had +been a big woman once but now her skeleton rose, draped loosely in +unpadded skin that tightened again upon a paunch almost dropsical, as +though muscle and tissue had been courage or fortitude which the days or +the years had consumed until only the indomitable skeleton was left +rising like a ruin or a landmark above the somnolent and impervious +guts, and above that the collapsed face that gave the impression of the +bones themselves being outside the flesh, lifted into the driving day +with an expression at once fatalistic and of a child’s astonished +disappointment, until she turned and entered the house again and closed +the door. + +The earth immediately about the door was bare. It had a patina, as +though from the soles of bare feet in generations, like old silver or +the walls of Mexican houses which have been plastered by hand. Beside +the house, shading it in summer, stood three mulberry trees, the fledged +leaves that would later be broad and placid as the palms of hands +streaming flatly undulant upon the driving air. A pair of jaybirds came +up from nowhere, whirled up on the blast like gaudy scraps of cloth or +paper and lodged in the mulberries, where they swung in raucous tilt and +recover, screaming into the wind that ripped their harsh cries onward +and away like scraps of paper or of cloth in turn. Then three more +joined them and they swung and tilted in the wrung branches for a time, +screaming. The door of the cabin opened and Dilsey emerged once more, +this time in a man’s felt hat and an army overcoat, beneath the frayed +skirts of which her blue gingham dress fell in uneven balloonings, +streaming too about her as she crossed the yard and mounted the steps to +the kitchen door. + +A moment later she emerged, carrying an open umbrella now, which she +slanted ahead into the wind, and crossed to the woodpile and laid the +umbrella down, still open. Immediately she caught at it and arrested it +and held to it for a while, looking about her. Then she closed it and +laid it down and stacked stovewood into her crooked arm, against her +breast, and picked up the umbrella and got it open at last and returned +to the steps and held the wood precariously balanced while she contrived +to close the umbrella, which she propped in the corner just within the +door. She dumped the wood into the box behind the stove. Then she +removed the overcoat and hat and took a soiled apron down from the wall +and put it on and built a fire in the stove. While she was doing so, +rattling the grate bars and clattering the lids, Mrs Compson began to +call her from the head of the stairs. + +She wore a dressing gown of quilted black satin, holding it close under +her chin. In the other hand she held a red rubber hot water bottle and +she stood at the head of the back stairway, calling “Dilsey” at steady +and inflectionless intervals into the quiet stairwell that descended +into complete darkness, then opened again where a grey window fell +across it. “Dilsey,” she called, without inflection or emphasis or +haste, as though she were not listening for a reply at all. “Dilsey.” + +Dilsey answered and ceased clattering the stove, but before she could +cross the kitchen Mrs Compson called her again, and before she crossed +the diningroom and brought her head into relief against the grey splash +of the window, still again. + +“All right,” Dilsey said, “All right, here I is. I’ll fill hit soon ez I +git some hot water.” She gathered up her skirts and mounted the stairs, +wholly blotting the grey light. “Put hit down dar en g’awn back to bed.” + +“I couldn’t understand what was the matter,” Mrs Compson said. “I’ve +been lying awake for an hour at least, without hearing a sound from the +kitchen.” + +“You put hit down and g’awn back to bed,” Dilsey said. She toiled +painfully up the steps, shapeless, breathing heavily. “I’ll have de fire +gwine in a minute, en de water hot in two mo.” + +“I’ve been lying there for an hour, at least,” Mrs Compson said. “I +thought maybe you were waiting for me to come down and start the fire.” + +Dilsey reached the top of the stairs and took the water bottle. “I’ll +fix hit in a minute,” she said. “Luster overslep dis mawnin, up half de +night at dat show. I gwine build de fire myself. Go on now, so you wont +wake de others twell I ready.” + +“If you permit Luster to do things that interfere with his work, you’ll +have to suffer for it yourself,” Mrs Compson said. “Jason wont like this +if he hears about it. You know he wont.” + +“Twusn’t none of Jason’s money he went on,” Dilsey said. “Dat’s one +thing sho.” She went on down the stairs. Mrs Compson returned to her +room. As she got into bed again she could hear Dilsey yet descending the +stairs with a sort of painful and terrific slowness that would have +become maddening had it not presently ceased beyond the flapping +diminishment of the pantry door. + +She entered the kitchen and built up the fire and began to prepare +breakfast. In the midst of this she ceased and went to the window and +looked out toward her cabin, then she went to the door and opened it and +shouted into the driving weather. + +“Luster!” she shouted, standing to listen, tilting her face from the +wind, “You, Luster?” She listened, then as she prepared to shout again +Luster appeared around the corner of the kitchen. + +“Ma’am?” he said innocently, so innocently that Dilsey looked down at +him, for a moment motionless, with something more than mere surprise. + +“Whar you at?” she said. + +“Nowhere,” he said. “Jes in de cellar.” + +“Whut you doin in de cellar?” she said. “Dont stand dar in de rain, +fool,” she said. + +“Aint doin nothin,” he said. He came up the steps. + +“Dont you dare come in dis do widout a armful of wood,” she said. “Here +I done had to tote yo wood en build yo fire bofe. Didn’t I tole you not +to leave dis place last night befo dat woodbox wus full to de top?” + +“I did,” Luster said, “I filled hit.” + +“Whar hit gone to, den?” + +“I dont know’m. I aint teched hit.” + +“Well, you git hit full up now,” she said. “And git on up den en see +bout Benjy.” + +She shut the door. Luster went to the woodpile. The five jaybirds +whirled over the house, screaming, and into the mulberries again. He +watched them. He picked up a rock and threw it. “Whoo,” he said, “Git on +back to hell, whar you belong at. ’Taint Monday yit.” + +He loaded himself mountainously with stove wood. He could not see over +it, and he staggered to the steps and up them and blundered crashing +against the door, shedding billets. Then Dilsey came and opened the door +for him and he blundered across the kitchen. “You, Luster!” she shouted, +but he had already hurled the wood into the box with a thunderous crash. +“Hah!” he said. + +“Is you tryin to wake up de whole house?” Dilsey said. She hit him on +the back of his head with the flat of her hand. “Go on up dar and git +Benjy dressed, now.” + +“Yessum,” he said. He went toward the outer door. + +“Whar you gwine?” Dilsey said. + +“I thought I better go round de house en in by de front, so I wont wake +up Miss Cahline en dem.” + +“You go on up dem backstairs like I tole you en git Benjy’s clothes on +him,” Dilsey said. “Go on, now.” + +“Yessum,” Luster said. He returned and left by the diningroom door. +After awhile it ceased to flap. Dilsey prepared to make biscuit. As she +ground the sifter steadily above the bread board, she sang, to herself +at first, something without particular tune or words, repetitive, +mournful and plaintive, austere, as she ground a faint, steady snowing +of flour onto the bread board. The stove had begun to heat the room and +to fill it with murmurous minors of the fire, and presently she was +singing louder, as if her voice too had been thawed out by the growing +warmth, and then Mrs Compson called her name again from within the +house. Dilsey raised her face as if her eyes could and did penetrate the +walls and ceiling and saw the old woman in her quilted dressing gown at +the head of the stairs, calling her name with machinelike regularity. + +“Oh, Lawd,” Dilsey said. She set the sifter down and swept up the hem of +her apron and wiped her hands and caught up the bottle from the chair on +which she had laid it and gathered her apron about the handle of the +kettle which was now jetting faintly. “Jes a minute,” she called, “De +water jes dis minute got hot.” + +It was not the bottle which Mrs Compson wanted, however, and clutching +it by the neck like a dead hen Dilsey went to the foot of the stairs and +looked upward. + +“Aint Luster up dar wid him?” she said. + +“Luster hasn’t been in the house. I’ve been lying here listening for +him. I knew he would be late, but I did hope he’d come in time to keep +Benjamin from disturbing Jason on Jason’s one day in the week to sleep +in the morning.” + +“I dont see how you expect anybody to sleep, wid you standin in de hall, +holl’in at folks fum de crack of dawn,” Dilsey said. She began to mount +the stairs, toiling heavily. “I sont dat boy up dar half hour ago.” + +Mrs Compson watched her, holding the dressing gown under her chin. “What +are you going to do?” she said. + +“Gwine git Benjy dressed en bring him down to de kitchen, whar he wont +wake Jason en Quentin,” Dilsey said. + +“Haven’t you started breakfast yet?” + +“I’ll tend to dat too,” Dilsey said. “You better git back in bed twell +Luster make yo fire. Hit cold dis mawnin.” + +“I know it,” Mrs Compson said. “My feet are like ice. They were so cold +they waked me up.” She watched Dilsey mount the stairs. It took her a +long while. “You know how it frets Jason when breakfast is late,” Mrs +Compson said. + +“I cant do but one thing at a time,” Dilsey said. “You git on back to +bed, fo I has you on my hands dis mawnin too.” + +“If you’re going to drop everything to dress Benjamin, I’d better come +down and get breakfast. You know as well as I do how Jason acts when +it’s late.” + +“En who gwine eat yo messin?” Dilsey said. “Tell me dat. Go on now,” she +said, toiling upward. Mrs Compson stood watching her as she mounted, +steadying herself against the wall with one hand, holding her skirts up +with the other. + +“Are you going to wake him up just to dress him?” she said. + +Dilsey stopped. With her foot lifted to the next step she stood there, +her hand against the wall and the grey splash of the window behind her, +motionless and shapeless she loomed. + +“He aint awake den?” she said. + +“He wasn’t when I looked in,” Mrs Compson said. “But it’s past his time. +He never does sleep after half past seven. You know he doesn’t.” + +Dilsey said nothing. She made no further move, but though she could not +see her save as a blobby shape without depth, Mrs Compson knew that she +had lowered her face a little and that she stood now like a cow in the +rain, as she held the empty water bottle by its neck. + +“You’re not the one who has to bear it,” Mrs Compson said. “It’s not +your responsibility. You can go away. You dont have to bear the brunt of +it day in and day out. You owe nothing to them, to Mr Compson’s memory. +I know you have never had any tenderness for Jason. You’ve never tried +to conceal it.” + +Dilsey said nothing. She turned slowly and descended, lowering her body +from step to step, as a small child does, her hand against the wall. +“You go on and let him alone,” she said. “Dont go in dar no mo, now. +I’ll send Luster up soon as I find him. Let him alone, now.” + +She returned to the kitchen. She looked into the stove, then she drew +her apron over her head and donned the overcoat and opened the outer +door and looked up and down the yard. The weather drove upon her flesh, +harsh and minute, but the scene was empty of all else that moved. She +descended the steps, gingerly, as if for silence, and went around the +corner of the kitchen. As she did so Luster emerged quickly and +innocently from the cellar door. + +Dilsey stopped. “Whut you up to?” she said. + +“Nothin,” Luster said, “Mr Jason say fer me to find out whar dat water +leak in de cellar fum.” + +“En when wus hit he say fer you to do dat?” Dilsey said. “Last New +Year’s day, wasn’t hit?” + +“I thought I jes be lookin whiles dey sleep,” Luster said. Dilsey went +to the cellar door. He stood aside and she peered down into the +obscurity odorous of dank earth and mould and rubber. + +“Huh,” Dilsey said. She looked at Luster again. He met her gaze blandly, +innocent and open. “I dont know whut you up to, but you aint got no +business doin hit. You jes tryin me too dis mawnin cause de others is, +aint you? You git on up dar en see to Benjy, you hear?” + +“Yessum,” Luster said. He went on toward the kitchen steps, swiftly. + +“Here,” Dilsey said, “You git me another armful of wood while I got +you.” + +“Yessum,” he said. He passed her on the steps and went to the woodpile. +When he blundered again at the door a moment later, again invisible and +blind within and beyond his wooden avatar, Dilsey opened the door and +guided him across the kitchen with a firm hand. + +“Jes thow hit at dat box again,” she said, “Jes thow hit.” + +“I got to,” Luster said, panting, “I cant put hit down no other way.” + +“Den you stand dar en hold hit a while,” Dilsey said. She unloaded him a +stick at a time. “Whut got into you dis mawnin? Here I sont you fer wood +en you aint never brought mo’n six sticks at a time to save yo life +twell today. Whut you fixin to ax me kin you do now? Aint dat show lef +town yit?” + +“Yessum. Hit done gone.” + +She put the last stick into the box. “Now you go on up dar wid Benjy, +like I tole you befo,” she said. “And I dont want nobody else yellin +down dem stairs at me twell I rings de bell. You hear me.” + +“Yessum,” Luster said. He vanished through the swing door. Dilsey put +some more wood in the stove and returned to the bread board. Presently +she began to sing again. + +The room grew warmer. Soon Dilsey’s skin had taken on a rich, lustrous +quality as compared with that as of a faint dusting of wood ashes which +both it and Luster’s had worn, as she moved about the kitchen, gathering +about her the raw materials of food, coordinating the meal. On the wall +above a cupboard, invisible save at night, by lamp light and even then +evincing an enigmatic profundity because it had but one hand, a cabinet +clock ticked, then with a preliminary sound as if it had cleared its +throat, struck five times. + +“Eight oclock,” Dilsey said. She ceased and tilted her head upward, +listening. But there was no sound save the clock and the fire. She +opened the oven and looked at the pan of bread, then stooping she paused +while someone descended the stairs. She heard the feet cross the +diningroom, then the swing door opened and Luster entered, followed by a +big man who appeared to have been shaped of some substance whose +particles would not or did not cohere to one another or to the frame +which supported it. His skin was dead looking and hairless; dropsical +too, he moved with a shambling gait like a trained bear. His hair was +pale and fine. It had been brushed smoothly down upon his brow like that +of children in daguerreotypes. His eyes were clear, of the pale sweet +blue of cornflowers, his thick mouth hung open, drooling a little. + +“Is he cold?” Dilsey said. She wiped her hands on her apron and touched +his hand. + +“Ef he aint, I is,” Luster said. “Always cold Easter. Aint never seen +hit fail. Miss Cahline say ef you aint got time to fix her hot water +bottle to never mind about hit.” + +“Oh, Lawd,” Dilsey said. She drew a chair into the corner between the +woodbox and the stove. The man went obediently and sat in it. “Look in +de dinin room and see whar I laid dat bottle down,” Dilsey said. Luster +fetched the bottle from the diningroom and Dilsey filled it and give it +to him. “Hurry up, now,” she said. “See ef Jason wake now. Tell em hit’s +all ready.” + +Luster went out. Ben sat beside the stove. He sat loosely, utterly +motionless save for his head, which made a continual bobbing sort of +movement as he watched Dilsey with his sweet vague gaze as she moved +about. Luster returned. + +“He up,” he said, “Miss Cahline say put hit on de table.” He came to the +stove and spread his hands palm down above the firebox. “He up, too,” He +said, “Gwine hit wid bofe feet dis mawnin.” + +“Whut’s de matter now?” Dilsey said. “Git away fum dar. How kin I do +anything wid you standin over de stove?” + +“I cold,” Luster said. + +“You ought to thought about dat whiles you wus down dar in dat cellar,” +Dilsey said. “Whut de matter wid Jason?” + +“Sayin me en Benjy broke dat winder in his room.” + +“Is dey one broke?” Dilsey said. + +“Dat’s whut he sayin,” Luster said. “Say I broke hit.” + +“How could you, when he keep hit locked all day en night?” + +“Say I broke hit chunkin rocks at hit,” Luster said. + +“En did you?” + +“Nome,” Luster said. + +“Dont lie to me, boy,” Dilsey said. + +“I never done hit,” Luster said. “Ask Benjy ef I did. I aint stud’in dat +winder.” + +“Who could a broke hit, den?” Dilsey said. “He jes tryin hisself, to +wake Quentin up,” she said, taking the pan of biscuits out of the stove. + +“Reckin so,” Luster said. “Dese is funny folks. Glad I aint none of em.” + +“Aint none of who?” Dilsey said. “Lemme tell you somethin, nigger boy, +you got jes es much Compson devilment in you es any of em. Is you right +sho you never broke dat window?” + +“Whut I want to break hit fur?” + +“Whut you do any of yo devilment fur?” Dilsey said. “Watch him now, so +he cant burn his hand again twell I git de table set.” + +She went to the diningroom, where they heard her moving about, then she +returned and set a plate at the kitchen table and set food there. Ben +watched her, slobbering, making a faint, eager sound. + +“All right, honey,” she said, “Here yo breakfast. Bring his chair, +Luster.” Luster moved the chair up and Ben sat down, whimpering and +slobbering. Dilsey tied a cloth about his neck and wiped his mouth with +the end of it. “And see kin you kep fum messin up his clothes one time,” +she said, handing Luster a spoon. + +Ben ceased whimpering. He watched the spoon as it rose to his mouth. It +was as if even eagerness were muscle-bound in him too, and hunger itself +inarticulate, not knowing it is hunger. Luster fed him with skill and +detachment. Now and then his attention would return long enough to +enable him to feint the spoon and cause Ben to close his mouth upon the +empty air, but it was apparent that Luster’s mind was elsewhere. His +other hand lay on the back of the chair and upon that dead surface it +moved tentatively, delicately, as if he were picking an inaudible tune +out of the dead void, and once he even forgot to tease Ben with the +spoon while his fingers teased out of the slain wood a soundless and +involved arpeggio until Ben recalled him by whimpering again. + +In the diningroom Dilsey moved back and forth. Presently she rang a +small clear bell, then in the kitchen Luster heard Mrs Compson and Jason +descending, and Jason’s voice, and he rolled his eyes whitely with +listening. + +“Sure, I know they didn’t break it,” Jason said. “Sure, I know that. +Maybe the change of weather broke it.” + +“I dont see how it could have,” Mrs Compson said. “Your room stays +locked all day long, just as you leave it when you go to town. None of +us ever go in there except Sunday, to clean it. I dont want you to think +that I would go where I’m not wanted, or that I would permit anyone else +to.” + +“I never said you broke it, did I?” Jason said. + +“I dont want to go in your room,” Mrs Compson said. “I respect anybody’s +private affairs. I wouldn’t put my foot over the threshold, even if I +had a key.” + +“Yes,” Jason said, “I know your keys wont fit. That’s why I had the lock +changed. What I want to know is, how that window got broken.” + +“Luster say he didn’t do hit,” Dilsey said. + +“I knew that without asking him,” Jason said. “Where’s Quentin?” he +said. + +“Where she is ev’y Sunday mawnin,” Dilsey said. “Whut got into you de +last few days, anyhow?” + +“Well, we’re going to change all that,” Jason said. “Go up and tell her +breakfast is ready.” + +“You leave her alone now, Jason,” Dilsey said. “She gits up fer +breakfast ev’y week mawnin, en Cahline lets her stay in bed ev’y Sunday. +You knows dat.” + +“I cant keep a kitchen full of niggers to wait on her pleasure, much as +I’d like to,” Jason said. “Go and tell her to come down to breakfast.” + +“Aint nobody have to wait on her,” Dilsey said. “I puts her breakfast in +de warmer en she—” + +“Did you hear me?” Jason said. + +“I hears you,” Dilsey said. “All I been hearin, when you in de house. Ef +hit aint Quentin er yo maw, hit’s Luster en Benjy. Whut you let him go +on dat way fer, Miss Cahline?” + +“You’d better do as he says,” Mrs Compson said, “He’s head of the house +now. It’s his right to require us to respect his wishes. I try to do it, +and if I can, you can too.” + +“’Taint no sense in him bein so bad tempered he got to make Quentin git +up jes to suit him,” Dilsey said. “Maybe you think she broke dat +window.” + +“She would, if she happened to think of it,” Jason said. “You go and do +what I told you.” + +“En I wouldn’t blame her none ef she did,” Dilsey said, going toward the +stairs. “Wid you naggin at her all de blessed time you in de house.” + +“Hush, Dilsey,” Mrs Compson said, “It’s neither your place nor mine to +tell Jason what to do. Sometimes I think he is wrong, but I try to obey +his wishes for you alls’ sakes. If I’m strong enough to come to the +table, Quentin can too.” + +Dilsey went out. They heard her mounting the stairs. They heard her a +long while on the stairs. + +“You’ve got a prize set of servants,” Jason said. He helped his mother +and himself to food. “Did you ever have one that was worth killing? You +must have had some before I was big enough to remember.” + +“I have to humour them,” Mrs Compson said. “I have to depend on them so +completely. It’s not as if I were strong. I wish I were. I wish I could +do all the house work myself. I could at least take that much off your +shoulders.” + +“And a fine pigsty we’d live in, too,” Jason said. “Hurry up, Dilsey,” +he shouted. + +“I know you blame me,” Mrs Compson said, “for letting them off to go to +church today.” + +“Go where?” Jason said. “Hasn’t that damn show left yet?” + +“To church,” Mrs Compson said. “The darkies are having a special Easter +service. I promised Dilsey two weeks ago that they could get off.” + +“Which means we’ll eat cold dinner,” Jason said, “or none at all.” + +“I know it’s my fault,” Mrs Compson said. “I know you blame me.” + +“For what?” Jason said. “You never resurrected Christ, did you?” + +They heard Dilsey mount the final stair, then her slow feet overhead. + +“Quentin,” she said. When she called the first time Jason laid his knife +and fork down and he and his mother appeared to wait across the table +from one another, in identical attitudes; the one cold and shrewd, with +close-thatched brown hair curled into two stubborn hooks, one on either +side of his forehead like a bartender in caricature, and hazel eyes with +black-ringed irises like marbles, the other cold and querulous, with +perfectly white hair and eyes pouched and baffled and so dark as to +appear to be all pupil or all iris. + +“Quentin,” Dilsey said, “Get up, honey. Dey waitin breakfast on you.” + +“I cant understand how that window got broken,” Mrs Compson said. “Are +you sure it was done yesterday? It could have been like that a long +time, with the warm weather. The upper sash, behind the shade like +that.” + +“I’ve told you for the last time that it happened yesterday,” Jason +said. “Dont you reckon I know the room I live in? Do you reckon I could +have lived in it a week with a hole in the window you could stick your +hand—” his voice ceased, ebbed, left him staring at his mother with +eyes that for an instant were quite empty of anything. It was as though +his eyes were holding their breath, while his mother looked at him, her +face flaccid and querulous, interminable, clairvoyant yet obtuse. As +they sat so Dilsey said, + +“Quentin. Dont play wid me, honey. Come on to breakfast, honey. Dey +waitin fer you.” + +“I cant understand it,” Mrs Compson said, “It’s just as if somebody had +tried to break into the house—” Jason sprang up. His chair crashed over +backward. “What—” Mrs Compson said, staring at him as he ran past her +and went jumping up the stairs, where he met Dilsey. His face was now in +shadow, and Dilsey said, + +“She sullin. Yo ma aint unlocked—” But Jason ran on past her and along +the corridor to a door. He didn’t call. He grasped the knob and tried +it, then he stood with the knob in his hand and his head bent a little, +as if he were listening to something much further away than the +dimensioned room beyond the door, and which he already heard. His +attitude was that of one who goes through the motions of listening in +order to deceive himself as to what he already hears. Behind him Mrs +Compson mounted the stairs, calling his name. Then she saw Dilsey and +she quit calling him and began to call Dilsey instead. + +“I told you she aint unlocked dat do’ yit,” Dilsey said. + +When she spoke he turned and ran toward her, but his voice was quiet, +matter of fact. “She carry the key with her?” he said. “Has she got it +now, I mean, or will she have—” + +“Dilsey,” Mrs Compson said on the stairs. + +“Is which?” Dilsey said. “Whyn’t you let—” + +“The key,” Jason said, “To that room. Does she carry it with her all the +time. Mother.” Then he saw Mrs Compson and he went down the stairs and +met her. “Give me the key,” he said. He fell to pawing at the pockets of +the rusty black dressing sacque she wore. She resisted. + +“Jason,” she said, “Jason! Are you and Dilsey trying to put me to bed +again?” she said, trying to fend him off, “Cant you even let me have +Sunday in peace?” + +“The key,” Jason said, pawing at her, “Give it here.” He looked back at +the door, as if he expected it to fly open before he could get back to +it with the key he did not yet have. + +“You, Dilsey!” Mrs Compson said, clutching her sacque about her. + +“Give me the key, you old fool!” Jason cried suddenly. From her pocket +he tugged a huge bunch of rusted keys on an iron ring like a mediaeval +jailer’s and ran back up the hall with the two women behind him. + +“You, Jason!” Mrs Compson said. “He will never find the right one,” she +said, “You know I never let anyone take my keys, Dilsey,” she said. She +began to wail. + +“Hush,” Dilsey said, “He aint gwine do nothin to her. I aint gwine let +him.” + +“But on Sunday morning, in my own house,” Mrs Compson said, “When I’ve +tried so hard to raise them Christians. Let me find the right key, +Jason,” she said. She put her hand on his arm. Then she began to +struggle with him, but he flung her aside with a motion of his elbow and +looked around at her for a moment, his eyes cold and harried, then he +turned to the door again and the unwieldy keys. + +“Hush,” Dilsey said, “You, Jason!” + +“Something terrible has happened,” Mrs Compson said, wailing again, “I +know it has. You, Jason,” she said, grasping at him again. “He wont even +let me find the key to a room in my own house!” + +“Now, now,” Dilsey said, “Whut kin happen? I right here. I aint gwine +let him hurt her. Quentin,” she said, raising her voice, “dont you be +skeered, honey, I’se right here.” + +The door opened, swung inward. He stood in it for a moment, hiding the +room, then he stepped aside. “Go in,” he said in a thick, light voice. +They went in. It was not a girl’s room. It was not anybody’s room, and +the faint scent of cheap cosmetics and the few feminine objects and the +other evidences of crude and hopeless efforts to feminize it but added +to its anonymity, giving it that dead and stereotyped transience of +rooms in assignation houses. The bed had not been disturbed. On the +floor lay a soiled undergarment of cheap silk a little too pink; from a +half open bureau drawer dangled a single stocking. The window was open. +A pear tree grew there, close against the house. It was in bloom and the +branches scraped and rasped against the house and the myriad air, +driving in the window, brought into the room the forlorn scent of the +blossoms. + +“Dar now,” Dilsey said, “Didn’t I told you she all right?” + +“All right?” Mrs Compson said. Dilsey followed her into the room and +touched her. + +“You come on and lay down, now,” she said. “I find her in ten minutes.” + +Mrs Compson shook her off. “Find the note,” she said. “Quentin left a +note when he did it.” + +“All right,” Dilsey said, “I’ll find hit. You come on to yo room, now.” + +“I knew the minute they named her Quentin this would happen,” Mrs +Compson said. She went to the bureau and began to turn over the +scattered objects there—scent bottles, a box of powder, a chewed +pencil, a pair of scissors with one broken blade lying upon a darned +scarf dusted with powder and stained with rouge. “Find the note,” she +said. + +“I is,” Dilsey said. “You come on, now. Me and Jason’ll find hit. You +come on to yo room.” + +“Jason,” Mrs Compson said, “Where is he?” She went to the door. Dilsey +followed her on down the hall, to another door. It was closed. “Jason,” +she called through the door. There was no answer. She tried the knob, +then she called him again. But there was still no answer, for he was +hurling things backward out of the closet: garments, shoes, a suitcase. +Then he emerged carrying a sawn section of tongue-and-groove planking +and laid it down and entered the closet again and emerged with a metal +box. He set it on the bed and stood looking at the broken lock while he +dug a key ring from his pocket and selected a key, and for a time longer +he stood with the selected key in his hand, looking at the broken lock, +then he put the keys back in his pocket and carefully tilted the +contents of the box out upon the bed. Still carefully he sorted the +papers, taking them up one at a time and shaking them. Then he upended +the box and shook it too and slowly replaced the papers and stood again, +looking at the broken lock, with the box in his hands and his head bent. +Outside the window he heard some jaybirds swirl shrieking past, and +away, their cries whipping away along the wind, and an automobile passed +somewhere and died away also. His mother spoke his name again beyond the +door, but he didn’t move. He heard Dilsey lead her away up the hall, and +then a door closed. Then he replaced the box in the closet and flung the +garments back into it and went down stairs to the telephone. While he +stood there with the receiver to his ear, waiting, Dilsey came down the +stairs. She looked at him, without stopping, and went on. + +The wire opened. “This is Jason Compson,” he said, his voice so harsh +and thick that he had to repeat himself. “Jason Compson,” he said, +controlling his voice. “Have a car ready, with a deputy, if you cant go, +in ten minutes. I’ll be there—What?—Robbery. My house. I know who +it—Robbery, I say. Have a car read—What? Aren’t you a paid law +enforcement—Yes, I’ll be there in five minutes. Have that car ready to +leave at once. If you dont, I’ll report it to the governor.” + +He clapped the receiver back and crossed the diningroom, where the +scarce-broken meal now lay cold on the table, and entered the kitchen. +Dilsey was filling the hot water bottle. Ben sat, tranquil and empty. +Beside him Luster looked like a fice dog, brightly watchful. He was +eating something. Jason went on across the kitchen. + +“Aint you going to eat no breakfast?” Dilsey said. He paid her no +attention. “Go on and eat yo breakfast, Jason.” He went on. The outer +door banged behind him. Luster rose and went to the window and looked +out. + +“Whoo,” he said, “Whut happenin up dar? He been beatin’ Miss Quentin?” + +“You hush yo mouf,” Dilsey said. “You git Benjy started now en I beat yo +head off. You keep him quiet es you kin twell I get back, now.” She +screwed the cap on the bottle and went out. They heard her go up the +stairs, then they heard Jason pass the house in his car. Then there was +no sound in the kitchen save the simmering murmur of the kettle and the +clock. + +“You know whut I bet?” Luster said. “I bet he beat her. I bet he knock +her in de head en now he gone fer de doctor. Dat’s whut I bet.” The +clock tick-tocked, solemn and profound. It might have been the dry pulse +of the decaying house itself; after a while it whirred and cleared its +throat and struck six times. Ben looked up at it, then he looked at the +bullet-like silhouette of Luster’s head in the window and he begun to +bob his head again, drooling. He whimpered. + +“Hush up, loony,” Luster said without turning. “Look like we aint gwine +git to go to no church today.” But Ben sat in the chair, his big soft +hands dangling between his knees, moaning faintly. Suddenly he wept, a +slow bellowing sound, meaningless and sustained. “Hush,” Luster said. He +turned and lifted his hand. “You want me to whup you?” But Ben looked at +him, bellowing slowly with each expiration. Luster came and shook him. +“You hush dis minute!” he shouted. “Here,” he said. He hauled Ben out of +the chair and dragged the chair around facing the stove and opened the +door to the firebox and shoved Ben into the chair. They looked like a +tug nudging at a clumsy tanker in a narrow dock. Ben sat down again +facing the rosy door. He hushed. Then they heard the clock again, and +Dilsey slow on the stairs. When she entered he began to whimper again. +Then he lifted his voice. + +“Whut you done to him?” Dilsey said. “Why cant you let him lone dis +mawnin, of all times?” + +“I aint doin nothin to him,” Luster said. “Mr Jason skeered him, dat’s +whut hit is. He aint kilt Miss Quentin, is he?” + +“Hush, Benjy,” Dilsey said. He hushed. She went to the window and looked +out. “Is it quit rainin?” she said. + +“Yessum,” Luster said. “Quit long time ago.” + +“Den y’all go out do’s awhile,” she said. “I jes got Miss Cahline quiet +now.” + +“Is we gwine to church?” Luster said. + +“I let you know bout dat when de time come. You keep him away fum de +house twell I calls you.” + +“Kin we go to de pastuh?” Luster said. + +“All right. Only you keep him away fum de house. I done stood all I +kin.” + +“Yessum,” Luster said. “Whar Mr Jason gone, mammy?” + +“Dat’s some mo of yo business, aint it?” Dilsey said. She began to clear +the table. “Hush, Benjy. Luster gwine take you out to play.” + +“Whut he done to Miss Quentin, mammy?” Luster said. + +“Aint done nothin to her. You all git on outen here?” + +“I bet she aint here,” Luster said. + +Dilsey looked at him. “How you know she aint here?” + +“Me and Benjy seed her clamb out de window last night. Didn’t us, +Benjy?” + +“You did?” Dilsey said, looking at him. + +“We sees her doin hit ev’y night,” Luster said, “Clamb right down dat +pear tree.” + +“Dont you lie to me, nigger boy,” Dilsey said. + +“I aint lyin. Ask Benjy ef I is.” + +“Whyn’t you say somethin about it, den?” + +“’Twarn’t none o my business,” Luster said. “I aint gwine git mixed up +in white folks’ business. Come on here, Benjy, les go out do’s.” + +They went out. Dilsey stood for awhile at the table, then she went and +cleared the breakfast things from the diningroom and ate her breakfast +and cleaned up the kitchen. Then she removed her apron and hung it up +and went to the foot of the stairs and listened for a moment. There was +no sound. She donned the overcoat and the hat and went across to her +cabin. + +The rain had stopped. The air now drove out of the southeast, broken +overhead into blue patches. Upon the crest of a hill beyond the trees +and roofs and spires of town sunlight lay like a pale scrap of cloth, +was blotted away. Upon the air a bell came, then as if at a signal, +other bells took up the sound and repeated it. + +The cabin door opened and Dilsey emerged, again in the maroon cape and +the purple gown, and wearing soiled white elbow-length gloves and minus +her headcloth now. She came into the yard and called Luster. She waited +awhile, then she went to the house and around it to the cellar door, +moving close to the wall, and looked into the door. Ben sat on the +steps. Before him Luster squatted on the damp floor. He held a saw in +his left hand, the blade sprung a little by pressure of his hand, and he +was in the act of striking the blade with the worn wooden mallet with +which she had been making beaten biscuit for more than thirty years. The +saw gave forth a single sluggish twang that ceased with lifeless +alacrity, leaving the blade in a thin clean curve between Luster’s hand +and the floor. Still, inscrutable, it bellied. + +“Dat’s de way he done hit,” Luster said. “I jes aint foun de right thing +to hit it wid.” + +“Dat’s whut you doin, is it?” Dilsey said. “Bring me dat mallet,” she +said. + +“I aint hurt hit,” Luster said. + +“Bring hit here,” Dilsey said. “Put dat saw whar you got hit first.” + +He put the saw away and brought the mallet to her. Then Ben wailed +again, hopeless and prolonged. It was nothing. Just sound. It might have +been all time and injustice and sorrow become vocal for an instant by a +conjunction of planets. + +“Listen at him,” Luster said, “He been gwine on dat way ev’y since you +sont us outen de house. I dont know whut got in to him dis mawnin.” + +“Bring him here,” Dilsey said. + +“Come on, Benjy,” Luster said. He went back down the steps and took +Ben’s arm. He came obediently, wailing, that slow hoarse sound that +ships make, that seems to begin before the sound itself has started, +seems to cease before the sound itself has stopped. + +“Run and git his cap,” Dilsey said. “Dont make no noise Miss Cahline kin +hear. Hurry, now. We already late.” + +“She gwine hear him anyhow, ef you dont stop him.” Luster said. + +“He stop when we git off de place,” Dilsey said. “He smellin hit. Dat’s +whut hit is.” + +“Smell whut, mammy?” Luster said. + +“You go git dat cap,” Dilsey said. Luster went on. They stood in the +cellar door, Ben one step below her. The sky was broken now into +scudding patches that dragged their swift shadows up out of the shabby +garden, over the broken fence and across the yard. Dilsey stroked Ben’s +head, slowly and steadily, smoothing the bang upon his brow. He wailed +quietly, unhurriedly. “Hush,” Dilsey said, “Hush, now. We be gone in a +minute. Hush, now.” He wailed quietly and steadily. + +Luster returned, wearing a stiff new straw hat with a coloured band and +carrying a cloth cap. The hat seemed to isolate Luster’s skull, in the +beholder’s eye as a spotlight would, in all its individual planes and +angles. So peculiarly individual was its shape that at first glance the +hat appeared to be on the head of someone standing immediately behind +Luster. Dilsey looked at the hat. + +“Whyn’t you wear yo old hat?” she said. + +“Couldn’t find hit,” Luster said. + +“I bet you couldn’t. I bet you fixed hit last night so you couldn’t find +hit. You fixin to ruin dat un.” + +“Aw, mammy,” Luster said, “Hit aint gwine rain.” + +“How you know? You go git dat old hat en put dat new un away.” + +“Aw, mammy.” + +“Den you go git de umbreller.” + +“Aw, mammy.” + +“Take yo choice,” Dilsey said. “Git yo old hat, er de umbreller. I dont +keer which.” + +Luster went to the cabin. Ben wailed quietly. + +“Come on,” Dilsey said, “Dey kin ketch up wid us. We gwine to hear de +singin.” They went around the house, toward the gate. “Hush,” Dilsey +said from time to time as they went down the drive. They reached the +gate. Dilsey opened it. Luster was coming down the drive behind them, +carrying the umbrella. A woman was with him. “Here dey come,” Dilsey +said. They passed out the gate. “Now, den,” she said. Ben ceased. Luster +and his mother overtook them. Frony wore a dress of bright blue silk and +a flowered hat. She was a thin woman, with a flat, pleasant face. + +“You got six weeks’ work right dar on yo back,” Dilsey said. “Whut you +gwine do ef hit rain?” + +“Git wet, I reckon,” Frony said. “I aint never stopped no rain yit.” + +“Mammy always talkin bout hit gwine rain,” Luster said. + +“Ef I dont worry bout y’all, I dont know who is,” Dilsey said. “Come on, +we already late.” + +“Rev’un Shegog gwine preach today,” Frony said. + +“Is?” Dilsey said. “Who him?” + +“He fum Saint Looey,” Frony said. “Dat big preacher.” + +“Huh,” Dilsey said, “Whut dey needs is a man kin put de fear of God into +dese here triflin young niggers.” + +“Rev’un Shegog gwine preach today,” Frony said. “So dey tells.” + +They went on along the street. Along its quiet length white people in +bright clumps moved churchward, under the windy bells, walking now and +then in the random and tentative sun. The wind was gusty, out of the +southeast, chill and raw after the warm days. + +“I wish you wouldn’t keep on bringin him to church, mammy,” Frony said. +“Folks talkin.” + +“Whut folks?” Dilsey said. + +“I hears em,” Frony said. + +“And I knows whut kind of folks,” Dilsey said, “Trash white folks. Dat’s +who it is. Thinks he aint good enough fer white church, but nigger +church aint good enough fer him.” + +“Dey talks, jes de same,” Frony said. + +“Den you send um to me,” Dilsey said. “Tell um de good Lawd dont keer +whether he smart er not. Dont nobody but white trash keer dat.” + +A street turned oil at right angles, descending, and became a dirt road. +On either hand the land dropped more sharply; a broad flat dotted with +small cabins whose weathered roofs were on a level with the crown of the +road. They were set in small grassless plots littered with broken +things, bricks, planks, crockery, things of a once utilitarian value. +What growth there was consisted of rank weeds and the trees were +mulberries and locusts and sycamores—trees that partook also of the +foul desiccation which surrounded the houses; trees whose very +burgeoning seemed to be the sad and stubborn remnant of September, as if +even spring had passed them by, leaving them to feed upon the rich and +unmistakable smell of negroes in which they grew. + +From the doors negroes spoke to them as they passed, to Dilsey usually: + +“Sis’ Gibson! How you dis mawnin?” + +“I’m well. Is you well?” + +“I’m right well, I thank you.” + +They emerged from the cabins and struggled up the shading levee to the +road-men in staid, hard brown or black, with gold watch chains and now +and then a stick; young men in cheap violent blues or stripes and +swaggering hats; women a little stiffly sibilant, and children in +garments bought second hand of white people, who looked at Ben with the +covertness of nocturnal animals: + +“I bet you wont go up en tech him.” + +“How come I wont?” + +“I bet you wont. I bet you skeered to.” + +“He wont hurt folks. He des a loony.” + +“How come a loony wont hurt folks?” + +“Dat un wont. I teched him.” + +“I bet you wont now.” + +“Case Miss Dilsey lookin.” + +“You wont no ways.” + +“He dont hurt folks. He des a loony.” + +And steadily the older people speaking to Dilsey, though, unless they +were quite old, Dilsey permitted Frony to respond. + +“Mammy aint feelin well dis mawnin.” + +“Dat’s too bad. But Rev’un Shegog’ll cure dat. He’ll give her de comfort +en de unburdenin.” + +The road rose again, to a scene like a painted backdrop. Notched into a +cut of red clay crowned with oaks the road appeared to stop short off, +like a cut ribbon. Beside it a weathered church lifted its crazy steeple +like a painted church, and the whole scene was as flat and without +perspective as a painted cardboard set upon the ultimate edge of the +flat earth, against the windy sunlight of space and April and a +midmorning filled with bells. Toward the church they thronged with slow +sabbath deliberation. The women and children went on in, the men stopped +outside and talked in quiet groups until the bell ceased ringing. Then +they too entered. + +The church had been decorated, with sparse flowers from kitchen gardens +and hedgerows, and with streamers of coloured crepe paper. Above the +pulpit hung a battered Christmas bell, the accordian sort that +collapses. The pulpit was empty, though the choir was already in place, +fanning themselves although it was not warm. + +Most of the women were gathered on one side of the room. They were +talking. Then the bell struck one time and they dispersed to their seats +and the congregation sat for an instant, expectant. The bell struck +again one time. The choir rose and began to sing and the congregation +turned its head as one, as six small children—four girls with tight +pigtails bound with small scraps of cloth like butterflies, and two boys +with close napped heads,—entered and marched up the aisle, strung +together in a harness of white ribbons and flowers, and followed by two +men in single file. The second man was huge, of a light coffee colour, +imposing in a frock coat and white tie. His head was magisterial and +profound, his neck rolled above his collar in rich folds. But he was +familiar to them, and so the heads were still reverted when he had +passed, and it was not until the choir ceased singing that they realised +that the visiting clergyman had already entered, and when they saw the +man who had preceded their minister enter the pulpit still ahead of him +an indescribable sound went up, a sigh, a sound of astonishment and +disappointment. + +The visitor was undersized, in a shabby alpaca coat. He had a wizened +black face like a small, aged monkey. And all the while that the choir +sang again and while the six children rose and sang in thin, frightened, +tuneless whispers, they watched the insignificant looking man sitting +dwarfed and countrified by the minister’s imposing bulk, with something +like consternation. They were still looking at him with consternation +and unbelief when the minister rose and introduced him in rich, rolling +tones whose very unction served to increase the visitor’s +insignificance. + +“En dey brung dat all de way fum Saint Looey,” Frony whispered. + +“I’ve knowed de Lawd to use cuiser tools dan dat,” Dilsey said. “Hush, +now,” she said to Ben, “Dey fixin to sing again in a minute.” + +When the visitor rose to speak he sounded like a white man. His voice +was level and cold. It sounded too big to have come from him and they +listened at first through curiosity, as they would have to a monkey +talking. They began to watch him as they would a man on a tight rope. +They even forgot his insignificant appearance in the virtuosity with +which he ran and poised and swooped upon the cold inflectionless wire of +his voice, so that at last, when with a sort of swooping glide he came +to rest again beside the reading desk with one arm resting upon it at +shoulder height and his monkey body as reft of all motion as a mummy or +an emptied vessel, the congregation sighed as if it waked from a +collective dream and moved a little in its seats. Behind the pulpit the +choir fanned steadily. Dilsey whispered, “Hush, now. Dey fixin to sing +in a minute.” + +Then a voice said, “Brethren.” + +The preacher had not moved. His arm lay yet across the desk, and he +still held that pose while the voice died in sonorous echoes between the +walls. It was as different as day and dark from his former tone, with a +sad, timbrous quality like an alto horn, sinking into their hearts and +speaking there again when it had ceased in fading and cumulate echoes. + +“Brethren and sisteren,” it said again. The preacher removed his arm and +he began to walk back and forth before the desk, his hands clasped +behind him, a meagre figure, hunched over upon itself like that of one +long immured in striving with the implacable earth, “I got the +recollection and the blood of the Lamb!” He tramped steadily back and +forth beneath the twisted paper and the Christmas bell, hunched, his +hands clasped behind him. He was like a worn small rock whelmed by the +successive waves of his voice. With his body he seemed to feed the voice +that, succubus like, had fleshed its teeth in him. And the congregation +seemed to watch with its own eyes while the voice consumed him, until he +was nothing and they were nothing and there was not even a voice but +instead their hearts were speaking to one another in chanting measures +beyond the need for words, so that when he came to rest against the +reading desk, his monkey face lifted and his whole attitude that of a +serene, tortured crucifix that transcended its shabbiness and +insignificance and made it of no moment, a long moaning expulsion of +breath rose from them, and a woman’s single soprano: “Yes, Jesus!” + +As the scudding day passed overhead the dingy windows glowed and faded +in ghostly retrograde. A car passed along the road outside, labouring in +the sand, died away. Dilsey sat bolt upright, her hand on Ben’s knee. +Two tears slid down her fallen cheeks, in and out of the myriad +coruscations of immolation and abnegation and time. + +“Brethren,” the minister said in a harsh whisper, without moving. + +“Yes, Jesus!” the woman’s voice said, hushed yet. + +“Breddren en sistuhn!” His voice rang again, with the horns. He removed +his arm and stood erect and raised his hands. “I got de ricklickshun en +de blood of de Lamb!” They did not mark just when his intonation, his +pronunciation, became negroid, they just sat swaying a little in their +seats as the voice took them into itself. + +“When de long, cold—Oh, I tells you, breddren, when de long, cold—I +sees de light en I sees de word, po sinner! Dey passed away in Egypt, de +swingin chariots; de generations passed away. Wus a rich man: whar he +now, O breddren? Wus a po man: whar he now, O sistuhn? Oh I tells you, +ef you aint got de milk en de dew of de old salvation when de long, cold +years rolls away!” + +“Yes, Jesus!” + +“I tells you, breddren, en I tells you, sistuhn, dey’ll come a time. Po +sinner sayin Let me lay down wid de Lawd, lemme lay down my load. Den +whut Jesus gwine say, O breddren? O sistuhn? Is you got de ricklickshun +en de Blood of de Lamb? Case I aint gwine load down heaven!” + +He fumbled in his coat and took out a handkerchief and mopped his face. +A low concerted sound rose from the congregation: “Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!” The +woman’s voice said, “Yes, Jesus! Jesus!” + +“Breddren! Look at dem little chillen settin dar. Jesus wus like dat +once. He mammy suffered de glory en de pangs. Sometime maybe she helt +him at de nightfall, whilst de angels singin him to sleep; maybe she +look out de do’ en see de Roman po-lice passin.” He tramped back and +forth, mopping his face. “Listen, breddren! I sees de day. Ma’y settin +in de do’ wid Jesus on her lap, de little Jesus. Like dem chillen dar, +de little Jesus. I hears de angels singin de peaceful songs en de glory; +I sees de closin eyes; sees Mary jump up, sees de sojer face: We gwine +to kill! We gwine to kill! We gwine to kill yo little Jesus! I hears de +weepin en de lamentation of de po mammy widout de salvation en de word +of God!” + +“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Jesus! Little Jesus!” and another voice, rising: + +“I sees, O Jesus! Oh I sees!” and still another, without words, like +bubbles rising in water. + +“I sees hit, breddren! I sees hit! Sees de blastin, blindin sight! I +sees Calvary, wid de sacred trees, sees de thief en de murderer en de +least of dese; I hears de boasting en de braggin: Ef you be Jesus, lif +up yo tree en walk! I hears de wailin of women en de evenin +lamentations; I hears de weepin en de cryin en de turnt-away face of +God: dey done kilt Jesus; dey done kilt my Son!” + +“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Jesus! I sees, O Jesus!” + +“O blind sinner! Breddren, I tells you; sistuhn, I says to you, when de +Lawd did turn His mighty face, say, Aint gwine overload heaven! I can +see de widowed God shet His do’; I sees de whelmin flood roll between; I +sees de darkness en de death everlastin upon de generations. Den, lo! +Breddren! Yes, breddren! Whut I see? Whut I see, O sinner? I sees de +resurrection en de light; sees de meek Jesus sayin Dey kilt Me dat ye +shall live again; I died dat dem whut sees en believes shall never die. +Breddren, O breddren! I sees de doom crack en hears de golden horns +shoutin down de glory, en de arisen dead whut got de blood en de +ricklickshun of de Lamb!” + +In the midst of the voices and the hands Ben sat, rapt in his sweet blue +gaze. Dilsey sat bolt upright beside, crying rigidly and quietly in the +annealment and the blood of the remembered Lamb. + +As they walked through the bright noon, up the sandy road with the +dispersing congregation talking easily again group to group, she +continued to weep, unmindful of the talk. + +“He sho a preacher, mon! He didn’t look like much at first, but hush!” + +“He seed de power en de glory.” + +“Yes, suh. He seed hit. Face to face he seed hit.” + +Dilsey made no sound, her face did not quiver as the tears took their +sunken and devious courses, walking with her head up, making no effort +to dry them away even. + +“Whyn’t you quit dat, mammy?” Frony said. “Wid all dese people lookin. +We be passin white folks soon.” + +“I’ve seed de first en de last,” Dilsey said. “Never you mind me.” + +“First en last whut?” Frony said. + +“Never you mind,” Dilsey said. “I seed de beginnin, en now I sees de +endin.” + +Before they reached the street, though, she stopped and lifted her skirt +and dried her eyes on the hem of her topmost underskirt. Then they went +on. Ben shambled along beside Dilsey, watching Luster who anticked along +ahead, the umbrella in his hand and his new straw hat slanted viciously +in the sunlight, like a big foolish dog watching a small clever one. +They reached the gate and entered. Immediately Ben began to whimper +again, and for a while all of them looked up the drive at the square, +paintless house with its rotting portico. + +“Whut’s gwine on up dar today?” Frony said. “Something is.” + +“Nothin,” Dilsey said. “You tend to yo business en let de white folks +tend to deir’n.” + +“Somethin is,” Frony said. “I heard him first thing dis mawnin. ’Taint +none of my business, dough.” + +“En I knows whut, too,” Luster said. + +“You knows mo dan you got any use fer,” Dilsey said. “Aint you jes heard +Frony say hit aint none of yo business? You take Benjy on to de back and +keep him quiet twell I put dinner on.” + +“I knows whar Miss Quentin is,” Luster said. + +“Den jes keep hit,” Dilsey said. “Soon es Quentin need any of yo egvice, +I’ll let you know. Y’all g’awn en play in de back, now.” + +“You know whut gwine happen soon es dey start playin dat ball over +yonder,” Luster said. + +“Dey wont start fer awhile yit. By dat time T.P. be here to take him +ridin. Here, you gimme dat new hat.” + +Luster gave her the hat and he and Ben went on across the back yard. Ben +was still whimpering, though not loud. Dilsey and Frony went to the +cabin. After a while Dilsey emerged, again in the faded calico dress, +and went to the kitchen. The fire had died down. There was no sound in +the house. She put on the apron and went up stairs. There was no sound +anywhere. Quentin’s room was as they had left it. She entered and picked +up the undergarment and put the stocking back in the drawer and closed +it. Mrs Compson’s door was closed. Dilsey stood beside it for a moment, +listening. Then she opened it and entered, entered a pervading reek of +camphor. The shades were drawn, the room in halflight, and the bed, so +that at first she thought Mrs Compson was asleep and was about to close +the door when the other spoke. + +“Well?” she said, “What is it?” + +“Hit’s me,” Dilsey said. “You want anything?” + +Mrs Compson didn’t answer. After awhile, without moving her head at all, +she said: “Where’s Jason?” + +“He aint come back yit,” Dilsey said. “Whut you want?” + +Mrs Compson said nothing. Like so many cold, weak people, when faced at +last by the incontrovertible disaster she exhumed from somewhere a sort +of fortitude, strength. In her case it was an unshakable conviction +regarding the yet unplumbed event. “Well,” she said presently, “Did you +find it?” + +“Find whut? Whut you talkin about?” + +“The note. At least she would have enough consideration to leave a note. +Even Quentin did that.” + +“Whut you talkin about?” Dilsey said, “Dont you know she all right? I +bet she be walkin right in dis do’ befo dark.” + +“Fiddlesticks,” Mrs Compson said, “It’s in the blood. Like uncle, like +niece. Or mother. I dont know which would be worse. I dont seem to +care.” + +“Whut you keep on talkin that way fur?” Dilsey said. “Whut she want to +do anything like that fur?” + +“I dont know. What reason did Quentin have? Under God’s heaven what +reason did he have? It cant be simply to flout and hurt me. Whoever God +is, He would not permit that. I’m a lady. You might not believe that +from my offspring, but I am.” + +“You des wait en see,” Dilsey said. “She be here by night, right dar in +her bed.” Mrs Compson said nothing. The camphor-soaked cloth lay upon +her brow. The black robe lay across the foot of the bed. Dilsey stood +with her hand on the door knob. + +“Well,” Mrs Compson said. “What do you want? Are you going to fix some +dinner for Jason and Benjamin, or not?” + +“Jason aint come yit,” Dilsey said. “I gwine fix somethin. You sho you +dont want nothin? Yo bottle still hot enough?” + +“You might hand me my Bible.” + +“I give hit to you dis mawnin, befo I left.” + +“You laid it on the edge of the bed. How long did you expect it to stay +there?” + +Dilsey crossed to the bed and groped among the shadows beneath the edge +of it and found the Bible, face down. She smoothed the bent pages and +laid the book on the bed again. Mrs Compson didn’t open her eyes. Her +hair and the pillow were the same color, beneath the wimple of the +medicated cloth she looked like an old nun praying. “Dont put it there +again,” she said, without opening her eyes. “That’s where you put it +before. Do you want me to have to get out of bed to pick it up?” + +Dilsey reached the book across her and laid it on the broad side of the +bed. “You cant see to read, noways,” she said. “You want me to raise de +shade a little?” + +“No. Let them alone. Go on and fix Jason something to eat.” + +Dilsey went out. She closed the door and returned to the kitchen. The +stove was almost cold. While she stood there the clock above the +cupboard struck ten times. “One oclock,” she said aloud, “Jason aint +comin home. Ise seed de first en de last,” she said, looking at the cold +stove, “I seed de first en de last.” She set out some cold food on a +table. As she moved back and forth she sang a hymn. She sang the first +two lines over and over to the complete tune. She arranged the meal and +went to the door and called Luster, and after a time Luster and Ben +entered. Ben was still moaning a little, as to himself. + +“He aint never quit,” Luster said. + +“Y’all come on en eat,” Dilsey said. “Jason aint coming to dinner.” They +sat down at the table. Ben could manage solid food pretty well for +himself, though even now, with cold food before him, Dilsey tied a cloth +about his neck. He and Luster ate. Dilsey moved about the kitchen, +singing the two lines of the hymn which she remembered. “Yo’ll kin g’awn +en eat,” she said, “Jason aint comin home.” + +He was twenty miles away at that time. When he left the house he drove +rapidly to town, overreaching the slow sabbath groups and the peremptory +bells along the broken air. He crossed the empty square and turned into +a narrow street that was abruptly quieter even yet, and stopped before a +frame house and went up the flower-bordered walk to the porch. + +Beyond the screen door people were talking. As he lifted his hand to +knock he heard steps, so he withheld his hand until a big man in black +broadcloth trousers and a stiff-bosomed white shirt without collar +opened the door. He had vigorous untidy iron-grey hair and his grey eyes +were round and shiny like a little boy’s. He took Jason’s hand and drew +him into the house, still shaking it. + +“Come right in,” he said, “Come right in.” + +“You ready to go now?” Jason said. + +“Walk right in,” the other said, propelling him by the elbow into a room +where a man and a woman sat. “You know Myrtle’s husband, dont you? Jason +Compson, Vernon.” + +“Yes,” Jason said. He did not even look at the man, and as the sheriff +drew a chair across the room the man said, + +“We’ll go out so you can talk. Come on, Myrtle.” + +“No, no,” the sheriff said, “You folks keep your seat. I reckon it aint +that serious, Jason? Have a seat.” + +“I’ll tell you as we go along,” Jason said. “Get your hat and coat.” + +“We’ll go out,” the man said, rising. + +“Keep your seat,” the sheriff said. “Me and Jason will go out on the +porch.” + +“You get your hat and coat,” Jason said. “They’ve already got a twelve +hour start.” The sheriff led the way back to the porch. A man and a +woman passing spoke to him. He responded with a hearty florid gesture. +Bells were still ringing, from the direction of the section known as +Nigger Hollow. “Get your hat, Sheriff,” Jason said. The sheriff drew up +two chairs. + +“Have a seat and tell me what the trouble is.” + +“I told you over the phone,” Jason said, standing. “I did that to save +time. Am I going to have to go to law to compel you to do your sworn +duty?” + +“You sit down and tell me about it,” the sheriff said. “I’ll take care +of you all right.” + +“Care, hell,” Jason said. “Is this what you call taking care of me?” + +“You’re the one that’s holding us up,” the sheriff said. “You sit down +and tell me about it.” + +Jason told him, his sense of injury and impotence feeding upon its own +sound, so that after a time he forgot his haste in the violent +cumulation of his self justification and his outrage. The sheriff +watched him steadily with his cold shiny eyes. + +“But you dont know they done it,” he said. “You just think so.” + +“Dont know?” Jason said. “When I spent two damn days chasing her through +alleys, trying to keep her away from him, after I told her what I’d do +to her if I ever caught her with him, and you say I dont know that that +little b—” + +“Now, then,” the sheriff said, “That’ll do. That’s enough of that.” He +looked out across the street, his hands in his pockets. + +“And when I come to you, a commissioned officer of the law,” Jason said. + +“That show’s in Mottson this week,” the sheriff said. + +“Yes,” Jason said, “And if I could find a law officer that gave a +solitary damn about protecting the people that elected him to office, +I’d be there too by now.” He repeated his story, harshly recapitulant, +seeming to get an actual pleasure out of his outrage and impotence. The +sheriff did not appear to be listening at all. + +“Jason,” he said, “What were you doing with three thousand dollars hid +in the house?” + +“What?” Jason said. “That’s my business where I keep my money. Your +business is to help me get it back.” + +“Did your mother know you had that much on the place?” + +“Look here,” Jason said, “My house has been robbed. I know who did it +and I know where they are. I come to you as the commissioned officer of +the law, and I ask you once more, are you going to make any effort to +recover my property, or not?” + +“What do you aim to do with that girl, if you catch them?” + +“Nothing,” Jason said, “Not anything. I wouldn’t lay my hand on her. The +bitch that cost me a job, the one chance I ever had to get ahead, that +killed my father and is shortening my mother’s life every day and made +my name a laughing stock in the town. I wont do anything to her,” he +said. “Not anything.” + +“You drove that girl into running off, Jason,” the sheriff said. + +“How I conduct my family is no business of yours,” Jason said. “Are you +going to help me or not?” + +“You drove her away from home,” the sheriff said. “And I have some +suspicions about who that money belongs to that I dont reckon I’ll ever +know for certain.” + +Jason stood, slowly wringing the brim of his hat in his hands. He said +quietly: “You’re not going to make any effort to catch them for me?” + +“That’s not any of my business, Jason. If you had any actual proof, I’d +have to act. But without that I dont figger it’s any of my business.” + +“That’s your answer, is it?” Jason said. “Think well, now.” + +“That’s it, Jason.” + +“All right,” Jason said. He put his hat on. “You’ll regret this. I wont +be helpless. This is not Russia, where just because he wears a little +metal badge, a man is immune to law.” He went down the steps and got in +his car and started the engine. The sheriff watched him drive away, +turn, and rush past the house toward town. + +The bells were ringing again, high in the scudding sunlight in bright +disorderly tatters of sound. He stopped at a filling station and had his +tires examined and the tank filled. + +“Gwine on a trip, is you?” the negro asked him. He didn’t answer. “Look +like hit gwine fair off, after all,” the negro said. + +“Fair off, hell,” Jason said, “It’ll be raining like hell by twelve +oclock.” He looked at the sky, thinking about rain, about the slick clay +roads, himself stalled somewhere miles from town. He thought about it +with a sort of triumph, of the fact that he was going to miss dinner, +that by starting now and so serving his compulsion of haste, he would be +at the greatest possible distance from both towns when noon came. It +seemed to him that, in this, circumstance was giving him a break, so he +said to the negro: + +“What the hell are you doing? Has somebody paid you to keep this car +standing here as long as you can?” + +“Dis here ti’ aint got no air a-tall in hit,” the negro said. + +“Then get the hell away from there and let me have that tube,” Jason +said. + +“Hit up now,” the negro said, rising. “You kin ride now.” + +Jason got in and started the engine and drove off. He went into second +gear, the engine spluttering and gasping, and he raced the engine, +jamming the throttle down and snapping the choker in and out savagely. +“It’s goin to rain,” he said, “Get me half way there, and rain like +hell.” And he drove on out of the bells and out of town, thinking of +himself slogging through the mud, hunting a team. “And every damn one of +them will be at church.” He thought of how he’d find a church at last +and take a team and of the owner coming out, shouting at him and of +himself striking the man down. “I’m Jason Compson. See if you can stop +me. See if you can elect a man to office that can stop me,” he said, +thinking of himself entering the courthouse with a file of soldiers and +dragging the sheriff out. “Thinks he can sit with his hands folded and +see me lose my job. I’ll show him about jobs.” Of his niece he did not +think at all, nor of the arbitrary valuation of the money. Neither of +them had had entity or individuality for him for ten years; together +they merely symbolized the job in the bank of which he had been deprived +before he ever got it. + +The air brightened, the running shadow patches were not the obverse, and +it seemed to him that the fact that the day was clearing was another +cunning stroke on the part of the foe, the fresh battle toward which he +was carrying ancient wounds. From time to time he passed churches, +unpainted frame buildings with sheet iron steeples, surrounded by +tethered teams and shabby motorcars, and it seemed to him that each of +them was a picket-post where the rear guards of Circumstance peeped +fleetingly back at him. “And damn You, too,” he said, “See if You can +stop me,” thinking of himself, his file of soldiers with the manacled +sheriff in the rear, dragging Omnipotence down from His throne, if +necessary; of the embattled legions of both hell and heaven through +which he tore his way and put his hands at last on his fleeing niece. + +The wind was out of the southeast. It blew steadily upon his cheek. It +seemed that he could feel the prolonged blow of it sinking through his +skull, and suddenly with an old premonition he clapped the brakes on and +stopped and sat perfectly still. Then he lifted his hand to his neck and +began to curse, and sat there, cursing in a harsh whisper. When it was +necessary for him to drive for any length of time he fortified himself +with a handkerchief soaked in camphor, which he would tie about his +throat when clear of town, thus inhaling the fumes, and he got out and +lifted the seat cushion on the chance that there might be a forgotten +one there. He looked beneath both seats and stood again for a while, +cursing, seeing himself mocked by his own triumphing. He closed his +eyes, leaning on the door. He could return and get the forgotten +camphor, or he could go on. In either case, his head would be splitting, +but at home he could be sure of finding camphor on Sunday, while if he +went on he could not be sure. But if he went back, he would be an hour +and a half later in reaching Mottson. “Maybe I can drive slow,” he said. +“Maybe I can drive slow, thinking of something else—” + +He got in and started. “I’ll think of something else,” he said, so he +thought about Lorraine. He imagined himself in bed with her, only he was +just lying beside her, pleading with her to help him, then he thought of +the money again, and that he had been outwitted by a woman, a girl. If +he could just believe it was the man who had robbed him. But to have +been robbed of that which was to have compensated him for the lost job, +which he had acquired through so much effort and risk, by the very +symbol of the lost job itself, and worst of all, by a bitch of a girl. +He drove on, shielding his face from the steady wind with the corner of +his coat. + +He could see the opposed forces of his destiny and his will drawing +swiftly together now, toward a junction that would be irrevocable; he +became cunning. I cant make a blunder, he told himself. There would be +just one right thing, without alternatives: he must do that. He believed +that both of them would know him on sight, while he’d have to trust to +seeing her first, unless the man still wore the red tie. And the fact +that he must depend on that red tie seemed to be the sum of the +impending disaster; he could almost smell it, feel it above the +throbbing of his head. + +He crested the final hill. Smoke lay in the valley, and roofs, a spire +or two above trees. He drove down the hill and into the town, slowing, +telling himself again of the need for caution, to find where the tent +was located first. He could not see very well now, and he knew that it +was the disaster which kept telling him to go directly and get something +for his head. At a filling station they told him that the tent was not +up yet, but that the show cars were on a siding at the station. He drove +there. + +Two gaudily painted pullman cars stood on the track. He reconnoitred +them before he got out. He was trying to breathe shallowly, so that the +blood would not beat so in his skull. He got out and went along the +station wall, watching the cars. A few garments hung out of the windows, +limp and crinkled, as though they had been recently laundered. On the +earth beside the steps of one sat three canvas chairs. But he saw no +sign of life at all until a man in a dirty apron came to the door and +emptied a pan of dishwater with a broad gesture, the sunlight glinting +on the metal belly of the pan, then entered the car again. + +Now I’ll have to take him by surprise, before he can warn them, he +thought. It never occurred to him that they might not be there, in the +car. That they should not be there, that the whole result should not +hinge on whether he saw them first or they saw him first, would be +opposed to all nature and contrary to the whole rhythm of events. And +more than that: he must see them first, get the money back, then what +they did would be of no importance to him, while otherwise the whole +world would know that he, Jason Compson, had been robbed by Quentin, his +niece, a bitch. + +He reconnoitred again. Then he went to the car and mounted the steps, +swiftly and quietly, and paused at the door. The galley was dark, rank +with stale food. The man was a white blur, singing in a cracked, shaky +tenor. An old man, he thought, and not as big as I am. He entered the +car as the man looked up. + +“Hey?” the man said, stopping his song. + +“Where are they?” Jason said. “Quick, now. In the sleeping car?” + +“Where’s who?” the man said. + +“Dont lie to me,” Jason said. He blundered on in the cluttered +obscurity. + +“What’s that?” the other said, “Who you calling a liar?” And when Jason +grasped his shoulder he exclaimed, “Look out, fellow!” + +“Dont lie,” Jason said, “Where are they?” + +“Why, you bastard,” the man said. His arm was frail and thin in Jason’s +grasp. He tried to wrench free, then he turned and fell to scrabbling on +the littered table behind him. + +“Come on,” Jason said, “Where are they?” + +“I’ll tell you where they are,” the man shrieked, “Lemme find my butcher +knife.” + +“Here,” Jason said, trying to hold the other, “I’m just asking you a +question.” + +“You bastard,” the other shrieked, scrabbling at the table. Jason tried +to grasp him in both arms, trying to prison the puny fury of him. The +man’s body felt so old, so frail, yet so fatally single-purposed that +for the first time Jason saw clear and unshadowed the disaster toward +which he rushed. + +“Quit it!” he said, “Here! Here! I’ll get out. Give me time, and I’ll +get out.” + +“Call me a liar,” the other wailed, “Lemme go. Lemme go just one minute. +I’ll show you.” + +Jason glared wildly about, holding the other. Outside it was now bright +and sunny, swift and bright and empty, and he thought of the people soon +to be going quietly home to Sunday dinner, decorously festive, and of +himself trying to hold the fatal, furious little old man whom he dared +not release long enough to turn his back and run. + +“Will you quit long enough for me to get out?” he said, “Will you?” But +the other still struggled, and Jason freed one hand and struck him on +the head. A clumsy, hurried blow, and not hard, but the other slumped +immediately and slid clattering among pans and buckets to the floor. +Jason stood above him, panting, listening. Then he turned and ran from +the car. At the door he restrained himself and descended more slowly and +stood there again. His breath made a hah hah hah sound and he stood +there trying to repress it, darting his gaze this way and that, when at +a scuffling sound behind him he turned in time to see the little old man +leaping awkwardly and furiously from the vestibule, a rusty hatchet high +in his hand. + +He grasped at the hatchet, feeling no shock but knowing that he was +falling, thinking So this is how it’ll end, and he believed that he was +about to die and when something crashed against the back of his head he +thought How did he hit me there? Only maybe he hit me a long time ago, +he thought, And I just now felt it, and he thought Hurry. Hurry. Get it +over with, and then a furious desire not to die seized him and he +struggled, hearing the old man wailing and cursing in his cracked voice. + +He still struggled when they hauled him to his feet, but they held him +and he ceased. + +“Am I bleeding much?” he said, “The back of my head. Am I bleeding?” He +was still saying that while he felt himself being propelled rapidly +away, heard the old man’s thin furious voice dying away behind him. +“Look at my head,” he said, “Wait, I—” + +“Wait, hell,” the man who held him said, “That damn little wasp’ll kill +you. Keep going. You aint hurt.” + +“He hit me,” Jason said. “Am I bleeding?” + +“Keep going,” the other said. He led Jason on around the corner of the +station, to the empty platform where an express truck stood, where grass +grew rigidly in a plot bordered with rigid flowers and a sign in +electric lights: Keep your [Illustration: Eye] on Mottson, the gap +filled by a human eye with an electric pupil. The man released him. + +“Now,” he said, “You get on out of here and stay out. What were you +trying to do? Commit suicide?” + +“I was looking for two people,” Jason said. “I just asked him where they +were.” + +“Who you looking for?” + +“It’s a girl,” Jason said. “And a man. He had on a red tie in Jefferson +yesterday. With this show. They robbed me.” + +“Oh,” the man said. “You’re the one, are you. Well, they aint here.” + +“I reckon so,” Jason said. He leaned against the wall and put his hand +to the back of his head and looked at his palm. “I thought I was +bleeding,” he said. “I thought he hit me with that hatchet.” + +“You hit your head on the rail,” the man said. “You better go on. They +aint here.” + +“Yes. He said they were not here. I thought he was lying.” + +“Do you think I’m lying?” the man said. + +“No,” Jason said. “I know they’re not here.” + +“I told him to get the hell out of there, both of them,” the man said. +“I wont have nothing like that in my show. I run a respectable show, +with a respectable troupe.” + +“Yes,” Jason said. “You dont know where they went?” + +“No. And I dont want to know. No member of my show can pull a stunt like +that. You her—brother?” + +“No,” Jason said. “It dont matter. I just wanted to see them. You sure +he didn’t hit me? No blood, I mean.” + +“There would have been blood if I hadn’t got there when I did. You stay +away from here, now. That little bastard’ll kill you. That your car +yonder?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, you get in it and go back to Jefferson. If you find them, it wont +be in my show. I run a respectable show. You say they robbed you?” + +“No,” Jason said, “It dont make any difference.” He went to the car and +got in. What is it I must do? he thought. Then he remembered. He started +the engine and drove slowly up the street until he found a drugstore. +The door was locked. He stood for a while with his hand on the knob and +his head bent a little. Then he turned away and when a man came along +after a while he asked if there was a drugstore open anywhere, but there +was not. Then he asked when the northbound train ran, and the man told +him at two thirty. He crossed the pavement and got in the car again and +sat there. After a while two negro lads passed. He called to them. + +“Can either of you boys drive a car?” + +“Yes, suh.” + +“What’ll you charge to drive me to Jefferson right away?” + +They looked at one another, murmuring. + +“I’ll pay a dollar,” Jason said. + +They murmured again. “Couldn’t go fer dat,” one said. + +“What will you go for?” + +“Kin you go?” one said. + +“I cant git off,” the other said. “Whyn’t you drive him up dar? You aint +got nothin to do.” + +“Yes I is.” + +“Whut you got to do?” + +They murmured again, laughing. + +“I’ll give you two dollars,” Jason said. “Either of you.” + +“I cant git away neither,” the first said. + +“All right,” Jason said. “Go on.” + +He sat there for sometime. He heard a clock strike the half hour, then +people began to pass, in Sunday and Easter clothes. Some looked at him +as they passed, at the man sitting quietly behind the wheel of a small +car, with his invisible life ravelled out about him like a wornout sock. +After a while a negro in overalls came up. + +“Is you de one wants to go to Jefferson?” he said. + +“Yes,” Jason said. “What’ll you charge me?” + +“Fo dollars.” + +“Give you two.” + +“Cant go fer no less’n fo.” The man in the car sat quietly. He wasn’t +even looking at him. The negro said, “You want me er not?” + +“All right,” Jason said, “Get in.” + +He moved over and the negro took the wheel. Jason closed his eyes. I can +get something for it at Jefferson, he told himself, easing himself to +the jolting, I can get something there. They drove on, along the streets +where people were turning peacefully into houses and Sunday dinners, and +on out of town. He thought that. He wasn’t thinking of home, where Ben +and Luster were eating cold dinner at the kitchen table. Something—the +absence of disaster, threat, in any constant evil—permitted him to +forget Jefferson as any place which he had ever seen before, where his +life must resume itself. + +When Ben and Luster were done Dilsey sent them outdoors. “And see kin +you keep let him alone twell fo oclock. T.P. be here den.” + +“Yessum,” Luster said. They went out. Dilsey ate her dinner and cleared +up the kitchen. Then she went to the foot of the stairs and listened, +but there was no sound. She returned through the kitchen and out the +outer door and stopped on the steps. Ben and Luster were not in sight, +but while she stood there she heard another sluggish twang from the +direction of the cellar door and she went to the door and looked down +upon a repetition of the morning’s scene. + +“He done it jes dat way,” Luster said. He contemplated the motionless +saw with a kind of hopeful dejection. “I aint got de right thing to hit +it wid yit,” he said. + +“En you aint gwine find hit down here, neither,” Dilsey said. “You take +him on out in de sun. You bofe get pneumonia down here on dis wet flo.” + +She waited and watched them cross the yard toward a clump of cedar trees +near the fence. Then she went on to her cabin. + +“Now, dont you git started,” Luster said, “I had enough trouble wid you +today.” There was a hammock made of barrel staves slatted into woven +wires. Luster lay down in the swing, but Ben went on vaguely and +purposelessly. He began to whimper again. “Hush, now,” Luster said, “I +fixin to whup you.” He lay back in the swing. Ben had stopped moving, +but Luster could hear him whimpering. “Is you gwine hush, er aint you?” +Luster said. He got up and followed and came upon Ben squatting before a +small mound of earth. At either end of it an empty bottle of blue glass +that once contained poison was fixed in the ground. In one was a +withered stalk of jimson weed. Ben squatted before it, moaning, a slow, +inarticulate sound. Still moaning he sought vaguely about and found a +twig and put it in the other bottle. “Whyn’t you hush?” Luster said, +“You want me to give you somethin’ to sho nough moan about? Sposin I +does dis.” He knelt and swept the bottle suddenly up and behind him. Ben +ceased moaning. He squatted, looking at the small depression where the +bottle had sat, then as he drew his lungs full Luster brought the bottle +back into view. “Hush!” he hissed, “Dont you dast to beller! Dont you. +Dar hit is. See? Here. You fixin to start ef you stays here. Come on, +les go see ef dey started knockin ball yit.” He took Ben’s arm and drew +him up and they went to the fence and stood side by side there, peering +between the matted honeysuckle not yet in bloom. + +“Dar,” Luster said, “Dar come some. See um?” + +They watched the foursome play onto the green and out, and move to the +tee and drive. Ben watched, whimpering, slobbering. When the foursome +went on he followed along the fence, bobbing and moaning. One said. + +“Here, caddie. Bring the bag.” + +“Hush, Benjy,” Luster said, but Ben went on at his shambling trot, +clinging to the fence, wailing in his hoarse, hopeless voice. The man +played and went on, Ben keeping pace with him until the fence turned at +right angles, and he clung to the fence, watching the people move on and +away. + +“Will you hush now?” Luster said, “Will you hush now?” He shook Ben’s +arm. Ben clung to the fence, wailing steadily and hoarsely. “Aint you +gwine stop?” Luster said, “Or is you?” Ben gazed through the fence. “All +right, den,” Luster said, “You want somethin to beller about?” He looked +over his shoulder, toward the house. Then he whispered: “Caddy! Beller +now. Caddy! Caddy! Caddy!” + +A moment later, in the slow intervals of Ben’s voice, Luster heard +Dilsey calling. He took Ben by the arm and they crossed the yard toward +her. + +“I tole you he warn’t gwine stay quiet,” Luster said. + +“You vilyun!” Dilsey said, “Whut you done to him?” + +“I aint done nothin. I tole you when dem folks start playin, he git +started up.” + +“You come on here,” Dilsey said. “Hush, Benjy. Hush, now.” But he +wouldn’t hush. They crossed the yard quickly and went to the cabin and +entered. “Run git dat shoe,” Dilsey said. “Dont you sturb Miss Cahline, +now. Ef she say anything, tell her I got him. Go on, now; you kin sho do +dat right, I reckon.” Luster went out. Dilsey led Ben to the bed and +drew him down beside her and she held him, rocking back and forth, +wiping his drooling mouth upon the hem of her skirt. “Hush, now,” she +said, stroking his head, “Hush. Dilsey got you.” But he bellowed slowly, +abjectly, without tears; the grave hopeless sound of all voiceless +misery under the sun. Luster returned, carrying a white satin slipper. +It was yellow now, and cracked and soiled, and when they placed it into +Ben’s hand he hushed for a while. But he still whimpered, and soon he +lifted his voice again. + +“You reckon you kin find T. P.?” Dilsey said. + +“He say yistiddy he gwine out to St John’s today. Say he be back at fo.” + +Dilsey rocked back and forth, stroking Ben’s head. + +“Dis long time, O Jesus,” she said, “Dis long time.” + +“I kin drive dat surrey, mammy,” Luster said. + +“You kill bofe y’all,” Dilsey said, “You do hit fer devilment. I knows +you got plenty sense to. But I cant trust you. Hush, now,” she said. +“Hush. Hush.” + +“Nome I wont,” Luster said. “I drives wid T. P.” Dilsey rocked back and +forth, holding Ben. “Miss Cahline say ef you cant quiet him, she gwine +git up en come down en do hit.” + +“Hush, honey,” Dilsey said, stroking Ben’s head. “Luster, honey,” she +said, “Will you think about yo ole mammy en drive dat surrey right?” + +“Yessum,” Luster said. “I drive hit jes like T. P.” + +Dilsey stroked Ben’s head, rocking back and forth. “I does de bes I +kin,” she said, “Lawd knows dat. Go git it, den,” she said, rising. +Luster scuttled out. Ben held the slipper, crying. “Hush, now. Luster +gone to git de surrey en take you to de graveyard. We aint gwine risk +gittin yo cap,” she said. She went to a closet contrived of a calico +curtain hung across a corner of the room and got the felt hat she had +worn. “We’s down to worse’n dis, ef folks jes knowed,” she said. “You’s +de Lawd’s chile, anyway. En I be His’n too, fo long, praise Jesus. +Here.” She put the hat on his head and buttoned his coat. He wailed +steadily. She took the slipper from him and put it away and they went +out. Luster came up, with an ancient white horse in a battered and +lopsided surrey. + +“You gwine be careful, Luster?” she said. + +“Yessum,” Luster said. She helped Ben into the back seat. He had ceased +crying, but now he began to whimper again. + +“Hit’s his flower,” Luster said. “Wait, I’ll git him one.” + +“You set right dar,” Dilsey said. She went and took the cheek-strap. +“Now, hurry en git him one.” Luster ran around the house, toward the +garden. He came back with a single narcissus. + +“Dat un broke,” Dilsey said, “Whyn’t you git him a good un?” + +“Hit de onliest one I could find,” Luster said. “Y’all took all of um +Friday to dec’rate de church. Wait, I’ll fix hit.” So while Dilsey held +the horse Luster put a splint on the flower stalk with a twig and two +bits of string and gave it to Ben. Then he mounted and took the reins. +Dilsey still held the bridle. + +“You knows de way now?” she said, “Up de street, round de square, to de +graveyard, den straight back home.” + +“Yessum,” Luster said, “Hum up, Queenie.” + +“You gwine be careful, now?” + +“Yessum.” Dilsey released the bridle. + +“Hum up, Queenie,” Luster said. + +“Here,” Dilsey said, “You han me dat whup.” + +“Aw, mammy,” Luster said. + +“Give hit here,” Dilsey said, approaching the wheel. Luster gave it to +her reluctantly. + +“I wont never git Queenie started now.” + +“Never you mind about dat,” Dilsey said. “Queenie know mo bout whar she +gwine dan you does. All you got to do is set dar en hold dem reins. You +knows de way, now?” + +“Yessum. Same way T. P. goes ev’y Sunday.” + +“Den you do de same thing dis Sunday.” + +“Cose I is. Aint I drove fer T. P. mo’n a hund’ed times?” + +“Den do hit again,” Dilsey said. “G’awn, now. En ef you hurts Benjy, +nigger boy, I dont know whut I do. You bound fer de chain gang, but I’ll +send you dar fo even chain gang ready fer you.” + +“Yessum,” Luster said. “Hum up, Queenie.” + +He flapped the lines on Queenie’s broad back and the surrey lurched into +motion. + +“You, Luster!” Dilsey said. + +“Hum up, dar!” Luster said. He flapped the lines again. With +subterranean rumblings Queenie jogged slowly down the drive and turned +into the street, where Luster exhorted her into a gait resembling a +prolonged and suspended fall in a forward direction. + +Ben quit whimpering. He sat in the middle of the seat, holding the +repaired flower upright in his fist, his eyes serene and ineffable. +Directly before him Luster’s bullet head turned backward continually +until the house passed from view, then he pulled to the side of the +street and while Ben watched him he descended and broke a switch from a +hedge. Queenie lowered her head and fell to cropping the grass until +Luster mounted and hauled her head up and harried her into motion again, +then he squared his elbows and with the switch and the reins held high +he assumed a swaggering attitude out of all proportion to the sedate +clopping of Queenie’s hooves and the organlike basso of her internal +accompaniment. Motors passed them, and pedestrians; once a group of half +grown negroes: + +“Dar Luster. Whar you gwine, Luster? To de boneyard?” + +“Hi,” Luster said, “Aint de same boneyard y’all headed fer. Hum up, +elefump.” + +They approached the square, where the Confederate soldier gazed with +empty eyes beneath his marble hand into wind and weather. Luster took +still another notch in himself and gave the impervious Queenie a cut +with the switch, casting his glance about the square. “Dar Mr Jason’s +car,” he said then he spied another group of negroes. “Les show dem +niggers how quality does, Benjy,” he said, “Whut you say?” He looked +back. Ben sat, holding the flower in his fist, his gaze empty and +untroubled. Luster hit Queenie again and swung her to the left at the +monument. + +For an instant Ben sat in an utter hiatus. Then he bellowed. Bellow on +bellow, his voice mounted, with scarce interval for breath. There was +more than astonishment in it, it was horror; shock; agony eyeless, +tongueless; just sound, and Luster’s eyes backrolling for a white +instant. “Gret God,” he said, “Hush! Hush! Gret God!” He whirled again +and struck Queenie with the switch. It broke and he cast it away and +with Ben’s voice mounting toward its unbelievable crescendo Luster +caught up the end of the reins and leaned forward as Jason came jumping +across the square and onto the step. + +With a backhanded blow he hurled Luster aside and caught the reins and +sawed Queenie about and doubled the reins back and slashed her across +the hips. He cut her again and again, into a plunging gallop, while +Ben’s hoarse agony roared about them, and swung her about to the right +of the monument. Then he struck Luster over the head with his fist. + +“Dont you know any better than to take him to the left?” he said. He +reached back and struck Ben, breaking the flower stalk again. “Shut up!” +he said, “Shut up!” He jerked Queenie back and jumped down. “Get to hell +on home with him. If you ever cross that gate with him again, I’ll kill +you!” + +“Yes, suh!” Luster said. He took the reins and hit Queenie with the end +of them. “Git up! Git up, dar! Benjy, fer God’s sake!” + +Ben’s voice roared and roared. Queenie moved again, her feet began to +clop-clop steadily again, and at once Ben hushed. Luster looked quickly +back over his shoulder, then he drove on. The broken flower drooped over +Ben’s fist and his eyes were empty and blue and serene again as cornice +and façade flowed smoothly once more from left to right; post and tree, +window and doorway, and signboard, each in its ordered place. + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes + + +Because of William Faulkner’s unorthodox use of punctuation, it is +sometimes difficult to distinguish printing errors from the author’s +intentions. Therefore, every effort has been made to make the text of +this eBook correspond exactly to the printed edition of the book from +which the text was derived. The only correction made was the addition of +a missing closing quotation mark in the paragraph that begins with “He +fumbled in his coat” on page 230. + +The illustration of an eye on page 242 has been replaced by the text, +“[Illustration: Eye]”, in the plain text version of this eBook. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75170 *** diff --git a/75170-h/75170-h.htm b/75170-h/75170-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc79ffe --- /dev/null +++ b/75170-h/75170-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12818 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"/> + <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> + <meta name="DC.Title" content="The Sound and the Fury"/> + <meta name="DC.Creator" content="William Faulkner"/> + <meta name="DC.Language" content="en"/> + <meta name="DC.Created" content="1929"/> + <meta name="DC.Subject" content="Fiction"/> + <meta name="Pubdate" content="1929"/> + <meta name="Tags" content="Fiction"/> + <meta name="generator" content="fpgen 4.17C"/> + <style type="text/css"> + body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:10%; } + .pageno { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: silver; + text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; + border:1px solid silver; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration:none; } + .pageno:after { color: gray; content: attr(title); } + .it { font-style:italic; } + .bold { font-weight:bold; } + p { text-indent:0; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em; + text-align: justify; } + div.lgc { } + div.lgl { } + div.lgc p { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } + div.lgl p { text-indent: -17px; margin-left:17px; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } + h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.2em; margin:2em auto 1em auto} + hr.pbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em } + .figcenter { text-align:center; margin:1em auto;} + div.blockquote { margin:1em 2em; text-align:justify; } + div.lgp p.line0 { text-indent:-3em; margin:0 auto 0 3em; } + .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } + .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } + .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } + </style> + <style type="text/css"> + h1 { font-size:1.8em; font-weight:bold } + h2 { font-size:1.5em; font-weight:bold } + .poetry-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } + .literal-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } + div.lgc { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } + p { margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; } + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75170 ***</div> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:400px;height:601px;'/> +</div> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0' style='font-size:2.4em;'><span class='bold'><span class='it'>William Faulkner</span></span></p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0' style='font-size:2.4em;'><span class='bold'>THE SOUND</span></p> +<p class='line0' style='font-size:2.4em;'><span class='bold'>AND</span></p> +<p class='line0' style='font-size:2.4em;'><span class='bold'>THE FURY</span></p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/rhlogo.png' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:112px;height:81px;'/> +</div> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0' style='margin-top:0em;font-size:large;'>RANDOM HOUSE <span class='it'>New York</span></p> +</div> <!-- end rend --> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Copyright, 1929, by William Faulkner</span></p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Copyright renewed, 1956, by William Faulkner</span></p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0'>All rights reserved under International and Pan-American</p> +<p class='line0'>Copyright Conventions. Published in New York by</p> +<p class='line0'>Random House, Inc., and distributed in Canada by</p> +<p class='line0'>Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.</p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</span></p> +</div> <!-- end rend --> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend='xlg;;' --> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line0' style='font-size:x-large;'>THE SOUND AND THE FURY</p> +</div> <!-- end rend --> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='1' id='Page_1'></span></p> + +<h1 id='t99'>APRIL SEVENTH, 1928</h1> + +<p class='noindent'>Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could +see them hitting. They were coming toward where the flag was and +I went along the fence. Luster was hunting in the grass by the +flower tree. They took the flag out, and they were hitting. Then +they put the flag back and they went to the table, and he hit and +the other hit. Then they went on, and I went along the fence. +Luster came away from the flower tree and we went along the +fence and they stopped and we stopped and I looked through the +fence while Luster was hunting in the grass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here, caddie.” He hit. They went away across the pasture. I +held to the fence and watched them going away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Listen at you, now.” Luster said. “Aint you something, thirty-three +years old, going on that way. After I done went all the way to +town to buy you that cake. Hush up that moaning. Aint you going +to help me find that quarter so I can go to the show tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were hitting little, across the pasture. I went back along +the fence to where the flag was. It flapped on the bright grass and +the trees.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on.” Luster said. “We done looked there. They aint +no more coming right now. Lets go down to the branch and find +that quarter before them niggers finds it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was red, flapping on the pasture. Then there was a bird slanting +and tilting on it. Luster threw. The flag flapped on the bright +grass and the trees. I held to the fence. +<span class='pageno' title='2' id='Page_2'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shut up that moaning,” Luster said. “I cant make them come +if they aint coming, can I. If you dont hush up, mammy aint going +to have no birthday for you. If you dont hush, you know what I +going to do. I going to eat that cake all up. Eat them candles, too. +Eat all them thirty-three candles. Come on, let’s go down to the +branch. I got to find my quarter. Maybe we can find one of they +balls. Here. Here they is. Way over yonder. See.” He came to the +fence and pointed his arm. “See them. They aint coming back here +no more. Come on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went along the fence and came to the garden fence, where +our shadows were. My shadow was higher than Luster’s on the +fence. We came to the broken place and went through it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute.” Luster said. “You snagged on that nail again. +Cant you never crawl through here without snagging on that nail.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Caddy uncaught me and we crawled through. Uncle Maury said +to not let anybody see us, so we better stoop over, Caddy said. +Stoop over, Benjy. Like this, see. We stooped over and crossed +the garden, where the flowers rasped and rattled against us. The +ground was hard. We climbed the fence, where the pigs were +grunting and snuffing. I expect they’re sorry because one of them +got killed today, Caddy said. The ground was hard, churned and +knotted.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Keep your hands in your pockets, Caddy said. Or they’ll get +froze. You don’t want your hands froze on Christmas, do you.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s too cold out there.” Versh said. “You dont want to go out +doors.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is it now.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He want to go out doors.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let him go.” Uncle Maury said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s too cold.” Mother said. “He’d better stay in. Benjamin. +Stop that, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It wont hurt him.” Uncle Maury said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Benjamin.” Mother said. “If you dont be good, you’ll +have to go to the kitchen.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mammy say keep him out the kitchen today.” Versh said. “She +say she got all that cooking to get done.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let him go, Caroline.” Uncle Maury said. “You’ll worry yourself +sick over him.” +<span class='pageno' title='3' id='Page_3'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know it.” Mother said. “It’s a judgment on me. I sometimes +wonder”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know, I know.” Uncle Maury said. “You must keep your +strength up. I’ll make you a toddy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It just upsets me that much more.” Mother said. “Dont you +know it does.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll feel better.” Uncle Maury said. “Wrap him up good, +boy, and take him out for a while.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Uncle Maury went away. Versh went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Please hush.” Mother said. “We’re trying to get you out as +fast as we can. I dont want you to get sick.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Versh put my overshoes and overcoat on and we took my cap +and went out. Uncle Maury was putting the bottle away in the +sideboard in the dining-room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep him out about half an hour, boy.” Uncle Maury said. +“Keep him in the yard, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.” Versh said. “We dont never let him get off the place.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went out doors. The sun was cold and bright.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where you heading for.” Versh said. “You dont think you +going to town, does you.” We went through the rattling leaves. +The gate was cold. “You better keep them hands in your pockets.” +Versh said, “You get them froze onto that gate, then what you do. +Whyn’t you wait for them in the house.” He put my hands into my +pockets. I could hear him rattling in the leaves. I could smell the +cold. The gate was cold.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here some hickeynuts. Whooey. Git up that tree. Look here +at this squirl, Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I couldn’t feel the gate at all, but I could smell the bright cold.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You better put them hands back in your pockets.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy was walking. Then she was running, her book-satchel +swinging and jouncing behind her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Benjy.” Caddy said. She opened the gate and came in +and stooped down. Caddy smelled like leaves. “Did you come to +meet me.” she said. “Did you come to meet Caddy. What did you +let him get his hands so cold for, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told him to keep them in his pockets.” Versh said. “Holding +onto that ahun gate.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you come to meet Caddy.” she said, rubbing my hands. +<span class='pageno' title='4' id='Page_4'></span> +“What is it. What are you trying to tell Caddy.” Caddy smelled like +trees and like when she says we were asleep.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What are you moaning about, Luster said. You can watch them +again when we get to the branch. Here. Here’s you a jimson weed. +He gave me the flower. We went through the fence, into the lot.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is it.” Caddy said. “What are you trying to tell Caddy. +Did they send him out, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Couldn’t keep him in.” Versh said. “He kept on until they let +him go and he come right straight down here, looking through the +gate.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is it.” Caddy said. “Did you think it would be Christmas +when I came home from school. Is that what you thought. Christmas +is the day after tomorrow. Santy Claus, Benjy. Santy Claus. +Come on, let’s run to the house and get warm.” She took my hand +and we ran through the bright rustling leaves. We ran up the steps +and out of the bright cold, into the dark cold. Uncle Maury was +putting the bottle back in the sideboard. He called Caddy. Caddy +said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take him in to the fire, Versh. Go with Versh.” she said. “I’ll +come in a minute.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went to the fire. Mother said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is he cold, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nome.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take his overcoat and overshoes off.” Mother said. “How +many times do I have to tell you not to bring him into the house +with his overshoes on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” Versh said. “Hold still, now.” He took my overshoes +off and unbuttoned my coat. Caddy said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wait, Versh. Cant he go out again, Mother. I want him to go +with me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better leave him here.” Uncle Maury said. “He’s been +out enough today.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I think you’d both better stay in.” Mother said. “It’s getting +colder, Dilsey says.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mother.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense.” Uncle Maury said. “She’s been in school all day. +She needs the fresh air. Run along, Candace.” +<span class='pageno' title='5' id='Page_5'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let him go, Mother.” Caddy said. “Please. You know he’ll +cry.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then why did you mention it before him.” Mother said. “Why +did you come in here. To give him some excuse to worry me again. +You’ve been out enough today. I think you’d better sit down here +and play with him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let them go, Caroline.” Uncle Maury said. “A little cold wont +hurt them. Remember, you’ve got to keep your strength up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know.” Mother said. “Nobody knows how I dread Christmas. +Nobody knows. I am not one of those women who can stand +things. I wish for Jason’s and the children’s sakes I was stronger.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You must do the best you can and not let them worry you.” +Uncle Maury said. “Run along, you two. But dont stay out long, +now. Your mother will worry.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.” Caddy said. “Come on, Benjy. We’re going out doors +again.” She buttoned my coat and we went toward the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you going to take that baby out without his overshoes.” +Mother said. “Do you want to make him sick, with the house full +of company.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I forgot.” Caddy said. “I thought he had them on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went back. “You must think.” Mother said. <span class='it'>Hold still now</span> +Versh said. He put my overshoes on. “Someday I’ll be gone, and +you’ll have to think for him.” <span class='it'>Now stomp</span> Versh said. “Come here +and kiss Mother, Benjamin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy took me to Mother’s chair and Mother took my face in +her hands and then she held me against her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My poor baby.” she said. She let me go. “You and Versh take +good care of him, honey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” Caddy said. We went out. Caddy said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t go, Versh. I’ll keep him for a while.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” Versh said. “I aint going out in that cold for no fun.” +He went on and we stopped in the hall and Caddy knelt and put +her arms around me and her cold bright face against mine. She +smelled like trees.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re not a poor baby. Are you. You’ve got your Caddy. +Haven’t you got your Caddy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Cant you shut up that moaning and slobbering, Luster said. Aint</span> +<span class='pageno' title='6' id='Page_6'></span> +<span class='it'>you shamed of yourself, making all this racket. We passed the +carriage house, where the carriage was. It had a new wheel.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Git in, now, and set still until your maw come.” Dilsey said. +She shoved me into the carriage. T. P. held the reins. “’Clare I +don’t see how come Jason wont get a new surrey.” Dilsey said. +“This thing going to fall to pieces under you all some day. Look +at them wheels.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mother came out, pulling her veil down. She had some flowers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’s Roskus.” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Roskus cant lift his arms, today.” Dilsey said. “T. P. can drive +all right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid to.” Mother said. “It seems to me you all could furnish +me with a driver for the carriage once a week. It’s little enough +I ask, Lord knows.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know just as well as me that Roskus got the rheumatism +too bad to do more than he have to, Miss Cahline.” Dilsey said. +“You come on and get in, now. T. P. can drive you just as good as +Roskus.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid to.” Mother said. “With the baby.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey went up the steps. “You calling that thing a baby,” she +said. She took Mother’s arms. “A man big as T. P. Come on, now, +if you going.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid to.” Mother said. They came down the steps and +Dilsey helped Mother in. “Perhaps it’ll be the best thing, for all of +us.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint you shamed, talking that way.” Dilsey said. “Dont you +know it’ll take more than a eighteen year old nigger to make +Queenie run away. She older than him and Benjy put together. +And dont you start no projecking with Queenie, you hear me, +T. P. If you dont drive to suit Miss Cahline, I going to put Roskus +on you. He aint too tied up to do that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” T. P. said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just know something will happen.” Mother said. “Stop, +Benjamin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give him a flower to hold.” Dilsey said, “That what he wanting.” +She reached her hand in.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, no.” Mother said. “You’ll have them all scattered.” +<span class='pageno' title='7' id='Page_7'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You hold them.” Dilsey said. “I’ll get him one out.” She gave +me a flower and her hand went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on now, ’fore Quentin see you and have to go too.” Dilsey +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where is she.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She down to the house playing with Luster.” Dilsey said. “Go +on, T. P. Drive that surrey like Roskus told you, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” T. P. said. “Hum up, Queenie.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin.” Mother said. “Don’t let”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Course I is.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The carriage jolted and crunched on the drive. “I’m afraid to +go and leave Quentin.” Mother said. “I’d better not go. T. P.” +We went through the gate, where it didn’t jolt anymore. T. P. hit +Queenie with the whip.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, T. P.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Got to get her going.” T. P. said. “Keep her wake up till we +get back to the barn.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Turn around.” Mother said. “I’m afraid to go and leave +Quentin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Cant turn here.” T. P. said. Then it was broader.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Cant you turn here.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” T. P. said. We began to turn.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, T. P.” Mother said, clutching me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I got to turn around somehow.” T. P. said. “Whoa, Queenie.” +We stopped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll turn us over.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you want to do, then.” T. P. said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid for you to try to turn around.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Get up, Queenie.” T. P. said. We went on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just know Dilsey will let something happen to Quentin while +I’m gone.” Mother said. “We must hurry back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hum up, there.” T. P. said. He hit Queenie with the whip.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, T. P.” Mother said, clutching me. I could hear Queenie’s +feet and the bright shapes went smooth and steady on both sides, +the shadows of them flowing across Queenie’s back. They went on +like the bright tops of wheels. Then those on one side stopped at +the tall white post where the soldier was. But on the other side +they went on smooth and steady, but a little slower. +<span class='pageno' title='8' id='Page_8'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you want.” Jason said. He had his hands in his pockets +and a pencil behind his ear.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’re going to the cemetery.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” Jason said. “I dont aim to stop you, do I. Was that +all you wanted with me, just to tell me that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know you wont come.” Mother said. “I’d feel safer if you +would.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Safe from what.” Jason said. “Father and Quentin cant hurt +you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mother put her handkerchief under her veil. “Stop it, Mother.” +Jason said. “Do you want to get that damn loony to bawling in +the middle of the square. Drive on, T. P.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hum up, Queenie.” T. P. said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a judgment on me.” Mother said. “But I’ll be gone too, +soon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whoa.” T. P. said. Jason said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Uncle Maury’s drawing on you for fifty. What do you want +to do about it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why ask me.” Mother said. “I dont have any say so. I try not +to worry you and Dilsey. I’ll be gone soon, and then you”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on, T. P.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hum up, Queenie.” T. P. said. The shapes flowed on. The +ones on the other side began again, bright and fast and smooth, +like when Caddy says we are going to sleep.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Cry baby, Luster said. Aint you shamed. We went through the +barn. The stalls were all open. You aint got no spotted pony to +ride now, Luster said. The floor was dry and dusty. The roof was +falling. The slanting holes were full of spinning yellow. What do +you want to go that way for. You want to get your head knocked +off with one of them balls.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep your hands in your pockets.” Caddy said, “Or they’ll +be froze. You dont want your hands froze on Christmas, do you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went around the barn. The big cow and the little one were +standing in the door, and we could hear Prince and Queenie and +Fancy stomping inside the barn. “If it wasn’t so cold, we’d ride +Fancy.” Caddy said, “But it’s too cold to hold on today.” Then +we could see the branch, where the smoke was blowing. “That’s +<span class='pageno' title='9' id='Page_9'></span> +where they are killing the pig.” Caddy said. “We can come back +by there and see them.” We went down the hill.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You want to carry the letter.” Caddy said. “You can carry it.” +She took the letter out of her pocket and put it in mine. “It’s a +Christmas present.” Caddy said. “Uncle Maury is going to surprise +Mrs Patterson with it. We got to give it to her without letting +anybody see it. Keep your hands in your pockets good, now.” We +came to the branch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s froze.” Caddy said, “Look.” She broke the top of the water +and held a piece of it against my face. “Ice. That means how cold +it is.” She helped me across and we went up the hill. “We cant +even tell Mother and Father. You know what I think it is. I think +it’s a surprise for Mother and Father and Mr Patterson both, because +Mr Patterson sent you some candy. Do you remember when +Mr Patterson sent you some candy last summer.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a fence. The vine was dry, and the wind rattled in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Only I dont see why Uncle Maury didn’t send Versh.” Caddy +said. “Versh wont tell.” Mrs Patterson was looking out the window. +“You wait here.” Caddy said. “Wait right here, now. I’ll be back +in a minute. Give me the letter.” She took the letter out of my +pocket. “Keep your hands in your pockets.” She climbed the fence +with the letter in her hand and went through the brown, rattling +flowers. Mrs Patterson came to the door and opened it and stood +there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Mr Patterson was chopping in the green flowers. He stopped +chopping and looked at me. Mrs Patterson came across the garden, +running. When I saw her eyes I began to cry. You idiot, Mrs +Patterson said, I told him never to send you alone again. Give it +to me. Quick. Mr Patterson came fast, with the hoe. Mrs Patterson +leaned across the fence, reaching her hand. She was trying to climb +the fence. Give it to me, she said, Give it to me. Mr Patterson +climbed the fence. He took the letter. Mrs Patterson’s dress was +caught on the fence. I saw her eyes again and I ran down the hill.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They aint nothing over yonder but houses.” Luster said. “We +going down to the branch.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were washing down at the branch. One of them was singing. +I could smell the clothes flapping, and the smoke blowing +across the branch. +<span class='pageno' title='10' id='Page_10'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You stay down here.” Luster said. “You aint got no business +up yonder. Them folks hit you, sho.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What he want to do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He dont know what he want to do.” Luster said. “He think he +want to go up yonder where they knocking that ball. You sit down +here and play with your jimson weed. Look at them chillen playing +in the branch, if you got to look at something. How come you +cant behave yourself like folks.” I sat down on the bank, where +they were washing, and the smoke blowing blue.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is you all seen anything of a quarter down here.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What quarter.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The one I had here this morning.” Luster said. “I lost it somewhere. +It fell through this here hole in my pocket. If I dont find +it I cant go to the show tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’d you get a quarter, boy. Find it in white folks’ pocket +while they aint looking.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Got it at the getting place.” Luster said. “Plenty more where +that one come from. Only I got to find that one. Is you all found +it yet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint studying no quarter. I got my own business to tend to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on here.” Luster said. “Help me look for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He wouldn’t know a quarter if he was to see it, would he.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He can help look just the same.” Luster said. “You all going +to the show tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont talk to me about no show. Time I get done over this here +tub I be too tired to lift my hand to do nothing.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you be there.” Luster said. “I bet you was there last night. +I bet you all be right there when that tent open.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Be enough niggers there without me. Was last night.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nigger’s money good as white folks, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“White folks gives nigger money because know first white man +comes along with a band going to get it all back, so nigger can go +to work for some more.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint nobody going make you go to that show.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint yet. Aint thought of it, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you got against white folks.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint got nothing against them. I goes my way and lets white +folks go theirs. I aint studying that show.” +<span class='pageno' title='11' id='Page_11'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Got a man in it can play a tune on a saw. Play it like a banjo.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You go last night.” Luster said. “I going tonight. If I can find +where I lost that quarter.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You going take him with you, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Me.” Luster said. “You reckon I be found anywhere with him, +time he start bellering.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What does you do when he start bellering.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I whips him.” Luster said. He sat down and rolled up his overalls. +They played in the branch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You all found any balls yet.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint you talking biggity. I bet you better not let your grandmammy +hear you talking like that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Luster got into the branch, where they were playing. He hunted +in the water, along the bank.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I had it when we was down here this morning.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where ’bouts you lose it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Right out this here hole in my pocket.” Luster said. They +hunted in the branch. Then they all stood up quick and stopped, +then they splashed and fought in the branch. Luster got it and they +squatted in the water, looking up the hill through the bushes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where is they.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint in sight yet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Luster put it in his pocket. They came down the hill.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did a ball come down here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It ought to be in the water. Didn’t any of you boys see it or +hear it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint heard nothing come down here.” Luster said. “Heard +something hit that tree up yonder. Dont know which way it went.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They looked in the branch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hell. Look along the branch. It came down here. I saw it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They looked along the branch. Then they went back up the +hill.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have you got that ball.” the boy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What I want with it.” Luster said. “I aint seen no ball.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The boy got in the water. He went on. He turned and looked at +Luster again. He went on down the branch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The man said “Caddie” up the hill. The boy got out of the water +and went up the hill. +<span class='pageno' title='12' id='Page_12'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, just listen at you.” Luster said. “Hush up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What he moaning about now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Lawd knows.” Luster said. “He just starts like that. He been +at it all morning. Cause it his birthday, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How old he.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He thirty-three.” Luster said. “Thirty-three this morning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You mean, he been three years old thirty years.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I going by what mammy say.” Luster said. “I dont know. We +going to have thirty-three candles on a cake, anyway. Little cake. +Wont hardly hold them. Hush up. Come on back here.” He came +and caught my arm. “You old loony.” he said. “You want me to +whip you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you will.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I is done it. Hush, now.” Luster said. “Aint I told you you cant +go up there. They’ll knock your head clean off with one of them +balls. Come on, here.” He pulled me back. “Sit down.” I sat down +and he took off my shoes and rolled up my trousers. “Now, git in +that water and play and see can you stop that slobbering and moaning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I hushed and got in the water <span class='it'>and Roskus came and said to +come to supper and Caddy said</span>,</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>It’s not supper time yet. I’m not going.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was wet. We were playing in the branch and Caddy squatted +down and got her dress wet and Versh said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your mommer going to whip you for getting your dress wet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’s not going to do any such thing.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How do you know.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right how I know.” Caddy said. “How do you know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She said she was.” Quentin said. “Besides, I’m older than you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m seven years old.” Caddy said, “I guess I know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m older than that.” Quentin said. “I go to school. Dont I, +Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to school next year.” Caddy said, “When it comes. +Aint I, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know she whip you when you get your dress wet.” Versh +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s not wet.” Caddy said. She stood up in the water and looked +at her dress. “I’ll take it off.” she said. “Then it’ll dry.” +<span class='pageno' title='13' id='Page_13'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you wont.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet I will.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you better not.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy came to Versh and me and turned her back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Unbutton it, Versh.” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you do it, Versh.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Taint none of my dress.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You unbutton it, Versh.” Caddy said, “Or I’ll tell Dilsey what +you did yesterday.” So Versh unbuttoned it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You just take your dress off.” Quentin said. Caddy took her +dress off and threw it on the bank. Then she didn’t have on anything +but her bodice and drawers, and Quentin slapped her and +she slipped and fell down in the water. When she got up she began +to splash water on Quentin, and Quentin splashed water on +Caddy. Some of it splashed on Versh and me and Versh picked +me up and put me on the bank. He said he was going to tell on +Caddy and Quentin, and then Quentin and Caddy began to splash +water at Versh. He got behind a bush.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to tell mammy on you all.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin climbed up the bank and tried to catch Versh, but +Versh ran away and Quentin couldn’t. When Quentin came back +Versh stopped and hollered that he was going to tell. Caddy told +him that if he wouldn’t tell, they’d let him come back. So Versh +said he wouldn’t, and they let him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now I guess you’re satisfied.” Quentin said, “We’ll both get +whipped now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont care.” Caddy said. “I’ll run away.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes you will.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll run away and never come back.” Caddy said. I began to +cry. Caddy turned around and said “Hush.” So I hushed. Then +they played in the branch. Jason was playing too. He was by himself +further down the branch. Versh came around the bush and +lifted me down into the water again. Caddy was all wet and muddy +behind, and I started to cry and she came and squatted in the +water.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush now.” she said. “I’m not going to run away.” So I hushed. +Caddy smelled like trees in the rain. +<span class='pageno' title='14' id='Page_14'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What is the matter with you, Luster said. Cant you get done +with that moaning and play in the branch like folks.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Whyn’t you take him on home. Didn’t they told you not to take +him off the place.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>He still think they own this pasture, Luster said. Cant nobody +see down here from the house, noways.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>We can. And folks dont like to look at a loony. Taint no luck in +it.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Roskus came and said to come to supper and Caddy said it +wasn’t supper time yet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes tis.” Roskus said. “Dilsey say for you all to come on to the +house. Bring them on, Versh.” He went up the hill, where the cow +was lowing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Maybe we’ll be dry by the time we get to the house.” Quentin +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was all your fault.” Caddy said. “I hope we do get whipped.” +She put her dress on and Versh buttoned it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They wont know you got wet.” Versh said. “It dont show on +you. Less me and Jason tells.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you going to tell, Jason.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tell on who.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He wont tell.” Quentin said. “Will you, Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet he does tell.” Caddy said. “He’ll tell Damuddy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He cant tell her.” Quentin said. “She’s sick. If we walk slow +it’ll be too dark for them to see.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont care whether they see or not.” Caddy said. “I’m going +to tell, myself. You carry him up the hill, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason wont tell.” Quentin said. “You remember that bow and +arrow I made you, Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s broke now.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let him tell.” Caddy said. “I dont give a cuss. Carry Maury +up the hill, Versh.” Versh squatted and I got on his back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>See you all at the show tonight, Luster said. Come on, here. +We got to find that quarter.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If we go slow, it’ll be dark when we get there.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going slow.” Caddy said. We went up the hill, but +Quentin didn’t come. He was down at the branch when we got to +where we could smell the pigs. They were grunting and snuffing in +<span class='pageno' title='15' id='Page_15'></span> +the trough in the corner. Jason came behind us, with his hands in +his pockets. Roskus was milking the cow in the barn door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>The cows came jumping out of the barn.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on.” T. P. said. “Holler again. I going to holler myself. +Whooey.” Quentin kicked T. P. again. He kicked T. P. into the +trough where the pigs ate and T. P. lay there. “Hot dogs.” T. P. +said, “Didn’t he get me then. You see that white man kick me that +time. Whooey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wasn’t crying, but I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t crying, but the +ground wasn’t still, and then I was crying. The ground kept sloping +up and the cows ran up the hill. T. P. tried to get up. He fell down +again and the cows ran down the hill. Quentin held my arm and +we went toward the barn. Then the barn wasn’t there and we had +to wait until it came back. I didn’t see it come back. It came behind +us and Quentin set me down in the trough where the cows +ate. I held on to it. It was going away too, and I held to it. The +cows ran down the hill again, across the door. I couldn’t stop. +Quentin and T. P. came up the hill, fighting. T. P. was falling down +the hill and Quentin dragged him up the hill. Quentin hit T. P. +I couldn’t stop.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Stand up.” Quentin said, “You stay right here. Dont you go +away until I get back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Me and Benjy going back to the wedding.” T. P. said. +“Whooey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin hit T. P. again. Then he began to thump T. P. against +the wall. T. P. was laughing. Every time Quentin thumped him +against the wall he tried to say Whooey, but he couldn’t say it for +laughing. I quit crying, but I couldn’t stop. T. P. fell on me and +the barn door went away. It went down the hill and T. P. was fighting +by himself and he fell down again. He was still laughing, and +I couldn’t stop, and I tried to get up and I fell down, and I couldn’t +stop. Versh said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You sho done it now. I’ll declare if you aint. Shut up that +yelling.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>T. P. was still laughing. He flopped on the door and laughed. +“Whooey.” he said, “Me and Benjy going back to the wedding. +Sassprilluh.” T. P. said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Versh said. “Where you get it.” +<span class='pageno' title='16' id='Page_16'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Out the cellar.” T. P. said. “Whooey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush up.” Versh said, “Where’bouts in the cellar.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Anywhere.” T. P. said. He laughed some more. “Moren a hundred +bottles left. Moren a million. Look out, nigger, I going to +holler.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin said, “Lift him up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Versh lifted me up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Drink this, Benjy.” Quentin said. The glass was hot. “Hush, +now.” Quentin said. “Drink it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sassprilluh.” T. P. said. “Lemme drink it, Mr Quentin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You shut your mouth.” Versh said, “Mr Quentin wear you +out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hold him, Versh.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They held me. It was hot on my chin and on my shirt. “Drink.” +Quentin said. They held my head. It was hot inside me, and I began +again. I was crying now, and something was happening inside +me and I cried more, and they held me until it stopped happening. +Then I hushed. It was still going around, and then the shapes began. +“Open the crib, Versh.” They were going slow. “Spread those +empty sacks on the floor.” They were going faster, almost fast +enough. “Now. Pick up his feet.” They went on, smooth and +bright. I could hear T. P. laughing. I went on with them, up the +bright hill.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>At the top of the hill Versh put me down.</span> “Come on here, +Quentin.” he called, looking back down the hill. Quentin was still +standing there by the branch. He was chunking into the shadows +where the branch was.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let the old skizzard stay there.” Caddy said. She took my hand +and we went on past the barn and through the gate. There was a +frog on the brick walk, squatting in the middle of it. Caddy stepped +over it and pulled me on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on, Maury.” she said. It still squatted there until Jason +poked at it with his toe.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’ll make a wart on you.” Versh said. The frog hopped away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on, Maury.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They got company tonight.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How do you know.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“With all them lights on.” Versh said, “Light in every window.” +<span class='pageno' title='17' id='Page_17'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon we can turn all the lights on without company, if we +want to.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet it’s company.” Versh said. “You all better go in the back +and slip upstairs.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont care.” Caddy said. “I’ll walk right in the parlor where +they are.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet your pappy whip you if you do.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont care.” Caddy said. “I’ll walk right in the parlor. I’ll walk +right in the dining room and eat supper.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where you sit.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’d sit in Damuddy’s chair.” Caddy said. “She eats in bed.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m hungry.” Jason said. He passed us and ran on up the walk. +He had his hands in his pockets and he fell down. Versh went and +picked him up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you keep them hands out your pockets, you could stay on +your feet.” Versh said. “You cant never get them out in time to +catch yourself, fat as you is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Father was standing by the kitchen steps.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’s Quentin.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He coming up the walk.” Versh said. Quentin was coming slow. +His shirt was a white blur.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh.” Father said. Light fell down the steps, on him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Caddy and Quentin threw water on each other.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We waited.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They did.” Father said. Quentin came, and Father said, “You +can eat supper in the kitchen tonight.” He stopped and took me +up, and the light came tumbling down the steps on me too, and I +could look down at Caddy and Jason and Quentin and Versh. +Father turned toward the steps. “You must be quiet, though.” +he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why must we be quiet, Father.” Caddy said. “Have we got +company.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told you they was company.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You did not.” Caddy said, “I was the one that said there was. +I said I would”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Father said. They hushed and Father opened the door +and we crossed the back porch and went in to the kitchen. Dilsey +<span class='pageno' title='18' id='Page_18'></span> +was there, and Father put me in the chair and closed the apron +down and pushed it to the table, where supper was. It was steaming +up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You mind Dilsey, now.” Father said. “Dont let them make +any more noise than they can help, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.” Dilsey said. Father went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Remember to mind Dilsey, now.” he said behind us. I leaned +my face over where the supper was. It steamed up on my face.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let them mind me tonight, Father.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wont.” Jason said. “I’m going to mind Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll have to, if Father says so.” Caddy said. “Let them mind +me, Father.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wont.” Jason said, “I wont mind you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Father said. “You all mind Caddy, then. When they +are done, bring them up the back stairs, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There.” Caddy said, “Now I guess you’ll mind me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You all hush, now.” Dilsey said. “You got to be quiet tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why do we have to be quiet tonight.” Caddy whispered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Never you mind.” Dilsey said, “You’ll know in the Lawd’s +own time.” She brought my bowl. The steam from it came and +tickled my face. “Come here, Versh.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When is the Lawd’s own time, Dilsey.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s Sunday.” Quentin said. “Dont you know anything.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shhhhhh.” Dilsey said. “Didn’t Mr Jason say for you all to be +quiet. Eat your supper, now. Here, Versh. Git his spoon.” Versh’s +hand came with the spoon, into the bowl. The spoon came up to +my mouth. The steam tickled into my mouth. Then we quit eating +and we looked at each other and we were quiet, and then we heard +it again and I began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What was that.” Caddy said. She put her hand on my hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That was Mother.” Quentin said. The spoon came up and I ate, +then I cried again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Caddy said. But I didn’t hush and she came and put +her arms around me. Dilsey went and closed both the doors and +then we couldn’t hear it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, now.” Caddy said. I hushed and ate. Quentin wasn’t +eating, but Jason was. +<span class='pageno' title='19' id='Page_19'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That was Mother.” Quentin said. He got up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You set right down.” Dilsey said. “They got company in +there, and you in them muddy clothes. You set down too, Caddy, +and get done eating.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She was crying.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was somebody singing.” Caddy said. “Wasn’t it, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You all eat your supper, now, like Mr Jason said.” Dilsey +said. “You’ll know in the Lawd’s own time.” Caddy went back to +her chair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told you it was a party.” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Versh said, “He done et all that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Bring his bowl here.” Dilsey said. The bowl went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dilsey.” Caddy said, “Quentin’s not eating his supper. Hasn’t +he got to mind me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Eat your supper, Quentin.” Dilsey said, “You all got to get +done and get out of my kitchen.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont want any more supper.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got to eat if I say you have.” Caddy said. “Hasn’t +he, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The bowl steamed up to my face, and Versh’s hand dipped +the spoon in it and the steam tickled into my mouth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont want any more.” Quentin said. “How can they have a +party when Damuddy’s sick.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They’ll have it down stairs.” Caddy said. “She can come to the +landing and see it. That’s what I’m going to do when I get my +nightie on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mother was crying.” Quentin said. “Wasn’t she crying, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you come pestering at me, boy.” Dilsey said. “I got to get +supper for all them folks soon as you all get done eating.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After a while even Jason was through eating, and he began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now you got to tune up.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He does it every night since Damuddy was sick and he cant +sleep with her.” Caddy said. “Cry baby.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to tell on you.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was crying. “You’ve already told.” Caddy said. “There’s +not anything else you can tell, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You all needs to go to bed.” Dilsey said. She came and lifted +me down and wiped my face and hands with a warm cloth. “Versh, +<span class='pageno' title='20' id='Page_20'></span> +can you get them up the back stairs quiet. You, Jason, shut up that +crying.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s too early to go to bed now.” Caddy said. “We dont ever +have to go to bed this early.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You is tonight.” Dilsey said. “Your pa say for you to come +right on up stairs when you et supper. You heard him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He said to mind me.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going to mind you.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You have to.” Caddy said. “Come on, now. You have to do +like I say.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Make them be quiet, Versh.” Dilsey said. “You all going to +be quiet, aint you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do we have to be so quiet for, tonight.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your mommer aint feeling well.” Dilsey said. “You all go on +with Versh, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told you Mother was crying.” Quentin said. Versh took me +up and opened the door onto the back porch. We went out and +Versh closed the door black. I could smell Versh and feel him. +“You all be quiet, now. We’re not going up stairs yet. Mr Jason said +for you to come right up stairs. He said to mind me. I’m not going +to mind you. But he said for all of us to. Didn’t he, Quentin.” I +could feel Versh’s head. I could hear us. “Didn’t he, Versh. Yes, +that’s right. Then I say for us to go out doors a while. Come on.” +Versh opened the door and we went out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went down the steps.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I expect we’d better go down to Versh’s house, so we’ll be +quiet.” Caddy said. Versh put me down and Caddy took my hand +and we went down the brick walk.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on.” Caddy said, “That frog’s gone. He’s hopped way +over to the garden, by now. Maybe we’ll see another one.” Roskus +came with the milk buckets. He went on. Quentin wasn’t coming +with us. He was sitting on the kitchen steps. We went down to +Versh’s house. I liked to smell Versh’s house. <span class='it'>There was a fire in it +and T. P. squatting in his shirt tail in front of it, chunking it into a +blaze.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then I got up and T. P. dressed me and we went to the kitchen +and ate. Dilsey was singing and I began to cry and she stopped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep him away from the house, now.” Dilsey said. +<span class='pageno' title='21' id='Page_21'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We cant go that way.” T. P. said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We played in the branch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We cant go around yonder.” T. P. said. “Dont you know +mammy say we cant.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey was singing in the kitchen and I began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” T. P. said. “Come on. Lets go down to the barn.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Roskus was milking at the barn. He was milking with one hand, +and groaning. Some birds sat on the barn door and watched him. +One of them came down and ate with the cows. I watched Roskus +milk while T. P. was feeding Queenie and Prince. The calf was in +the pig pen. It nuzzled at the wire, bawling.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“T. P.” Roskus said. T. P. said Sir, in the barn. Fancy held +her head over the door, because T. P. hadn’t fed her yet. “Git +done there.” Roskus said. “You got to do this milking. I cant use +my right hand no more.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>T. P. came and milked.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you get the doctor.” T. P. said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Doctor cant do no good.” Roskus said. “Not on this place.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What wrong with this place.” T. P. said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Taint no luck on this place.” Roskus said. “Turn that calf in if +you done.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Taint no luck on this place, Roskus said. The fire rose and +fell behind him and Versh, sliding on his and Versh’s face. Dilsey +finished putting me to bed. The bed smelled like T. P. I liked it.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you know about it.” Dilsey said. “What trance you been +in.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont need no trance.” Roskus said. “Aint the sign of it laying +right there on that bed. Aint the sign of it been here for folks to see +fifteen years now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Spose it is.” Dilsey said. “It aint hurt none of you and yourn, +is it. Versh working and Frony married off your hands and T. P. +getting big enough to take your place when rheumatism finish +getting you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They been two, now.” Roskus said. “Going to be one more. I +seen the sign, and you is too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I heard a squinch owl that night.” T. P. said. “Dan wouldn’t +come and get his supper, neither. Wouldn’t come no closer than the +barn. Begun howling right after dark. Versh heard him.” +<span class='pageno' title='22' id='Page_22'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Going to be more than one more.” Dilsey said. “Show me the +man what aint going to die, bless Jesus.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dying aint all.” Roskus said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knows what you thinking.” Dilsey said. “And they aint going +to be no luck in saying that name, lessen you going to set up with +him while he cries.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They aint no luck on this place.” Roskus said. “I seen it at +first but when they changed his name I knowed it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush your mouth.” Dilsey said. She pulled the covers up. It +smelled like T. P. “You all shut up now, till he get to sleep.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I seen the sign.” Roskus said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sign T. P. got to do all your work for you.” Dilsey said. <span class='it'>Take +him and Quentin down to the house and let them play with Luster, +where Frony can watch them, T. P., and go and help your pa.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We finished eating. T. P. took Quentin up and we went down to +T. P.’s house. Luster was playing in the dirt. T. P. put Quentin +down and she played in the dirt too. Luster had some spools and he +and Quentin fought and Quentin had the spools. Luster cried and +Frony came and gave Luster a tin can to play with, and then I had +the spools and Quentin fought me and I cried.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Frony said, “Aint you shamed of yourself. Taking a +baby’s play pretty.” She took the spools from me and gave them +back to Quentin.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, now.” Frony said, “Hush, I tell you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush up.” Frony said. “You needs whipping, that’s what you +needs.” She took Luster and Quentin up. “Come on here.” she +said. We went to the barn. T. P. was milking the cow. Roskus +was sitting on the box.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter with him now.” Roskus said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You have to keep him down here.” Frony said. “He fighting +these babies again. Taking they play things. Stay here with T. P. +now, and see can you hush a while.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Clean that udder good now.” Roskus said. “You milked that +young cow dry last winter. If you milk this one dry, they aint +going to be no more milk.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey was singing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not around yonder.” T. P. said. “Dont you know mammy say +you cant go around there.” +<span class='pageno' title='23' id='Page_23'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were singing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on.” T. P. said. “Lets go play with Quentin and Luster. +Come on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin and Luster were playing in the dirt in front of T. P.’s +house. There was a fire in the house, rising and falling, with Roskus +sitting black against it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s three, thank the Lawd.” Roskus said. “I told you two +years ago. They aint no luck on this place.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you get out, then.” Dilsey said. She was undressing +me. “Your bad luck talk got them Memphis notions into Versh. +That ought to satisfy you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If that all the bad luck Versh have.” Roskus said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Frony came in.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You all done.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“T. P. finishing up.” Frony said. “Miss Cahline want you to +put Quentin to bed.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m coming just as fast as I can.” Dilsey said. “She ought to +know by this time I aint got no wings.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I tell you.” Roskus said. “They aint no luck going +be on no place where one of they own chillens’ name aint never +spoke.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Dilsey said. “Do you want to get him started”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Raising a child not to know its own mammy’s name.” Roskus +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you bother your head about her.” Dilsey said. “I raised +all of them and I reckon I can raise one more. Hush now. Let him +get to sleep if he will.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Saying a name.” Frony said. “He dont know nobody’s name.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You just say it and see if he dont.” Dilsey said. “You say it to +him while he sleeping and I bet he hear you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He know lot more than folks thinks.” Roskus said. “He knowed +they time was coming, like that pointer done. He could tell you +when hisn coming, if he could talk. Or yours. Or mine.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You take Luster outen that bed, mammy.” Frony said. “That +boy conjure him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush your mouth.” Dilsey said, “Aint you got no better sense +than that. What you want to listen to Roskus for, anyway. Get in, +Benjy.” +<span class='pageno' title='24' id='Page_24'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey pushed me and I got in the bed, where Luster already +was. He was asleep. Dilsey took a long piece of wood and laid it +between Luster and me. “Stay on your side now.” Dilsey said +“Luster little, and you don’t want to hurt him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You can’t go yet, T. P. said. Wait.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We looked around the corner of the house and watched the carriages +go away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now.” T. P. said. He took Quentin up and we ran down to the +corner of the fence and watched them pass. “There he go,” T. P. +said. “See that one with the glass in it. Look at him. He laying in +there. See him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Come on, Luster said, I going to take this here ball down home, +where I wont lose it. Naw, sir, you cant have it. If them men sees +you with it, they’ll say you stole it. Hush up, now. You cant have +it. What business you got with it. You cant play no ball.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Frony and T. P. were playing in the dirt by the door. T. P. had +lightning bugs in a bottle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How did you all get back out.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’ve got company.” Caddy said. “Father said for us to mind +me tonight. I expect you and T. P. will have to mind me too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going to mind you.” Jason said. “Frony and T. P. dont +have to either.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They will if I say so.” Caddy said. “Maybe I wont say for them +to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“T. P. dont mind nobody.” Frony said. “Is they started the +funeral yet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s a funeral.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t mammy tell you not to tell them.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where they moans.” Frony said. “They moaned two days on Sis +Beulah Clay.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>They moaned at Dilsey’s house. Dilsey was moaning. When +Dilsey moaned Luster said, Hush, and we hushed, and then I began +to cry and Blue howled under the kitchen steps. Then Dilsey +stopped and we stopped.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh.” Caddy said, “That’s niggers. White folks dont have +funerals.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mammy said us not to tell them, Frony.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tell them what.” Caddy said. +<span class='pageno' title='25' id='Page_25'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Dilsey moaned, and when it got to the place I began to cry and +Blue howled under the steps. Luster, Frony said in the window, +Take them down to the barn. I cant get no cooking done with all +that racket. That hound too. Get them outen here.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I aint going down there, Luster said. I might meet pappy down +there. I seen him last night, waving his arms in the barn.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I like to know why not.” Frony said. “White folks dies too. +Your grandmammy dead as any nigger can get, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dogs are dead.” Caddy said, “And when Nancy fell in the ditch +and Roskus shot her and the buzzards came and undressed her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The bones rounded out of the ditch, where the dark vines were in +the black ditch, into the moonlight, like some of the shapes had +stopped. Then they all stopped and it was dark, and when I stopped +to start again I could hear Mother, and feet walking fast away, +and I could smell it. Then the room came, but my eyes went shut. I +didn’t stop. I could smell it. T. P. unpinned the bed clothes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” he said, “Shhhhhhhh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But I could smell it. T. P. pulled me up and he put on my clothes +fast.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Benjy.” he said. “We going down to our house. You +want to go down to our house, where Frony is. Hush. Shhhhh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He laced my shoes and put my cap on and we went out. There +was a light in the hall. Across the hall we could hear Mother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shhhhhh, Benjy.” T. P. said, “We’ll be out in a minute.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A door opened and I could smell it more than ever, and a head +came out. It wasn’t Father. Father was sick there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Can you take him out of the house.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s where we going.” T. P. said. Dilsey came up the stairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” she said, “Hush. Take him down home, T. P. Frony +fixing him a bed. You all look after him, now. Hush, Benjy. Go on +with T. P.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She went where we could hear Mother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Better keep him there.” It wasn’t Father. He shut the door, but +I could still smell it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went down stairs. The stairs went down into the dark and +T. P. took my hand, and we went out the door, out of the dark. +Dan was sitting in the back yard, howling.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He smell it.” T. P. said. “Is that the way you found it out.” +<span class='pageno' title='26' id='Page_26'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went down the steps, where our shadows were.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I forgot your coat.” T. P. said. “You ought to had it. But I aint +going back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dan howled.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush now.” T. P. said. Our shadows moved, but Dan’s shadow +didn’t move except to howl when he did.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant take you down home, bellering like you is.” T. P. said. +“You was bad enough before you got that bullfrog voice. Come on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went along the brick walk, with our shadows. The pig pen +smelled like pigs. The cow stood in the lot, chewing at us. Dan +howled.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You going to wake the whole town up.” T. P. said. “Cant +you hush.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We saw Fancy, eating by the branch. The moon shone on the +water when we got there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Naw, sir.” T. P. said, “This too close. We cant stop here. Come +on. Now, just look at you. Got your whole leg wet. Come on, here.” +Dan howled.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The ditch came up out of the buzzing grass. The bones rounded +out of the black vines.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now.” T. P. said. “Beller your head off if you want to. You +got the whole night and a twenty acre pasture to beller in.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>T. P. lay down in the ditch and I sat down, watching the bones +where the buzzards ate Nancy, flapping black and slow and heavy +out of the ditch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I had it when we was down here before, Luster said. I showed +it to you. Didn’t you see it. I took it out of my pocket right here and +showed it to you.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think buzzards are going to undress Damuddy.” Caddy +said. “You’re crazy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re a skizzard.” Jason said. He began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re a knobnot.” Caddy said. Jason cried. His hands were +in his pockets.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason going to be rich man.” Versh said. “He holding his +money all the time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason cried.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now you’ve got him started.” Caddy said. “Hush up, Jason. +How can buzzards get in where Damuddy is. Father wouldn’t +<span class='pageno' title='27' id='Page_27'></span> +let them. Would you let a buzzard undress you. Hush up, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason hushed. “Frony said it was a funeral.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well it’s not.” Caddy said. “It’s a party. Frony dont know +anything about it. He wants your lightning bugs, T. P. Let him +hold it a while.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>T. P. gave me the bottle of lightning bugs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet if we go around to the parlor window we can see something.” +Caddy said. “Then you’ll believe me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I already knows.” Frony said. “I dont need to see.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You better hush your mouth, Frony.” Versh said. “Mammy +going whip you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is it.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knows what I knows.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on.” Caddy said, “Let’s go around to the front.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We started to go.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“T. P. wants his lightning bugs.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let him hold it a while longer, T. P.” Caddy said. “We’ll bring +it back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You all never caught them.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I say you and T. P. can come too, will you let him hold it.” +Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint nobody said me and T. P. got to mind you.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I say you dont have to, will you let him hold it.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” Frony said. “Let him hold it, T. P. We going to +watch them moaning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They aint moaning.” Caddy said. “I tell you it’s a party. Are +they moaning, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We aint going to know what they doing, standing here.” +Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on.” Caddy said. “Frony and T. P. dont have to +mind me. But the rest of us do. You better carry him, Versh. It’s +getting dark.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Versh took me up and we went on around the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>When we looked around the corner we could see the lights +coming up the drive. T. P. went back to the cellar door and opened +it.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You know what’s down there, T. P. said. Soda water. I seen +<span class='pageno' title='28' id='Page_28'></span> +Mr Jason come up with both hands full of them. Wait here a +minute.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>T. P. went and looked in the kitchen door. Dilsey said, What +are you peeping in here for. Where’s Benjy.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>He out here, T. P. said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Go on and watch him, Dilsey said. Keep him out the house now.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Yessum, T. P. said. Is they started yet.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You go on and keep that boy out of sight, Dilsey said. I got all I +can tend to.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>A snake crawled out from under the house. Jason said he wasn’t +afraid of snakes and Caddy said he was but she wasn’t and Versh +said they both were and Caddy said to be quiet, like father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You aint got to start bellering now, T. P. said. You want some +this sassprilluh.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>It tickled my nose and eyes.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>If you aint going to drink it, let me get to it, T. P. said. All right, +here tis. We better get another bottle while aint nobody bothering +us. You be quiet, now.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We stopped under the tree by the parlor window. Versh set +me down in the wet grass. It was cold. There were lights in all the +windows.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s where Damuddy is.” Caddy said. “She’s sick every day +now. When she gets well we’re going to have a picnic.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knows what I knows.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The trees were buzzing, and the grass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The one next to it is where we have the measles.” Caddy said. +“Where do you and T. P. have the measles, Frony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Has them just wherever we is, I reckon.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They haven’t started yet.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>They getting ready to start, T. P. said. You stand right here now +while I get that box so we can see in the window. Here, les finish +drinking this here sassprilluh. It make me feel just like a squinch +owl inside.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We drank the sassprilluh and T. P. pushed the bottle through +the lattice, under the house, and went away. I could hear them in +the parlor and I clawed my hands against the wall. T. P. dragged +the box. He fell down, and he began to laugh. He lay there, laughing +<span class='pageno' title='29' id='Page_29'></span> +into the grass. He got up and dragged the box under the window, +trying not to laugh.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I skeered I going to holler.” T. P. said. “Git on the box and see +is they started.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They haven’t started because the band hasn’t come yet.” Caddy +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They aint going to have no band.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How do you know.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knows what I knows.” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont know anything.” Caddy said. She went to the tree. +“Push me up, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your paw told you to stay out that tree.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That was a long time ago.” Caddy said. “I expect he’s forgotten +about it. Besides, he said to mind me tonight. Didn’t he say to mind +me tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going to mind you.” Jason said. “Frony and T. P. are +not going to either.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Push me up, Versh.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” Versh said. “You the one going to get whipped. I +aint.” He went and pushed Caddy up into the tree to the first limb. +We watched the muddy bottom of her drawers. Then we couldn’t see +her. We could hear the tree thrashing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mr Jason said if you break that tree he whip you.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to tell on her too.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The tree quit thrashing. We looked up into the still branches.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you seeing.” Frony whispered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I saw them. Then I saw Caddy, with flowers in her hair, and a +long veil like shining wind. Caddy Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” T. P. said, “They going to hear you. Get down quick.” +He pulled me. Caddy. I clawed my hands against the wall Caddy. +T. P. pulled me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” he said, “Hush. Come on here quick.” He pulled me +on. Caddy “Hush up, Benjy. You want them to hear you. Come +on, les drink some more sassprilluh, then we can come back if you +hush. We better get one more bottle or we both be hollering. We +can say Dan drunk it. Mr Quentin always saying he so smart, we +can say he sassprilluh dog, too.” +<span class='pageno' title='30' id='Page_30'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The moonlight came down the cellar stairs. We drank some more +sassprilluh.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know what I wish.” T. P. said. “I wish a bear would walk in +that cellar door. You know what I do. I walk right up to him and +spit in he eye. Gimme that bottle to stop my mouth before I holler.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>T. P. fell down. He began to laugh, and the cellar door and the +moonlight jumped away and something hit me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush up.” T. P. said, trying not to laugh, “Lawd, they’ll all hear +us. Get up.” T. P. said, “Get up, Benjy, quick.” He was thrashing +about and laughing and I tried to get up. The cellar steps ran up +the hill in the moonlight and T. P. fell up the hill, into the moonlight, +and I ran against the fence and T. P. ran behind me saying +“Hush up hush up” Then he fell into the flowers, laughing, and I +ran into the box. But when I tried to climb onto it it jumped away +and hit me on the back of the head and my throat made a sound. +It made the sound again and I stopped trying to get up, and it made +the sound again and I began to cry. But my throat kept on making +the sound while T. P. was pulling me. It kept on making it and I +couldn’t tell if I was crying or not, and T. P. fell down on top of me, +laughing, and it kept on making the sound and Quentin kicked +T. P. and Caddy put her arms around me, and her shining veil, and +I couldn’t smell trees anymore and I began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Benjy, Caddy said, Benjy. She put her arms around me again, but +I went away.</span> “What is it, Benjy.” she said, “Is it this hat.” She +took her hat off and came again, and I went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy.” she said, “What is it, Benjy. What has Caddy done.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He dont like that prissy dress.” Jason said. “You think you’re +grown up, dont you. You think you’re better than anybody else, +dont you. Prissy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You shut your mouth.” Caddy said, “You dirty little beast. +Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Just because you are fourteen, you think you’re grown up, dont +you.” Jason said. “You think you’re something. Dont you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said. “You’ll disturb Mother. Hush.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But I didn’t hush, and when she went away I followed, and she +stopped on the stairs and waited and I stopped too.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Benjy.” Caddy said, “Tell Caddy. She’ll do it. Try.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Candace.” Mother said. +<span class='pageno' title='31' id='Page_31'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why are you teasing him.” Mother said. “Bring him here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went to Mother’s room, where she was lying with the sickness +on a cloth on her head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is the matter now.” Mother said. “Benjamin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy.” Caddy said. She came again, but I went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You must have done something to him.” Mother said. “Why +wont you let him alone, so I can have some peace. Give him the +box and please go on and let him alone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy got the box and set it on the floor and opened it. It was full +of stars. When I was still, they were still. When I moved, they +glinted and sparkled. I hushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then I heard Caddy walking and I began again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjamin.” Mother said, “Come here.” I went to the door. +“You, Benjamin.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is it now.” Father said, “Where are you going.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take him downstairs and get someone to watch him, Jason.” +Mother said. “You know I’m ill, yet you”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Father shut the door behind us.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“T. P.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sir.” T. P. said downstairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy’s coming down.” Father said. “Go with T. P.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went to the bathroom door. I could hear the water.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy.” T. P. said downstairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could hear the water. I listened to it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy.” T. P. said downstairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I listened to the water.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I couldn’t hear the water, and Caddy opened the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, Benjy.” she said. She looked at me and I went and she +put her arms around me. “Did you find Caddy again.” she said. +“Did you think Caddy had run away.” Caddy smelled like trees.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went to Caddy’s room. She sat down at the mirror. She +stopped her hands and looked at me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, Benjy. What is it.” she said. “You mustn’t cry. Caddy’s +not going away. See here.” she said. She took up the bottle and took +the stopper out and held it to my nose. “Sweet. Smell. Good.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went away and I didn’t hush, and she held the bottle in her +hand, looking at me. +<span class='pageno' title='32' id='Page_32'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh.” she said. She put the bottle down and came and put her +arms around me. “So that was it. And you were trying to tell Caddy +and you couldn’t tell her. You wanted to, but you couldn’t, could +you. Of course Caddy wont. Of course Caddy wont. Just wait till I +dress.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy dressed and took up the bottle again and we went down to +the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dilsey.” Caddy said, “Benjy’s got a present for you.” She +stooped down and put the bottle in my hand. “Hold it out to Dilsey, +now.” Caddy held my hand out and Dilsey took the bottle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well I’ll declare.” Dilsey said, “If my baby aint give Dilsey +a bottle of perfume. Just look here, Roskus.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy smelled like trees. “We dont like perfume ourselves.” +Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>She smelled like trees.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on, now.” Dilsey said, “You too big to sleep with folks. +You a big boy now. Thirteen years old. Big enough to sleep by +yourself in Uncle Maury’s room.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Uncle Maury was sick. His eye was sick, and his mouth. Versh +took his supper up to him on the tray.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Maury says he’s going to shoot the scoundrel.” Father said. +“I told him he’d better not mention it to Patterson before hand.” +He drank.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shoot who, Father.” Quentin said. “What’s Uncle Maury going +to shoot him for.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Because he couldn’t take a little joke.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason.” Mother said, “How can you. You’d sit right there and +see Maury shot down in ambush, and laugh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then Maury’d better stay out of ambush.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shoot who, Father.” Quentin said, “Who’s Uncle Maury going +to shoot.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nobody.” Father said. “I dont own a pistol.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mother began to cry. “If you begrudge Maury your food, why +aren’t you man enough to say so to his face. To ridicule him before +the children, behind his back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course I dont.” Father said, “I admire Maury. He is invaluable +<span class='pageno' title='33' id='Page_33'></span> +to my own sense of racial superiority. I wouldn’t swap Maury +for a matched team. And do you know why, Quentin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, sir.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Et ego in arcadia</span> I have forgotten the latin for hay.” Father +said. “There, there.” he said, “I was just joking.” He drank and +set the glass down and went and put his hand on Mother’s shoulder.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s no joke.” Mother said. “My people are every bit as well +born as yours. Just because Maury’s health is bad.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course.” Father said. “Bad health is the primary reason +for all life. Created by disease, within putrefaction, into decay. +Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sir.” Versh said behind my chair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take the decanter and fill it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And tell Dilsey to come and take Benjamin up to bed.” Mother +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You a big boy.” Dilsey said, “Caddy tired sleeping with you. +Hush now, so you can go to sleep.” The room went away, but I +didn’t hush, and the room came back and Dilsey came and sat +on the bed, looking at me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint you going to be a good boy and hush.” Dilsey said. “You +aint, is you. See can you wait a minute, then.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She went away. There wasn’t anything in the door. Then +Caddy was in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Caddy said. “I’m coming.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I hushed and Dilsey turned back the spread and Caddy got in +between the spread and the blanket. She didn’t take off her bathrobe.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now.” she said, “Here I am.” Dilsey came with a blanket and +spread it over her and tucked it around her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He be gone in a minute.” Dilsey said. “I leave the light on in +your room.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” Caddy said. She snuggled her head beside mine +on the pillow. “Goodnight, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Goodnight, honey.” Dilsey said. The room went black. <span class='it'>Caddy +smelled like trees.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We looked up into the tree where she was.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What she seeing, Versh.” Frony whispered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shhhhhhh.” Caddy said in the tree. Dilsey said, +<span class='pageno' title='34' id='Page_34'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You come on here.” She came around the corner of the house. +“Whyn’t you all go on up stairs, like your paw said, stead of slipping +out behind my back. Where’s Caddy and Quentin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told her not to climb up that tree.” Jason said. “I’m going +to tell on her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who in what tree.” Dilsey said. She came and looked up into +the tree. “Caddy.” Dilsey said. The branches began to shake again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Satan.” Dilsey said. “Come down from there.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Caddy said, “Dont you know Father said to be quiet.” +Her legs came in sight and Dilsey reached up and lifted her out +of the tree.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint you got any better sense than to let them come around +here.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t do nothing with her.” Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you all doing here.” Dilsey said. “Who told you to come +up to the house.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She did.” Frony said. “She told us to come.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who told you you got to do what she say.” Dilsey said. “Get +on home, now.” Frony and T. P. went on. We couldn’t see them +when they were still going away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Out here in the middle of the night.” Dilsey said. She took me up +and we went to the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Slipping out behind my back.” Dilsey said. “When you knowed +it’s past your bedtime.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shhhh, Dilsey.” Caddy said. “Dont talk so loud. We’ve got to +be quiet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You hush your mouth and get quiet, then.” Dilsey said. +“Where’s Quentin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin’s mad because he had to mind me tonight.” Caddy +said. “He’s still got T. P.’s bottle of lightning bugs.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon T. P. can get along without it.” Dilsey said. “You go +and find Quentin, Versh. Roskus say he seen him going towards the +barn.” Versh went on. We couldn’t see him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They’re not doing anything in there.” Caddy said. “Just sitting +in chairs and looking.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They dont need no help from you all to do that.” Dilsey said. +We went around the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Where you want to go now, Luster said. You going back to watch +<span class='pageno' title='35' id='Page_35'></span> +them knocking ball again. We done looked for it over there. Here. +Wait a minute. You wait right here while I go back and get that +ball. I done thought of something.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The kitchen was dark. The trees were black on the sky. Dan +came waddling out from under the steps and chewed my ankle. I +went around the kitchen, where the moon was. Dan came scuffling +along, into the moon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy.” T. P. said in the house.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The flower tree by the parlor window wasn’t dark, but the thick +trees were. The grass was buzzing in the moonlight where my +shadow walked on the grass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Benjy.” T. P. said in the house. “Where you hiding. You +slipping off. I knows it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Luster came back. Wait, he said. Here. Dont go over there. Miss +Quentin and her beau in the swing yonder. You come on this way. +Come back here, Benjy.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was dark under the trees. Dan wouldn’t come. He stayed in +the moonlight. Then I could see the swing and I began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Come away from there, Benjy, Luster said. You know Miss +Quentin going to get mad.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was two now, and then one in the swing. Caddy came fast, +white in the darkness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy,” she said. “How did you slip out. Where’s Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She put her arms around me and I hushed and held to her dress +and tried to pull her away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, Benjy.” she said. “What is it. T. P.” she called.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The one in the swing got up and came, and I cried and pulled +Caddy’s dress.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjy.” Caddy said. “It’s just Charlie. Dont you know Charlie.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’s his nigger.” Charlie said. “What do they let him run +around loose for.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said. “Go away, Charlie. He doesn’t like +you.” Charlie went away and I hushed. I pulled at Caddy’s dress.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, Benjy.” Caddy said. “Aren’t you going to let me stay here +and talk to Charlie awhile.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Call that nigger.” Charlie said. He came back. I cried louder +and pulled at Caddy’s dress. +<span class='pageno' title='36' id='Page_36'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go away, Charlie.” Caddy said. Charlie came and put his hands +on Caddy and I cried more. I cried loud.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, no.” Caddy said. “No. No.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He cant talk.” Charlie said. “Caddy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you crazy.” Caddy said. She began to breathe fast. “He +can see. Dont. Dont.” Caddy fought. They both breathed fast. +“Please. Please.” Caddy whispered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Send him away.” Charlie said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I will.” Caddy said. “Let me go.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you send him away.” Charlie said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes.” Caddy said. “Let me go.” Charlie went away. “Hush.” +Caddy said. “He’s gone.” I hushed. I could hear her and feel her +chest going.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll have to take him to the house.” she said. She took my hand. +“I’m coming.” she whispered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wait.” Charlie said. “Call the nigger.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No.” Caddy said. “I’ll come back. Come on, Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Caddy.” Charlie whispered, loud. We went on. “You better +come back. Are you coming back.” Caddy and I were running. +“Caddy.” Charlie said. We ran out into the moonlight, toward the +kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Caddy.” Charlie said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy and I ran. We ran up the kitchen steps, onto the porch, +and Caddy knelt down in the dark and held me. I could hear her +and feel her chest. “I wont.” she said. “I wont anymore, ever. +Benjy. Benjy.” Then she was crying, and I cried, and we held each +other. “Hush.” she said. “Hush. I wont anymore.” So I hushed +and Caddy got up and we went into the kitchen and turned the +light on and Caddy took the kitchen soap and washed her mouth at +the sink, hard. Caddy smelled like trees.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I kept a telling you to stay away from there, Luster said. They +sat up in the swing, quick. Quentin had her hands on her hair. He +had a red tie.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You old crazy loon, Quentin said. I’m going to tell Dilsey about +the way you let him follow everywhere I go. I’m going to make her +whip you good.</span> +<span class='pageno' title='37' id='Page_37'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t stop him.” Luster said. “Come on here, Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes you could.” Quentin said. “You didn’t try. You were both +snooping around after me. Did Grandmother send you all out +here to spy on me.” She jumped out of the swing. “If you dont +take him right away this minute and keep him away, I’m going to +make Jason whip you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant do nothing with him.” Luster said. “You try it if you +think you can.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shut your mouth.” Quentin said. “Are you going to get him +away.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, let him stay.” he said. He had a red tie. The sun was red +on it. “Look here, Jack.” He struck a match and put it in his mouth. +Then he took the match out of his mouth. It was still burning. +“Want to try it.” he said. I went over there. “Open your mouth.” +he said. I opened my mouth. Quentin hit the match with her hand +and it went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Goddamn you.” Quentin said. “Do you want to get him +started. Dont you know he’ll beller all day. I’m going to tell Dilsey +on you.” She went away running.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here, kid.” he said. “Hey. Come on back. I aint going to fool +with him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin ran on to the house. She went around the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You played hell then, Jack.” he said. “Aint you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He cant tell what you saying.” Luster said. “He deef and +dumb.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is.” he said. “How long’s he been that way.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Been that way thirty-three years today.” Luster said. “Born +looney. Is you one of them show folks.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont ricklick seeing you around here before.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, what about it.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing.” Luster said. “I going tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He looked at me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You aint the one can play a tune on that saw, is you.” Luster +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’ll cost you a quarter to find that out.” he said. He looked at +me. “Why dont they lock him up.” he said. “What’d you bring him +out here for.” +<span class='pageno' title='38' id='Page_38'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You aint talking to me.” Luster said. “I cant do nothing with +him. I just come over here looking for a quarter I lost so I can go +to the show tonight. Look like now I aint going to get to go.” Luster +looked on the ground. “You aint got no extra quarter, is you.” +Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No.” he said. “I aint.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon I just have to find that other one, then.” Luster said. +He put his hand in his pocket. “You dont want to buy no golf ball +neither, does you.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What kind of ball.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Golf ball.” Luster said. “I dont want but a quarter.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What for.” he said. “What do I want with it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t think you did.” Luster said. “Come on here, mulehead.” +he said. “Come on here and watch them knocking that ball. +Here. Here something you can play with along with that jimson +weed.” Luster picked it up and gave it to me. It was bright.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’d you get that.” he said. His tie was red in the sun, +walking.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Found it under this here bush.” Luster said. “I thought for a +minute it was that quarter I lost.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He came and took it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Luster said. “He going to give it back when he done +looking at it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Agnes Mabel Becky.” he said. He looked toward the house.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Luster said. “He fixing to give it back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He gave it to me and I hushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who come to see her last night.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know.” Luster said. “They comes every night she can +climb down that tree. I dont keep no track of them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Damn if one of them didn’t leave a track.” he said. He looked +at the house. Then he went and lay down in the swing. “Go away.” +he said. “Dont bother me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on here.” Luster said. “You done played hell now. Time +Miss Quentin get done telling on you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went to the fence and looked through the curling flower +spaces. Luster hunted in the grass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I had it right here.” he said. I saw the flag flapping, and the sun +slanting on the broad grass. +<span class='pageno' title='39' id='Page_39'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They’ll be some along soon.” Luster said. “There some now, +but they going away. Come on and help me look for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went along the fence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Luster said. “How can I make them come over here, +if they aint coming. Wait. They’ll be some in a minute. Look yonder. +Here they come.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went along the fence, to the gate, where the girls passed with +their booksatchels. “You, Benjy.” Luster said. “Come back here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You cant do no good looking through the gate, T. P. said. Miss +Caddy done gone long ways away. Done got married and left you. +You cant do no good, holding to the gate and crying. She cant hear +you.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What is it he wants, T. P. Mother said. Cant you play with him +and keep him quiet.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>He want to go down yonder and look through the gate, T. P. +said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Well, he cannot do it, Mother said. It’s raining. You will just +have to play with him and keep him quiet. You, Benjamin.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Aint nothing going to quiet him, T. P. said. He think if he down +to the gate, Miss Caddy come back.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Nonsense, Mother said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could hear them talking. I went out the door and I couldn’t +hear them, and I went down to the gate, where the girls passed +with their booksatchels. They looked at me, walking fast, with +their heads turned. I tried to say, but they went on, and I went +along the fence, trying to say, and they went faster. Then they were +running and I came to the corner of the fence and I couldn’t go +any further, and I held to the fence, looking after them and trying +to say.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Benjy.” T. P. said. “What you doing, slipping out. Dont +you know Dilsey whip you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You cant do no good, moaning and slobbering through the +fence.” T. P. said. “You done skeered them chillen. Look at them, +walking on the other side of the street.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>How did he get out, Father said. Did you leave the gate unlatched +when you came in, Jason.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Of course not, Jason said. Dont you know I’ve got better sense +than to do that. Do you think I wanted anything like this to happen. +<span class='pageno' title='40' id='Page_40'></span> +This family is bad enough, God knows. I could have told you, +all the time. I reckon you’ll send him to Jackson, now. If Mrs +Burgess dont shoot him first.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Hush, Father said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I could have told you, all the time, Jason said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was open when I touched it, and I held to it in the twilight. +I wasn’t crying, and I tried to stop, watching the girls coming along +in the twilight. I wasn’t crying.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There he is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They stopped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He cant get out. He wont hurt anybody, anyway. Come on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m scared to. I’m scared. I’m going to cross the street.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He cant get out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wasn’t crying.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont be a ’fraid cat. Come on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They came on in the twilight. I wasn’t crying, and I held to the +gate. They came slow.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m scared.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He wont hurt you. I pass here every day. He just runs along the +fence.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They came on. I opened the gate and they stopped, turning. I +was trying to say, and I caught her, trying to say, and she screamed +and I was trying to say and trying and the bright shapes began to +stop and I tried to get out. I tried to get it off of my face, but the +bright shapes were going again. They were going up the hill to +where it fell away and I tried to cry. But when I breathed in, I +couldn’t breathe out again to cry, and I tried to keep from falling +off the hill and I fell off the hill into the bright, whirling shapes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Here, loony, Luster said. Here come some. Hush your slobbering +and moaning, now.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>They came to the flag. He took it out and they hit, then he put +the flag back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mister.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He looked around. “What.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Want to buy a golf ball.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s see it.” he said. He came to the fence and Luster reached +the ball through.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’d you get it.” he said. +<span class='pageno' title='41' id='Page_41'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Found it.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know that.” he said. “Where. In somebody’s golf bag.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I found it laying over here in the yard.” Luster said. “I’ll take +a quarter for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What makes you think it’s yours.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I found it.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then find yourself another one.” he said. He put it in his +pocket and went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I got to go to that show tonight.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That so.” he said. He went to the table. “Fore, caddie.” he +said. He hit.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll declare.” Luster said. “You fusses when you dont see them +and you fusses when you does. Why cant you hush. Dont you +reckon folks gets tired of listening to you all the time. Here. You +dropped your jimson weed.” He picked it up and gave it back to +me. “You needs a new one. You ’bout wore that one out.” We +stood at the fence and watched them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That white man hard to get along with.” Luster said. “You see +him take my ball.” They went on. We went on along the fence. We +came to the garden and we couldn’t go any further. I held to the +fence and looked through the flower spaces. They went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now you aint got nothing to moan about.” Luster said. “Hush +up. I the one got something to moan over, you aint. Here. Whyn’t +you hold on to that weed. You be bellering about it next.” He +gave me the flower. “Where you heading now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Our shadows were on the grass. They got to the trees before +we did. Mine got there first. Then we got there, and then the +shadows were gone. There was a flower in the bottle. I put the +other flower in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint you a grown man, now.” Luster said. “Playing with two +weeds in a bottle. You know what they going to do with you when +Miss Cahline die. They going to send you to Jackson, where you +belong. Mr Jason say so. Where you can hold the bars all day long +with the rest of the looneys and slobber. How you like that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Luster knocked the flowers over with his hand. “That’s what +they’ll do to you at Jackson when you starts bellering.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I tried to pick up the flowers. Luster picked them up, and they +went away. I began to cry. +<span class='pageno' title='42' id='Page_42'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Beller.” Luster said. “Beller. You want something to beller +about. All right, then. Caddy.” he whispered. “Caddy. Beller now. +Caddy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Luster.” Dilsey said from the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The flowers came back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Luster said. “Here they is. Look. It’s fixed back just +like it was at first. Hush, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Luster.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” Luster said. “We coming. You done played hell. Get +up.” He jerked my arm and I got up. We went out of the trees. +Our shadows were gone.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Luster said. “Look at all them folks watching you. +Hush.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You bring him on here.” Dilsey said. She came down the steps.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you done to him now.” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint done nothing to him.” Luster said. “He just started +bellering.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes you is.” Dilsey said. “You done something to him. Where +you been.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Over yonder under them cedars.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Getting Quentin all riled up.” Dilsey said. “Why cant you keep +him away from her. Dont you know she dont like him where she +at.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Got as much time for him as I is.” Luster said. “He aint none +of my uncle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you sass me, nigger boy.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint done nothing to him.” Luster said. “He was playing +there, and all of a sudden he started bellering.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is you been projecking with his graveyard.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint touched his graveyard.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont lie to me, boy.” Dilsey said. We went up the steps and +into the kitchen. Dilsey opened the firedoor and drew a chair up +in front of it and I sat down. I hushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What you want to get her started for, Dilsey said. Whyn’t you +keep him out of there.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>He was just looking at the fire, Caddy said. Mother was telling +him his new name. We didn’t mean to get her started.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I knows you didn’t, Dilsey said. Him at one end of the house +<span class='pageno' title='43' id='Page_43'></span> +and her at the other. You let my things alone, now. Dont you +touch nothing till I get back.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint you shamed of yourself.” Dilsey said. “Teasing him.” +She set the cake on the table.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint been teasing him.” Luster said. “He was playing with +that bottle full of dogfennel and all of a sudden he started up bellering. +You heard him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You aint done nothing to his flowers.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint touched his graveyard.” Luster said. “What I want with +his truck. I was just hunting for that quarter.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You lost it, did you.” Dilsey said. She lit the candles on the +cake. Some of them were little ones. Some were big ones cut into +little pieces. “I told you to go put it away. Now I reckon you want +me to get you another one from Frony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I got to go to that show, Benjy or no Benjy.” Luster said. “I +aint going to follow him around day and night both.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You going to do just what he want you to, nigger boy.” Dilsey +said. “You hear me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint I always done it.” Luster said. “Dont I always does what +he wants. Dont I, Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then you keep it up.” Dilsey said. “Bringing him in here, +bawling and getting her started too. You all go ahead and eat this +cake, now, before Jason come. I dont want him jumping on me +about a cake I bought with my own money. Me baking a cake here, +with him counting every egg that comes into this kitchen. See can +you let him alone now, less you dont want to go to that show +tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You cant blow out no candles.” Luster said. “Watch me blow +them out.” He leaned down and puffed his face. The candles went +away. I began to cry. “Hush.” Luster said. “Here. Look at the fire +whiles I cuts this cake.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I could hear the clock, and I could hear Caddy standing behind +me, and I could hear the roof. It’s still raining, Caddy said. I hate +rain. I hate everything. And then her head came into my lap and +she was crying, holding me, and I began to cry. Then I looked at +the fire again and the bright, smooth shapes went again. I could +hear the clock and the roof and Caddy.</span> +<span class='pageno' title='44' id='Page_44'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I ate some cake. Luster’s hand came and took another piece. +I could hear him eating. I looked at the fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A long piece of wire came across my shoulder. It went to the +door, and then the fire went away. I began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you howling for now.” Luster said. “Look there.” The +fire was there. I hushed. “Cant you set and look at the fire and be +quiet like mammy told you.” Luster said. “You ought to be +ashamed of yourself. Here. Here’s you some more cake.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you done to him now.” Dilsey said. “Cant you never let +him alone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I was just trying to get him to hush up and not sturb Miss Cahline.” +Luster said. “Something got him started again.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And I know what that something name.” Dilsey said. “I’m +going to get Versh to take a stick to you when he comes home. +You just trying yourself. You been doing it all day. Did you take +him down to the branch.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nome.” Luster said. “We been right here in this yard all day, +like you said.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His hand came for another piece of cake. Dilsey hit his hand. +“Reach it again, and I chop it right off with this here butcher +knife.” Dilsey said. “I bet he aint had one piece of it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes he is.” Luster said. “He already had twice as much as me. +Ask him if he aint.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Reach hit one more time.” Dilsey said. “Just reach it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>That’s right, Dilsey said. I reckon it’ll be my time to cry next. +Reckon Maury going to let me cry on him a while, too.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>His name’s Benjy now, Caddy said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>How come it is, Dilsey said. He aint wore out the name he was +born with yet, is he.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Benjamin came out of the bible, Caddy said. It’s a better name +for him than Maury was.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>How come it is, Dilsey said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Mother says it is, Caddy said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Huh, Dilsey said. Name aint going to help him. Hurt him, +neither. Folks dont have no luck, changing names. My name been +Dilsey since fore I could remember and it be Dilsey when they’s +long forgot me.</span> +<span class='pageno' title='45' id='Page_45'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>How will they know it’s Dilsey, when it’s long forgot, Dilsey, +Caddy said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>It’ll be in the Book, honey, Dilsey said. Writ out.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Can you read it, Caddy said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Wont have to, Dilsey said. They’ll read it for me. All I got to +do is say Ise here.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The long wire came across my shoulder, and the fire went away. +I began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey and Luster fought.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I seen you.” Dilsey said. “Oho, I seen you.” She dragged +Luster out of the corner, shaking him. “Wasn’t nothing bothering +him, was they. You just wait till your pappy come home. I wish I +was young like I use to be, I’d tear them years right off your head. +I good mind to lock you up in that cellar and not let you go to that +show tonight, I sho is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ow, mammy.” Luster said. “Ow, mammy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I put my hand out to where the fire had been.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Catch him.” Dilsey said. “Catch him back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>My hand jerked back and I put it in my mouth and Dilsey caught +me. I could still hear the clock between my voice. Dilsey reached +back and hit Luster on the head. My voice was going loud every +time.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Get that soda.” Dilsey said. She took my hand out of my +mouth. My voice went louder then and my hand tried to go back +to my mouth, but Dilsey held it. My voice went loud. She sprinkled +soda on my hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look in the pantry and tear a piece off of that rag hanging on +the nail.” she said. “Hush, now. You dont want to make your ma +sick again, does you. Here, look at the fire. Dilsey make your hand +stop hurting in just a minute. Look at the fire.” She opened the +fire door. I looked at the fire, but my hand didn’t stop and I didn’t +stop. My hand was trying to go to my mouth but Dilsey held it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She wrapped the cloth around it. Mother said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is it now. Cant I even be sick in peace. Do I have to get +up out of bed to come down to him, with two grown negroes to +take care of him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He all right now.” Dilsey said. “He going to quit. He just +burnt his hand a little.” +<span class='pageno' title='46' id='Page_46'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“With two grown negroes, you must bring him into the house, +bawling.” Mother said. “You got him started on purpose, because +you know I’m sick.” She came and stood by me. “Hush.” she said. +“Right this minute. Did you give him this cake.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bought it.” Dilsey said. “It never come out of Jason’s pantry. +I fixed him some birthday.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you want to poison him with that cheap store cake.” +Mother said. “Is that what you are trying to do. Am I never to have +one minute’s peace.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You go on back up stairs and lay down.” Dilsey said. “It’ll +quit smarting him in a minute now, and he’ll hush. Come on, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And leave him down here for you all to do something else to.” +Mother said. “How can I lie there, with him bawling down here. +Benjamin. Hush this minute.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They aint nowhere else to take him.” Dilsey said. “We aint +got the room we use to have. He cant stay out in the yard, crying +where all the neighbors can see him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know, I know.” Mother said. “It’s all my fault. I’ll be gone +soon, and you and Jason will both get along better.” She began to +cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You hush that, now.” Dilsey said. “You’ll get yourself down +again. You come on back up stairs. Luster going to take him to +the liberry and play with him till I get his supper done.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey and Mother went out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush up.” Luster said. “You hush up. You want me to burn +your other hand for you. You aint hurt. Hush up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here.” Dilsey said. “Stop crying, now.” She gave me the slipper, +and I hushed. “Take him to the liberry.” she said. “And if I +hear him again, I going to whip you myself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went to the library. Luster turned on the light. The windows +went black, and the dark tall place on the wall came and I went +and touched it. It was like a door, only it wasn’t a door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The fire came behind me and I went to the fire and sat on the +floor, holding the slipper. The fire went higher. It went onto the +cushion in Mother’s chair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush up.” Luster said. “Cant you never get done for a while. +Here I done built you a fire, and you wont even look at it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Your name is Benjy. Caddy said. Do you hear. Benjy. Benjy.</span> +<span class='pageno' title='47' id='Page_47'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Dont tell him that, Mother said. Bring him here.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Caddy lifted me under the arms.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Get up, Mau—I mean Benjy, she said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Dont try to carry him, Mother said. Cant you lead him over +here. Is that too much for you to think of.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I can carry him</span>, Caddy said. “Let me carry him up, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on, Minute.” Dilsey said. “You aint big enough to tote a +flea. You go on and be quiet, like Mr. Jason said.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a light at the top of the stairs. Father was there, in +his shirt sleeves. The way he looked said Hush. Caddy whispered,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is Mother sick.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Versh set me down and we went into Mother’s room. There +was a fire. It was rising and falling on the walls. There was another +fire in the mirror. I could smell the sickness. It was a cloth folded +on Mother’s head. Her hair was on the pillow. The fire didn’t +reach it, but it shone on her hand, where her rings were jumping.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come and tell Mother goodnight.” Caddy said. We went to +the bed. The fire went out of the mirror. Father got up from the +bed and lifted me up and Mother put her hand on my head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What time is it.” Mother said. Her eyes were closed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ten minutes to seven.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s too early for him to go to bed.” Mother said. “He’ll wake +up at daybreak, and I simply cannot bear another day like today.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There, there.” Father said. He touched Mother’s face.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know I’m nothing but a burden to you.” Mother said. “But +I’ll be gone soon. Then you will be rid of my bothering.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Father said. “I’ll take him downstairs awhile.” He +took me up. “Come on, old fellow. Let’s go downstairs awhile. +We’ll have to be quiet while Quentin is studying, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy went and leaned her face over the bed and Mother’s +hand came into the firelight. Her rings jumped on Caddy’s back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Mother’s sick, Father said. Dilsey will put you to bed. Where’s +Quentin.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Versh getting him, Dilsey said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Father stood and watched us go past. We could hear Mother +in her room. Caddy said “Hush.” Jason was still climbing the +stairs. He had his hands in his pockets. +<span class='pageno' title='48' id='Page_48'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You all must be good tonight.” Father said. “And be quiet, so +you wont disturb Mother.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’ll be quiet.” Caddy said. “You must be quiet now, Jason.” +she said. We tiptoed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>We could hear the roof. I could see the fire in the mirror too. +Caddy lifted me again.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on, now.” she said. “Then you can come back to the +fire. Hush, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Candace.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said. “Mother wants you a minute. Like +a good boy. Then you can come back. Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy let me down, and I hushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let him stay here, Mother. When he’s through looking at the +fire, then you can tell him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Candace.” Mother said. Caddy stooped and lifted me. We +staggered. “Candace.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Caddy said. “You can still see it. Hush.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Bring him here.” Mother said. “He’s too big for you to carry. +You must stop trying. You’ll injure your back. All of our women +have prided themselves on their carriage. Do you want to look +like a washer-woman.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s not too heavy.” Caddy said. “I can carry him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I dont want him carried, then.” Mother said. “A five year +old child. No, no. Not in my lap. Let him stand up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you’ll hold him, he’ll stop.” Caddy said. “Hush.” she said. +“You can go right back. Here. Here’s your cushion. See.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont, Candace.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let him look at it and he’ll be quiet.” Caddy said. “Hold up +just a minute while I slip it out. There, Benjy. Look.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I looked at it and hushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You humour him too much.” Mother said. “You and your +father both. You dont realise that I am the one who has to pay +for it. Damuddy spoiled Jason that way and it took him two years +to outgrow it, and I am not strong enough to go through the same +thing with Benjamin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont need to bother with him.” Caddy said. “I like to +take care of him. Dont I, Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Candace.” Mother said. “I told you not to call him that. It was +<span class='pageno' title='49' id='Page_49'></span> +bad enough when your father insisted on calling you by that silly +nickname, and I will not have him called by one. Nicknames are +vulgar. Only common people use them. Benjamin.” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look at me.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjamin.” she said. She took my face in her hands and turned +it to hers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Benjamin.” she said. “Take that cushion away, Candace.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’ll cry.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take that cushion away, like I told you.” Mother said. “He +must learn to mind.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The cushion went away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Benjy.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You go over there and sit down.” Mother said. “Benjamin.” +She held my face to hers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Stop that.” she said. “Stop it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But I didn’t stop and Mother caught me in her arms and began +to cry, and I cried. Then the cushion came back and Caddy held +it above Mother’s head. She drew Mother back in the chair and +Mother lay crying against the red and yellow cushion.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Mother.” Caddy said. “You go upstairs and lay down, +so you can be sick. I’ll go get Dilsey.” She led me to the fire and +I looked at the bright, smooth shapes. I could hear the fire and +the roof.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Father took me up. He smelled like rain.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, Benjy.” he said. “Have you been a good boy today.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy and Jason were fighting in the mirror.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Caddy.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They fought. Jason began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Caddy.” Father said. Jason was crying. He wasn’t fighting anymore +but we could see Caddy fighting in the mirror and Father +put me down and went into the mirror and fought too. He lifted +Caddy up. She fought. Jason lay on the floor, crying. He had the +scissors in his hand. Father held Caddy.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He cut up all Benjy’s dolls.” Caddy said. “I’ll slit his gizzle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Candace.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I will.” Caddy said. “I will.” She fought. Father held her. She +kicked at Jason. He rolled into the corner, out of the mirror. +<span class='pageno' title='50' id='Page_50'></span> +Father brought Caddy to the fire. They were all out of the mirror. +Only the fire was in it. Like the fire was in a door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Stop that.” Father said. “Do you want to make Mother sick in +her room.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy stopped. “He cut up all the dolls Mau—Benjy and I +made.” Caddy said. “He did it just for meanness.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t.” Jason said. He was sitting up, crying. “I didn’t know +they were his. I just thought they were some old papers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You couldn’t help but know.” Caddy said. “You did it just.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Father said. “Jason.” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll make you some more tomorrow.” Caddy said. “We’ll make +a lot of them. Here, you can look at the cushion, too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Jason came in.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I kept telling you to hush, Luster said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What’s the matter now, Jason said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He just trying hisself.” Luster said. “That the way he been +going on all day.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why dont you let him alone, then.” Jason said. “If you cant +keep him quiet, you’ll have to take him out to the kitchen. The +rest of us cant shut ourselves up in a room like Mother does.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mammy say keep him out the kitchen till she get supper.” +Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then play with him and keep him quiet.” Jason said. “Do I +have to work all day and then come home to a mad house.” He +opened the paper and read it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You can look at the fire and the mirror and the cushion too, +Caddy said. You wont have to wait until supper to look at the +cushion, now. We could hear the roof. We could hear Jason too, +crying loud beyond the wall.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey said, “You come, Jason. You letting him alone, is you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where Quentin.” Dilsey said. “Supper near bout ready.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know’m.” Luster said. “I aint seen her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey went away. “Quentin.” she said in the hall. “Quentin. +Supper ready.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>We could hear the roof. Quentin smelled like rain, too.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What did Jason do, he said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>He cut up all Benjy’s dolls, Caddy said.</span> +<span class='pageno' title='51' id='Page_51'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Mother said to not call him Benjy, Quentin said. He sat on the +rug by us. I wish it wouldn’t rain, he said. You cant do anything.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You’ve been in a fight, Caddy said. Haven’t you.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>It wasn’t much, Quentin said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You can tell it, Caddy said. Father’ll see it.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I dont care, Quentin said. I wish it wouldn’t rain.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin said, “Didn’t Dilsey say supper was ready.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” Luster said. Jason looked at Quentin. Then he read +the paper again. Quentin came in. “She say it bout ready.” Luster +said. Quentin jumped down in Mother’s chair. Luster said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mr Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let me have two bits.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What for.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“To go to the show tonight.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought Dilsey was going to get a quarter from Frony for +you.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She did.” Luster said. “I lost it. Me and Benjy hunted all day +for that quarter. You can ask him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then borrow one from him.” Jason said. “I have to work for +mine.” He read the paper. Quentin looked at the fire. The fire was +in her eyes and on her mouth. Her mouth was red.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I tried to keep him away from there.” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shut your mouth.” Quentin said. Jason looked at her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What did I tell you I was going to do if I saw you with that +show fellow again.” he said. Quentin looked at the fire. “Did you +hear me.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I heard you.” Quentin said. “Why dont you do it, then.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you worry.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not.” Quentin said. Jason read the paper again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I could hear the roof. Father leaned forward and looked at +Quentin.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Hello, he said. Who won.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nobody.” Quentin said. “They stopped us. Teachers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who was it.” Father said. “Will you tell.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was all right.” Quentin said. “He was as big as me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s good.” Father said. “Can you tell what it was about.” +<span class='pageno' title='52' id='Page_52'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It wasn’t anything.” Quentin said. “He said he would put a +frog in her desk and she wouldn’t dare to whip him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh.” Father said. “She. And then what.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.” Quentin said. “And then I kind of hit him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We could hear the roof and the fire, and a snuffling outside the +door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where was he going to get a frog in November.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know, sir.” Quentin said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We could hear them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason.” Father said. We could hear Jason.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason.” Father said. “Come in here and stop that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We could hear the roof and the fire and Jason.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Stop that, now.” Father said. “Do you want me to whip you +again.” Father lifted Jason up into the chair by him. Jason snuffled. +We could hear the fire and the roof. Jason snuffled a little louder.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“One more time.” Father said. We could hear the fire and the +roof.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Dilsey said, All right. You all can come on to supper.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Versh smelled like rain. He smelled like a dog, too. We could +hear the fire and the roof.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We could hear Caddy walking fast. Father and Mother looked +at the door. Caddy passed it, walking fast, She didn’t look. She +walked fast.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Candace.” Mother said. Caddy stopped walking.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Mother.” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Caroline.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come here.” Mother said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Caroline.” Father said. “Let her alone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy came to the door and stood there, looking at Father and +Mother. Her eyes flew at me, and away. I began to cry. It went +loud and I got up. Caddy came in and stood with her back to the +wall, looking at me. I went toward her, crying, and she shrank +against the wall and I saw her eyes and I cried louder and pulled +at her dress. She put her hands out but I pulled at her dress. Her +eyes ran.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Versh said, Your name Benjamin now. You know how come +your name Benjamin now. They making a bluegum out of you. +Mammy say in old time your granpa changed nigger’s name, and</span> +<span class='pageno' title='53' id='Page_53'></span> +<span class='it'>he turn preacher, and when they look at him, he bluegum too. +Didn’t use to be bluegum, neither. And when family woman look +him in the eye in the full of the moon, chile born bluegum. And +one evening, when they was about a dozen them bluegum chillen +running round the place, he never come home. Possum hunters +found him in the woods, et clean. And you know who et him. +Them bluegum chillen did.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We were in the hall. Caddy was still looking at me. Her hand +was against her mouth and I saw her eyes and I cried. We went +up the stairs. She stopped again, against the wall, looking at me +and I cried and she went on and I came on, crying, and she shrank +against the wall, looking at me. She opened the door to her room, +but I pulled at her dress and we went to the bathroom and she +stood against the door, looking at me. Then she put her arm across +her face and I pushed at her, crying.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What are you doing to him, Jason said. Why cant you let him +alone.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I aint touching him, Luster said. He been doing this way all +day long. He needs whipping.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>He needs to be sent to Jackson, Quentin said. How can anybody +live in a house like this.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>If you dont like it, young lady, you’d better get out, Jason said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I’m going to, Quentin said. Dont you worry.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Versh said, “You move back some, so I can dry my legs off.” +He shoved me back a little. “Dont you start bellering, now. You +can still see it. That’s all you have to do. You aint had to be out +in the rain like I is. You’s born lucky and dont know it.” He lay +on his back before the fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know how come your name Benjamin now.” Versh said. +“Your mamma too proud for you. What mammy say.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You be still there and let me dry my legs off.” Versh said. “Or +you know what I’ll do. I’ll skin your rinktum.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We could hear the fire and the roof and Versh.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Versh got up quick and jerked his legs back. Father said, “All +right, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll feed him tonight.” Caddy said. “Sometimes he cries when +Versh feeds him.” +<span class='pageno' title='54' id='Page_54'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take this tray up,” Dilsey said. “And hurry back and feed +Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you want Caddy to feed you.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Has he got to keep that old dirty slipper on the table, Quentin +said. Why dont you feed him in the kitchen. It’s like eating with +a pig.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>If you dont like the way we eat, you’d better not come to the +table, Jason said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Steam came off of Roskus. He was sitting in front of the stove. +The oven door was open and Roskus had his feet in it. Steam came +off the bowl. Caddy put the spoon into my mouth easy. There was +a black spot on the inside of the bowl.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Now, now, Dilsey said. He aint going to bother you no more.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>It got down below the mark. Then the bowl was empty. It went +away. “He’s hungry tonight.” Caddy said. The bowl came back. I +couldn’t see the spot. Then I could. “He’s starved, tonight.” Caddy +said. “Look how much he’s eaten.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Yes he will, Quentin said. You all send him out to spy on me. +I hate this house. I’m going to run away.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Roskus said, “It going to rain all night.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You’ve been running a long time, not to ’ve got any further off +than mealtime, Jason said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>See if I dont, Quentin said.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then I dont know what I going to do.” Dilsey said. “It caught +me in the hip so bad now I cant scarcely move. Climbing them +stairs all evening.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised, Jason said. I wouldn’t be surprised +at anything you’d do.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Quentin threw her napkin on the table.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Hush your mouth, Jason, Dilsey said. She went and put her +arm around Quentin. Sit down, honey, Dilsey said. He ought to +be shamed of hisself, throwing what aint your fault up to you.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She sulling again, is she.” Roskus said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush your mouth.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Quentin pushed Dilsey away. She looked at Jason. Her mouth +was red. She picked up her glass of water and swung her arm back, +looking at Jason. Dilsey caught her arm. They fought. The glass</span> +<span class='pageno' title='55' id='Page_55'></span> +<span class='it'>broke on the table, and the water ran into the table. Quentin was +running.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mother’s sick again.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sho she is.” Dilsey said. “Weather like this make anybody +sick. When you going to get done eating, boy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Goddamn you, Quentin said. Goddamn you. We could hear her +running on the stairs. We went to the library.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy gave me the cushion, and I could look at the cushion and +the mirror and the fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We must be quiet while Quentin’s studying.” Father said. +“What are you doing, Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Suppose you come over here to do it, then.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason came out of the corner.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What are you chewing.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s chewing paper again.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come here, Jason.” Father said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason threw into the fire. It hissed, uncurled, turning black. +Then it was gray. Then it was gone. Caddy and Father and Jason +were in Mother’s chair. Jason’s eyes were puffed shut and his +mouth moved, like tasting. Caddy’s head was on Father’s shoulder. +Her hair was like fire, and little points of fire were in her eyes, and +I went and Father lifted me into the chair too, and Caddy held me. +She smelled like trees.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>She smelled like trees. In the corner it was dark, but I could see +the window. I squatted there, holding the slipper. I couldn’t see it, +but my hands saw it, and I could hear it getting night, and my hands +saw the slipper but I couldn’t see myself, but my hands could see +the slipper, and I squatted there, hearing it getting dark.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Here you is, Luster said. Look what I got. He showed it to me. +You know where I got it. Miss Quentin gave it to me. I knowed +they couldn’t keep me out. What you doing, off in here. I thought +you done slipped back out doors. Aint you done enough moaning +and slobbering today, without hiding off in this here empty room, +mumbling and taking on. Come on here to bed, so I can get up +there before it starts. I cant fool with you all night tonight. Just let +them horns toot the first toot and I done gone.</span> +<span class='pageno' title='56' id='Page_56'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>We didn’t go to our room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“This is where we have the measles.” Caddy said. “Why do we +have to sleep in here tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you care where you sleep.” Dilsey said. She shut the door +and sat down and began to undress me. Jason began to cry. “Hush.” +Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I want to sleep with Damuddy.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’s sick.” Caddy said. “You can sleep with her when she +gets well. Cant he, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, now.” Dilsey said. Jason hushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Our nighties are here, and everything.” Caddy said. “It’s like +moving.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And you better get into them.” Dilsey said. “You be unbuttoning +Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy unbuttoned Jason. He began to cry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You want to get whipped.” Dilsey said. Jason hushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Quentin, Mother said in the hall.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What, Quentin said beyond the wall. We heard Mother lock the +door. She looked in our door and came in and stooped over the +bed and kissed me on the forehead.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>When you get him to bed, go and ask Dilsey if she objects to +my having a hot water bottle, Mother said. Tell her that if she does, +I’ll try to get along without it. Tell her I just want to know.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Yessum, Luster said. Come on. Get your pants off.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin and Versh came in. Quentin had his face turned away. +“What are you crying for.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Dilsey said. “You all get undressed, now. You can go +on home, Versh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I got undressed and I looked at myself, and I began to cry. +Hush, Luster said. Looking for them aint going to do no good. +They’re gone. You keep on like this, and we aint going have you no +more birthday. He put my gown on. I hushed, and then Luster +stopped, his head toward the window. Then he went to the window +and looked out. He came back and took my arm. Here she come, +he said. Be quiet, now. We went to the window and looked out. It +came out of Quentin’s window and climbed across into the tree. +We watched the tree shaking. The shaking went down the tree, than</span> +<span class='pageno' title='57' id='Page_57'></span> +<span class='it'>it came out and we watched it go away across the grass. Then we +couldn’t see it. Come on, Luster said. There now. Hear them +horns. You get in that bed while my foots behaves.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>There were two beds. Quentin got in the other one. He turned +his face to the wall. Dilsey put Jason in with him. Caddy took +her dress off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Just look at your drawers.” Dilsey said. “You better be glad +your ma aint seen you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I already told on her.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bound you would.” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And see what you got by it.” Caddy said. “Tattletale.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What did I get by it.” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you get your nightie on.” Dilsey said. She went and +helped Caddy take off her bodice and drawers. “Just look at you.” +Dilsey said. She wadded the drawers and scrubbed Caddy behind +with them. “It done soaked clean through onto you.” she said. +“But you wont get no bath this night. Here.” She put Caddy’s +nightie on her and Caddy climbed into the bed and Dilsey went +to the door and stood with her hand on the light. “You all be quiet +now, you hear.” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” Caddy said. “Mother’s not coming in tonight.” +she said. “So we still have to mind me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes.” Dilsey said. “Go to sleep, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mother’s sick.” Caddy said. “She and Damuddy are both sick.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush.” Dilsey said. “You go to sleep.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The room went black, except the door. Then the door went +black. Caddy said, “Hush, Maury,” putting her hand on me. So I +stayed hushed. We could hear us. We could hear the dark.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It went away, and Father looked at us. He looked at Quentin +and Jason, then he came and kissed Caddy and put his hand on +my head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is Mother very sick.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No.” Father said. “Are you going to take good care of Maury.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes.” Caddy said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Father went to the door and looked at us again. Then the dark +came back, and he stood black in the door, and then the door +turned black again. Caddy held me and I could hear us all, and +<span class='pageno' title='58' id='Page_58'></span> +the darkness, and something I could smell. And then I could see +the windows, where the trees were buzzing. Then the dark began +to go in smooth, bright shapes, like it always does, even when +Caddy says that I have been asleep. +<span class='pageno' title='59' id='Page_59'></span></p> + +<h1 id='t3314'>JUNE SECOND, 1910</h1> + +<p class='noindent'>When the shadow of the sash appeared on the curtains it was between +seven and eight oclock and then I was in time again, hearing +the watch. It was Grandfather’s and when Father gave it to me he +said, Quentin, I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire; +it’s rather excrutiating-ly apt that you will use it to gain the reducto +absurdum of all human experience which can fit your individual +needs no better than it fitted his or his father’s. I give it to you not +that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and +then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer +it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. +The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory +is an illusion of philosophers and fools.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was propped against the collar box and I lay listening to +it. Hearing it, that is. I dont suppose anybody ever deliberately +listens to a watch or a clock. You dont have to. You can be oblivious +to the sound for a long while, then in a second of ticking it can +create in the mind unbroken the long diminishing parade of time +you didn’t hear. Like Father said down the long and lonely light-rays +you might see Jesus walking, like. And the good Saint Francis +that said Little Sister Death, that never had a sister.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Through the wall I heard Shreve’s bed-springs and then his slippers +on the floor hishing. I got up and went to the dresser and slid +my hand along it and touched the watch and turned it face-down +and went back to bed. But the shadow of the sash was still there +<span class='pageno' title='60' id='Page_60'></span> +and I had learned to tell almost to the minute, so I’d have to turn +my back to it, feeling the eyes animals used to have in the back +of their heads when it was on top, itching. It’s always the idle habits +you acquire which you will regret. Father said that. That Christ +was not crucified: he was worn away by a minute clicking of little +wheels. That had no sister.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And so as soon as I knew I couldn’t see it, I began to wonder +what time it was. Father said that constant speculation regarding +the position of mechanical hands on an arbitrary dial which is a +symptom of mind-function. Excrement Father said like sweating. +And I saying All right. Wonder. Go on and wonder.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If it had been cloudy I could have looked at the window, thinking +what he said about idle habits. Thinking it would be nice for +them down at New London if the weather held up like this. Why +shouldn’t it? The month of brides, the voice that breathed <span class='it'>She ran +right out of the mirror, out of the banked scent. Roses. Roses. Mr +and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson announce the marriage of.</span> +Roses. Not virgins like dogwood, milkweed. I said I have committed +incest, Father I said. Roses. Cunning and serene. If you attend +Harvard one year, but dont see the boat-race, there should be a +refund. Let Jason have it. Give Jason a year at Harvard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Shreve stood in the door, putting his collar on, his glasses glinting +rosily, as though he had washed them with his face. “You taking +a cut this morning?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is it that late?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He looked at his watch. “Bell in two minutes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t know it was that late.” He was still looking at the +watch, his mouth shaping. “I’ll have to hustle. I cant stand another +cut. The dean told me last week—” He put the watch back into his +pocket. Then I quit talking.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better slip on your pants and run,” he said. He went out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I got up and moved about, listening to him through the wall. +He entered the sitting-room, toward the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aren’t you ready yet?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not yet. Run along. I’ll make it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He went out. The door closed. His feet went down the corridor. +Then I could hear the watch again. I quit moving around and went +to the window and drew the curtains aside and watched them running +<span class='pageno' title='61' id='Page_61'></span> +for chapel, the same ones fighting the same heaving coat-sleeves, +the same books and flapping collars flushing past like +debris on a flood, and Spoade. Calling Shreve my husband. Ah let +him alone, Shreve said, if he’s got better sense than to chase after +the little dirty sluts, whose business. In the South you are ashamed +of being a virgin. Boys. Men. They lie about it. Because it means +less to women, Father said. He said it was men invented virginity +not women. Father said it’s like death, only a state in which the +others are left and I said, But to believe it doesn’t matter and he +said, That’s what’s so sad about anything: not only virginity, and +I said, Why couldn’t it have been me and not her who is unvirgin +and he said, That’s why that’s sad too; nothing is even worth the +changing of it, and Shreve said if he’s got better sense than to chase +after the little dirty sluts and I said Did you ever have a sister? Did +you? Did you?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Spoade was in the middle of them like a terrapin in a street full +of scuttering dead leaves, his collar about his ears, moving at his +customary unhurried walk. He was from South Carolina, a senior. +It was his club’s boast that he never ran for chapel and had never +got there on time and had never been absent in four years and had +never made either chapel or first lecture with a shirt on his back +and socks on his feet. About ten oclock he’d come in Thompson’s, +get two cups of coffee, sit down and take his socks out of his pocket +and remove his shoes and put them on while the coffee cooled. +About noon you’d see him with a shirt and collar on, like anybody +else. The others passed him running, but he never increased his +pace at all. After a while the quad was empty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A sparrow slanted across the sunlight, onto the window ledge, +and cocked his head at me. His eye was round and bright. First +he’d watch me with one eye, then flick! and it would be the other +one, his throat pumping faster than any pulse. The hour began to +strike. The sparrow quit swapping eyes and watched me steadily +with the same one until the chimes ceased, as if he were listening +too. Then he flicked off the ledge and was gone.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a while before the last stroke ceased vibrating. It stayed +in the air, more felt than heard, for a long time. Like all the bells +that ever rang still ringing in the long dying light-rays and Jesus +and Saint Francis talking about his sister. Because if it were just +<span class='pageno' title='62' id='Page_62'></span> +to hell; if that were all of it. Finished. If things just finished themselves. +Nobody else there but her and me. If we could just have +done something so dreadful that they would have fled hell except +us. <span class='it'>I have committed incest I said Father it was I it was not Dalton +Ames</span> And when he put Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton +Ames. When he put the pistol in my hand I didn’t. That’s why +I didn’t. He would be there and she would and I would. Dalton +Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. If we could have just done +something so dreadful and Father said That’s sad too, people cannot +do anything that dreadful they cannot do anything very dreadful +at all they cannot even remember tomorrow what seemed +dreadful today and I said, You can shirk all things and he said, +Ah can you. And I will look down and see my murmuring bones +and the deep water like wind, like a roof of wind, and after a +long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and +inviolate sand. Until on the Day when He says Rise only the flat-iron +would come floating up. It’s not when you realise that nothing +can help you—religion, pride, anything—it’s when you realise +that you dont need any aid. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton +Ames. If I could have been his mother lying with open body lifted +laughing, holding his father with my hand refraining, seeing, watching +him die before he lived. <span class='it'>One minute she was standing in the +door</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went to the dresser and took up the watch, with the face +still down. I tapped the crystal on the corner of the dresser and +caught the fragments of glass in my hand and put them into the +ashtray and twisted the hands off and put them in the tray. The +watch ticked on. I turned the face up, the blank dial with little +wheels clicking and clicking behind it, not knowing any better. +Jesus walking on Galilee and Washington not telling lies. Father +brought back a watch-charm from the Saint Louis Fair to Jason: +a tiny opera glass into which you squinted with one eye and saw a +skyscraper, a ferris wheel all spidery, Niagara Falls on a pinhead. +There was a red smear on the dial. When I saw it my thumb began +to smart. I put the watch down and went into Shreve’s room and +got the iodine and painted the cut. I cleaned the rest of the glass +out of the rim with the towel.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I laid out two suits of underwear, with socks, shirts, collars +<span class='pageno' title='63' id='Page_63'></span> +and ties, and packed my trunk. I put in everything except my new +suit and an old one and two pairs of shoes and two hats, and my +books. I carried the books into the sitting-room and stacked them +on the table, the ones I had brought from home and the ones <span class='it'>Father +said it used to be a gentleman was known by his books; nowadays +he is known by the ones he has not returned</span> and locked the trunk +and addressed it. The quarter hour sounded. I stopped and listened +to it until the chimes ceased.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I bathed and shaved. The water made my finger smart a little, so +I painted it again. I put on my new suit and put my watch on and +packed the other suit and the accessories and my razor and brushes +in my hand bag, and wrapped the trunk key into a sheet of paper +and put it in an envelope and addressed it to Father, and wrote the +two notes and sealed them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The shadow hadn’t quite cleared the stoop. I stopped inside the +door, watching the shadow move. It moved almost perceptibly, +creeping back inside the door, driving the shadow back into the +door. <span class='it'>Only she was running already when I heard it. In the mirror +she was running before I knew what it was. That quick, her train +caught up over her arm she ran out of the mirror like a cloud, her +veil swirling in long glints her heels brittle and fast clutching her +dress onto her shoulder with the other hand, running out of the +mirror the smells roses roses the voice that breathed o’er Eden. +Then she was across the porch I couldn’t hear her heels then in +the moonlight like a cloud, the floating shadow of the veil running +across the grass, into the bellowing. She ran out of her dress, +clutching her bridal, running into the bellowing where T. P. in the +dew Whooey Sassprilluh Benjy under the box bellowing. Father +had a V-shaped silver cuirass on his running chest</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Shreve said, “Well, you didn’t. . . . Is it a wedding or a wake?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t make it,” I said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not with all that primping. What’s the matter? You think this +was Sunday?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon the police wont get me for wearing my new suit one +time,” I said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I was thinking about the Square students. Have you got too +proud to attend classes too?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to eat first.” The shadow on the stoop was gone. I +<span class='pageno' title='64' id='Page_64'></span> +stepped into sunlight, finding my shadow again. I walked down +the steps just ahead of it. The half hour went. Then the chimes +ceased and died away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Deacon wasn’t at the postoffice either. I stamped the two envelopes +and mailed the one to Father and put Shreve’s in my inside +pocket, and then I remembered where I had last seen the Deacon. +It was on Decoration Day, in a G. A. R. uniform, in the middle of +the parade. If you waited long enough on any corner you would +see him in whatever parade came along. The one before was on +Columbus’ or Garibaldi’s or somebody’s birthday. He was in the +Street Sweeper’s section, in a stovepipe hat, carrying a two inch +Italian flag, smoking a cigar among the brooms and scoops. But +the last time was the G. A. R. one, because Shreve said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There now. Just look at what your grandpa did to that poor +old nigger.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I said, “Now he can spend day after day marching in +parades. If it hadn’t been for my grandfather, he’d have to work +like whitefolks.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I didn’t see him anywhere. But I never knew even a working +nigger that you could find when you wanted him, let alone one that +lived off the fat of the land. A car came along. I went over to +town and went to Parker’s and had a good breakfast. While I was +eating I heard a clock strike the hour. But then I suppose it takes +at least one hour to lose time in, who has been longer than history +getting into the mechanical progression of it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When I finished breakfast I bought a cigar. The girl said a fifty +cent one was the best, so I took one and lit it and went out to the +street. I stood there and took a couple of puffs, then I held it in my +hand and went on toward the corner. I passed a jeweller’s window, +but I looked away in time. At the corner two bootblacks caught +me, one on either side, shrill and raucous, like blackbirds. I gave +the cigar to one of them, and the other one a nickel. Then they let +me alone. The one with the cigar was trying to sell it to the other +for the nickel.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a clock, high up in the sun, and I thought about how, +when you dont want to do a thing, your body will try to trick you +into doing it, sort of unawares. I could feel the muscles in the back +of my neck, and then I could hear my watch ticking away in my +<span class='pageno' title='65' id='Page_65'></span> +pocket and after a while I had all the other sounds shut away, +leaving only the watch in my pocket. I turned back up the street, +to the window. He was working at the table behind the window. He +was going bald. There was a glass in his eye—a metal tube screwed +into his face. I went in.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The place was full of ticking, like crickets in September grass, +and I could hear a big clock on the wall above his head. He looked +up, his eye big and blurred and rushing beyond the glass. I took +mine out and handed it to him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I broke my watch.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He flipped it over in his hand. “I should say you have. You must +have stepped on it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir. I knocked it off the dresser and stepped on it in the +dark. It’s still running though.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He pried the back open and squinted into it. “Seems to be all +right. I cant tell until I go over it, though. I’ll go into it this afternoon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll bring it back later,” I said. “Would you mind telling me +if any of those watches in the window are right?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He held my watch on his palm and looked up at me with his +blurred rushing eye.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I made a bet with a fellow,” I said, “And I forgot my glasses +this morning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, all right,” he said. He laid the watch down and half rose +on his stool and looked over the barrier. Then he glanced up at the +wall. “It’s twen—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont tell me,” I said, “please sir. Just tell me if any of them +are right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He looked at me again. He sat back on the stool and pushed the +glass up onto his forehead. It left a red circle around his eye and +when it was gone his whole face looked naked. “What’re you celebrating +today?” he said. “That boat race aint until next week, is +it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, sir. This is just a private celebration. Birthday. Are any +of them right?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No. But they haven’t been regulated and set yet. If you’re +thinking of buying one of them—” +<span class='pageno' title='66' id='Page_66'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, sir. I dont need a watch. We have a clock in our sitting +room. I’ll have this one fixed when I do.” I reached my hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Better leave it now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll bring it back later.” He gave me the watch. I put it in my +pocket. I couldn’t hear it now, above all the others. “I’m much +obliged to you. I hope I haven’t taken up your time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right. Bring it in when you are ready. And you better +put off this celebration until after we win that boat race.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir. I reckon I had.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went out, shutting the door upon the ticking. I looked back +into the window. He was watching me across the barrier. There +were about a dozen watches in the window, a dozen different hours +and each with the same assertive and contradictory assurance that +mine had, without any hands at all. Contradicting one another. +I could hear mine, ticking away inside my pocket, even though +nobody could see it, even though it could tell nothing if anyone +could.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And so I told myself to take that one. Because Father said clocks +slay time. He said time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by +little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life. The +hands were extended, slightly off the horizontal at a faint angle, +like a gull tilting into the wind. Holding all I used to be sorry about +like the new moon holding water, niggers say. The jeweler was +working again, bent over his bench, the tube tunnelled into his +face. His hair was parted in the center. The part ran up into the +bald spot, like a drained marsh in December.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I saw the hardware store from across the street. I didn’t know +you bought flat-irons by the pound.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The clerk said, “These weigh ten pounds.” Only they were bigger +than I thought. So I got two six-pound little ones, because they +would look like a pair of shoes wrapped up. They felt heavy enough +together, but I thought again how Father had said about the +reducto absurdum of human experience, thinking how the only +opportunity I seemed to have for the application of Harvard. Maybe +by next year; thinking maybe it takes two years in school to learn +to do that properly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But they felt heavy enough in the air. A street car came. I got on. +I didn’t see the placard on the front. It was full, mostly prosperous +<span class='pageno' title='67' id='Page_67'></span> +looking people reading newspapers. The only vacant seat was beside +a nigger. He wore a derby and shined shoes and he was holding a +dead cigar stub. I used to think that a Southerner had to be always +conscious of niggers. I thought that Northerners would expect +him to. When I first came East I kept thinking You’ve got to remember +to think of them as coloured people not niggers, and if it +hadn’t happened that I wasn’t thrown with many of them, I’d have +wasted a lot of time and trouble before I learned that the best way +to take all people, black or white, is to take them for what they +think they are, then leave them alone. That was when I realised +that a nigger is not a person so much as a form of behaviour; a sort +of obverse reflection of the white people he lives among. But I +thought at first that I ought to miss having a lot of them around +me because I thought that Northerners thought I did, but I didn’t +know that I really had missed Roskus and Dilsey and them until +that morning in Virginia. The train was stopped when I waked +and I raised the shade and looked out. The car was blocking a road +crossing, where two white fences came down a hill and then sprayed +outward and downward like part of the skeleton of a horn, and +there was a nigger on a mule in the middle of the stiff ruts, waiting +for the train to move. How long he had been there I didn’t know, +but he sat straddle of the mule, his head wrapped in a piece of +blanket, as if they had been built there with the fence and the road, +or with the hill, carved out of the hill itself, like a sign put there +saying You are home again. He didn’t have a saddle and his feet +dangled almost to the ground. The mule looked like a rabbit. I +raised the window.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hey, Uncle,” I said, “Is this the way?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Suh?” He looked at me, then he loosened the blanket and +lifted it away from his ear.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Christmas gift!” I said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sho comin, boss. You done caught me, aint you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll let you off this time.” I dragged my pants out of the little +hammock and got a quarter out. “But look out next time. I’ll be +coming back through here two days after New Year, and look out +then.” I threw the quarter out the window. “Buy yourself some +Santy Claus.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, suh,” he said. He got down and picked up the quarter +<span class='pageno' title='68' id='Page_68'></span> +and rubbed it on his leg. “Thanky, young marster. Thanky.” Then +the train began to move. I leaned out the window, into the cold air, +looking back. He stood there beside the gaunt rabbit of a mule, the +two of them shabby and motionless and unimpatient. The train +swung around the curve, the engine puffing with short, heavy +blasts, and they passed smoothly from sight that way, with that +quality about them of shabby and timeless patience, of static +serenity: that blending of childlike and ready incompetence and +paradoxical reliability that tends and protects them it loves out +of all reason and robs them steadily and evades responsibility and +obligations by means too barefaced to be called subterfuge even +and is taken in theft or evasion with only that frank and spontaneous +admiration for the victor which a gentleman feels for anyone +who beats him in a fair contest, and withal a fond and unflagging +tolerance for whitefolks’ vagaries like that of a grandparent for +unpredictable and troublesome children, which I had forgotten. +And all that day, while the train wound through rushing gaps and +along ledges where movement was only a labouring sound of the +exhaust and groaning wheels and the eternal mountains stood +fading into the thick sky, I thought of home, of the bleak station +and the mud and the niggers and country folks thronging slowly +about the square, with toy monkeys and wagons and candy in +sacks and roman candles sticking out, and my insides would +move like they used to do in school when the bell rang.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wouldn’t begin counting until the clock struck three. Then I +would begin, counting to sixty and folding down one finger and +thinking of the other fourteen fingers waiting to be folded down, +or thirteen or twelve or eight or seven, until all of a sudden I’d +realise silence and the unwinking minds, and I’d say “Ma’am?” +“Your name is Quentin, isn’t it?” Miss Laura said. Then more +silence and the cruel unwinking minds and hands jerking into the +silence. “Tell Quentin who discovered the Mississippi River, +Henry.” “DeSoto.” Then the minds would go away, and after a +while I’d be afraid I had gotten behind and I’d count fast and fold +down another finger, then I’d be afraid I was going too fast and +I’d slow up, then I’d get afraid and count fast again. So I never +could come out even with the bell, and the released surging of +feet moving already, feeling earth in the scuffed floor, and the day +<span class='pageno' title='69' id='Page_69'></span> +like a pane of glass struck a light, sharp blow, and my insides would +move, sitting still. <span class='it'>Moving sitting still. One minute she was standing +in the door. Benjy. Bellowing. Benjamin the child of mine +old age bellowing. Caddy! Caddy!</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I’m going to run away. He began to cry she went and touched +him. Hush. I’m not going to. Hush. He hushed. Dilsey.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>He smell what you tell him when he want to. Dont have to listen +nor talk.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Can he smell that new name they give him? Can he smell bad +luck?</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What he want to worry about luck for? Luck cant do him no +hurt.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What they change his name for then if aint trying to help his +luck?</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The street car stopped, started, stopped again. Below the window +I watched the crowns of people’s heads passing beneath new +straw hats not yet unbleached. There were women in the car +now, with market baskets, and men in work-clothes were beginning +to outnumber the shined shoes and collars.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The nigger touched my knee. “Pardon me,” he said. I swung +my legs out and let him pass. We were going beside a blank wall, +the sound clattering back into the car, at the women with market +baskets on their knees and a man in a stained hat with a pipe stuck +in the band. I could smell water, and in a break in the wall I saw a +glint of water and two masts, and a gull motionless in midair, like +on an invisible wire between the masts, and I raised my hand and +through my coat touched the letters I had written. When the car +stopped I got off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The bridge was open to let a schooner through. She was in tow, +the tug nudging along under her quarter, trailing smoke, but the +ship herself was like she was moving without visible means. A +man naked to the waist was coiling down a line on the fo’c’s’le +head. His body was burned the colour of leaf tobacco. Another +man in a straw hat without any crown was at the wheel. The ship +went through the bridge, moving under bare poles like a ghost in +broad day, with three gulls hovering above the stern like toys on +invisible wires.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When it closed I crossed to the other side and leaned on the +<span class='pageno' title='70' id='Page_70'></span> +rail above the boathouses. The float was empty and the doors +were closed. The crew just pulled in the late afternoon now, resting +up before. The shadow of the bridge, the tiers of railing, my +shadow leaning flat upon the water, so easily had I tricked it that +would not quit me. At least fifty feet it was, and if I only had something +to blot it into the water, holding it until it was drowned, the +shadow of the package like two shoes wrapped up lying on the +water. Niggers say a drowned man’s shadow was watching for +him in the water all the time. It twinkled and glinted, like breathing, +the float slow like breathing too, and debris half submerged, +healing out to the sea and the caverns and the grottoes of the sea. +The displacement of water is equal to the something of something. +Reducto absurdum of all human experience, and two six-pound +flat-irons weigh more than one tailor’s goose. What a sinful waste +Dilsey would say. Benjy knew it when Damuddy died. He cried. +<span class='it'>He smell hit. He smell hit.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The tug came back downstream, the water shearing in long +rolling cylinders, rocking the float at last with the echo of passage, +the float lurching onto the rolling cylinder with a plopping sound +and a long jarring noise as the door rolled back and two men +emerged, carrying a shell. They set it in the water and a moment +later Bland came out, with the sculls. He wore flannels, a grey +jacket and a stiff straw hat. Either he or his mother had read somewhere +that Oxford students pulled in flannels and stiff hats, so +early one March they bought Gerald a one pair shell and in his +flannels and stiff hat he went on the river. The folks at the boathouses +threatened to call a policeman, but he went anyway. His +mother came down in a hired auto, in a fur suit like an arctic explorer’s, +and saw him off in a twenty-five mile wind and a steady +drove of ice floes like dirty sheep. Ever since then I have believed +that God is not only a gentleman and a sport; He is a Kentuckian +too. When he sailed away she made a detour and came down to +the river again and drove along parallel with him, the car in low +gear. They said you couldn’t have told they’d ever seen one another +before, like a King and Queen, not even looking at one another, +just moving side by side across Massachusetts on parallel courses +like a couple of planets.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He got in and pulled away. He pulled pretty well now. He ought +<span class='pageno' title='71' id='Page_71'></span> +to. They said his mother tried to make him give rowing up and do +something else the rest of his class couldn’t or wouldn’t do, but +for once he was stubborn. If you could call it stubbornness, sitting +in his attitudes of princely boredom, with his curly yellow hair +and his violet eyes and his eyelashes and his New York clothes, +while his mamma was telling us about Gerald’s horses and Gerald’s +niggers and Gerald’s women. Husbands and fathers in Kentucky +must have been awful glad when she carried Gerald off to Cambridge. +She had an apartment over in town, and Gerald had one +there too, besides his rooms in college. She approved of Gerald +associating with me because I at least revealed a blundering sense +of noblesse oblige by getting myself born below Mason and Dixon, +and a few others whose geography met the requirements (minimum) +Forgave, at least. Or condoned. But since she met Spoade +coming out of chapel one He said she couldn’t be a lady no lady +would be out at that hour of the night she never had been able to +forgive him for having five names, including that of a present English +ducal house. I’m sure she solaced herself by being convinced +that some misfit Maingault or Mortemar had got mixed up with the +lodge-keeper’s daughter. Which was quite probable, whether she +invented it or not. Spoade was the world’s champion sitter-around, +no holds barred and gouging discretionary.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The shell was a speck now, the oars catching the sun in spaced +glints, as if the hull were winking itself along. <span class='it'>Did you ever have a +sister? No but they’re all bitches. Did you ever have a sister? One +minute she was. Bitches. Not bitch one minute she stood in the door</span> +Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton Shirts. I thought all the time +they were khaki, army issue khaki, until I saw they were of heavy +Chinese silk or finest flannel because they made his face so brown +his eyes so blue. Dalton Ames. It just missed gentility. Theatrical +fixture. Just papier-mache, then touch. Oh. Asbestos. Not quite +bronze. <span class='it'>But wont see him at the house.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Caddy’s a woman too, remember. She must do things for +women’s reasons, too.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Why wont you bring him to the house, Caddy? Why must +you do like nigger women do in the pasture the ditches the dark +woods hot hidden furious in the dark woods.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>And after a while I had been hearing my watch for some time +<span class='pageno' title='72' id='Page_72'></span> +and I could feel the letters crackle through my coat, against the railing, +and I leaned on the railing, watching my shadow, how I had +tricked it. I moved along the rail, but my suit was dark too and I +could wipe my hands, watching my shadow, how I had tricked it. +I walked it into the shadow of the quai. Then I went east.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Harvard my Harvard boy Harvard harvard</span> That pimple-faced +infant she met at the field-meet with coloured ribbons. Skulking +along the fence trying to whistle her out like a puppy. Because +they couldn’t cajole him into the diningroom Mother believed he +had some sort of spell he was going to cast on her when he got +her alone. Yet any blackguard <span class='it'>He was lying beside the box under +the window bellowing</span> that could drive up in a limousine with a +flower in his buttonhole. <span class='it'>Harvard. Quentin this is Herbert. My +Harvard boy. Herbert will be a big brother has already promised +Jason a position in the bank.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hearty, celluloid like a drummer. Face full of teeth white but +not smiling. <span class='it'>I’ve heard of him up there.</span> All teeth but not smiling. +<span class='it'>You going to drive?</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Get in Quentin.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You going to drive.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>It’s her car aren’t you proud of your little sister owns first auto +in town Herbert his present. Louis has been giving her lessons +every morning didn’t you get my letter</span> Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond +Compson announce the marriage of their daughter Candace +to Mr Sydney Herbert Head on the twenty-fifth of April one thousand +nine hundred and ten at Jefferson Mississippi. At home after +the first of August number Something Something Avenue South +Bend Indiana. Shreve said Aren’t you even going to open it? <span class='it'>Three +days. Times. Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson</span> Young +Lochinvar rode out of the west a little too soon, didn’t he?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I’m from the south. You’re funny, aren’t you.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>O yes I knew it was somewhere in the country.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>You’re funny, aren’t you. You ought to join the circus.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I did. That’s how I ruined my eyes watering the elephant’s fleas. +<span class='it'>Three times</span> These country girls. You cant even tell about them, +can you. Well, anyway Byron never had his wish, thank God. <span class='it'>But +not hit a man in glasses.</span> Aren’t you even going to open it? <span class='it'>It lay +on the table a candle burning at each corner upon the envelope +<span class='pageno' title='73' id='Page_73'></span> +tied in a soiled pink garter two artificial flowers. Not hit a man in +glasses.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Country people poor things they never saw an auto before lots +of them honk the horn Candace so <span class='it'>She wouldn’t look at me</span> they’ll +get out of the way <span class='it'>wouldn’t look at me</span> your father wouldn’t like it +if you were to injure one of them I’ll declare your father will simply +have to get an auto now I’m almost sorry you brought it down +Herbert I’ve enjoyed it so much of course there’s the carriage but +so often when I’d like to go out Mr Compson has the darkies doing +something it would be worth my head to interrupt he insists that +Roskus is at my call all the time but I know what that means I know +how often people make promises just to satisfy their consciences +are you going to treat my little baby girl that way Herbert but I +know you wont Herbert has spoiled us all to death Quentin did I +write you that he is going to take Jason into his bank when Jason +finishes high school Jason will make a splendid banker he is +the only one of my children with any practical sense you can thank +me for that he takes after my people the others are all Compson +<span class='it'>Jason furnished the flour. They made kites on the back porch and +sold them for a nickle a piece, he and the Patterson boy. Jason +was treasurer.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was no nigger in this street car, and the hats unbleached +as yet flowing past under the window. Going to Harvard. We have +sold Benjy’s <span class='it'>He lay on the ground under the window, bellowing. +We have sold Benjy’s pasture so that Quentin may go to Harvard</span> +a brother to you. Your little brother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>You should have a car it’s done you no end of good dont you +think so Quentin I call him Quentin at once you see I have heard +so much about him from Candace.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Why shouldn’t you I want my boys to be more than friends +yes Candace and Quentin more than friends <span class='it'>Father I have committed</span> +what a pity you had no brother or sister <span class='it'>No sister no sister +had no sister</span> Dont ask Quentin he and Mr Compson both feel a +little insulted when I am strong enough to come down to the table +I am going on nerve now I’ll pay for it after it’s all over and you +have taken my little daughter away from me <span class='it'>My little sister had +no. If I could say Mother. Mother</span> +<span class='pageno' title='74' id='Page_74'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Unless I do what I am tempted to and take you instead I dont +think Mr Compson could overtake the car.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ah Herbert Candace do you hear that <span class='it'>She wouldn’t look at me +soft stubborn jaw-angle not back-looking</span> You needn’t be jealous +though it’s just an old woman he’s flattering a grown married +daughter I cant believe it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Nonsense you look like a girl you are lots younger than Candace +colour in your cheeks like a girl <span class='it'>A face reproachful tearful an +odour of camphor and of tears a voice weeping steadily and softly +beyond the twilit door the twilight-coloured smell of honeysuckle. +Bringing empty trunks down the attic stairs they sounded like +coffins French Lick. Found not death at the salt lick</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hats not unbleached and not hats. In three years I can not wear +a hat. I could not. Was. Will there be hats then since I was not and +not Harvard then. Where the best of thought Father said clings like +dead ivy vines upon old dead brick. Not Harvard then. Not to me, +anyway. Again. Sadder than was. Again. Saddest of all. Again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Spoade had a shirt on; then it must be. When I can see my +shadow again if not careful that I tricked into the water shall tread +again upon my impervious shadow. But no sister. I wouldn’t +have done it. <span class='it'>I wont have my daughter spied on</span> I wouldn’t have.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>How can I control any of them when you have always taught +them to have no respect for me and my wishes I know you look +down on my people but is that any reason for teaching my children +my own children I suffered for to have no respect</span> Trampling my +shadow’s bones into the concrete with hard heels and then I was +hearing the watch, and I touched the letters through my coat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I will not have my daughter spied on by you or Quentin or anybody +no matter what you think she has done</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>At least you agree there is reason for having her watched</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wouldn’t have I wouldn’t have. <span class='it'>I know you wouldn’t I didn’t +mean to speak so sharply but women have no respect for each +other for themselves</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>But why did she</span> The chimes began as I stepped on my shadow, +but it was the quarter hour. The Deacon wasn’t in sight anywhere. +<span class='it'>think I would have could have</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>She didn’t mean that that’s the way women do things its because +she loves Caddy</span> +<span class='pageno' title='75' id='Page_75'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>The street lamps would go down the hill then rise toward town</span> +I walked upon the belly of my shadow. I could extend my hand +beyond it. <span class='it'>feeling Father behind me beyond the rasping darkness +of summer and August the street lamps</span> Father and I protect women +from one another from themselves our women <span class='it'>Women are like that +they dont acquire knowledge of people we are for that they are just +born with a practical fertility of suspicion that makes a crop every +so often and usually right they have an affinity for evil for supplying +whatever the evil lacks in itself for drawing it about them instinctively +as you do bedclothing in slumber fertilising the mind +for it until the evil has served its purpose whether it ever existed +or no</span> He was coming along between a couple of freshmen. He +hadn’t quite recovered from the parade, for he gave me a salute, a +very superior-officerish kind.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I want to see you a minute,” I said, stopping.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“See me? All right. See you again, fellows,” he said, stopping +and turning back; “glad to have chatted with you.” That was the +Deacon, all over. Talk about your natural psychologists. They said +he hadn’t missed a train at the beginning of school in forty years, +and that he could pick out a Southerner with one glance. He never +missed, and once he had heard you speak, he could name your +state. He had a regular uniform he met trains in, a sort of Uncle +Tom’s cabin outfit, patches and all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, suh. Right dis way, young marster, hyer we is,” taking +your bags. “Hyer, boy, come hyer and git dese grips.” Whereupon +a moving mountain of luggage would edge up, revealing a white +boy of about fifteen, and the Deacon would hang another bag +on him somehow and drive him off. “Now, den, dont you drap hit. +Yes, suh, young marster, jes give de old nigger yo room number, +and hit’ll be done got cold dar when you arrives.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>From then on until he had you completely subjugated he was +always in or out of your room, ubiquitous and garrulous, though +his manner gradually moved northward as his raiment improved, +until at last when he had bled you until you began to learn better +he was calling you Quentin or whatever, and when you saw him +next he’d be wearing a cast-off Brooks suit and a hat with a Princeton +club I forget which band that someone had given him and +which he was pleasantly and unshakably convinced was a part of +<span class='pageno' title='76' id='Page_76'></span> +Abe Lincoln’s military sash. Someone spread the story years ago, +when he first appeared around college from wherever he came +from, that he was a graduate of the divinity school. And when he +came to understand what it meant he was so taken with it that he +began to retail the story himself, until at last he must come to believe +he really had. Anyway he related long pointless anecdotes of +his undergraduate days, speaking familiarly of dead and departed +professors by their first names, usually incorrect ones. But he had +been guide mentor and friend to unnumbered crops of innocent +and lonely freshmen, and I suppose that with all his petty chicanery +and hypocrisy he stank no higher in heaven’s nostrils than any +other.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Haven’t seen you in three-four days,” he said, staring at me +from his still military aura. “You been sick?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No. I’ve been all right. Working, I reckon. I’ve seen you, +though.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“In the parade the other day.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that. Yes, I was there. I dont care nothing about that sort +of thing, you understand, but the boys likes to have me with them, +the vet’runs does. Ladies wants all the old vet’runs to turn out, +you know. So I has to oblige them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And on that Wop holiday too,” I said. “You were obliging +the W. C. T. U. then, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That? I was doing that for my son-in-law. He aims to get a +job on the city forces. Street cleaner. I tells him all he wants is a +broom to sleep on. You saw me, did you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Both times. Yes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I mean, in uniform. How’d I look?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You looked fine. You looked better than any of them. They +ought to make you a general, Deacon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He touched my arm, lightly, his hand that worn, gentle quality +of niggers’ hands. “Listen. This aint for outside talking. I dont +mind telling you because you and me’s the same folks, come long +and short.” He leaned a little to me, speaking rapidly, his eyes not +looking at me. “I’ve got strings out, right now. Wait till next year. +Just wait. Then see where I’m marching. I wont need to tell you +how I’m fixing it; I say, just wait and see, my boy.” He looked at +<span class='pageno' title='77' id='Page_77'></span> +me now and clapped me lightly on the shoulder and rocked back +on his heels, nodding at me. “Yes, sir. I didnt turn Democrat three +years ago for nothing. My son-in-law on the city; me—Yes, sir. If +just turning Democrat’ll make that son of a bitch go to work. . . . +And me: just you stand on that corner yonder a year from two +days ago, and see.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hope so. You deserve it, Deacon. And while I think about +it—” I took the letter from my pocket. “Take this around to my +room tomorrow and give it to Shreve. He’ll have something for +you. But not till tomorrow, mind.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He took the letter and examined it. “It’s sealed up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes. And it’s written inside, Not good until tomorrow.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” he said. He looked at the envelope, his mouth pursed. +“Something for me, you say?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes. A present I’m making you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was looking at me now, the envelope white in his black +hand, in the sun. His eyes were soft and irisless and brown, and +suddenly I saw Roskus watching me from behind all his white-folks’ +claptrap of uniforms and politics and Harvard manner, diffident, +secret, inarticulate and sad. “You aint playing a joke on the +old nigger, is you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know I’m not. Did any Southerner ever play a joke on +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re right. They’re fine folks. But you cant live with them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever try?” I said. But Roskus was gone. Once more +he was that self he had long since taught himself to wear in the +world’s eye, pompous, spurious, not quite gross.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll confer to your wishes, my boy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not until tomorrow, remember.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” he said; “understood, my boy. Well—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hope—” I said. He looked down at me, benignant, profound. +Suddenly I held out my hand and we shook, he gravely, from the +pompous height of his municipal and military dream. “You’re a +good fellow, Deacon. I hope. . . . You’ve helped a lot of young +fellows, here and there.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve tried to treat all folks right,” he said. “I draw no petty +social lines. A man to me is a man, wherever I find him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hope you’ll always find as many friends as you’ve made.” +<span class='pageno' title='78' id='Page_78'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Young fellows. I get along with them. They dont forget me, +neither,” he said, waving the envelope. He put it into his pocket +and buttoned his coat. “Yes, sir,” he said, “I’ve had good friends.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The chimes began again, the half hour. I stood in the belly of +my shadow and listened to the strokes spaced and tranquil along +the sunlight, among the thin, still little leaves. Spaced and peaceful +and serene, with that quality of autumn always in bells even +in the month of brides. <span class='it'>Lying on the ground under the window +bellowing</span> He took one look at her and knew. Out of the mouths +of babes. <span class='it'>The street lamps</span> The chimes ceased. I went back to the +postoffice, treading my shadow into pavement. <span class='it'>go down the hill +then they rise toward town like lanterns hung one above another +on a wall.</span> Father said because she loves Caddy she loves people +through their shortcomings. Uncle Maury straddling his legs +before the fire must remove one hand long enough to drink +Christmas. Jason ran on, his hands in his pockets fell down and +lay there like a trussed fowl until Versh set him up. <span class='it'>Whyn’t you +keep them hands outen your pockets when you running you could +stand up then</span> Rolling his head in the cradle rolling it flat across +the back. Caddy told Jason Versh said that the reason Uncle Maury +didn’t work was that he used to roll his head in the cradle when +he was little.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Shreve was coming up the walk, shambling, fatly earnest, his +glasses glinting beneath the running leaves like little pools.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I gave Deacon a note for some things. I may not be in this +afternoon, so dont you let him have anything until tomorrow, will +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right.” He looked at me. “Say, what’re you doing today, +anyhow? All dressed up and mooning around like the prologue +to a suttee. Did you go to Psychology this morning?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not doing anything. Not until tomorrow, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s that you got there?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing. Pair of shoes I had half-soled. Not until tomorrow, +you hear?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure. All right. Oh, by the way, did you get a letter off the table +this morning?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No.” +<span class='pageno' title='79' id='Page_79'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s there. From Semiramis. Chauffeur brought it before ten +o’clock.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right. I’ll get it. Wonder what she wants now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Another band recital, I guess. Tumpty ta ta Gerald blah. ‘A +little louder on the drum, Quentin.’ God, I’m glad I’m not a gentleman.” +He went on, nursing a book, a little shapeless, fatly intent. +<span class='it'>The street lamps</span> do you think so because one of our forefathers +was a governor and three were generals and Mother’s weren’t</p> + +<p class='pindent'>any live man is better than any dead man but no live or dead +man is very much better than any other live or dead man <span class='it'>Done in +Mother’s mind though. Finished. Finished. Then we were all +poisoned</span> you are confusing sin and morality women dont do that +your Mother is thinking of morality whether it be sin or not has +not occurred to her</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason I must go away you keep the others I’ll take Jason and +go where nobody knows us so he’ll have a chance to grow up and +forget all this the others dont love me they have never loved anything +with that streak of Compson selfishness and false pride +Jason was the only one my heart went out to without dread</p> + +<p class='pindent'>nonsense Jason is all right I was thinking that as soon as you +feel better you and Caddy might go up to French Lick</p> + +<p class='pindent'>and leave Jason here with nobody but you and the darkies</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she will forget him then all the talk will die away <span class='it'>found not +death at the salt licks</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>maybe I could find a husband for her <span class='it'>not death at the salt licks</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The car came up and stopped. The bells were still ringing the +half hour. I got on and it went on again, blotting the half hour. No: +the three quarters. Then it would be ten minutes anyway. To leave +Harvard <span class='it'>your Mother’s dream for sold Benjy’s pasture for</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>what have I done to have been given children like these Benjamin +was punishment enough and now for her to have no more +regard for me her own mother I’ve suffered for her dreamed and +planned and sacrificed I went down into the valley yet never since +she opened her eyes has she given me one unselfish thought at +times I look at her I wonder if she can be my child except Jason +he has never given me one moment’s sorrow since I first held him +in my arms I knew then that he was to be my joy and my salvation +I thought that Benjamin was punishment enough for any sins I +<span class='pageno' title='80' id='Page_80'></span> +have committed I thought he was my punishment for putting aside +my pride and marrying a man who held himself above me I dont +complain I loved him above all of them because of it because my +duty though Jason pulling at my heart all the while but I see now +that I have not suffered enough I see now that I must pay for your +sins as well as mine what have you done what sins have your high +and mighty people visited upon me but you’ll take up for them +you always have found excuses for your own blood only Jason +can do wrong because he is more Bascomb than Compson while +your own daughter my little daughter my baby girl she is she is no +better than that when I was a girl I was unfortunate I was only a +Bascomb I was taught that there is no halfway ground that a +woman is either a lady or not but I never dreamed when I held +her in my arms that any daughter of mine could let herself dont +you know I can look at her eyes and tell you may think she’d tell +you but she doesn’t tell things she is secretive you dont know her +I know things she’s done that I’d die before I’d have you know +that’s it go on criticise Jason accuse me of setting him to watch +her as if it were a crime while your own daughter can I know you +dont love him that you wish to believe faults against him you never +have yes ridicule him as you always have Maury you cannot hurt +me any more than your children already have and then I’ll be gone +and Jason with no one to love him shield him from this I look at +him every day dreading to see this Compson blood beginning to +show in him at last with his sister slipping out to see what do you +call it then have you ever laid eyes on him will you even let me try +to find out who he is it’s not for myself I couldn’t bear to see him +it’s for your sake to protect you but who can fight against bad +blood you wont let me try we are to sit back with our hands folded +while she not only drags your name in the dirt but corrupts the +very air your children breathe Jason you must let me go away I +cannot stand it let me have Jason and you keep the others they’re +not my flesh and blood like he is strangers nothing of mine and +I am afraid of them I can take Jason and go where we are +not known I’ll go down on my knees and pray for the absolution +of my sins that he may escape this curse try to forget that the others +ever were</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If that was the three quarters, not over ten minutes now. One +<span class='pageno' title='81' id='Page_81'></span> +car had just left, and people were already waiting for the next one. +I asked, but he didn’t know whether another one would leave before +noon or not because you’d think that interurbans. So the first +one was another trolley. I got on. You can feel noon. I wonder +if even miners in the bowels of the earth. That’s why whistles: +because people that sweat, and if just far enough from sweat you +wont hear whistles and in eight minutes you should be that far +from sweat in Boston. Father said a man is the sum of his misfortunes. +One day you’d think misfortune would get tired, but then +time is your misfortune Father said. A gull on an invisible wire +attached through space dragged. You carry the symbol of your +frustration into eternity. Then the wings are bigger Father said +only who can play a harp.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could hear my watch whenever the car stopped, but not often +they were already eating  <span class='it'>Who would play a</span>  Eating the business +of eating inside of you space too space and time confused Stomach +saying noon brain saying eat oclock All right I wonder what +time it is what of it. People were getting out. The trolley didn’t +stop so often now, emptied by eating.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then it was past. I got off and stood in my shadow and after a +while a car came along and I got on and went back to the interurban +station. There was a car ready to leave, and I found a seat +next the window and it started and I watched it sort of frazzle out +into slack tide flats, and then trees. Now and then I saw the river +and I thought how nice it would be for them down at New London +if the weather and Gerald’s shell going solemnly up the glinting +forenoon and I wondered what the old woman would be wanting +now, sending me a note before ten oclock in the morning. What +picture of Gerald I to be one of the <span class='it'>Dalton Ames   oh asbestos +Quentin has shot</span>   background. Something with girls in it. Women +do have <span class='it'>always his voice above the gabble voice that breathed</span> +an affinity for evil, for believing that no woman is to be trusted, +but that some men are too innocent to protect themselves. Plain +girls. Remote cousins and family friends whom mere acquaintanceship +invested with a sort of blood obligation noblesse oblige. +And she sitting there telling us before their faces what a shame it +was that Gerald should have all the family looks because a man +didn’t need it, was better off without it but without it a girl was +<span class='pageno' title='82' id='Page_82'></span> +simply lost. Telling us about Gerald’s women in a <span class='it'>Quentin has +shot Herbert he shot his voice through the floor of Caddy’s room</span> +tone of smug approbation. “When he was seventeen I said to him +one day ‘What a shame that you should have a mouth like that it +should be on a girls face’ and can you imagine <span class='it'>the curtains leaning +in on the twilight upon the odour of the apple tree her head against +the twilight her arms behind her head kimono-winged the voice +that breathed o’er eden clothes upon the bed by the nose seen +above the apple</span> what he said? just seventeen, mind. ‘Mother’ he +said ‘it often is.’ ” And him sitting there in attitudes regal watching +two or three of them through his eyelashes. They gushed like swallows +swooping his eyelashes. Shreve said he always had <span class='it'>Are you +going to look after Benjy and Father</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>The less you say about Benjy and Father the better when have +you ever considered them Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Promise</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You needn’t worry about them you’re getting out in good shape</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Promise I’m sick you’ll have to promise</span> wondered who invented +that joke but then he always had considered Mrs Bland a remarkably +preserved woman he said she was grooming Gerald to +seduce a duchess sometime. She called Shreve that fat Canadian +youth twice she arranged a new room-mate for me without consulting +me at all, once for me to move out, once for</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He opened the door in the twilight. His face looked like a pumpkin +pie.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll say a fond farewell. Cruel fate may part us, but I will +never love another. Never.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What are you talking about?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m talking about cruel fate in eight yards of apricot silk and +more metal pound for pound than a galley slave and the sole owner +and proprietor of the unchallenged peripatetic john of the late +Confederacy.” Then he told me how she had gone to the proctor +to have him moved out and how the proctor had revealed enough +low stubbornness to insist on consulting Shreve first. Then she +suggested that he send for Shreve right off and do it, and he +wouldnt do that, so after that she was hardly civil to Shreve. “I +make it a point never to speak harshly of females,” Shreve said, +“but that woman has got more ways like a bitch than any lady in +<span class='pageno' title='83' id='Page_83'></span> +these sovereign states and dominions.” and now Letter on the table +by hand, command orchid scented coloured If she knew I had +passed almost beneath the window knowing it there without   My +dear Madam I have not yet had an opportunity of receiving your +communication but I beg in advance to be excused today or yesterday +and tomorrow or when As I remember that the next one is to +be how Gerald throws his nigger downstairs and how the nigger +plead to be allowed to matriculate in the divinity school to be near +marster marse gerald and How he ran all the way to the station beside +the carriage with tears in his eyes when marse gerald rid away +I will wait until the day for the one about the sawmill husband +came to the kitchen door with a shotgun Gerald went down and +bit the gun in two and handed it back and wiped his hands on a +silk handkerchief threw the handkerchief in the stove I’ve only +heard that one twice</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>shot him through the</span> I saw you come in here so I watched my +chance and came along thought we might get acquainted have a +cigar</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Thanks I dont smoke</p> + +<p class='pindent'>No things must have changed up there since my day mind if I +light up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Help yourself</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Thanks I’ve heard a lot I guess your mother wont mind if I put +the match behind the screen will she a lot about you Candace +talked about you all the time up there at the Licks  I got pretty +jealous I says to myself who is this Quentin anyway I must see +what this animal looks like because I was hit pretty hard see soon +as I saw the little girl I dont mind telling you it never occurred to +me it was her brother she kept talking about she couldnt have +talked about you any more if you’d been the only man in the world +husband wouldnt have been in it you wont change your mind and +have a smoke</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I dont smoke</p> + +<p class='pindent'>In that case I wont insist even though it is a pretty fair weed +cost me twenty-five bucks a hundred wholesale friend in Havana +yes I guess there are lots of changes up there I keep promising +myself a visit but I never get around to it been hitting the ball now +for ten years I cant get away from the bank during school fellow’s +<span class='pageno' title='84' id='Page_84'></span> +habits change things that seem important to an undergraduate you +know tell me about things up there</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I’m not going to tell Father and Mother if that’s what you are +getting at</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Not going to tell not going to oh that that’s what you are talking +about is it you understand that I dont give a damn whether you +tell or not understand that a thing like that unfortunate but no police +crime I wasn’t the first or the last I was just unlucky you might +have been luckier</p> + +<p class='pindent'>You lie</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Keep your shirt on I’m not trying to make you tell anything you +dont want to meant no offense of course a young fellow like you +would consider a thing of that sort a lot more serious than you will +in five years</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I dont know but one way to consider cheating I dont think I’m +likely to learn different at Harvard</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We’re better than a play you must have made the Dramat well +you’re right no need to tell them we’ll let bygones be bygones eh +no reason why you and I should let a little thing like that come +between us I like you Quentin I like your appearance you dont +look like these other hicks I’m glad we’re going to hit it off like +this I’ve promised your mother to do something for Jason but I +would like to give you a hand too Jason would be just as well off +here but there’s no future in a hole like this for a young fellow like +you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Thanks you’d better stick to Jason he’d suit you better than I +would</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I’m sorry about that business but a kid like I was then I never +had a mother like yours to teach me the finer points it would just +hurt her unnecessarily to know it yes you’re right no need to that +includes Candace of course</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I said Mother and Father</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Look here take a look at me how long do you think you’d last +with me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wont have to last long if you learned to fight up at school too +try and see how long I would</p> + +<p class='pindent'>You damned little    what do you think you’re getting at</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Try and see +<span class='pageno' title='85' id='Page_85'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>My God the cigar what would your mother say if she found a +blister on her mantel just in time too look here Quentin we’re about +to do something we’ll both regret I like you liked you as soon as +I saw you I says he must be a damned good fellow whoever he is +or Candace wouldnt be so keen on him listen I’ve been out in the +world now for ten years things dont matter so much then you’ll +find that out let’s you and I get together on this thing sons of old +Harvard and all I guess I wouldnt know the place now best place +for a young fellow in the world I’m going to send my sons there +give them a better chance than I had wait dont go yet let’s discuss +this thing a young man gets these ideas and I’m all for them does +him good while he’s in school forms his character good for tradition +the school but when he gets out into the world he’ll have to +get his the best way he can because he’ll find that everybody else +is doing the same thing and be damned to here let’s shake hands +and let bygones by bygones for your mother’s sake remember her +health come on give me your hand here look at it it’s just out of +convent look not a blemish not even been creased yet see here</p> + +<p class='pindent'>To hell with your money</p> + +<p class='pindent'>No no come on I belong to the family now see I know how it is +with a young fellow he has lots of private affairs it’s always pretty +hard to get the old man to stump up for I know havent I been +there and not so long ago either but now I’m getting married and +all specially up there come on dont be a fool listen when we get +a chance for a real talk I want to tell you about a little widow over +in town</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I’ve heard that too keep your damned money</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Call it a loan then just shut your eyes a minute and you’ll be +fifty</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Keep your hands off of me you’d better get that cigar off the +mantel</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tell and be damned then see what it gets you if you were not +a damned fool you’d have seen that I’ve got them too tight for any +half-baked Galahad of a brother your mother’s told me about your +sort with your head swelled up come in oh come in dear Quentin +and I were just getting acquainted talking about Harvard did you +want me cant stay away from the old man can she</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Go out a minute Herbert I want to talk to Quentin +<span class='pageno' title='86' id='Page_86'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Come in come in let’s all have a gabfest and get acquainted I +was just telling Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Go on Herbert go out a while</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well all right then I suppose you and bubber do want to see +one another once more eh</p> + +<p class='pindent'>You’d better take that cigar off the mantel</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Right as usual my boy then I’ll toddle along let them order you +around while they can Quentin after day after tomorrow it’ll be +pretty please to the old man wont it dear give us a kiss honey</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Oh stop that save that for day after tomorrow</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I’ll want interest then dont let Quentin do anything he cant +finish oh by the way did I tell Quentin the story about the man’s +parrot and what happened to it a sad story remind me of that think +of it yourself ta-ta see you in the funnypaper</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well</p> + +<p class='pindent'>What are you up to now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Nothing</p> + +<p class='pindent'>You’re meddling in my business again didn’t you get enough +of that last summer</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy you’ve got fever <span class='it'>You’re sick how are you sick</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I’m just sick. I cant ask.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Shot his voice through the</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Not that blackguard Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Now and then the river glinted beyond things in sort of swooping +glints, across noon and after. Well after now, though we had +passed where he was still pulling upstream majestical in the face +of god gods. Better. Gods. God would be canaille too in Boston +in Massachusetts. Or maybe just not a husband. The wet oars +winking him along in bright winks and female palms. Adulant. +Adulant if not a husband he’d ignore God. <span class='it'>That blackguard, +Caddy</span> The river glinted away beyond a swooping curve.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I’m sick you’ll have to promise</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Sick how are you sick</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I’m just sick I cant ask anybody yet promise you will</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>If they need any looking after it’s because of you how are you +sick</span> Under the window we could hear the car leaving for the station, +the 8:10 train. To bring back cousins. Heads. Increasing +<span class='pageno' title='87' id='Page_87'></span> +himself head by head but not barbers. Manicure girls. We had a +blood horse once. In the stable yes, but under leather a cur. +<span class='it'>Quentin has shot all of their voices through the floor of Caddy’s +room</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The car stopped. I got off, into the middle of my shadow. A +road crossed the track. There was a wooden marquee with an old +man eating something out of a paper bag, and then the car was out +of hearing too. The road went into the trees, where it would be +shady, but June foliage in New England not much thicker than +April at home in Mississippi. I could see a smoke stack. I turned +my back to it, tramping my shadow into the dust. <span class='it'>There was something +terrible in me sometimes at night I could see it grinning at +me I could see it through them grinning at me through their faces +it’s gone now and I’m sick</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Dont touch me just promise</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>If you’re sick you cant</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Yes I can after that it’ll be all right it wont matter dont let them +send him to Jackson promise</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I promise Caddy Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Dont touch me dont touch me</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What does it look like Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>That that grins at you that thing through them</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could still see the smoke stack. That’s where the water would +be, heading out to the sea and the peaceful grottoes. Tumbling +peacefully they would, and when He said Rise only the flat irons. +When Versh and I hunted all day we wouldn’t take any lunch, +and at twelve oclock I’d get hungry. I’d stay hungry until about +one, then all of a sudden I’d even forget that I wasn’t hungry anymore. +<span class='it'>The street lamps go down the hill then heard the car go down +the hill. The chair-arm flat cool smooth under my forehead shaping +the chair the apple tree leaning on my hair above the eden +clothes by the nose seen</span> You’ve got fever I felt it yesterday it’s +like being near a stove.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dont touch me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy you cant do it if you are sick. That blackguard. +<span class='pageno' title='88' id='Page_88'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I’ve got to marry somebody. <span class='it'>Then they told me the bone would +have to be broken again</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>At last I couldn’t see the smoke stack. The road went beside a +wall. Trees leaned over the wall, sprayed with sunlight. The stone +was cool. Walking near it you could feel the coolness. Only our +country was not like this country. There was something about just +walking through it. A kind of still and violent fecundity that satisfied +ever bread-hunger like. Flowing around you, not brooding +and nursing every niggard stone. Like it were put to makeshift for +enough green to go around among the trees and even the blue of +distance not that rich chimaera. <span class='it'>told me the bone would have to +be broken again and inside me it began to say Ah Ah Ah and I +began to sweat. What do I care I know what a broken leg is all it +is it wont be anything I’ll just have to stay in the house a +little longer that’s all and my jaw-muscles getting numb and my +mouth saying Wait Wait just a minute through the sweat ah ah ah +behind my teeth and Father damn that horse damn that horse. +Wait it’s my fault. He came along the fence every morning with a +basket toward the kitchen dragging a stick along the fence every +morning I dragged myself to the window cast and all and laid for +him with a piece of coal Dilsey said you goin to ruin yoself aint +you got no mo sense than that not fo days since you bruck hit. +Wait I’ll get used to it in a minute wait just a minute I’ll get</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Even sound seemed to fail in this air, like the air was worn out +with carrying sounds so long. A dog’s voice carries further than a +train, in the darkness anyway. And some people’s. Niggers. Louis +Hatcher never even used his horn carrying it and that old lantern. +I said, “Louis, when was the last time you cleaned that lantern?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cleant hit a little while back. You member when all dat floodwatter +wash dem folks away up yonder? I cleant hit dat ve’y day. +Old woman and me settin fore de fire dat night and she say ‘Louis, +whut you gwine do ef dat flood git out dis fur?’ and I say ‘Dat’s a +fack. I reckon I had better clean dat lantun up.’ So I cleant hit dat +night.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That flood was way up in Pennsylvania,” I said. “It couldn’t +even have got down this far.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s whut you says,” Louis said. “Watter kin git des ez high +en wet in Jefferson ez hit kin in Pennsylvaney, I reckon. Hit’s de +<span class='pageno' title='89' id='Page_89'></span> +folks dat says de high watter cant git dis fur dat comes floatin out +on de ridge-pole, too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you and Martha get out that night?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We done jest that. I cleant dat lantun and me and her sot de +balance of de night on top o dat knoll back de graveyard. En ef +I’d a knowed of aihy one higher, we’d a been on hit instead.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And you haven’t cleaned that lantern since then.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut I want to clean hit when dey aint no need?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You mean, until another flood comes along?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit kep us outen dat un.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, come on, Uncle Louis,” I said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, suh. You do you way en I do mine. Ef all I got to do to +keep outen de high watter is to clean dis yere lantun, I wont quoil +wid no man.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Unc’ Louis wouldn’t ketch nothin wid a light he could see by,” +Versh said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wuz huntin possums in dis country when dey was still +drowndin nits in yo pappy’s head wid coal oil, boy,” Louis said. +“Ketchin um, too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s de troof,” Versh said. “I reckon Unc’ Louis done caught +mo possums than aihy man in dis country.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, suh,” Louis said, “I got plenty light fer possums to see, +all right. I aint heard none o dem complainin. Hush, now. Dar he. +Whooey. Hum awn, dawg.” And we’d sit in the dry leaves that +whispered a little with the slow respiration of our waiting and with +the slow breathing of the earth and the windless October, the rank +smell of the lantern fouling the brittle air, listening to the dogs and +to the echo of Louis’ voice dying away. He never raised it, yet on +a still night we have heard it from our front porch. When he called +the dogs in he sounded just like the horn he carried slung on his +shoulder and never used, but clearer, mellower, as though his +voice were a part of darkness and silence, coiling out of it, coiling +into it again. WhoOoooo. WhoOoooo. WhoOooooooooooooooo. +<span class='it'>Got to marry somebody</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Have there been very many Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I dont know too many will you look after Benjy and Father</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You dont know whose it is then does he know</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Dont touch me will you look after Benjy and Father</span> +<span class='pageno' title='90' id='Page_90'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I began to feel the water before I came to the bridge. The bridge +was of grey stone, lichened, dappled with slow moisture where the +fungus crept. Beneath it the water was clear and still in the +shadow, whispering and clucking about the stone in fading swirls +of spinning sky. <span class='it'>Caddy that</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I’ve got to marry somebody</span> Versh told me about a man mutilated +himself. He went into the woods and did it with a razor, sitting +in a ditch. A broken razor flinging them backward over his +shoulder the same motion complete the jerked skein of blood +backward not looping. But that’s not it. It’s not not having them. +It’s never to have had them then I could say O That That’s Chinese +I dont know Chinese. And Father said it’s because you are +a virgin: dont you see? Women are never virgins. Purity is a negative +state and therefore contrary to nature. It’s nature is hurting +you not Caddy and I said That’s just words and he said So is virginity +and I said you dont know. You cant know and he said Yes. +On the instant when we come to realise that tragedy is second-hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Where the shadow of the bridge fell I could see down for a long +way, but not as far as the bottom. When you leave a leaf in water +a long time after awhile the tissue will be gone and the delicate +fibers waving slow as the motion of sleep. They dont touch one +another, no matter how knotted up they once were, no matter how +close they lay once to the bones. And maybe when He says Rise +the eyes will come floating up too, out of the deep quiet and the +sleep, to look on glory. And after awhile the flat irons would come +floating up. I hid them under the end of the bridge and went back +and leaned on the rail.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could not see the bottom, but I could see a long way into the +motion of the water before the eye gave out, and then I saw +a shadow hanging like a fat arrow stemming into the current. Mayflies +skimmed in and out of the shadow of the bridge just above +the surface. <span class='it'>If it could just be a hell beyond that: the clean flame +the two of us more than dead. Then you will have only me then +only me then the two of us amid the pointing and the horror beyond +the clean flame</span> The arrow increased without motion, then +in a quick swirl the trout lipped a fly beneath the surface with that +sort of gigantic delicacy of an elephant picking up a peanut. The +<span class='pageno' title='91' id='Page_91'></span> +fading vortex drifted away down stream and then I saw the arrow +again, nose into the current, wavering delicately to the motion of +the water above which the May flies slanted and poised. <span class='it'>Only you +and me then amid the pointing and the horror walled by the clean +flame</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The trout hung, delicate and motionless among the wavering +shadows. Three boys with fishing poles came onto the bridge and +we leaned on the rail and looked down at the trout. They knew +the fish. He was a neighbourhood character.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They’ve been trying to catch that trout for twenty-five years. +There’s a store in Boston offers a twenty-five dollar fishing rod +to anybody that can catch him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why dont you all catch him, then? Wouldnt you like to have +a twenty-five dollar fishing rod?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” they said. They leaned on the rail, looking down at the +trout. “I sure would,” one said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wouldnt take the rod,” the second said. “I’d take the money +instead.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Maybe they wouldnt do that,” the first said. “I bet he’d make +you take the rod.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then I’d sell it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You couldnt get twenty-five dollars for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’d take what I could get, then. I can catch just as many fish +with this pole as I could with a twenty-five dollar one.” Then they +talked about what they would do with twenty-five dollars. They +all talked at once, their voices insistent and contradictory and impatient, +making of unreality a possibility, then a probability, then +an incontrovertible fact, as people will when their desires become +words.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’d buy a horse and wagon,” the second said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes you would,” the others said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I would. I know where I can buy one for twenty-five dollars. +I know the man.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who is it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right who it is. I can buy it for twenty-five dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yah,” the others said, “He dont know any such thing. He’s +just talking.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think so?” the boy said. They continued to jeer at +<span class='pageno' title='92' id='Page_92'></span> +him, but he said nothing more. He leaned on the rail, looking +down at the trout which he had already spent, and suddenly the +acrimony, the conflict, was gone from their voices, as if to them too +it was as though he had captured the fish and bought his horse +and wagon, they too partaking of that adult trait of being convinced +of anything by an assumption of silent superiority. I suppose +that people, using themselves and each other so much by +words, are at least consistent in attributing wisdom to a still tongue, +and for a while I could feel the other two seeking swiftly for some +means by which to cope with him, to rob him of his horse and +wagon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You couldnt get twenty-five dollars for that pole,” the first said. +“I bet anything you couldnt.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He hasnt caught that trout yet,” the third said suddenly, then +they both cried:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yah, wha’d I tell you? What’s the man’s name? I dare you to +tell. There aint any such man.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, shut up,” the second said. “Look, Here he comes again.” +They leaned on the rail, motionless, identical, their poles slanting +slenderly in the sunlight, also identical. The trout rose without +haste, a shadow in faint wavering increase; again the little vortex +faded slowly downstream. “Gee,” the first one murmured.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We dont try to catch him anymore,” he said. “We just watch +Boston folks that come out and try.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is he the only fish in this pool?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes. He ran all the others out. The best place to fish around +here is down at the Eddy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No it aint,” the second said. “It’s better at Bigelow’s Mill two +to one.” Then they argued for a while about which was the best +fishing and then left off all of a sudden to watch the trout rise +again and the broken swirl of water suck down a little of the sky. +I asked how far it was to the nearest town. They told me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But the closest car line is that way,” the second said, pointing +back down the road. “Where are you going?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nowhere. Just walking.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You from the college?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Are there any factories in that town?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Factories?” They looked at me. +<span class='pageno' title='93' id='Page_93'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” the second said. “Not there.” They looked at my clothes. +“You looking for work?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How about Bigelow’s Mill?” the third said. “That’s a factory.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Factory my eye. He means a sure enough factory.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“One with a whistle,” I said. “I havent heard any one oclock +whistles yet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” the second said. “There’s a clock in the Unitarian steeple. +You can find out the time from that. Havent you got a watch on +that chain?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I broke it this morning.” I showed them my watch. They examined +it gravely.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s still running,” the second said. “What does a watch like +that cost?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was a present,” I said. “My father gave it to me when I +graduated from high school.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you a Canadian?” the third said. He had red hair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Canadian?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He dont talk like them,” the second said. “I’ve heard them +talk. He talks like they do in minstrel shows.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Say,” the third said, “Aint you afraid he’ll hit you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit me?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You said he talks like a coloured man.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, dry up,” the second said. “You can see the steeple when +you get over that hill there.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I thanked them. “I hope you have good luck. Only dont catch +that old fellow down there. He deserves to be let alone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Cant anybody catch that fish,” the first said. They leaned on +the rail, looking down into the water, the three poles like three +slanting threads of yellow fire in the sun. I walked upon my +shadow, tramping it into the dappled shade of trees again. The +road curved, mounting away from the water. It crossed the hill, +then descended winding, carrying the eye, the mind on ahead beneath +a still green tunnel, and the square cupola above the trees +and the round eye of the clock but far enough. I sat down at the +roadside. The grass was ankle deep, myriad. The shadows on the +road were as still as if they had been put there with a stencil, with +slanting pencils of sunlight. But it was only a train, and after a +while it died away beyond the trees, the long sound, and then I +<span class='pageno' title='94' id='Page_94'></span> +could hear my watch and the train dying away, as though it were +running through another month or another summer somewhere, +rushing away under the poised gull and all things rushing. Except +Gerald. He would be sort of grand too, pulling in lonely state +across the noon, rowing himself right out of noon, up the long +bright air like an apotheosis, mounting into a drowsing infinity +where only he and the gull, the one terrifically motionless, the +other in a steady and measured pull and recover that partook of +inertia itself, the world punily beneath their shadows on the sun. +Caddy that blackguard that blackguard Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Their voices came over the hill, and the three slender poles like +balanced threads of running fire. They looked at me passing, not +slowing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I said, “I dont see him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We didnt try to catch him,” the first said. “You cant catch that +fish.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There’s the clock,” the second said, pointing. “You can tell +the time when you get a little closer.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I said, “All right.” I got up. “You all going to town?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’re going to the Eddy for chub,” the first said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You cant catch anything at the Eddy,” the second said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I guess you want to go to the mill, with a lot of fellows splashing +and scaring all the fish away.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You cant catch any fish at the Eddy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We wont catch none nowhere if we dont go on,” the third said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont see why you keep on talking about the Eddy,” the second +said. “You cant catch anything there.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont have to go,” the first said. “You’re not tied to me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go to the mill and go swimming,” the third said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to the Eddy and fish,” the first said. “You can do as +you please.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Say, how long has it been since you heard of anybody catching +a fish at the Eddy?” the second said to the third.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go to the mill and go swimming,” the third said. The +cupola sank slowly beyond the trees, with the round face of the +clock far enough yet. We went on in the dappled shade. We came +to an orchard, pink and white. It was full of bees; already we +could hear them. +<span class='pageno' title='95' id='Page_95'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go to the mill and go swimming,” the third said. A lane +turned off beside the orchard. The third boy slowed and halted. +The first went on, flecks of sunlight slipping along the pole across +his shoulder and down the back of his shirt. “Come on,” the third +said. The second boy stopped too. <span class='it'>Why must you marry somebody +Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Do you want me to say it do you think that if I say it it wont be</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go up to the mill,” he said. “Come on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The first boy went on. His bare feet made no sound, falling +softer than leaves in the thin dust. In the orchard the bees sounded +like a wind getting up, a sound caught by a spell just under crescendo +and sustained. The lane went along the wall, arched over, +shattered with bloom, dissolving into trees. Sunlight slanted into +it, sparse and eager. Yellow butterflies flickered along the shade +like flecks of sun.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you want to go to the Eddy for?” the second boy said. +“You can fish at the mill if you want to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, let him go,” the third said. They looked after the first boy. +Sunlight slid patchily across his walking shoulders, glinting along +the pole like yellow ants.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kenny,” the second said. <span class='it'>Say it to Father will you I will am my +fathers Progenitive I invented him created I him Say it to him it +will not be for he will say I was not and then you and I since philoprogenitive</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, come on,” the boy said, “They’re already in.” They looked +after the first boy. “Yah,” they said suddenly, “go on then, +mamma’s boy. If he goes swimming he’ll get his head wet and then +he’ll get a licking.” They turned into the lane and went on, the +yellow butterflies slanting about them along the shade.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>it is because there is nothing else I believe there is something +else but there may not be and then I You will find that even injustice +is scarcely worthy of what you believe yourself to be</span>  He +paid me no attention, his jaw set in profile, his face turned a little +away beneath his broken hat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why dont you go swimming with them?” I said. <span class='it'>that blackguard +Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Were you trying to pick a fight with him were you</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>A liar and a scoundrel Caddy was dropped from his club for +<span class='pageno' title='96' id='Page_96'></span> +cheating at cards got sent to Coventry caught cheating at midterm +exams and expelled</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Well what about it I’m not going to play cards with</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you like fishing better than swimming?” I said. The sound +of the bees diminished, sustained yet, as though instead of sinking +into silence, silence merely increased between us, as water rises. +The road curved again and became a street between shady lawns +with white houses. <span class='it'>Caddy that blackguard can you think of Benjy +and Father and do it not of me</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What else can I think about what else have I thought about</span> The +boy turned from the street. He climbed a picket fence without +looking back and crossed the lawn to a tree and laid the pole down +and climbed into the fork of the tree and sat there, his back to the +road and the dappled sun motionless at last upon his white shirt. +<span class='it'>Else have I thought about I cant even cry I died last year I told +you I had but I didnt know then what I meant I didnt know what +I was saying</span> Some days in late August at home are like this, the +air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic +and familiar. Man the sum of his climatic experiences Father said. +Man the sum of what have you. A problem in impure properties +carried tediously to an unvarying nil: stalemate of dust and desire. +<span class='it'>But now I know I’m dead I tell you</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Then why must you listen we can go away you and Benjy and +me where nobody knows us where</span> The buggy was drawn by a +white horse, his feet clopping in the thin dust; spidery wheels chattering +thin and dry, moving uphill beneath a rippling shawl of +leaves. Elm. No: ellum. Ellum.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>On what on your school money the money they sold the pasture +for so you could go to Harvard dont you see you’ve got to finish +now if you dont finish he’ll have nothing</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Sold the pasture</span> His white shirt was motionless in the fork, in +the flickering shade. The wheels were spidery. Beneath the sag of +the buggy the hooves neatly rapid like the motions of a lady doing +embroidery, diminishing without progress like a figure on a treadmill +being drawn rapidly offstage. The street turned again. I could +see the white cupola, the round stupid assertion of the clock. <span class='it'>Sold +the pasture</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Father will be dead in a year they say if he doesnt stop drinking +<span class='pageno' title='97' id='Page_97'></span> +and he wont stop he cant stop since I since last summer and then +they’ll send Benjy to Jackson I cant cry I cant even cry one minute +she was standing in the door the next minute he was pulling at her +dress and bellowing his voice hammered back and forth between +the walls in waves and she shrinking against the wall getting smaller +and smaller with her white face her eyes like thumbs dug into it +until he pushed her out of the room his voice hammering back +and forth as though its own momentum would not let it stop as +though there were no place for it in silence bellowing</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>When you opened the door a bell tinkled, but just once, high +and clear and small in the neat obscurity above the door, as though +it were gauged and tempered to make that single clear small sound +so as not to wear the bell out nor to require the expenditure of +too much silence in restoring it when the door opened upon the +recent warm scent of baking; a little dirty child with eyes like a +toy bear’s and two patent-leather pig-tails.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hello, sister.” Her face was like a cup of milk dashed with +coffee in the sweet warm emptiness. “Anybody here?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But she merely watched me until a door opened and the lady +came. Above the counter where the ranks of crisp shapes behind +the glass her neat grey face her hair tight and sparse from her neat +grey skull, spectacles in neat grey rims riding approaching like +something on a wire, like a cash box in a store. She looked like a +librarian. Something among dusty shelves of ordered certitudes +long divorced from reality, desiccating peacefully, as if a breath +of that air which sees injustice done</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Two of these, please, ma’am.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>From under the counter she produced a square cut from a newspaper +and laid it on the counter and lifted the two buns out. The +little girl watched them with still and unwinking eyes like two currants +floating motionless in a cup of weak coffee Land of the kike +home of the wop. Watching the bread, the neat grey hands, a +broad gold band on the left forefinger, knuckled there by a blue +knuckle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you do your own baking, ma’am?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sir?” she said. Like that. Sir? Like on the stage. Sir? “Five +cents. Was there anything else?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, ma’am. Not for me. This lady wants something.” She was +<span class='pageno' title='98' id='Page_98'></span> +not tall enough to see over the case, so she went to the end of the +counter and looked at the little girl.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you bring her in here?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, ma’am. She was here when I came.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You little wretch,” she said. She came out around the counter, +but she didnt touch the little girl. “Have you got anything in your +pockets?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She hasnt got any pockets,” I said. “She wasnt doing anything. +She was just standing here, waiting for you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why didnt the bell ring, then?” She glared at me. She just +needed a bunch of switches, a blackboard behind her 2 <span style='font-size:smaller'>X</span> 2 e 5. +“She’ll hide it under her dress and a body’d never know it. You, +child. How’d you get in here?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The little girl said nothing. She looked at the woman, then she +gave me a flying black glance and looked at the woman again, +“Them foreigners,” the woman said. “How’d she get in without +the bell ringing?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She came in when I opened the door,” I said. “It rang once +for both of us. She couldnt reach anything from here, anyway. +Besides, I dont think she would. Would you, sister?” The little +girl looked at me, secretive, contemplative. “What do you want? +bread?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She extended her fist. It uncurled upon a nickel, moist and dirty, +moist dirt ridged into her flesh. The coin was damp and warm. I +could smell it, faintly metallic.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have you got a five cent loaf, please, ma’am?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>From beneath the counter she produced a square cut from a +newspaper sheet and laid it on the counter and wrapped a loaf +into it. I laid the coin and another one on the counter. “And another +one of those buns, please, ma’am.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She took another bun from the case. “Give me that parcel,” she +said. I gave it to her and she unwrapped it and put the third bun +in and wrapped it and took up the coins and found two coppers +in her apron and gave them to me. I handed them to the little girl. +Her fingers closed about them, damp and hot, like worms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You going to give her that bun?” the woman said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” I said. “I expect your cooking smells as good to her +as it does to me.” +<span class='pageno' title='99' id='Page_99'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I took up the two packages and gave the bread to the little girl, +the woman all iron-grey behind the counter, watching us with +cold certitude. “You wait a minute,” she said. She went to the rear. +The door opened again and closed. The little girl watched me, +holding the bread against her dirty dress.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s your name?” I said. She quit looking at me, but she was +still motionless. She didnt even seem to breathe. The woman returned. +She had a funny looking thing in her hand. She carried it +sort of like it might have been a dead pet rat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here,” she said. The child looked at her. “Take it,” the woman +said, jabbing it at the little girl. “It just looks peculiar. I calculate +you wont know the difference when you eat it. Here. I cant stand +here all day.” The child took it, still watching her. The woman +rubbed her hands on her apron. “I got to have that bell fixed,” she +said. She went to the door and jerked it open. The little bell tinkled +once, faint and clear and invisible. We moved toward the door +and the woman’s peering back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Thank you for the cake,” I said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Them foreigners,” she said, staring up into the obscurity where +the bell tinkled. “Take my advice and stay clear of them, young +man.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” I said. “Come on, sister.” We went out. “Thank +you, ma’am.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She swung the door to, then jerked it open again, making the +bell give forth its single small note. “Foreigners,” she said, peering +up at the bell.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went on. “Well,” I said, “How about some ice cream?” She +was eating the gnarled cake. “Do you like ice cream?” She gave +me a black still look, chewing. “Come on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We came to the drugstore and had some ice cream. She wouldn’t +put the loaf down. “Why not put it down so you can eat better?” I +said, offering to take it. But she held to it, chewing the ice cream +like it was taffy. The bitten cake lay on the table. She ate the ice +cream steadily, then she fell to on the cake again, looking about +at the showcases. I finished mine and we went out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Which way do you live?” I said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A buggy, the one with the white horse it was. Only Doc Peabody +is fat. Three hundred pounds. You ride with him on the uphill +<span class='pageno' title='100' id='Page_100'></span> +side, holding on. Children. Walking easier than holding uphill. +<span class='it'>Seen the doctor yet have you seen Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I dont have to I cant ask now afterward it will be all right it +wont matter</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Because women so delicate so mysterious Father said. Delicate +equilibrium of periodical filth between two moons balanced. +Moons he said full and yellow as harvest moons her hips thighs. +Outside outside of them always but. Yellow. Feet soles with walking +like. Then know that some man that all those mysterious and +imperious concealed. With all that inside of them shapes an outward +suavity waiting for a touch to. Liquid putrefaction like +drowned things floating like pale rubber flabbily filled getting the +odour of honeysuckle all mixed up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better take your bread on home, hadnt you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She looked at me. She chewed quietly and steadily; at regular +intervals a small distension passed smoothly down her throat. I +opened my package and gave her one of the buns. “Goodbye,” I +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on. Then I looked back. She was behind me. “Do you +live down this way?” She said nothing. She walked beside me, under +my elbow sort of, eating. We went on. It was quiet, hardly +anyone about <span class='it'>getting the odour of honeysuckle all mixed She +would have told me not to let me sit there on the steps hearing +her door twilight slamming hearing Benjy still crying Supper she +would have to come down then getting honeysuckle all mixed up +in it</span>   We reached the corner.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ve got to go down this way,” I said, “Goodbye.” She +stopped too. She swallowed the last of the cake, then she began on +the bun, watching me across it. “Goodbye,” I said. I turned into +the street and went on, but I went to the next corner before I +stopped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Which way do you live?” I said. “This way?” I pointed down +the street. She just looked at me. “Do you live over that way? I +bet you live close to the station, where the trains are. Dont you?” +She just looked at me, serene and secret and chewing. The +street was empty both ways, with quiet lawns and houses neat +among the trees, but no one at all except back there. We turned +and went back. Two men sat in chairs in front of a store. +<span class='pageno' title='101' id='Page_101'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you all know this little girl? She sort of took up with me +and I cant find where she lives.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They quit looking at me and looked at her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Must be one of them new Italian families,” one said. He +wore a rusty frock coat. “I’ve seen her before. What’s your name, +little girl?” She looked at them blackly for awhile, her jaws moving +steadily. She swallowed without ceasing to chew.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Maybe she cant speak English,” the other said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They sent her after bread,” I said. “She must be able to speak +something.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s your pa’s name?” the first said. “Pete? Joe? name John +huh?” She took another bite from the bun.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What must I do with her?” I said. “She just follows me. I’ve +got to get back to Boston.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You from the college?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir. And I’ve got to get on back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You might go up the street and turn her over to Anse. He’ll +be up at the livery stable. The marshall.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon that’s what I’ll have to do,” I said. “I’ve got to do +something with her. Much obliged. Come on, sister.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went up the street, on the shady side, where the shadow of +the broken façade blotted slowly across the road. We came to the +livery stable. The marshall wasnt there. A man sitting in a chair +tilted in the broad low door, where a dark cool breeze smelling of +ammonia blew among the ranked stalls, said to look at the postoffice. +He didn’t know her either.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Them furriners. I cant tell one from another. You might take +her across the tracks where they live, and maybe somebody’ll +claim her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went to the postoffice. It was back down the street. The man +in the frock coat was opening a newspaper.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Anse just drove out of town,” he said. “I guess you’d better +go down past the station and walk past them houses by the river. +Somebody there’ll know her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I guess I’ll have to,” I said. “Come on, sister.” She pushed the +last piece of the bun into her mouth and swallowed it. “Want another?” +I said. She looked at me, chewing, her eyes black and +unwinking and friendly. I took the other two buns out and gave +<span class='pageno' title='102' id='Page_102'></span> +her one and bit into the other. I asked a man where the station +was and he showed me. “Come on, sister.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We reached the station and crossed the tracks, where the river +was. A bridge crossed it, and a street of jumbled frame houses +followed the river, backed onto it. A shabby street, but with an +air heterogeneous and vivid too. In the center of an untrimmed +plot enclosed by a fence of gaping and broken pickets stood an +ancient lopsided surrey and a weathered house from an upper window +of which hung a garment of vivid pink.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Does that look like your house?” I said. She looked at me over +the bun. “This one?” I said, pointing. She just chewed, but it seemed +to me that I discerned something affirmative, acquiescent even if +it wasn’t eager, in her air. “This one?” I said. “Come on, then.” +I entered the broken gate. I looked back at her. “Here?” I said. +“This look like your house?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She nodded her head rapidly, looking at me, gnawing into the +damp halfmoon of the bread. We went on. A walk of broken random +flags, speared by fresh coarse blades of grass, led to the +broken stoop. There was no movement about the house at all, +and the pink garment hanging in no wind from the upper window. +There was a bell pull with a porcelain knob, attached to about six +feet of wire when I stopped pulling and knocked. The little girl +had the crust edgeways in her chewing mouth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A woman opened the door. She looked at me, then she spoke +rapidly to the little girl in Italian, with a rising inflexion, then a +pause, interrogatory. She spoke to her again, the little girl looking +at her across the end of the crust, pushing it into her mouth with +a dirty hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She says she lives here,” I said. “I met her down town. Is this +your bread?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No spika,” the woman said. She spoke to the little girl again. +The little girl just looked at her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No live here?” I said. I pointed to the girl, then at her, then at +the door. The woman shook her head. She spoke rapidly. She +came to the edge of the porch and pointed down the road, +speaking.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I nodded violently too. “You come show?” I said. I took her +arm, waving my other hand toward the road. She spoke swiftly, +<span class='pageno' title='103' id='Page_103'></span> +pointing. “You come show,” I said, trying to lead her down the +steps.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Si, si,” she said, holding back, showing me whatever it was. +I nodded again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Thanks. Thanks. Thanks.” I went down the steps and walked +toward the gate, not running, but pretty fast. I reached the gate +and stopped and looked at her for a while. The crust was gone now, +and she looked at me with her black, friendly stare. The woman +stood on the stoop, watching us.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on, then,” I said. “We’ll have to find the right one sooner +or later.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She moved along just under my elbow. We went on. The houses +all seemed empty. Not a soul in sight. A sort of breathlessness that +empty houses have. Yet they couldnt all be empty. All the different +rooms, if you could just slice the walls away all of a sudden Madam, +your daughter, if you please. No. Madam, for God’s sake, your +daughter. She moved along just under my elbow, her shiny tight +pigtails, and then the last house played out and the road curved out +of sight beyond a wall, following the river. The woman was emerging +from the broken gate, with a shawl over her head and clutched +under her chin. The road curved on, empty. I found a coin and +gave it to the little girl. A quarter. “Goodbye, sister,” I said. Then +I ran.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I ran fast, not looking back. Just before the road curved away +I looked back. She stood in the road, a small figure clasping the +loaf of bread to her filthy little dress, her eyes still and black and +unwinking. I ran on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A lane turned from the road. I entered it and after a while I +slowed to a fast walk. The lane went between back premises—unpainted +houses with more of those gay and startling coloured garments +on lines, a barn broken-backed, decaying quietly among +rank orchard trees, unpruned and weed-choked, pink and white +and murmurous with sunlight and with bees. I looked back. The +entrance to the lane was empty. I slowed still more, my shadow +pacing me, dragging its head through the weeds that hid the fence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The lane went back to a barred gate, became defunctive in grass, +a mere path scarred quietly into new grass. I climbed the gate into +a woodlot and crossed it and came to another wall and followed +<span class='pageno' title='104' id='Page_104'></span> +that one, my shadow behind me now. There were vines and creepers +where at home would be honeysuckle. Coming and coming especially +in the dusk when it rained, getting honeysuckle all mixed +up in it as though it were not enough without that, not unbearable +enough. <span class='it'>What did you let him for kiss kiss</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I didn’t let him I made him watching me getting mad What +do you think of that? Red print of my hand coming up through +her face like turning a light on under your hand her eyes going +bright</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>It’s not for kissing I slapped you. Girl’s elbows at fifteen Father +said you swallow like you had a fishbone in your throat what’s the +matter with you and Caddy across the table not to look at me. It’s +for letting it be some darn town squirt I slapped you you will will +you now I guess you say calf rope. My red hand coming up out of +her face. What do you think of that scouring her head into the. +Grass sticks crisscrossed into the flesh tingling scouring her head. +Say calf rope say it</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I didnt kiss a dirty girl like Natalie anyway</span> The wall went into +shadow, and then my shadow, I had tricked it again. I had forgot +about the river curving along the road. I climbed the wall. And +then she watched me jump down, holding the loaf against her +dress.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I stood in the weeds and we looked at one another for a while.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why didnt you tell me you lived out this way, sister?” The loaf +was wearing slowly out of the paper; already it needed a new one. +“Well, come on then and show me the house.” <span class='it'>not a dirty girl +like Natalie. It was raining we could hear it on the roof, sighing +through the high sweet emptiness of the barn.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>There? touching her</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Not there</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>There? not raining hard but we couldnt hear anything but the +roof and as if it was my blood or her blood</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>She pushed me down the ladder and ran off and left me Caddy +did</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Was it there it hurt you when Caddy did ran off was it there</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Oh</span> She walked just under my elbow, the top of her patent leather +head, the loaf fraying out of the newspaper.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you dont get home pretty soon you’re going to wear that loaf +<span class='pageno' title='105' id='Page_105'></span> +out. And then what’ll your mamma say?” <span class='it'>I bet I can lift you up</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You cant I’m too heavy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Did Caddy go away did she go to the house you cant see the barn +from our house did you ever try to see the barn from</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>It was her fault she pushed me she ran away</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I can lift you up see how I can</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Oh her blood or my blood Oh</span> We went on in the thin dust, our +feet silent as rubber in the thin dust where pencils of sun slanted +in the trees. And I could feel water again running swift and peaceful +in the secret shade.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You live a long way, dont you. You’re mighty smart to go this +far to town by yourself.” <span class='it'>It’s like dancing sitting down did you +ever dance sitting down? We could hear the rain, a rat in the crib, +the empty barn vacant with horses. How do you hold to dance do +you hold like this</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Oh</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I used to hold like this you thought I wasnt strong enough didn’t +you</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Oh Oh Oh Oh</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I hold to use like this I mean did you hear what I said I said</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>oh oh oh oh</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>The road went on, still and empty, the sun slanting more and +more. Her stiff little pigtails were bound at the tips with bits of +crimson cloth. A corner of the wrapping flapped a little as she +walked, the nose of the loaf naked. I stopped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here. Do you live down this road? We havent passed a +house in a mile, almost.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She looked at me, black and secret and friendly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where do you live, sister? Dont you live back there in town?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a bird somewhere in the woods, beyond the broken +and infrequent slanting of sunlight.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your papa’s going to be worried about you. Dont you reckon +you’ll get a whipping for not coming straight home with that bread?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The bird whistled again, invisible, a sound meaningless and +profound, inflexionless, ceasing as though cut off with the blow +of a knife, and again, and that sense of water swift and peaceful +above secret places, felt, not seen not heard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, hell, sister.” About half the paper hung limp. “That’s not +<span class='pageno' title='106' id='Page_106'></span> +doing any good now.” I tore it off and dropped it beside the road. +“Come on. We’ll have to go back to town. We’ll go back along the +river.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We left the road. Among the moss little pale flowers grew, and +the sense of water mute and unseen. <span class='it'>I hold to use like this I mean +I use to hold She stood in the door looking at us her hands on +her hips</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You pushed me it was your fault it hurt me too</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>We were dancing sitting down I bet Caddy cant dance sitting +down</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Stop that stop that</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I was just brushing the trash off the back of your dress</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You keep your nasty old hands off of me it was your fault you +pushed me down I’m mad at you</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I dont care she looked at us stay mad she went away</span> We began +to hear the shouts, the splashings; I saw a brown body gleam for +an instant.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Stay mad. My shirt was getting wet and my hair. Across the +roof hearing the roof loud now I could see Natalie going through +the garden among the rain. Get wet I hope you catch pneumonia +go on home Cowface. I jumped hard as I could into the hogwallow +the mud yellowed up to my waist stinking I kept on plunging until +I fell down and rolled over in it</span> “Hear them in swimming, +sister? I wouldn’t mind doing that myself.” If I had time. When I +have time. I could hear my watch. <span class='it'>mud was warmer than the rain it +smelled awful. She had her back turned I went around in front of +her. You know what I was doing? She turned her back I went +around in front of her the rain creeping into the mud flatting her +bodice through her dress it smelled horrible. I was hugging her +that’s what I was doing. She turned her back I went around in +front of her. I was hugging her I tell you.</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I dont give a damn what you were doing</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>You dont you dont I’ll make you I’ll make you give a damn. She +hit my hands away I smeared mud on her with the other hand I +couldn’t feel the wet smacking of her hand I wiped mud from my +legs smeared it on her wet hard turning body hearing her fingers +going into my face but I couldn’t feel it even when the rain began +to taste sweet on my lips</span> +<span class='pageno' title='107' id='Page_107'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>They saw us from the water first, heads and shoulders. They +yelled and one rose squatting and sprang among them. They looked +like beavers, the water lipping about their chins, yelling.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take that girl away! What did you want to bring a girl here +for? Go on away!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She wont hurt you. We just want to watch you for a while.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They squatted in the water. Their heads drew into a clump, +watching us, then they broke and rushed toward us, hurling water +with their hands. We moved quick.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look out, boys; she wont hurt you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on away, Harvard!” It was the second boy, the one that +thought the horse and wagon back there at the bridge. “Splash +them, fellows!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s get out and throw them in,” another said. “I aint afraid +of any girl.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Splash them! Splash them!” They rushed toward us, hurling +water. We moved back. “Go on away!” they yelled. “Go on +away!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went away. They huddled just under the bank, their slick +heads in a row against the bright water. We went on. “That’s not +for us, is it.” The sun slanted through to the moss here and there, +leveller. “Poor kid, you’re just a girl.” Little flowers grew among +the moss, littler than I had ever seen. “You’re just a girl. Poor kid.” +There was a path, curving along beside the water. Then the water +was still again, dark and still and swift. “Nothing but a girl. Poor +sister.” <span class='it'>We lay in the wet grass panting the rain like cold shot on +my back. Do you care now do you do you</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>My Lord we sure are in a mess get up. Where the rain touched +my forehead it began to smart my hand came red away streaking +off pink in the rain. Does it hurt</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Of course it does what do you reckon</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I tried to scratch your eyes out my Lord we sure do stink we +better try to wash it off in the branch</span> “There’s town again, sister. +You’ll have to go home now. I’ve got to get back to school. Look +how late it’s getting. You’ll go home now, wont you?” But she just +looked at me with her black, secret, friendly gaze, the half-naked +loaf clutched to her breast. “It’s wet. I thought we jumped back in +time.” I took my handkerchief and tried to wipe the loaf, but the +<span class='pageno' title='108' id='Page_108'></span> +crust began to come off, so I stopped. “We’ll just have to let it dry +itself. Hold it like this.” She held it like that. It looked kind of +like rats had been eating it now. <span class='it'>and the water building and building +up the squatting back the sloughed mud stinking surfaceward +pocking the pattering surface like grease on a hot stove. I told you +I’d make you</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>I dont give a goddam what you do</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then we heard the running and we stopped and looked back +and saw him coming up the path running, the level shadows flicking +upon his legs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s in a hurry. We’d—” then I saw another man, an oldish +man running heavily, clutching a stick, and a boy naked from the +waist up, clutching his pants as he ran.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There’s Julio,” the little girl said, and then I saw his Italian face +and his eyes as he sprang upon me. We went down. His hands +were jabbing at my face and he was saying something and trying to +bite me, I reckon, and then they hauled him off and held him +heaving and thrashing and yelling and they held his arms and he +tried to kick me until they dragged him back. The little girl was +howling, holding the loaf in both arms. The half-naked boy was +darting and jumping up and down, clutching his trousers and +someone pulled me up in time to see another stark naked figure +come around the tranquil bend in the path running and change +direction in midstride and leap into the woods, a couple of garments +rigid as boards behind it. Julio still struggled. The man who +had pulled me up said, “Whoa, now. We got you.” He wore a vest +but no coat. Upon it was a metal shield. In his other hand he +clutched a knotted, polished stick.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re Anse, aren’t you?” I said. “I was looking for you. +What’s the matter?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I warn you that anything you say will be used against you,” he +said. “You’re under arrest.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I killa heem,” Julio said. He struggled. Two men held him. +The little girl howled steadily, holding the bread. “You steala my +seester,” Julio said. “Let go, meesters.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Steal his sister?” I said. “Why, I’ve been—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shet up,” Anse said. “You can tell that to Squire.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Steal his sister?” I said. Julio broke from the men and sprang +<span class='pageno' title='109' id='Page_109'></span> +at me again, but the marshall met him and they struggled until the +other two pinioned his arms again. Anse released him, panting.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You durn furriner,” he said, “I’ve a good mind to take you up +too, for assault and battery.” He turned to me again. “Will you +come peaceable, or do I handcuff you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll come peaceable,” I said. “Anything, just so I can find +someone—do something with—Stole his sister,” I said. “Stole his—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve warned you,” Anse said, “He aims to charge you with +meditated criminal assault. Here, you, make that gal shut up that +noise.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” I said. Then I began to laugh. Two more boys with +plastered heads and round eyes came out of the bushes, buttoning +shirts that had already dampened onto their shoulders and +arms, and I tried to stop the laughter, but I couldnt.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Watch him, Anse, he’s crazy, I believe.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll h-have to qu-quit,” I said, “It’ll stop in a mu-minute. The +other time it said ah ah ah,” I said, laughing. “Let me sit down a +while.” I sat down, they watching me, and the little girl with her +streaked face and the gnawed looking loaf, and the water swift and +peaceful below the path. After a while the laughter ran out. But my +throat wouldnt quit trying to laugh, like retching after your stomach +is empty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whoa, now,” Anse said. “Get a grip on yourself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I said, tightening my throat. There was another yellow +butterfly, like one of the sunflecks had come loose. After a while +I didnt have to hold my throat so tight. I got up. “I’m ready. Which +way?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We followed the path, the two others watching Julio and the +little girl and the boys somewhere in the rear. The path went along +the river to the bridge. We crossed it and the tracks, people coming +to the doors to look at us and more boys materializing from +somewhere until when we turned into the main street we had quite +a procession. Before the drugstore stood an auto, a big one, but I +didn’t recognise them until Mrs Bland said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, Quentin! Quentin Compson!” Then I saw Gerald, and +Spoade in the back seat, sitting on the back of his neck. And +Shreve. I didnt know the two girls.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin Compson!” Mrs Bland said. +<span class='pageno' title='110' id='Page_110'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Good afternoon,” I said, raising my hat. “I’m under arrest. +I’m sorry I didnt get your note. Did Shreve tell you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Under arrest?” Shreve said. “Excuse me,” he said. He heaved +himself up and climbed over their feet and got out. He had on a +pair of my flannel pants, like a glove. I didnt remember forgetting +them. I didnt remember how many chins Mrs Bland had, either. +The prettiest girl was with Gerald in front, too. They watched me +through veils, with a kind of delicate horror. “Who’s under arrest?” +Shreve said. “What’s this, mister?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Gerald,” Mrs Bland said, “Send these people away. You get +in this car, Quentin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Gerald got out. Spoade hadnt moved.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s he done, Cap?” he said. “Robbed a hen house?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I warn you,” Anse said. “Do you know the prisoner?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Know him,” Shreve said. “Look here—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then you can come along to the squire’s. You’re obstructing +justice. Come along.” He shook my arm.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, good afternoon,” I said. “I’m glad to have seen you all. +Sorry I couldnt be with you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Gerald,” Mrs Bland said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here, constable,” Gerald said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I warn you you’re interfering with an officer of the law,” Anse +said. “If you’ve anything to say, you can come to the squire’s and +make cognizance of the prisoner.” We went on. Quite a procession +now, Anse and I leading. I could hear them telling them what it +was, and Spoade asking questions, and then Julio said something +violently in Italian and I looked back and saw the little girl +standing at the curb, looking at me with her friendly, inscrutable +regard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Git on home,” Julio shouted at her, “I beat hell outa you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We went down the street and turned into a bit of lawn in which, +set back from the street, stood a one storey building of brick +trimmed with white. We went up the rock path to the door, where +Anse halted everyone except us and made them remain outside. +We entered a bare room smelling of stale tobacco. There was a +sheet iron stove in the center of a wooden frame filled with sand, +and a faded map on the wall and the dingy plat of a township. +<span class='pageno' title='111' id='Page_111'></span> +Behind a scarred littered table a man with a fierce roach of iron +grey hair peered at us over steel spectacles.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Got him, did ye, Anse?” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Got him, Squire.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He opened a huge dusty book and drew it to him and dipped a +foul pen into an inkwell filled with what looked like coal dust.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here, mister,” Shreve said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The prisoner’s name,” the squire said. I told him. He wrote it +slowly into the book, the pen scratching with excruciating deliberation.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here, mister,” Shreve said, “We know this fellow. We—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Order in the court,” Anse said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shut up, bud,” Spoade said. “Let him do it his way. He’s going +to anyhow.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Age,” the squire said. I told him. He wrote that, his mouth +moving as he wrote. “Occupation.” I told him. “Harvard student, +hey?” he said. He looked up at me, bowing his neck a little to see +over the spectacles. His eyes were clear and cold, like a goat’s. +“What are you up to, coming out here kidnapping children?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They’re crazy, Squire,” Shreve said. “Whoever says this boy’s +kidnapping—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Julio moved violently. “Crazy?” he said. “Dont I catcha heem, +eh? Dont I see weetha my own eyes—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re a liar,” Shreve said. “You never—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Order, order,” Anse said, raising his voice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You fellers shet up,” the squire said. “If they dont stay quiet, +turn ’em out, Anse.” They got quiet. The squire looked at Shreve, +then at Spoade, then at Gerald. “You know this young man?” he +said to Spoade.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, your honour,” Spoade said. “He’s just a country boy in +school up there. He dont mean any harm. I think the marshall’ll find +it’s a mistake. His father’s a congregational minister.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” the squire said. “What was you doing, exactly?” I +told him, he watching me with his cold, pale eyes. “How about +it, Anse?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Might have been,” Anse said. “Them durn furriners.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I American,” Julio said. “I gotta da pape’.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’s the gal?” +<span class='pageno' title='112' id='Page_112'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He sent her home,” Anse said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Was she scared or anything?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not till Julio there jumped on the prisoner. They were just +walking along the river path, towards town. Some boys swimming +told us which way they went.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a mistake, Squire,” Spoade said. “Children and dogs are +always taking up with him like that. He cant help it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” the squire said. He looked out of the window for a while. +We watched him. I could hear Julio scratching himself. The squire +looked back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Air you satisfied the gal aint took any hurt, you, there?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No hurt now,” Julio said sullenly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You quit work to hunt for her?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure I quit. I run. I run like hell. Looka here, looka there, then +man tella me he seen him giva her she eat. She go weetha.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” the squire said. “Well, son, I calculate you owe Julio +something for taking him away from his work.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir,” I said. “How much?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dollar, I calculate.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I gave Julio a dollar.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” Spoade said, “If that’s all—I reckon he’s discharged, +your honour?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The squire didn’t look at him. “How far’d you run him, Anse?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Two miles, at least. It was about two hours before we caught +him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” the squire said. He mused a while. We watched him, +his stiff crest, the spectacles riding low on his nose. The yellow +shape of the window grew slowly across the floor, reached the +wall, climbing. Dust motes whirled and slanted. “Six dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Six dollars?” Shreve said. “What’s that for?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Six dollars,” the squire said. He looked at Shreve a moment, +then at me again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” Shreve said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Shut up,” Spoade said. “Give it to him, bud, and let’s get out +of here. The ladies are waiting for us. You got six dollars?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I said. I gave him six dollars.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Case dismissed,” he said. +<span class='pageno' title='113' id='Page_113'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You get a receipt,” Shreve said. “You get a signed receipt for +that money.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The squire looked at Shreve mildly. “Case dismissed,” he said +without raising his voice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be damned—” Shreve said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on here,” Spoade said, taking his arm. “Good afternoon, +Judge. Much obliged.” As we passed out the door Julio’s voice +rose again, violent, then ceased. Spoade was looking at me, his +brown eyes quizzical, a little cold. “Well, bud, I reckon you’ll do +your girl chasing in Boston after this.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You damned fool,” Shreve said, “What the hell do you mean +anyway, straggling off here, fooling with these damn wops?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on,” Spoade said, “They must be getting impatient.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs Bland was talking to them. They were Miss Holmes and +Miss Daingerfield and they quit listening to her and looked at me +again with that delicate and curious horror, their veils turned back +upon their little white noses and their eyes fleeing and mysterious +beneath the veils.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin Compson,” Mrs Bland said, “What would your +mother say? A young man naturally gets into scrapes, but to be +arrested on foot by a country policeman. What did they think he’d +done, Gerald?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing,” Gerald said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense. What was it, you, Spoade?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He was trying to kidnap that little dirty girl, but they caught +him in time,” Spoade said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense,” Mrs Bland said, but her voice sort of died away +and she stared at me for a moment, and the girls drew their breaths +in with a soft concerted sound. “Fiddlesticks,” Mrs Bland said +briskly, “If that isn’t just like these ignorant lowclass Yankees. +Get in, Quentin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Shreve and I sat on two small collapsible seats. Gerald cranked +the car and got in and we started.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, Quentin, you tell me what all this foolishness is about,” +Mrs Bland said. I told them, Shreve hunched and furious on his +little seat and Spoade sitting again on the back of his neck beside +Miss Daingerfield.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And the joke is, all the time Quentin had us all fooled,” Spoade +<span class='pageno' title='114' id='Page_114'></span> +said. “All the time we thought he was the model youth that anybody +could trust a daughter with, until the police showed him up +at his nefarious work.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush up, Spoade,” Mrs Bland said. We drove down the street +and crossed the bridge and passed the house where the pink garment +hung in the window. “That’s what you get for not reading +my note. Why didnt you come and get it? Mr MacKenzie says he +told you it was there.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum. I intended to, but I never went back to the room.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d have let us sit there waiting I dont know how long, if it +hadnt been for Mr MacKenzie. When he said you hadnt come back, +that left an extra place, so we asked him to come. We’re very +glad to have you anyway, Mr MacKenzie.” Shreve said nothing. +His arms were folded and he glared straight ahead past Gerald’s +cap. It was a cap for motoring in England. Mrs Bland said so. We +passed that house, and three others, and another yard where the +little girl stood by the gate. She didnt have the bread now, and her +face looked like it had been streaked with coaldust. I waved my +hand, but she made no reply, only her head turned slowly as the +car passed, following us with her unwinking gaze. Then we ran +beside the wall, our shadows running along the wall, and after a +while we passed a piece of torn newspaper lying beside the road +and I began to laugh again. I could feel it in my throat and I looked +off into the trees where the afternoon slanted, thinking of afternoon +and of the bird and the boys in swimming. But still I couldnt stop +it and then I knew that if I tried too hard to stop it I’d be crying +and I thought about how I’d thought about I could not be a virgin, +with so many of them walking along in the shadows and whispering +with their soft girlvoices lingering in the shadowy places and +the words coming out and perfume and eyes you could feel not +see, but if it was that simple to do it wouldnt be anything and if it +wasnt anything, what was I and then Mrs Bland said, “Quentin? +Is he sick, Mr MacKenzie?” and then Shreve’s fat hand touched +my knee and Spoade began talking and I quit trying to stop it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If that hamper is in his way, Mr MacKenzie, move it over on +your side. I brought a hamper of wine because I think young gentlemen +should drink wine, although my father, Gerald’s grandfather” +<span class='pageno' title='115' id='Page_115'></span> +<span class='it'>ever do that Have you ever done that In the grey darkness +a little light her hands locked about</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They do, when they can get it,” Spoade said. “Hey, Shreve?” +<span class='it'>her knees her face looking at the sky the smell of honeysuckle upon +her face and throat</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Beer, too,” Shreve said. His hand touched my knee again. I +moved my knee again. <span class='it'>like a thin wash of lilac coloured paint +talking about him bringing</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re not a gentleman,” Spoade said.  <span class='it'>him between us until +the shape of her blurred not with dark</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No. I’m Canadian,” Shreve said.  <span class='it'>talking about him the oar +blades winking him along winking the Cap made for motoring in +England and all time rushing beneath and they two blurred within +the other forever more he had been in the army had killed men</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I adore Canada,” Miss Daingerfield said. “I think it’s marvellous.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever drink perfume?” Spoade said.  <span class='it'>with one hand +he could lift her to his shoulder and run with her running Running</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” Shreve said.  <span class='it'>running the beast with two backs and she +blurred in the winking oars running the swine of Euboeleus running +coupled within how many Caddy</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Neither did I,” Spoade said.  <span class='it'>I dont know   too many   there +was something terrible in me terrible in me Father I have committed +Have you ever done that We didnt we didnt do that did we +do that</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“and Gerald’s grandfather always picked his own mint before +breakfast, while the dew was still on it. He wouldnt even let old +Wilkie touch it do you remember Gerald but always gathered it +himself and made his own julep. He was as crochety about his julep +as an old maid, measuring everything by a recipe in his head. There +was only one man he ever gave that recipe to; that was” <span class='it'>we did +how can you not know it if youll just wait I’ll tell you how it was +it was a crime we did a terrible crime it cannot be hid you think it +can but wait   Poor Quentin youve never done that have you  and +I’ll tell you how it was I’ll tell Father then itll have to be because +you love Father then we’ll have to go away amid the pointing and +the horror the clean flame I’ll make you say we did I’m stronger +than you I’ll make you know we did you thought it was them but</span> +<span class='pageno' title='116' id='Page_116'></span> +<span class='it'>it was me listen I fooled you all the time it was me you thought +I was in the house where that damn honeysuckle trying not to think +the swing the cedars the secret surges the breathing locked drinking +the wild breath the yes Yes Yes yes</span>  “never be got to drink wine +himself, but he always said that a hamper what book did you read +that in the one where Geralds rowing suit of wine was a necessary +part of any gentlemen’s picnic basket”  <span class='it'>did you love them Caddy +did you love them When they touched me I died</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>one minute she was standing there the next he was yelling and +pulling at her dress they went into the hall and up the stairs yelling +and shoving at her up the stairs to the bathroom door and +stopped her back against the door and her arm across her face +yelling and trying to shove her into the bathroom when she came +in to supper T. P. was feeding him he started again just whimpering +at first until she touched him then he yelled she stood there her +eyes like cornered rats then I was running in the grey darkness it +smelled of rain and all flower scents the damp warm air released +and crickets sawing away in the grass pacing me with a small +travelling island of silence Fancy watched me across the fence +blotchy like a quilt on a line I thought damn that nigger he forgot +to feed her again I ran down the hill in that vacuum of crickets +like a breath travelling across a mirror she was lying in the water +her head on the sand spit the water flowing about her hips there +was a little more light in the water her skirt half saturated flopped +along her flanks to the waters motion in heavy ripples going nowhere +renewed themselves of their own movement I stood on the +bank I could smell the honeysuckle on the water gap the air +seemed to drizzle with honeysuckle and with the rasping of crickets +a substance you could feel on the flesh</p> + +<p class='pindent'>is Benjy still crying</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I dont know yes I dont know</p> + +<p class='pindent'>poor Benjy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I sat down on the bank the grass was damp a little then I found +my shoes wet</p> + +<p class='pindent'>get out of that water are you crazy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>but she didnt move her face was a white blur framed out of the +blur of the sand by her hair</p> + +<p class='pindent'>get out now +<span class='pageno' title='117' id='Page_117'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>she sat up then she rose her skirt flopped against her draining +she climbed the bank her clothes flopping sat down</p> + +<p class='pindent'>why dont you wring it out do you want to catch cold</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>the water sucked and gurgled across the sand spit and on in +the dark among the willows across the shallow the water rippled +like a piece of cloth holding still a little light as water does</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he’s crossed all the oceans all around the world</p> + +<p class='pindent'>then she talked about him clasping her wet knees her face tilted +back in the grey light the smell of honeysuckle there was a light +in mothers room and in Benjys where T. P. was putting him to bed</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do you love him</p> + +<p class='pindent'>her hand came out I didnt move it fumbled down my arm and +she held my hand flat against her chest her heart thudding</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no no</p> + +<p class='pindent'>did he make you then he made you do it let him he was stronger +than you and he tomorrow Ill kill him I swear I will father neednt +know until afterward and then you and I nobody need ever know +we can take my school money we can cancel my matriculation +Caddy you hate him dont you dont you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she held my hand against her chest her heart thudding I turned +and caught her arm</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy you hate him dont you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she moved my hand up against her throat her heart was hammering +there</p> + +<p class='pindent'>poor Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>her face looked at the sky it was low so low that all smells and +sounds of night seemed to have been crowded down like under a +slack tent especially the honeysuckle it had got into my breathing +it was on her face and throat like paint her blood pounded against +my hand I was leaning on my other arm it began to jerk and jump +and I had to pant to get any air at all out of that thick grey honeysuckle</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes I hate him I would die for him I’ve already died for him I +die for him over and over again everytime this goes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>when I lifted my hand I could still feel crisscrossed twigs and +grass burning into the palm</p> + +<p class='pindent'>poor Quentin +<span class='pageno' title='118' id='Page_118'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>she leaned back on her arms her hands locked about her knees</p> + +<p class='pindent'>youve never done that have you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what done what</p> + +<p class='pindent'>that what I have what I did</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes yes lots of times with lots of girls</p> + +<p class='pindent'>then I was crying her hand touched me again and I was crying +against her damp blouse then she lying on her back looking past +my head into the sky I could see a rim of white under her irises I +opened my knife</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do you remember the day damuddy died when you sat down in +the water in your drawers</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I held the point of the knife at her throat</p> + +<p class='pindent'>it wont take but a second just a second then I can do mine I +can do mine then</p> + +<p class='pindent'>all right can you do yours by yourself</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes the blades long enough Benjys in bed by now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>it wont take but a second Ill try not to hurt</p> + +<p class='pindent'>all right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>will you close your eyes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no like this youll have to push it harder</p> + +<p class='pindent'>touch your hand to it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>but she didnt move her eyes were wide open looking past my +head at the sky</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy do you remember how Dilsey fussed at you because +your drawers were muddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>dont cry</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im not crying Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>push it are you going to</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do you want me to</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes push it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>touch your hand to it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>dont cry poor Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>but I couldnt stop she held my head against her damp hard +breast I could hear her heart going firm and slow now not hammering +and the water gurgling among the willows in the dark and +<span class='pageno' title='119' id='Page_119'></span> +waves of honeysuckle coming up the air my arm and shoulder +were twisted under me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what is it what are you doing</p> + +<p class='pindent'>her muscles gathered I sat up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>its my knife I dropped it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she sat up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what time is it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I dont know</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she rose to her feet I fumbled along the ground</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im going let it go</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could feel her standing there I could smell her damp clothes +feeling her there</p> + +<p class='pindent'>its right here somewhere</p> + +<p class='pindent'>let it go you can find it tomorrow come on</p> + +<p class='pindent'>wait a minute I’ll find it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>are you afraid to</p> + +<p class='pindent'>here it is it was right here all the time</p> + +<p class='pindent'>was it come on</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I got up and followed we went up the hill the crickets hushing +before us</p> + +<p class='pindent'>its funny how you can sit down and drop something and have +to hunt all around for it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>the grey it was grey with dew slanting up into the grey sky then +the trees beyond</p> + +<p class='pindent'>damn that honeysuckle I wish it would stop</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you used to like it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>we crossed the crest and went on toward the trees she walked +into me she gave over a little the ditch was a black scar on the +grey grass she walked into me again she looked at me and gave +over we reached the ditch</p> + +<p class='pindent'>lets go this way</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what for</p> + +<p class='pindent'>lets see if you can still see Nancys bones I havent thought to +look in a long time have you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>it was matted with vines and briers dark</p> + +<p class='pindent'>they were right here you cant tell whether you see them or not +can you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>stop Quentin +<span class='pageno' title='120' id='Page_120'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>come on</p> + +<p class='pindent'>the ditch narrowed closed she turned toward the trees</p> + +<p class='pindent'>stop Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I got in front of her again</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>stop it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I held her</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im stronger than you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she was motionless hard unyielding but still</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wont fight stop youd better stop</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy dont Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>it wont do any good dont you know it wont let me go</p> + +<p class='pindent'>the honeysuckle drizzled and drizzled I could hear the crickets +watching us in a circle she moved back went around me on toward +the trees</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you go on back to the house you neednt come</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on</p> + +<p class='pindent'>why dont you go on back to the house</p> + +<p class='pindent'>damn that honeysuckle</p> + +<p class='pindent'>we reached the fence she crawled through I crawled through +when I rose from stooping he was coming out of the trees into the +grey toward us coming toward us tall and flat and still even moving +like he was still she went to him</p> + +<p class='pindent'>this is Quentin Im wet Im wet all over you dont have to if you +dont want to</p> + +<p class='pindent'>their shadows one shadow her head rose it was above his on the +sky higher their two heads</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you dont have to if you dont want to</p> + +<p class='pindent'>then not two heads the darkness smelled of rain of damp grass +and leaves the grey light drizzling like rain the honeysuckle coming +up in damp waves I could see her face a blur against his shoulder +he held her in one arm like she was no bigger than a child he extended +his hand</p> + +<p class='pindent'>glad to know you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>we shook hands then we stood there her shadow high against +his shadow one shadow</p> + +<p class='pindent'>whatre you going to do Quentin +<span class='pageno' title='121' id='Page_121'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>walk a while I think Ill go through the woods to the road and +come back through town</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I turned away going</p> + +<p class='pindent'>goodnight</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I stopped</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what do you want</p> + +<p class='pindent'>in the woods the tree frogs were going smelling rain in the air +they sounded like toy music boxes that were hard to turn and the +honeysuckle</p> + +<p class='pindent'>come here</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what do you want</p> + +<p class='pindent'>come here Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went back she touched my shoulder leaning down her shadow +the blur of her face leaning down from his high shadow I drew +back</p> + +<p class='pindent'>look out</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you go on home</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im not sleepy Im going to take a walk</p> + +<p class='pindent'>wait for me at the branch</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im going for a walk</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ill be there soon wait for me you wait</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no Im going through the woods</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I didnt look back the tree frogs didnt pay me any mind the grey +light like moss in the trees drizzling but still it wouldnt rain after +a while I turned went back to the edge of the woods as soon as I +got there I began to smell honeysuckle again I could see the lights +on the courthouse clock and the glare of town the square on the +sky and the dark willows along the branch and the light in mothers +windows the light still on in Benjys room and I stooped through +the fence and went across the pasture running I ran in the grey +grass among the crickets the honeysuckle getting stronger and +stronger and the smell of water then I could see the water the +colour of grey honeysuckle I lay down on the bank with my face +close to the ground so I couldnt smell the honeysuckle I couldnt +smell it then and I lay there feeling the earth going through my +clothes listening to the water and after a while I wasnt breathing +so hard and I lay there thinking that if I didnt move my face I +<span class='pageno' title='122' id='Page_122'></span> +wouldnt have to breathe hard and smell it and then I wasnt thinking +about anything at all she came along the bank and stopped I +didnt move</p> + +<p class='pindent'>its late you go on home</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you go on home its late</p> + +<p class='pindent'>all right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>her clothes rustled I didnt move they stopped rustling</p> + +<p class='pindent'>are you going in like I told you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I didnt hear anything</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes I will if you want me to I will</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I sat up she was sitting on the ground her hands clasped about +her knee</p> + +<p class='pindent'>go on to the house like I told you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes Ill do anything you want me to anything yes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she didnt even look at me I caught her shoulder and shook her +hard</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you shut up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I shook her</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you shut up you shut up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she lifted her face then I saw she wasnt even looking at me at +all I could see that white rim</p> + +<p class='pindent'>get up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I pulled her she was limp I lifted her to her feet</p> + +<p class='pindent'>go on now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>was Benjy still crying when you left</p> + +<p class='pindent'>go on</p> + +<p class='pindent'>we crossed the branch the roof came in sight then the windows +upstairs</p> + +<p class='pindent'>hes asleep now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I had to stop and fasten the gate she went on in the grey light +the smell of rain and still it wouldnt rain and honeysuckle beginning +to come from the garden fence beginning she went into the +shadow I could hear her feet then</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I stopped at the steps I couldnt hear her feet +<span class='pageno' title='123' id='Page_123'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I heard her feet then my hand touched her not warm not cool +just still her clothes a little damp still</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do you love him now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>not breathing except slow like far away breathing</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy do you love him now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I dont know</p> + +<p class='pindent'>outside the grey light the shadows of things like dead things in +stagnant water</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wish you were dead</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do you you coming in now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>are you thinking about him now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I dont know</p> + +<p class='pindent'>tell me what youre thinking about tell me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>stop stop Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you shut up you shut up you hear me you shut up are you going +to shut up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>all right I will stop we’ll make too much noise</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ill kill you do you hear</p> + +<p class='pindent'>lets go out to the swing theyll hear you here</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im not crying do you say Im crying</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no hush now we’ll wake Benjy up</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you go on into the house go on now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I am dont cry Im bad anyway you cant help it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>theres a curse on us its not our fault is it our fault</p> + +<p class='pindent'>hush come on and go to bed now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you cant make me theres a curse on us</p> + +<p class='pindent'>finally I saw him he was just going into the barbershop he +looked out I went on and waited</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ive been looking for you two or three days</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you wanted to see me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im going to see you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he rolled the cigarette quickly with about two motions he struck +the match with his thumb</p> + +<p class='pindent'>we cant talk here suppose I meet you somewhere</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ill come to your room are you at the hotel</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no thats not so good you know that bridge over the creek in +there back of +<span class='pageno' title='124' id='Page_124'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes all right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>at one oclock right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I turned away</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Im obliged to you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>look</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I stopped looked back</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she all right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he looked like he was made out of bronze his khaki shirt</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she need me for anything now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I’ll be there at one</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she heard me tell T. P. to saddle Prince at one oclock she kept +watching me not eating much she came too</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what are you going to do</p> + +<p class='pindent'>nothing cant I go for a ride if I want to</p> + +<p class='pindent'>youre going to do something what is it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>none of your business whore whore</p> + +<p class='pindent'>T. P. had Prince at the side door</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I wont want him Im going to walk</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went down the drive and out the gate I turned into the lane +then I ran before I reached the bridge I saw him leaning on the +rail the horse was hitched in the woods he looked over his +shoulder then he turned his back he didnt look up until I came +onto the bridge and stopped he had a piece of bark in his hands +breaking pieces from it and dropping them over the rail into the +water</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I came to tell you to leave town</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he broke a piece of bark deliberately dropped it carefully into +the water watched it float away</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I said you must leave town</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he looked at me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>did she send you to me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I say you must go not my father not anybody I say it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>listen save this for a while I want to know if shes all right have +they been bothering her up there</p> + +<p class='pindent'>thats something you dont need to trouble yourself about</p> + +<p class='pindent'>then I heard myself saying Ill give you until sundown to leave +town +<span class='pageno' title='125' id='Page_125'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>he broke a piece of bark and dropped it into the water then he +laid the bark on the rail and rolled a cigarette with those two swift +motions spun the match over the rail</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what will you do if I dont leave</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ill kill you dont think that just because I look like a kid to you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>the smoke flowed in two jets from his nostrils across his face</p> + +<p class='pindent'>how old are you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I began to shake my hands were on the rail I thought if I hid +them hed know why</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ill give you until tonight</p> + +<p class='pindent'>listen buddy whats your name Benjys the natural isnt he you are</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>my mouth said it I didnt say it at all</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ill give you till sundown</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he raked the cigarette ash carefully off against the rail he did it +slowly and carefully like sharpening a pencil my hands had quit +shaking</p> + +<p class='pindent'>listen no good taking it so hard its not your fault kid it would +have been some other fellow</p> + +<p class='pindent'>did you ever have a sister did you</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no but theyre all bitches</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I hit him my open hand beat the impulse to shut it to his face +his hand moved as fast as mine the cigarette went over the rail I +swung with the other hand he caught it too before the cigarette +reached the water he held both my wrists in the same hand his +other hand flicked to his armpit under his coat behind him the sun +slanted and a bird singing somewhere beyond the sun we looked +at one another while the bird singing he turned my hands loose</p> + +<p class='pindent'>look here</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he took the bark from the rail and dropped it into the water it +bobbed up the current took it floated away his hand lay on the +rail holding the pistol loosely we waited</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you cant hit it now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no</p> + +<p class='pindent'>it floated on it was quite still in the woods I heard the bird again +and the water afterward the pistol came up he didnt aim at all the +<span class='pageno' title='126' id='Page_126'></span> +bark disappeared then pieces of it floated up spreading he hit two +more of them pieces of bark no bigger than silver dollars</p> + +<p class='pindent'>thats enough I guess</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he swung the cylinder out and blew into the barrel a thin wisp +of smoke dissolved he reloaded the three chambers shut the +cylinder he handed it to me butt first</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what for I wont try to beat that</p> + +<p class='pindent'>youll need it from what you said Im giving you this one because +youve seen what itll do</p> + +<p class='pindent'>to hell with your gun</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I hit him I was still trying to hit him long after he was holding +my wrists but I still tried then it was like I was looking at +him through a piece of coloured glass I could hear my blood and +then I could see the sky again and branches against it and the sun +slanting through them and he holding me on my feet</p> + +<p class='pindent'>did you hit me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I couldnt hear</p> + +<p class='pindent'>what</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes how do you feel</p> + +<p class='pindent'>all right let go</p> + +<p class='pindent'>he let me go I leaned against the rail</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do you feel all right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>let me alone Im all right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>can you make it home all right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>go on let me alone</p> + +<p class='pindent'>youd better not try to walk take my horse</p> + +<p class='pindent'>no you go on</p> + +<p class='pindent'>you can hang the reins on the pommel and turn him loose he’ll +go back to the stable</p> + +<p class='pindent'>let me alone you go on and let me alone</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I leaned on the rail looking at the water I heard him untie the +horse and ride off and after a while I couldnt hear anything but the +water and then the bird again I left the bridge and sat down with +my back against a tree and leaned my head against the tree and +shut my eyes a patch of sun came through and fell across my eyes +and I moved a little further around the tree I heard the bird again +and the water and then everything sort of rolled away and I didnt +feel anything at all I felt almost good after all those days and the +<span class='pageno' title='127' id='Page_127'></span> +nights with honeysuckle coming up out of the darkness into my +room where I was trying to sleep even when after a while I knew +that he hadnt hit me that he had lied about that for her sake too +and that I had just passed out like a girl but even that didnt matter +anymore and I sat there against the tree with little flecks of sunlight +brushing across my face like yellow leaves on a twig listening +to the water and not thinking about anything at all even when I +heard the horse coming fast I sat there with my eyes closed and +heard its feet bunch scuttering the hissing sand and feet running +and her hard running hands</p> + +<p class='pindent'>fool fool are you hurt</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I opened my eyes her hands running on my face</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I didnt know which way until I heard the pistol I didnt know +where I didnt think he and you running off slipping I didnt think +he would have</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she held my face between her hands bumping my head against +the tree</p> + +<p class='pindent'>stop stop that</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I caught her wrists</p> + +<p class='pindent'>quit that quit it</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I knew he wouldnt I knew he wouldnt</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she tried to bump my head against the tree</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I told him never to speak to me again I told him</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she tried to break her wrists free</p> + +<p class='pindent'>let me go</p> + +<p class='pindent'>stop it I’m stronger than you stop it now</p> + +<p class='pindent'>let me go Ive got to catch him and ask his let me go Quentin +please let me go let me go</p> + +<p class='pindent'>all at once she quit her wrists went lax</p> + +<p class='pindent'>yes I can tell him I can make him believe anytime I can make +him</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she hadnt hitched Prince he was liable to strike out for home if +the notion took him</p> + +<p class='pindent'>anytime he will believe me</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do you love him Caddy</p> + +<p class='pindent'>do I what</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she looked at me then everything emptied out of her eyes and +<span class='pageno' title='128' id='Page_128'></span> +they looked like the eyes in the statues blank and unseeing and +serene</p> + +<p class='pindent'>put your hand against my throat</p> + +<p class='pindent'>she took my hand and held it flat against her throat</p> + +<p class='pindent'>now say his name</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dalton Ames</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I felt the first surge of blood there it surged in strong accelerating +beats</p> + +<p class='pindent'>say it again</p> + +<p class='pindent'>her face looked off into the trees where the sun slanted and +where the bird</p> + +<p class='pindent'>say it again</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dalton Ames</p> + +<p class='pindent'>her blood surged steadily beating and beating against my hand</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It kept on running for a long time, but my face felt cold and sort +of dead, and my eye, and the cut place on my finger was smarting +again. I could hear Shreve working the pump, then he came back +with the basin and a round blob of twilight wobbling in it, with a +yellow edge like a fading balloon, then my reflection. I tried to see +my face in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Has it stopped?” Shreve said. “Give me the rag.” He tried to +take it from my hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look out,” I said, “I can do it. Yes, it’s about stopped now.” +I dipped the rag again, breaking the balloon. The rag stained the +water. “I wish I had a clean one.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You need a piece of beefsteak for that eye,” Shreve said. +“Damn if you wont have a shiner tomorrow. The son of a bitch,” +he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did I hurt him any?” I wrung out the handkerchief and tried +to clean the blood off of my vest.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You cant get that off,” Shreve said. “You’ll have to send it to +the cleaner’s. Come on, hold it on your eye, why dont you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can get some of it off,” I said. But I wasn’t doing much good. +“What sort of shape is my collar in?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know,” Shreve said. “Hold it against your eye. Here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look out,” I said. “I can do it. Did I hurt him any?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You may have hit him. I may have looked away just then or +blinked or something. He boxed the hell out of you. He boxed you +<span class='pageno' title='129' id='Page_129'></span> +all over the place. What did you want to fight him with your fists +for? You goddamn fool. How do you feel?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I feel fine,” I said. “I wonder if I can get something to clean +my vest.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, forget your damn clothes. Does your eye hurt?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I feel fine,” I said. Everything was sort of violet and still, the +sky green paling into gold beyond the gable of the house and a +plume of smoke rising from the chimney without any wind. I +heard the pump again. A man was filling a pail, watching us across +his pumping shoulder. A woman crossed the door, but she didnt +look out. I could hear a cow lowing somewhere.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on,” Shreve said, “Let your clothes alone and put that +rag on your eye. I’ll send your suit out first thing tomorrow.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right. I’m sorry I didn’t bleed on him a little, at least.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Son of a bitch,” Shreve said. Spoade came out of the house, +talking to the woman I reckon, and crossed the yard. He looked +at me with his cold, quizzical eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, bud,” he said, looking at me, “I’ll be damned if you dont +go to a lot of trouble to have your fun. Kidnapping, then fighting. +What do you do on your holidays? burn houses?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m all right,” I said. “What did Mrs Bland say?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’s giving Gerald hell for bloodying you up. She’ll give you +hell for letting him, when she sees you. She dont object to the fighting, +it’s the blood that annoys her. I think you lost caste with her a +little by not holding your blood better. How do you feel?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” Shreve said, “If you cant be a Bland, the next best thing +is to commit adultery with one or get drunk and fight him, as the +case may be.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quite right,” Spoade said. “But I didnt know Quentin was +drunk.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He wasnt,” Shreve said. “Do you have to be drunk to want to +hit that son of a bitch?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I think I’d have to be pretty drunk to try it, after seeing +how Quentin came out. Where’d he learn to box?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s been going to Mike’s every day, over in town,” I said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He has?” Spoade said. “Did you know that when you hit him?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know,” I said. “I guess so. Yes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wet it again,” Shreve said. “Want some fresh water?” +<span class='pageno' title='130' id='Page_130'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“This is all right,” I said. I dipped the cloth again and held it +to my eye. “Wish I had something to clean my vest.” Spoade was +still watching me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Say,” he said, “What did you hit him for? What was it he said?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know. I dont know why I did.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The first I knew was when you jumped up all of a sudden and +said, ‘Did you ever have a sister? Did you?’ and when he said No, +you hit him. I noticed you kept on looking at him, but you didnt +seem to be paying any attention to what anybody was saying until +you jumped up and asked him if he had any sisters.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, he was blowing off as usual,” Shreve said, “about his +women. You know: like he does, before girls, so they dont know +exactly what he’s saying. All his damn innuendo and lying and a +lot of stuff that dont make sense even. Telling us about some +wench that he made a date with to meet at a dance hall in Atlantic +City and stood her up and went to the hotel and went to bed and +how he lay there being sorry for her waiting on the pier for him, +without him there to give her what she wanted. Talking about the +body’s beauty and the sorry ends thereof and how tough women +have it, without anything else they can do except lie on their backs. +Leda lurking in the bushes, whimpering and moaning for the swan, +see. The son of a bitch. I’d hit him myself. Only I’d grabbed up +her damn hamper of wine and done it if it had been me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” Spoade said, “the champion of dames. Bud, you excite +not only admiration, but horror.” He looked at me, cold and quizzical. +“Good God,” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry I hit him,” I said. “Do I look too bad to go back and +get it over with?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Apologies, hell,” Shreve said, “Let them go to hell. We’re going +to town.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He ought to go back so they’ll know he fights like a gentleman,” +Spoade said. “Gets licked like one, I mean.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Like this?” Shreve said, “With his clothes all over blood?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, all right,” Spoade said, “You know best.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He cant go around in his undershirt,” Shreve said, “He’s not a +senior yet. Come on, let’s go to town.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You neednt come,” I said. “You go on back to the picnic.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hell with them,” Shreve said. “Come on here.” +<span class='pageno' title='131' id='Page_131'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’ll I tell them?” Spoade said. “Tell them you and Quentin +had a fight too?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tell them nothing,” Shreve said. “Tell her her option expired +at sunset. Come on, Quentin. I’ll ask that woman where the nearest +interurban—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” I said, “I’m not going back to town.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Shreve stopped, looking at me. Turning, his glasses looked like +small yellow moons.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What are you going to do?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going back to town yet. You go on back to the picnic. +Tell them I wouldnt come back because my clothes were spoiled.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” he said, “What are you up to?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing. I’m all right. You and Spoade go on back. I’ll see you +tomorrow.” I went on across the yard, toward the road.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you know where the station is?” Shreve said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll find it. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Tell Mrs Bland I’m sorry +I spoiled her party.” They stood watching me. I went around the +house. A rock path went down to the road. Roses grew on both +sides of the path. I went through the gate, onto the road. It dropped +downhill, toward the woods, and I could make out the auto beside +the road. I went up the hill. The light increased as I mounted, +and before I reached the top I heard a car. It sounded far away +across the twilight and I stopped and listened to it. I couldnt make +out the auto any longer, but Shreve was standing in the road before +the house, looking up the hill. Behind him the yellow light +lay like a wash of paint on the roof of the house. I lifted my hand +and went on over the hill, listening to the car. Then the house was +gone and I stopped in the green and yellow light and heard the car +growing louder and louder, until just as it began to die away it +ceased all together. I waited until I heard it start again. Then I +went on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As I descended the light dwindled slowly, yet at the same time +without altering its quality, as if I and not light were changing, +decreasing, though even when the road ran into trees you could +have read a newspaper. Pretty soon I came to a lane. I turned into +it. It was closer and darker than the road, but when it came out +at the trolley stop—another wooden marquee—the light was still +unchanged. After the lane it seemed brighter, as though I had +<span class='pageno' title='132' id='Page_132'></span> +walked through night in the lane and come out into morning again. +Pretty soon the car came. I got on it, they turning to look at my +eye, and found a seat on the left side.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The lights were on in the car, so while we ran between trees I +couldnt see anything except my own face and a woman across the +aisle with a hat sitting right on top of her head, with a broken +feather in it, but when we ran out of the trees I could see the twilight +again, that quality of light as if time really had stopped for a +while, with the sun hanging just under the horizon, and then we +passed the marquee where the old man had been eating out of the +sack, and the road going on under the twilight, into twilight and +the sense of water peaceful and swift beyond. Then the car went +on, the draught building steadily up in the open door until it was +drawing steadily through the car with the odour of summer and +darkness except honeysuckle. Honeysuckle was the saddest odour +of all, I think. I remember lots of them. Wistaria was one. On the +rainy days when Mother wasnt feeling quite bad enough to stay +away from the windows we used to play under it. When Mother +stayed in bed Dilsey would put old clothes on us and let us go out +in the rain because she said rain never hurt young folks. But if +Mother was up we always began by playing on the porch until she +said we were making too much noise, then we went out and played +under the wistaria frame.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This was where I saw the river for the last time this morning, +about here. I could feel water beyond the twilight, smell. When it +bloomed in the spring and it rained the smell was everywhere you +didnt notice it so much at other times but when it rained the smell +began to come into the house at twilight either it would rain more +at twilight or there was something in the light itself but it always +smelled strongest then until I would lie in bed thinking when will +it stop when will it stop. The draft in the door smelled of water, +a damp steady breath. Sometimes I could put myself to sleep saying +that over and over until after the honeysuckle got all mixed up +in it the whole thing came to symbolise night and unrest I seemed +to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor +of grey halflight where all stable things had become shadowy +paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking +visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent +<span class='pageno' title='133' id='Page_133'></span> +themselves with the denial of the significance they should +have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw +the last light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken +mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling +a little like butterflies hovering a long way off. Benjamin the +child of. How he used to sit before that mirror. Refuge unfailing +in which conflict tempered silenced reconciled. Benjamin the child +of mine old age held hostage into Egypt. O Benjamin. Dilsey said +it was because Mother was too proud for him. They come into +white people’s lives like that in sudden sharp black trickles that +isolate white facts for an instant in unarguable truth like under a +microscope; the rest of the time just voices that laugh when you +see nothing to laugh at, tears when no reason for tears. They will +bet on the odd or even number of mourners at a funeral. A brothel +full of them in Memphis went into a religious trance ran naked +into the street. It took three policemen to subdue one of them. +Yes Jesus O good man Jesus O that good man.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The car stopped. I got out, with them looking at my eye. When +the trolley came it was full. I stopped on the back platform.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Seats up front,” the conductor said. I looked into the car. There +were no seats on the left side.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going far,” I said. “I’ll just stand here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We crossed the river. The bridge, that is, arching slow and high +into space, between silence and nothingness where lights—yellow +and red and green—trembled in the clear air, repeating themselves.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Better go up front and get a seat,” the conductor said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I get off pretty soon,” I said. “A couple of blocks.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I got off before we reached the postoffice. They’d all be sitting +around somewhere by now though, and then I was hearing my +watch and I began to listen for the chimes and I touched Shreve’s +letter through my coat, the bitten shadows of the elms flowing upon +my hand. And then as I turned into the quad the chimes did begin +and I went on while the notes came up like ripples on a pool and +passed me and went on, saying Quarter to what? All right. +Quarter to what.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Our windows were dark. The entrance was empty. I walked +close to the left wall when I entered, but it was empty: just the +<span class='pageno' title='134' id='Page_134'></span> +stairs curving up into shadows echoes of feet in the sad generations +like light dust upon the shadows, my feet waking them like dust, +lightly to settle again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could see the letter before I turned the light on, propped +against a book on the table so I would see it. Calling him my husband. +And then Spoade said they were going somewhere, would +not be back until late, and Mrs Bland would need another cavalier. +But I would have seen him and he cannot get another car for +an hour because after six oclock. I took out my watch and listened +to it clicking away, not knowing it couldnt even lie. Then I laid it +face up on the table and took Mrs Bland’s letter and tore it across +and dropped the pieces into the waste basket and took off my coat, +vest, collar, tie and shirt. The tie was spoiled too, but then niggers. +Maybe a pattern of blood he could call that the one Christ was +wearing. I found the gasoline in Shreve’s room and spread the vest +on the table, where it would be flat, and opened the gasoline.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>the first car in town a girl Girl that’s what Jason couldn’t bear +smell of gasoline making him sick then got madder than ever because +a girl Girl had no sister but Benjamin Benjamin the child +of my sorrowful if I’d just had a mother so I could say Mother +Mother</span> It took a lot of gasoline, and then I couldnt tell if it was +still the stain or just the gasoline. It had started the cut to smarting +again so when I went to wash I hung the vest on a chair and +lowered the light cord so that the bulb would be drying the splotch. +I washed my face and hands, but even then I could smell it within +the soap stinging, constricting the nostrils a little. Then I opened +the bag and took the shirt and collar and tie out and put the bloody +ones in and closed the bag, and dressed. While I was brushing my +hair the half hour went. But there was until the three quarters anyway, +except suppose <span class='it'>seeing on the rushing darkness only his own +face no broken feather unless two of them but not two like that +going to Boston the same night then my face his face for an instant +across the crashing when out of darkness two lighted windows +in rigid fleeing crash gone his face and mine just I see saw +did I see not goodbye the marquee empty of eating the road empty +in darkness in silence the bridge arching into silence darkness +sleep the water peaceful and swift not goodbye</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I turned out the light and went into my bedroom, out of the +<span class='pageno' title='135' id='Page_135'></span> +gasoline but I could still smell it. I stood at the window the curtains +moved slow out of the darkness touching my face like someone +breathing asleep, breathing slow into the darkness again, +leaving the touch. <span class='it'>After they had gone up stairs Mother lay back +in her chair, the camphor handkerchief to her mouth. Father +hadn’t moved he still sat beside her holding her hand the bellowing +hammering away like no place for it in silence</span> When I was little +there was a picture in one of our books, a dark place into which +a single weak ray of light came slanting upon two faces lifted out +of the shadow. <span class='it'>You know what I’d do if I were King?</span> she never +was a queen or a fairy she was always a king or a giant or a general +<span class='it'>I’d break that place open and drag them out and I’d whip them +good</span> It was torn out, jagged out. I was glad. I’d have to turn back +to it until the dungeon was Mother herself she and Father upward +into weak light holding hands and us lost somewhere below +even them without even a ray of light. Then the honeysuckle got +into it. As soon as I turned off the light and tried to go to sleep it +would begin to come into the room in waves building and building +up until I would have to pant to get any air at all out of it until I +would have to get up and feel my way like when I was a little boy +<span class='it'>hands can see touching in the mind shaping unseen door Door now +nothing hands can see</span> My nose could see gasoline, the vest on the +table, the door. The corridor was still empty of all the feet in sad +generations seeking water. <span class='it'>yet the eyes unseeing clenched like +teeth not disbelieving doubting even the absence of pain shin ankle +knee the long invisible flowing of the stair-railing where a misstep +in the darkness filled with sleeping Mother Father Caddy +Jason Maury door I am not afraid only Mother Father Caddy +Jason Maury getting so far ahead sleeping I will sleep fast when I +door Door door</span> It was empty too, the pipes, the porcelain, the +stained quiet walls, the throne of contemplation. I had forgotten +the glass, but I could <span class='it'>hands can see cooling fingers invisible swan-throat +where less than Moses rod the glass touch tentative not to +drumming lean cool throat drumming cooling the metal the glass +full overfull cooling the glass the fingers flushing sleep leaving the +taste of dampened sleep in the long silence of the throat</span> I returned +up the corridor, waking the lost feet in whispering battalions in the +silence, into the gasoline, the watch telling its furious lie on the +<span class='pageno' title='136' id='Page_136'></span> +dark table. Then the curtains breathing out of the dark upon my +face, leaving the breathing upon my face. A quarter hour yet. And +then I’ll not be. The peacefullest words. Peacefullest words. <span class='it'>Non +fui. Sum. Fui. Nom sum.</span> Somewhere I heard bells once. Mississippi +or Massachusetts. I was. I am not. Massachusetts or Mississippi. +Shreve has a bottle in his trunk. <span class='it'>Aren’t you even going to +open it</span> Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson announce the +<span class='it'>Three times. Days. Aren’t you even going to open it</span> marriage of +their daughter Candace <span class='it'>that liquor teaches you to confuse the +means with the end</span>. I am. Drink. I was not. Let us sell Benjy’s +pasture so that Quentin may go to Harvard and I may knock my +bones together and together. I will be dead in. Was it one year +Caddy said. Shreve has a bottle in his trunk. Sir I will not need +Shreve’s I have sold Benjy’s pasture and I can be dead in Harvard +Caddy said in the caverns and the grottoes of the sea tumbling +peacefully to the wavering tides because Harvard is such a fine +sound forty acres is no high price for a fine sound. A find dead +sound we will swap Benjy’s pasture for a fine dead sound. It will +last him a long time because he cannot hear it unless he can smell +it <span class='it'>as soon as she came in the door he began to cry</span> I thought all +the time it was just one of those town squirts that Father was always +teasing her about until. I didnt notice him any more than +any other stranger drummer or what thought they were army shirts +until all of a sudden I knew he wasn’t thinking of me at all as a +potential source of harm, but was thinking of her when he looked +at me was looking at me through her like through a piece of coloured +glass <span class='it'>why must you meddle with me dont you know it wont +do any good I thought you’d have left that for Mother and Jason</span></p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>did Mother set Jason to spy on you</span> I wouldnt have.</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Women only use other people’s codes of honour it’s because +she loves Caddy</span> staying downstairs even when she was sick so +Father couldnt kid Uncle Maury before Jason Father said Uncle +Maury was too poor a classicist to risk the blind immortal boy in +person he should have chosen Jason because Jason would have +made only the same kind of blunder Uncle Maury himself would +have made not one to get him a black eye the Patterson boy was +smaller than Jason too they sold the kites for a nickel apiece until +the trouble over finances Jason got a new partner still smaller one +<span class='pageno' title='137' id='Page_137'></span> +small enough anyway because T. P. said Jason still treasurer but +Father said why should Uncle Maury work if he father could support +five or six niggers that did nothing at all but sit with their feet +in the oven he certainly could board and lodge Uncle Maury now +and then and lend him a little money who kept his Father’s belief +in the celestial derivation of his own species at such a fine heat +then Mother would cry and say that Father believed his people +were better than hers that he was ridiculing Uncle Maury to teach +us the same thing she couldnt see that Father was teaching us that +all men are just accumulations dolls stuffed with sawdust swept +up from the trash heaps where all previous dolls had been thrown +away the sawdust flowing from what wound in what side that not +for me died not. It used to be I thought of death as a man something +like Grandfather a friend of his a kind of private and particular +friend like we used to think of Grandfather’s desk not to +touch it not even to talk loud in the room where it was I always +thought of them as being together somewhere all the time waiting +for old Colonel Sartoris to come down and sit with them waiting on +a high place beyond cedar trees Colonel Sartoris was on a still +higher place looking out across at something and they were waiting +for him to get done looking at it and come down Grandfather +wore his uniform and we could hear the murmur of their voices +from beyond the cedars they were always talking and Grandfather +was always right</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The three quarters began. The first note sounded, measured and +tranquil, serenely peremptory, emptying the unhurried silence for +the next one and that’s it if people could only change one another +forever that way merge like a flame swirling up for an instant then +blown cleanly out along the cool eternal dark instead of lying there +trying not to think of the swing until all cedars came to have that +vivid dead smell of perfume that Benjy hated so. Just by imagining +the clump it seemed to me that I could hear whispers secret surges +smell the beating of hot blood under wild unsecret flesh watching +against red eyelids the swine untethered in pairs rushing coupled +into the sea and he we must just stay awake and see evil done for +a little while its not always and i it doesnt have to be even that long +for a man of courage and he do you consider that courage and i +yes sir dont you and he every man is the arbiter of his own virtues +<span class='pageno' title='138' id='Page_138'></span> +whether or not you consider it courageous is of more importance +than the act itself than any act otherwise you could not be in earnest +and i you dont believe i am serious and he i think you are too +serious to give me any cause for alarm you wouldn’t have felt +driven to the expedient of telling me you have committed incest +otherwise and i i wasnt lying i wasnt lying and he you wanted to +sublimate a piece of natural human folly into a horror and then +exorcise it with truth and i it was to isolate her out of the loud +world so that it would have to flee us of necessity and then the +sound of it would be as though it had never been and he did you +try to make her do it and i i was afraid to i was afraid she might +and then it wouldnt have done any good but if i could tell you we +did it would have been so and then the others wouldnt be so and +then the world would roar away and he and now this other you +are not lying now either but you are still blind to what is in yourself +to that part of general truth the sequence of natural events and +their causes which shadows every mans brow even benjys you are +not thinking of finitude you are contemplating an apotheosis in +which a temporary state of mind will become symmetrical above +the flesh and aware both of itself and of the flesh it will not quite +discard you will not even be dead and i temporary and he you cannot +bear to think that someday it will no longer hurt you like this +now were getting at it you seem to regard it merely as an experience +that will whiten your hair overnight so to speak without altering +your appearance at all you wont do it under these conditions +it will be a gamble and the strange thing is that man who is conceived +by accident and whose every breath is a fresh cast with +dice already loaded against him will not face that final main which +he knows before hand he has assuredly to face without essaying +expedients ranging all the way from violence to petty chicanery that +would not deceive a child until someday in very disgust he risks +everything on a single blind turn of a card no man ever does that +under the first fury of despair or remorse or bereavement he does +it only when he has realised that even the despair or remorse or +bereavement is not particularly important to the dark diceman and +i temporary and he it is hard believing to think that a love or a +sorrow is a bond purchased without design and which matures +willynilly and is recalled without warning to be replaced by whatever +<span class='pageno' title='139' id='Page_139'></span> +issue the gods happen to be floating at the time no you will not +do that until you come to believe that even she was not quite worth +despair perhaps and i i will never do that nobody knows what i +know and he i think youd better go on up to cambridge right away +you might go up into maine for a month you can afford it if you are +careful it might be a good thing watching pennies has healed more +scars than jesus and i suppose i realise what you believe i will realise +up there next week or next month and he then you will remember +that for you to go to harvard has been your mothers dream +since you were born and no compson has ever disappointed a lady +and i temporary it will be better for me for all of us and he every +man is the arbiter of his own virtues but let no man prescribe for +another mans wellbeing and i temporary and he was the saddest +word of all there is nothing else in the world its not despair until +time its not even time until it was</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The last note sounded. At last it stopped vibrating and the darkness +was still again. I entered the sitting room and turned on the +light. I put my vest on. The gasoline was faint now, barely noticeable, +and in the mirror the stain didnt show. Not like my eye did, +anyway. I put on my coat. Shreve’s letter crackled through the +cloth and I took it out and examined the address, and put it in my +side pocket. Then I carried the watch into Shreve’s room and put +it in his drawer and went to my room and got a fresh handkerchief +and went to the door and put my hand on the light switch. Then +I remembered I hadnt brushed my teeth, so I had to open the bag +again. I found my toothbrush and got some of Shreve’s paste and +went out and brushed my teeth. I squeezed the brush as dry as I +could and put it back in the bag and shut it, and went to the door +again. Before I snapped the light out I looked around to see if +there was anything else, then I saw that I had forgotten my hat. +I’d have to go by the postoffice and I’d be sure to meet some of +them, and they’d think I was a Harvard Square student making +like he was a senior. I had forgotten to brush it too, but Shreve +had a brush, so I didnt have to open the bag any more. +<span class='pageno' title='140' id='Page_140'></span></p> + +<h1 id='t7367'>APRIL SIXTH, 1928</h1> + +<p class='noindent'>Once a bitch always a bitch, what I say. I says you’re lucky if her +playing out of school is all that worries you. I says she ought to be +down there in that kitchen right now, instead of up there in her +room, gobbing paint on her face and waiting for six niggers that +cant even stand up out of a chair unless they’ve got a pan full of +bread and meat to balance them, to fix breakfast for her. And +Mother says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But to have the school authorities think that I have no control +over her, that I cant—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I says, “You cant, can you? You never have tried to do +anything with her,” I says, “How do you expect to begin this late, +when she’s seventeen years old?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She thought about that for a while.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But to have them think that . . . I didn’t even know she had a +report card. She told me last fall that they had quit using them this +year. And now for Professor Junkin to call me on the telephone and +tell me if she’s absent one more time, she will have to leave school. +How does she do it? Where does she go? You’re down town all +day; you ought to see her if she stays on the streets.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “If she stayed on the streets. I dont reckon she’d +be playing out of school just to do something she could do in public,” +I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont mean anything,” I says. “I just answered your question.” +<span class='pageno' title='141' id='Page_141'></span> +Then she begun to cry again, talking about how her own +flesh and blood rose up to curse her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You asked me,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont mean you,” she says. “You are the only one of them +that isn’t a reproach to me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” I says, “I never had time to be. I never had time to go to +Harvard like Quentin or drink myself into the ground like Father. +I had to work. But of course if you want me to follow her around +and see what she does, I can quit the store and get a job where I +can work at night. Then I can watch her during the day and you can +use Ben for the night shift.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know I’m just a trouble and a burden to you,” she says, crying +on the pillow.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I ought to know it,” I says. “You’ve been telling me that for +thirty years. Even Ben ought to know it now. Do you want me to +say anything to her about it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think it will do any good?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not if you come down there interfering just when I get started,” +I says. “If you want me to control her, just say so and keep your +hands off. Everytime I try to, you come butting in and then she +gives both of us the laugh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Remember she’s your own flesh and blood,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” I says, “that’s just what I’m thinking of—flesh. And a +little blood too, if I had my way. When people act like niggers, no +matter who they are the only thing to do is treat them like a nigger.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid you’ll lose your temper with her,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I says, “You haven’t had much luck with your system. +You want me to do anything about it, or not? Say one way or the +other; I’ve got to get on to work.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know you have to slave your life away for us,” she says. “You +know if I had my way, you’d have an office of your own to go +to, and hours that became a Bascomb. Because you are a Bascomb, +despite your name. I know that if your father could have forseen—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I says, “I reckon he’s entitled to guess wrong now and +then, like anybody else, even a Smith or a Jones.” She begun to cry +again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“To hear you speak bitterly of your dead father,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says, “all right. Have it your way. But as I haven’t +<span class='pageno' title='142' id='Page_142'></span> +got an office, I’ll have to get on to what I have got. Do you want +me to say anything to her?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid you’ll lose your temper with her,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says, “I wont say anything, then.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But something must be done,” she says. “To have people think +I permit her to stay out of school and run about the streets, or +that I cant prevent her doing it. . . . Jason, Jason,” she says, +“How could you. How could you leave me with these burdens.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, now,” I says, “You’ll make yourself sick. Why dont you +either lock her up all day too, or turn her over to me and quit +worrying over her?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My own flesh and blood,” she says, crying. So I says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right. I’ll tend to her. Quit crying, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont lose your temper,” she says. “She’s just a child, remember.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” I says, “I wont.” I went out, closing the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” she says. I didn’t answer. I went down the hall. “Jason,” +she says beyond the door. I went on down stairs. There wasn’t +anybody in the diningroom, then I heard her in the kitchen. She was +trying to make Dilsey let her have another cup of coffee. I went in.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon that’s your school costume, is it?” I says. “Or maybe +today’s a holiday?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Just a half a cup, Dilsey,” she says. “Please.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, suh,” Dilsey says, “I aint gwine do it. You aint got no business +wid mo’n one cup, a seventeen year old gal, let lone whut +Miss Cahline say. You go on and git dressed for school, so you kin +ride to town wid Jason. You fixin to be late again.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No she’s not,” I says. “We’re going to fix that right now.” She +looked at me, the cup in her hand. She brushed her hair back from +her face, her kimono slipping off her shoulder. “You put that cup +down and come in here a minute,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What for?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on,” I says. “Put that cup in the sink and come in here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you up to now, Jason?” Dilsey says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You may think you can run over me like you do your grandmother +and everybody else,” I says, “But you’ll find out different. +I’ll give you ten seconds to put that cup down like I told you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She quit looking at me. She looked at Dilsey. “What time is it, +<span class='pageno' title='143' id='Page_143'></span> +Dilsey?” she says. “When it’s ten seconds, you whistle. Just a half +a cup. Dilsey, pl—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I grabbed her by the arm. She dropped the cup. It broke on the +floor and she jerked back, looking at me, but I held her arm. Dilsey +got up from her chair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Jason,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You turn me loose,” Quentin says, “I’ll slap you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You will, will you?” I says, “You will will you?” She slapped +at me. I caught that hand too and held her like a wildcat. “You will, +will you?” I says. “You think you will?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Jason!” Dilsey says. I dragged her into the diningroom. +Her kimono came unfastened, flapping about her, damn near naked. +Dilsey came hobbling along. I turned and kicked the door shut in +her face.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You keep out of here,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin was leaning against the table, fastening her kimono. I +looked at her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now,” I says, “I want to know what you mean, playing out of +school and telling your grandmother lies and forging her name +on your report and worrying her sick. What do you mean by it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She didn’t say anything. She was fastening her kimono up under +her chin, pulling it tight around her, looking at me. She hadn’t +got around to painting herself yet and her face looked like she had +polished it with a gun rag. I went and grabbed her wrist. “What do +you mean?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“None of your damn business,” she says. “You turn me loose.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey came in the door. “You, Jason,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You get out of here, like I told you,” I says, not even looking +back. “I want to know where you go when you play out of school,” +I says. “You keep off the streets, or I’d see you. Who do you play +out with? Are you hiding out in the woods with one of those damn +slick-headed jellybeans? Is that where you go?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You—you old goddamn!” she says. She fought, but I held her. +“You damn old goddamn!” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll show you,” I says. “You may can scare an old woman off, +but I’ll show you who’s got hold of you now.” I held her with one +hand, then she quit fighting and watched me, her eyes getting wide +and black. +<span class='pageno' title='144' id='Page_144'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What are you going to do?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You wait until I get this belt out and I’ll show you,” I says, +pulling my belt out. Then Dilsey grabbed my arm.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” she says, “You, Jason! Aint you shamed of yourself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dilsey,” Quentin says, “Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint gwine let him,” Dilsey says, “Dont you worry, honey.” +She held to my arm. Then the belt came out and I jerked loose +and flung her away. She stumbled into the table. She was so old she +couldn’t do any more than move hardly. But that’s all right: we +need somebody in the kitchen to eat up the grub the young ones +cant tote off. She came hobbling between us, trying to hold me +again. “Hit me, den,” she says, “ef nothin else but hittin somebody +wont do you. Hit me,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You think I wont?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont put no devilment beyond you,” she says. Then I heard +Mother on the stairs. I might have known she wasn’t going to keep +out of it. I let go. She stumbled back against the wall, holding her +kimono shut.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says, “We’ll just put this off a while. But dont think +you can run it over me. I’m not an old woman, nor an old half +dead nigger, either. You damn little slut,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dilsey,” she says, “Dilsey, I want my mother.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey went to her. “Now, now,” she says, “He aint gwine +so much as lay his hand on you while Ise here.” Mother came on +down the stairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” she says, “Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, now,” Dilsey says, “I aint gwine let him tech you.” She +put her hand on Quentin. She knocked it down.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You damn old nigger,” she says. She ran toward the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dilsey,” Mother says on the stairs. Quentin ran up the stairs, +passing her. “Quentin,” Mother says, “You, Quentin.” Quentin +ran on. I could hear her when she reached the top, then in the hall. +Then the door slammed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mother had stopped. Then she came on. “Dilsey,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” Dilsey says, “Ise comin. You go on and git dat car +and wait now,” she says, “so you kin cahy her to school.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you worry,” I says. “I’ll take her to school and I’m going +<span class='pageno' title='145' id='Page_145'></span> +to see that she stays there. I’ve started this thing, and I’m going +through with it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” Mother says on the stairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on, now,” Dilsey says, going toward the door. “You want +to git her started too? Ise comin, Miss Cahline.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on out. I could hear them on the steps. “You go on +back to bed now,” Dilsey was saying, “Dont you know you aint +feeling well enough to git up yet? Go on back, now. I’m gwine to +see she gits to school in time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on out the back to back the car out, then I had to go all +the way round to the front before I found them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought I told you to put that tire on the back of the car,” I +says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint had time,” Luster says. “Aint nobody to watch him till +mammy git done in de kitchen.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “I feed a whole damn kitchen full of niggers to +follow around after him, but if I want an automobile tire changed, +I have to do it myself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint had nobody to leave him wid,” he says. Then he begun +moaning and slobbering.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take him on round to the back,” I says. “What the hell makes +you want to keep him around here where people can see him?” I +made them go on, before he got started bellowing good. It’s bad +enough on Sundays, with that damn field full of people that haven’t +got a side show and six niggers to feed, knocking a damn oversize +mothball around. He’s going to keep on running up and down that +fence and bellowing every time they come in sight until first thing +I know they’re going to begin charging me golf dues, then Mother +and Dilsey’ll have to get a couple of china door knobs and a walking +stick and work it out, unless I play at night with a lantern. Then +they’d send us all to Jackson, maybe. God knows, they’d hold +Old Home week when that happened.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on back to the garage. There was the tire, leaning against +the wall, but be damned if I was going to put it on. I backed out +and turned around. She was standing by the drive. I says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know you haven’t got any books: I just want to ask you what +you did with them, if it’s any of my business. Of course I haven’t +<span class='pageno' title='146' id='Page_146'></span> +got any right to ask,” I says, “I’m just the one that paid $11.65 for +them last September.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mother buys my books,” she says. “There’s not a cent of +your money on me. I’d starve first.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes?” I says. “You tell your grandmother that and see what +she says. You dont look all the way naked,” I says, “even if that +stuff on your face does hide more of you than anything else you’ve +got on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think your money or hers either paid for a cent of this?” +she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ask your grandmother,” I says. “Ask her what became of those +checks. You saw her burn one of them, as I remember.” She wasn’t +even listening, with her face all gummed up with paint and her +eyes hard as a fice dog’s.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you know what I’d do if I thought your money or hers either +bought one cent of this?” she says, putting her hand on her dress.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What would you do?” I says, “Wear a barrel?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’d tear it right off and throw it into the street,” she says. “Dont +you believe me?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure you would,” I says. “You do it every time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“See if I wouldn’t,” She says. She grabbed the neck of her dress +in both hands and made like she would tear it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You tear that dress,” I says, “And I’ll give you a whipping +right here that you’ll remember all your life.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“See if I dont,” she says. Then I saw that she really was trying +to tear it, to tear it right off of her. By the time I got the car +stopped and grabbed her hands there was about a dozen people +looking. It made me so mad for a minute it kind of blinded me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You do a thing like that again and I’ll make you sorry you ever +drew breath,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry now,” she says. She quit, then her eyes turned kind of +funny and I says to myself if you cry here in this car, on the street, +I’ll whip you. I’ll wear you out. Lucky for her she didn’t, so I +turned her wrists loose and drove on. Luckily we were near an alley, +where I could turn into the back street and dodge the square. They +were already putting the tent up in Beard’s lot. Earl had already +given me the two passes for our show windows. She sat there with +<span class='pageno' title='147' id='Page_147'></span> +her face turned away, chewing her lip. “I’m sorry now,” she says. “I +dont see why I was ever born.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And I know of at least one other person that dont understand +all he knows about that,” I says. I stopped in front of the school +house. The bell had rung, and the last of them were just going +in. “You’re on time for once, anyway,” I says. “Are you going in +there and stay there, or am I coming with you and make you?” +She got out and banged the door. “Remember what I say,” I says, +“I mean it. Let me hear one more time that you were slipping +up and down back alleys with one of those damn squirts.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She turned back at that. “I dont slip around,” she says. “I dare +anybody to know everything I do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And they all know it, too,” I says. “Everybody in this town +knows what you are. But I wont have it anymore, you hear? I dont +care what you do, myself,” I says, “But I’ve got a position in this +town, and I’m not going to have any member of my family going on +like a nigger wench. You hear me?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont care,” she says, “I’m bad and I’m going to hell, and I +dont care. I’d rather be in hell than anywhere where you are.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I hear one more time that you haven’t been to school, you’ll +wish you were in hell,” I says. She turned and ran on across the +yard. “One more time, remember,” I says. She didn’t look back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went to the postoffice and got the mail and drove on to the +store and parked. Earl looked at me when I came in. I gave him a +chance to say something about my being late, but he just said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Those cultivators have come. You’d better help Uncle Job put +them up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on to the back, where old Job was uncrating them, at +the rate of about three bolts to the hour.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You ought to be working for me,” I says. “Every other no-count +nigger in town eats in my kitchen.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I works to suit de man whut pays me Sat’dy night,” he says. +“When I does dat, it dont leave me a whole lot of time to please +other folks.” He screwed up a nut. “Aint nobody works much in dis +country cep de boll-weevil, noways,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better be glad you’re not a boll-weevil waiting on those +cultivators,” I says. “You’d work yourself to death before they’d +be ready to prevent you.” +<span class='pageno' title='148' id='Page_148'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s de troof,” he says, “Boll-weevil got tough time. Work +ev’y day in de week out in de hot sun, rain er shine. Aint got no +front porch to set on en watch de wattermilyuns growin and Sat’dy +dont mean nothin a-tall to him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Saturday wouldn’t mean nothing to you, either,” I says, “if it +depended on me to pay you wages. Get those things out of the +crates now and drag them inside.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I opened her letter first and took the check out. Just like a +woman. Six days late. Yet they try to make men believe that they’re +capable of conducting a business. How long would a man that +thought the first of the month came on the sixth last in business. +And like as not, when they sent the bank statement out, she would +want to know why I never deposited my salary until the sixth. +Things like that never occur to a woman.</p> + +<div class='blockquote'> + +<p class='pindent'>“I had no answer to my letter about Quentin’s easter dress. +Did it arrive all right? I’ve had no answer to the last two letters +I wrote her, though the check in the second one was cashed +with the other check. Is she sick? Let me know at once or I’ll +come there and see for myself. You promised you would let me +know when she needed things. I will expect to hear from you +before the 10th. No you’d better wire me at once. You are opening +my letters to her. I know that as well as if I were looking +at you. You’d better wire me at once about her to this address.”</p> + +</div> + +<p class='pindent'>About that time Earl started yelling at Job, so I put them away +and went over to try to put some life into him. What this country +needs is white labour. Let these damn trifling niggers starve for a +couple of years, then they’d see what a soft thing they have.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Along toward ten oclock I went up front. There was a drummer +there. It was a couple of minutes to ten, and I invited him up the +street to get a coca-cola. We got to talking about crops.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There’s nothing to it,” I says, “Cotton is a speculator’s crop. +They fill the farmer full of hot air and get him to raise a big crop +for them to whipsaw on the market, to trim the suckers with. Do +you think the farmer gets anything out of it except a red neck and a +hump in his back? You think the man that sweats to put it into the +ground gets a red cent more than a bare living,” I says. “Let him +<span class='pageno' title='149' id='Page_149'></span> +make a big crop and it wont be worth picking; let him make a small +crop and he wont have enough to gin. And what for? so a bunch of +damn eastern jews, I’m not talking about men of the jewish religion,” +I says, “I’ve known some jews that were fine citizens. You +might be one yourself,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” he says, “I’m an American.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No offense,” I says. “I give every man his due, regardless of +religion or anything else. I have nothing against jews as an individual,” +I says. “It’s just the race. You’ll admit that they produce +nothing. They follow the pioneers into a new country and sell them +clothes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re thinking of Armenians,” he says, “aren’t you. A pioneer +wouldn’t have any use for new clothes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No offense,” I says. “I dont hold a man’s religion against +him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” he says, “I’m an American. My folks have some French +blood, why I have a nose like this. I’m an American, all right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“So am I,” I says. “Not many of us left. What I’m talking about +is the fellows that sit up there in New York and trim the sucker +gamblers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s right,” he says. “Nothing to gambling, for a poor man. +There ought to be a law against it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you think I’m right?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” he says, “I guess you’re right. The farmer catches it +coming and going.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know I’m right,” I says. “It’s a sucker game, unless a man gets +inside information from somebody that knows what’s going on. I +happen to be associated with some people who’re right there on the +ground. They have one of the biggest manipulators in New York for +an adviser. Way I do it,” I says, “I never risk much at a time. It’s +the fellow that thinks he knows it all and is trying to make a killing +with three dollars that they’re laying for. That’s why they are in +the business.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then it struck ten. I went up to the telegraph office. It opened +up a little, just like they said. I went into the corner and took out +the telegram again, just to be sure. While I was looking at it a report +came in. It was up two points. They were all buying. I could tell +that from what they were saying. Getting aboard. Like they didn’t +<span class='pageno' title='150' id='Page_150'></span> +know it could go but one way. Like there was a law or something +against doing anything but buying. Well, I reckon those +eastern jews have got to live too. But I’ll be damned if it hasn’t +come to a pretty pass when any damn foreigner that cant make a +living in the country where God put him, can come to this one +and take money right out of an American’s pockets. It was up +two points more. Four points. But hell, they were right there and +knew what was going on. And if I wasn’t going to take the advice, +what was I paying them ten dollars a month for. I went out, then I +remembered and came back and sent the wire. “All well. Q writing +today.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Q?” the operator says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “Q. Cant you spell Q?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just asked to be sure,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You send it like I wrote it and I’ll guarantee you to be sure,” +I says. “Send it collect.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you sending, Jason?” Doc Wright says, looking over my +shoulder. “Is that a code message to buy?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right about that,” I says. “You boys use your own +judgment. You know more about it than those New York folks +do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I ought to,” Doc says, “I’d a saved money this year raising +it at two cents a pound.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Another report came in. It was down a point.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason’s selling,” Hopkins says. “Look at his face.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right about what I’m doing,” I says. “You boys follow +your own judgment. Those rich New York jews have got to live +like everybody else,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on back to the store. Earl was busy up front. I went on +back to the desk and read Lorraine’s letter. “Dear daddy wish you +were here. No good parties when daddys out of town I miss my +sweet daddy.” I reckon she does. Last time I gave her forty dollars. +Gave it to her. I never promise a woman anything nor let her know +what I’m going to give her. That’s the only way to manage them. +Always keep them guessing. If you cant think of any other way to +surprise them, give them a bust in the jaw.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I tore it up and burned it over the spittoon. I make it a rule never +to keep a scrap of paper bearing a woman’s hand, and I never +<span class='pageno' title='151' id='Page_151'></span> +write them at all. Lorraine is always after me to write to her but I +says anything I forgot to tell you will save till I get to Memphis +again but I says I dont mind you writing me now and then in a +plain envelope, but if you ever try to call me up on the telephone, +Memphis wont hold you I says. I says when I’m up there I’m one of +the boys, but I’m not going to have any woman calling me on the +telephone. Here I says, giving her the forty dollars. If you ever get +drunk and take a notion to call me on the phone, just remember this +and count ten before you do it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When’ll that be?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When you’re coming back,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll let you know,” I says. Then she tried to buy a beer, but I +wouldn’t let her. “Keep your money,” I says. “Buy yourself a +dress with it.” I gave the maid a five, too. After all, like I say money +has no value; it’s just the way you spend it. It dont belong to anybody, +so why try to hoard it. It just belongs to the man that can +get it and keep it. There’s a man right here in Jefferson made a lot +of money selling rotten goods to niggers, lived in a room over the +store about the size of a pigpen, and did his own cooking. About +four or five years ago he was taken sick. Scared the hell out of +him so that when he was up again he joined the church and bought +himself a Chinese missionary, five thousand dollars a year. I often +think how mad he’ll be if he was to die and find out there’s not any +heaven, when he thinks about that five thousand a year. Like I +say, he’d better go on and die now and save money.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When it was burned good I was just about to shove the others +into my coat when all of a sudden something told me to open +Quentin’s before I went home, but about that time Earl started yelling +for me up front, so I put them away and went and waited on +the damn redneck while he spent fifteen minutes deciding whether +he wanted a twenty cent hame string or a thirty-five cent one.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better take that good one,” I says. “How do you fellows +ever expect to get ahead, trying to work with cheap equipment?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If this one aint any good,” he says, “why have you got it on +sale?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t say it wasn’t any good,” I says, “I said it’s not as good as +that other one.” +<span class='pageno' title='152' id='Page_152'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How do you know it’s not,” he says. “You ever use airy one +of them?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Because they dont ask thirty-five cents for it,” I says. “That’s +how I know it’s not as good.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He held the twenty cent one in his hands, drawing it through his +fingers. “I reckon I’ll take this hyer one,” he says. I offered to take +it and wrap it, but he rolled it up and put it in his overalls. Then he +took out a tobacco sack and finally got it untied and shook some +coins out. He handed me a quarter. “That fifteen cents will buy +me a snack of dinner,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says, “You’re the doctor. But dont come complaining +to me next year when you have to buy a new outfit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint makin next year’s crop yit,” he says. Finally I got rid of +him, but every time I took that letter out something would come +up. They were all in town for the show, coming in in droves to give +their money to something that brought nothing to the town and +wouldn’t leave anything except what those grafters in the Mayor’s +office will split among themselves, and Earl chasing back and +forth like a hen in a coop, saying “Yes, ma’am, Mr Compson will +wait on you. Jason, show this lady a churn or a nickel’s worth of +screen hooks.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well, Jason likes work. I says no I never had university advantages +because at Harvard they teach you how to go for a swim +at night without knowing how to swim and at Sewanee they dont +even teach you what water is. I says you might send me to the state +University; maybe I’ll learn how to stop my clock with a nose spray +and then you can send Ben to the Navy I says or to the cavalry anyway, +they use geldings in the cavalry. Then when she sent Quentin +home for me to feed too I says I guess that’s right too, instead of +me having to go way up north for a job they sent the job down +here to me and then Mother begun to cry and I says it’s not that I +have any objection to having it here; if it’s any satisfaction to you +I’ll quit work and nurse it myself and let you and Dilsey keep the +flour barrel full, or Ben. Rent him out to a sideshow; there must be +folks somewhere that would pay a dime to see him, then she cried +more and kept saying my poor afflicted baby and I says yes he’ll be +quite a help to you when he gets his growth not being more than +one and a half times as high as me now and she says she’d be dead +<span class='pageno' title='153' id='Page_153'></span> +soon and then we’d all be better off and so I says all right, all right, +have it your way. It’s your grandchild, which is more than any +other grandparents it’s got can say for certain. Only I says it’s only a +question of time. If you believe she’ll do what she says and not try +to see it, you fool yourself because the first time that was that +Mother kept on saying thank God you are not a Compson except in +name, because you are all I have left now, you and Maury, and I +says well I could spare Uncle Maury myself and then they came +and said they were ready to start. Mother stopped crying then. +She pulled her veil down and we went down stairs. Uncle Maury +was coming out of the diningroom, his handkerchief to his mouth. +They kind of made a lane and we went out the door just in time to +see Dilsey driving Ben and T. P. back around the corner. We went +down the steps and got in. Uncle Maury kept saying Poor little +sister, poor little sister, talking around his mouth and patting +Mother’s hand. Talking around whatever it was.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have you got your band on?” she says. “Why dont they go on, +before Benjamin comes out and makes a spectacle. Poor little +boy. He doesn’t know. He cant even realise.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There, there,” Uncle Maury says, patting her hand, talking +around his mouth. “It’s better so. Let him be unaware of bereavement +until he has to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Other women have their children to support them in times like +this,” Mother says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You have Jason and me,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s so terrible to me,” she says, “Having the two of them like +this, in less than two years.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There, there,” he says. After a while he kind of sneaked his +hand to his mouth and dropped them out the window. Then I +knew what I had been smelling. Clove stems. I reckon he thought +that the least he could do at Father’s funeral or maybe the sideboard +thought it was still Father and tripped him up when he +passed. Like I say, if he had to sell something to send Quentin to +Harvard we’d all been a damn sight better off if he’d sold that +sideboard and bought himself a one-armed strait jacket with part +of the money. I reckon the reason all the Compson gave out before +it got to me like Mother says, is that he drank it up. At least +<span class='pageno' title='154' id='Page_154'></span> +I never heard of him offering to sell anything to send me to +Harvard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So he kept on patting her hand and saying “Poor little sister,” +patting her hand with one of the black gloves that we got the bill +for four days later because it was the twenty-sixth because it was the +same day one month that Father went up there and got it and +brought it home and wouldn’t tell anything about where she was or +anything and Mother crying and saying “And you didn’t even see +him? You didn’t even try to get him to make any provision for it?” +and Father says “No she shall not touch his money not one cent of +it” and Mother says “He can be forced to by law. He can +prove nothing, unless—Jason Compson,” she says, “Were you +fool enough to tell—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Caroline,” Father says, then he sent me to help Dilsey +get that old cradle out of the attic and I says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, they brought my job home tonight” because all the time +we kept hoping they’d get things straightened out and he’d keep +her because Mother kept saying she would at least have enough regard +for the family not to jeopardize my chance after she and +Quentin had had theirs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And whar else do she belong?” Dilsey says, “Who else gwine +raise her ’cep me? Aint I raised eve’y one of y’all?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And a damn fine job you made of it,” I says. “Anyway it’ll +give her something to sure enough worry over now.” So we carried +the cradle down and Dilsey started to set it up in her old room. +Then Mother started sure enough.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Miss Cahline,” Dilsey says, “You gwine wake her up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“In there?” Mother says, “To be contaminated by that atmosphere? +It’ll be hard enough as it is, with the heritage she already +has.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush,” Father says, “Dont be silly.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why aint she gwine sleep in here,” Dilsey says, “In the same +room whar I put her ma to bed ev’y night of her life since she was +big enough to sleep by herself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont know,” Mother says, “To have my own daughter +cast off by her husband. Poor little innocent baby,” she says, looking +at Quentin. “You will never know the suffering you’ve caused.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Caroline,” Father says. +<span class='pageno' title='155' id='Page_155'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What you want to go on like that fo Jason fer?” Dilsey says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve tried to protect him,” Mother says. “I’ve always tried to +protect him from it. At least I can do my best to shield her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How sleepin in dis room gwine hurt her, I like to know,” Dilsey +says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant help it,” Mother says. “I know I’m just a troublesome +old woman. But I know that people cannot flout God’s laws with +impunity.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense,” Father said. “Fix it in Miss Caroline’s room then, +Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You can say nonsense,” Mother says. “But she must never +know. She must never even learn that name. Dilsey, I forbid you +ever to speak that name in her hearing. If she could grow up never +to know that she had a mother, I would thank God.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont be a fool,” Father says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I have never interfered with the way you brought them up,” +Mother says, “But now I cannot stand anymore. We must decide +this now, tonight. Either that name is never to be spoken in her +hearing, or she must go, or I will go. Take your choice.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush,” Father says, “You’re just upset. Fix it in here, Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En you’s about sick too,” Dilsey says. “You looks like a +hant. You git in bed and I’ll fix you a toddy and see kin you sleep. +I bet you aint had a full night’s sleep since you lef.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” Mother says, “Dont you know what the doctor says? +Why must you encourage him to drink? That’s what’s the matter +with him now. Look at me, I suffer too, but I’m not so weak that I +must kill myself with whiskey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Fiddlesticks,” Father says, “What do doctors know? They make +their livings advising people to do whatever they are not doing at +the time, which is the extent of anyone’s knowledge of the degenerate +ape. You’ll have a minister in to hold my hand next.” +Then Mother cried, and he went out. Went down stairs, and then +I heard the sideboard. I woke up and heard him going down +again. Mother had gone to sleep or something, because the house +was quiet at last. He was trying to be quiet too, because I couldn’t +hear him, only the bottom of his nightshirt and his bare legs in +front of the sideboard. +<span class='pageno' title='156' id='Page_156'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey fixed the cradle and undressed her and put her in it. She +never had waked up since he brought her in the house.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She pretty near too big fer hit,” Dilsey says. “Dar now. I gwine +spread me a pallet right acrost de hall, so you wont need to git up +in de night.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wont sleep,” Mother says. “You go on home. I wont mind. +I’ll be happy to give the rest of my life to her, if I can just +prevent—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, now,” Dilsey says. “We gwine take keer of her. En you +go on to bed too,” she says to me, “You got to go to school +tomorrow.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So I went out, then Mother called me back and cried on me +awhile.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You are my only hope,” she says. “Every night I thank God +for you.” While we were waiting there for them to start she says +Thank God if he had to be taken too, it is you left me and not Quentin. +Thank God you are not a Compson, because all I have left +now is you and Maury and I says, Well I could spare Uncle Maury +myself. Well, he kept on patting her hand with his black glove, +talking away from her. He took them off when his turn with the +shovel came. He got up near the first, where they were holding +the umbrellas over them, stamping every now and then and trying +to kick the mud off their feet and sticking to the shovels so they’d +have to knock it off, making a hollow sound when it fell on it, and +when I stepped back around the hack I could see him behind a +tombstone, taking another one out of a bottle. I thought he never +was going to stop because I had on my new suit too, but it happened +that there wasn’t much mud on the wheels yet, only Mother +saw it and says I dont know when you’ll ever have another one +and Uncle Maury says, “Now, now. Dont you worry at all. You +have me to depend on, always.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And we have. Always. The fourth letter was from him. But +there wasn’t any need to open it. I could have written it myself, +or recited it to her from memory, adding ten dollars just to be safe. +But I had a hunch about that other letter. I just felt that it was about +time she was up to some of her tricks again. She got pretty wise +after that first time. She found out pretty quick that I was a different +breed of cat from Father. When they begun to get it filled +<span class='pageno' title='157' id='Page_157'></span> +up toward the top Mother started crying sure enough, so Uncle +Maury got in with her and drove off. He says You can come in +with somebody; they’ll be glad to give you a lift. I’ll have to take +your mother on and I thought about saying, Yes you ought to +brought two bottles instead of just one only I thought about where +we were, so I let them go on. Little they cared how wet I got, because +then Mother could have a whale of a time being afraid I was +taking pneumonia.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well, I got to thinking about that and watching them throwing +dirt into it, slapping it on anyway like they were making mortar or +something or building a fence, and I began to feel sort of funny +and so I decided to walk around a while. I thought that if I went +toward town they’d catch up and be trying to make me get in one +of them, so I went on back toward the nigger graveyard. I got under +some cedars, where the rain didn’t come much, only dripping now +and then, where I could see when they got through and went away. +After a while they were all gone and I waited a minute and came +out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I had to follow the path to keep out of the wet grass so I didn’t +see her until I was pretty near there, standing there in a black +cloak, looking at the flowers. I knew who it was right off, before +she turned and looked at me and lifted up her veil.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Jason,” she says, holding out her hand. We shook hands.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What are you doing here?” I says. “I thought you promised +her you wouldn’t come back here. I thought you had more sense +than that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes?” she says. She looked at the flowers again. There must +have been fifty dollars’ worth. Somebody had put one bunch on +Quentin’s. “You did?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not surprised though,” I says. “I wouldn’t put anything +past you. You dont mind anybody. You dont give a damn about +anybody.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” she says, “that job.” She looked at the grave. “I’m sorry +about that, Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you are,” I says. “You’ll talk mighty meek now. But you +needn’t have come back. There’s not anything left. Ask Uncle +Maury, if you dont believe me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont want anything,” she says. She looked at the grave. “Why +<span class='pageno' title='158' id='Page_158'></span> +didn’t they let me know?” she says. “I just happened to see it in the +paper. On the back page. Just happened to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I didn’t say anything. We stood there, looking at the grave, and +then I got to thinking about when we were little and one thing and +another and I got to feeling funny again, kind of mad or something, +thinking about now we’d have Uncle Maury around the +house all the time, running things like the way he left me to come +home in the rain by myself. I says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“A fine lot you care, sneaking in here soon as he’s dead. But it +wont do you any good. Dont think that you can take advantage +of this to come sneaking back. If you cant stay on the horse you’ve +got, you’ll have to walk,” I says. “We dont even know your name +at that house,” I says. “Do you know that? We don’t even know +you with him and Quentin,” I says. “Do you know that?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know it,” she says. “Jason,” she says, looking at the grave, +“if you’ll fix it so I can see her a minute I’ll give you fifty dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t got fifty dollars,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you?” she says, not looking at me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s see it,” I says. “I dont believe you’ve got fifty dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could see where her hands were moving under her cloak, then +she held her hand out. Damn if it wasn’t full of money. I could see +two or three yellow ones.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Does he still give you money?” I says. “How much does he send +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll give you a hundred,” she says. “Will you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Just a minute,” I says, “And just like I say. I wouldn’t have +her know it for a thousand dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she says. “Just like you say do it. Just so I see her a minute. +I wont beg or do anything. I’ll go right on away.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give me the money,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll give it to you afterward,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you trust me?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she says. “I know you. I grew up with you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re a fine one to talk about trusting people,” I says. “Well,” +I says, “I got to get on out of the rain. Goodbye.” I made to go +away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” she says. I stopped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes?” I says. “Hurry up. I’m getting wet.” +<span class='pageno' title='159' id='Page_159'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” she says. “Here.” There wasn’t anybody in sight. +I went back and took the money. She still held to it. “You’ll do +it?” she says, looking at me from under the veil, “You promise?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let go,” I says, “You want somebody to come along and see +us?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She let go. I put the money in my pocket. “You’ll do it, Jason?” +she says. “I wouldn’t ask you, if there was any other way.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re damn right there’s no other way,” I says. “Sure I’ll do +it. I said I would, didn’t I? Only you’ll have to do just like I say, +now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she says, “I will.” So I told her where to be, and went +to the livery stable. I hurried and got there just as they were unhitching +the hack. I asked if they had paid for it yet and he said No +and I said Mrs Compson forgot something and wanted it again, +so they let me take it. Mink was driving. I bought him a cigar, so +we drove around until it begun to get dark on the back streets +where they wouldn’t see him. Then Mink said he’d have to take +the team on back and so I said I’d buy him another cigar and so we +drove into the lane and I went across the yard to the house. I +stopped in the hall until I could hear Mother and Uncle Maury +upstairs, then I went on back to the kitchen. She and Ben were +there with Dilsey. I said Mother wanted her and I took her into +the house. I found Uncle Maury’s raincoat and put it around her +and picked her up and went back to the lane and got in the hack. +I told Mink to drive to the depot. He was afraid to pass the stable, +so we had to go the back way and I saw her standing on the corner +under the light and I told Mink to drive close to the walk and when +I said Go on, to give the team a bat. Then I took the raincoat off +of her and held her to the window and Caddy saw her and sort of +jumped forward.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit ’em, Mink!” I says, and Mink gave them a cut and we went +past her like a fire engine. “Now get on that train like you promised,” +I says. I could see her running after us through the back +window. “Hit ’em again,” I says, “Let’s get on home.” When we +turned the corner she was still running.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And so I counted the money again that night and put it away, +and I didn’t feel so bad. I says I reckon that’ll show you. I reckon +you’ll know now that you cant beat me out of a job and get away +<span class='pageno' title='160' id='Page_160'></span> +with it. It never occurred to me she wouldn’t keep her promise +and take that train. But I didn’t know much about them then; I +didn’t have any more sense than to believe what they said, because +the next morning damn if she didn’t walk right into the store, only +she had sense enough to wear the veil and not speak to anybody. +It was Saturday morning, because I was at the store, and she came +right on back to the desk where I was, walking fast.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Liar,” she says, “Liar.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you crazy?” I says. “What do you mean? coming in here +like this?” She started in, but I shut her off. I says, “You already +cost me one job; do you want me to lose this one too? If you’ve +got anything to say to me, I’ll meet you somewhere after dark. +What have you got to say to me?” I says, “Didn’t I do everything +I said? I said see her a minute, didn’t I? Well, didn’t you?” She +just stood there looking at me, shaking like an ague-fit, her hands +clenched and kind of jerking. “I did just what I said I would,” I +says, “You’re the one that lied. You promised to take that train. +Didn’t you Didn’t you promise? If you think you can get that +money back, just try it,” I says. “If it’d been a thousand dollars, +you’d still owe me after the risk I took. And if I see or hear you’re +still in town after number 17 runs,” I says, “I’ll tell Mother and +Uncle Maury. Then hold your breath until you see her again.” She +just stood there, looking at me, twisting her hands together.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Damn you,” she says, “Damn you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” I says, “That’s all right too. Mind what I say, now. After +number 17, and I tell them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After she was gone I felt better. I says I reckon you’ll think +twice before you deprive me of a job that was promised me. I was +a kid then. I believed folks when they said they’d do things. I’ve +learned better since. Besides, like I say I guess I dont need any +man’s help to get along I can stand on my own feet like I always +have. Then all of a sudden I thought of Dilsey and Uncle Maury. +I thought how she’d get around Dilsey and that Uncle Maury would +do anything for ten dollars. And there I was, couldn’t even get +away from the store to protect my own Mother. Like she says, if +one of you had to be taken, thank God it was you left me I can +depend on you and I says well I dont reckon I’ll ever get far enough +<span class='pageno' title='161' id='Page_161'></span> +from the store to get out of your reach. Somebody’s got to hold on +to what little we have left, I reckon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So as soon as I got home I fixed Dilsey. I told Dilsey she had +leprosy and I got the bible and read where a man’s flesh rotted off +and I told her that if she ever looked at her or Ben or Quentin +they’d catch it too. So I thought I had everything all fixed until +that day when I came home and found Ben bellowing. Raising +hell and nobody could quiet him. Mother said, Well, get him the +slipper then. Dilsey made out she didn’t hear. Mother said it again +and I says I’d go I couldn’t stand that damn noise. Like I say I can +stand lots of things I dont expect much from them but if I have to +work all day long in a damn store damn if I dont think I deserve +a little peace and quiet to eat dinner in. So I says I’d go and Dilsey +says quick, “Jason!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well, like a flash I knew what was up, but just to make sure +I went and got the slipper and brought it back, and just like I +thought, when he saw it you’d thought we were killing him. So I +made Dilsey own up, then I told Mother. We had to take her up +to bed then, and after things got quieted down a little I put the fear +of God into Dilsey. As much as you can into a nigger, that is. That’s +the trouble with nigger servants, when they’ve been with you for a +long time they get so full of self importance that they’re not worth +a damn. Think they run the whole family.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I like to know whut’s de hurt in lettin dat po chile see her own +baby,” Dilsey says. “If Mr Jason was still here hit ud be different.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Only Mr Jason’s not here,” I says. “I know you wont pay me +any mind, but I reckon you’ll do what Mother says. You keep on +worrying her like this until you get her into the graveyard too, then +you can fill the whole house full of ragtag and bobtail. But what +did you want to let that damn idiot see her for?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’s a cold man, Jason, if man you is,” she says. “I thank +de Lawd I got mo heart dan dat, even ef hit is black.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“At least I’m man enough to keep that flour barrel full,” I says. +“And if you do that again, you wont be eating out of it either.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So the next time I told her that if she tried Dilsey again, Mother +was going to fire Dilsey and send Ben to Jackson and take Quentin +and go away. She looked at me for a while. There wasn’t any street +light close and I couldn’t see her face much. But I could feel her +<span class='pageno' title='162' id='Page_162'></span> +looking at me. When we were little when she’d get mad and +couldn’t do anything about it her upper lip would begin to jump. +Everytime it jumped it would leave a little more of her teeth showing, +and all the time she’d be as still as a post, not a muscle moving +except her lip jerking higher and higher up her teeth. But she +didn’t say anything. She just said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right. How much?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, if one look through a hack window was worth a hundred,” +I says. So after that she behaved pretty well, only one time +she asked to see a statement of the bank account.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know they have Mother’s indorsement on them,” she says, +“But I want to see the bank statement. I want to see myself where +those checks go.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s in Mother’s private business,” I says. “If you think you +have any right to pry into her private affairs I’ll tell her you believe +those checks are being misappropriated and you want an audit because +you dont trust her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She didn’t say anything or move. I could hear her whispering +Damn you oh damn you oh damn you.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Say it out,” I says, “I dont reckon it’s any secret what you and +I think of one another. Maybe you want the money back,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Listen, Jason,” she says, “Dont lie to me now. About her. I +wont ask to see anything. If that isn’t enough, I’ll send more each +month. Just promise that she’ll—that she—You can do that. Things +for her. Be kind to her. Little things that I cant, they wont let. +. . . But you wont. You never had a drop of warm blood in you. +Listen,” she says, “If you’ll get Mother to let me have her back, +I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t got a thousand dollars,” I says, “I know you’re +lying now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes I have. I will have. I can get it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And I know how you’ll get it,” I says, “You’ll get it the same +way you got her. And when she gets big enough—” Then I thought +she really was going to hit at me, and then I didn’t know what she +was going to do. She acted for a minute like some kind of a toy +that’s wound up too tight and about to burst all to pieces.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m crazy,” she says, “I’m insane. I can’t take her. Keep +her. What am I thinking of. Jason,” she says, grabbing my arm. +<span class='pageno' title='163' id='Page_163'></span> +Her hands were hot as fever. “You’ll have to promise to take care +of her, to—She’s kin to you; your own flesh and blood. Promise, +Jason. You have Father’s name: do you think I’d have to ask him +twice? once, even?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s so,” I says, “He did leave me something. What do you +want me to do,” I says, “Buy an apron and a go-cart? I never got +you into this,” I says. “I run more risk than you do, because you +haven’t got anything at stake. So if you expect—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she says, then she begun to laugh and to try to hold it +back all at the same time. “No. I have nothing at stake,” she says, +making that noise, putting her hands to her mouth, “Nuh-nuh-nothing,” +she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here,” I says, “Stop that!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m tr-trying to,” she says, holding her hands over her mouth. +“Oh God, oh God.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going away from here,” I says, “I cant be seen here. You +get on out of town now, you hear?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wait,” she says, catching my arm. “I’ve stopped. I wont again. +You promise, Jason?” she says, and me feeling her eyes almost +like they were touching my face, “You promise? Mother—that +money—if sometimes she needs things—If I send checks for her to +you, other ones besides those, you’ll give them to her? You wont +tell? You’ll see that she has things like other girls?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure,” I says, “As long as you behave and do like I tell you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And so when Earl came up front with his hat on he says, “I’m +going to step up to Rogers’ and get a snack. We wont have time to +go home to dinner, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter we wont have time?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“With this show in town and all,” he says. “They’re going to +give an afternoon performance too, and they’ll all want to get done +trading in time to go to it. So we’d better just run up to Rogers’.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says, “It’s your stomach. If you want to make a +slave of yourself to your business, it’s all right with me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon you’ll never be a slave to any business,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not unless it’s Jason Compson’s business,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So when I went back and opened it the only thing that surprised +me was it was a money order not a check. Yes, sir. You cant trust +a one of them. After all the risk I’d taken, risking Mother finding +<span class='pageno' title='164' id='Page_164'></span> +out about her coming down here once or twice a year sometimes, +and me having to tell Mother lies about it. That’s gratitude for +you. And I wouldn’t put it past her to try to notify the postoffice +not to let anyone except her cash it. Giving a kid like that fifty dollars. +Why I never saw fifty dollars until I was twenty-one years old, +with all the other boys with the afternoon off and all day Saturday +and me working in a store. Like I say, how can they expect anybody +to control her, with her giving her money behind our backs. +She has the same home you had I says, and the same raising. I +reckon Mother is a better judge of what she needs than you are, +that haven’t even got a home. “If you want to give her money,” +I says, “You send it to Mother, dont be giving it to her. If I’ve got +to run this risk every few months, you’ll have to do like I say, or +it’s out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And just about the time I got ready to begin on it because if +Earl thought I was going to dash up the street and gobble two bits +worth of indigestion on his account he was bad fooled. I may not +be sitting with my feet on a mahogany desk but I am being paid +for what I do inside this building and if I cant manage to live a +civilised life outside of it I’ll go where I can. I can stand on my own +feet; I dont need any man’s mahogany desk to prop me up. So +just about the time I got ready to start I’d have to drop everything +and run to sell some redneck a dime’s worth of nails or something, +and Earl up there gobbling a sandwich and half way back already, +like as not, and then I found that all the blanks were gone. I remembered +then that I had aimed to get some more, but it was too +late now, and then I looked up and there Quentin came. In the back +door. I heard her asking old Job if I was there. I just had time to +stick them in the drawer and close it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She came around to the desk. I looked at my watch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You been to dinner already?” I says. “It’s just twelve; I just +heard it strike. You must have flown home and back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going home to dinner,” she says. “Did I get a letter +today?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Were you expecting one?” I says. “Have you got a sweetie that +can write?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“From Mother,” she says. “Did I get a letter from Mother?” +she says, looking at me. +<span class='pageno' title='165' id='Page_165'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mother got one from her,” I says. “I haven’t opened it. You’ll +have to wait until she opens it. She’ll let you see it, I imagine.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Please, Jason,” she says, not paying any attention, “Did I get +one?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter?” I says. “I never knew you to be this anxious +about anybody. You must expect some money from her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She said she—” she says. “Please, Jason,” she says, “Did I?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You must have been to school today, after all,” I says, “Somewhere +where they taught you to say please. Wait a minute, while I +wait on that customer.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went and waited on him. When I turned to come back she was +out of sight behind the desk. I ran. I ran around the desk and caught +her as she jerked her hand out of the drawer. I took the letter away +from her, beating her knuckles on the desk until she let go.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You would, would you?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give it to me,” she says, “You’ve already opened it. Give it +to me. Please, Jason. It’s mine. I saw the name.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll take a hame string to you,” I says. “That’s what I’ll give +you. Going into my papers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is there some money in it?” she says, reaching for it. “She +said she would send me some money. She promised she would. +Give it to me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you want with money?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She said she would,” she says, “Give it to me. Please, Jason. +I wont ever ask you anything again, if you’ll give it to me this time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to, if you’ll give me time,” I says. I took the letter +and the money order out and gave her the letter. She reached for +the money order, not hardly glancing at the letter. “You’ll have to +sign it first,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How much is it?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Read the letter,” I says. “I reckon it’ll say.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She read it fast, in about two looks.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It dont say,” she says, looking up. She dropped the letter to the +floor. “How much is it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s ten dollars,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ten dollars?” she says, staring at me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And you ought to be damn glad to get that,” I says, “A kid like +you. What are you in such a rush for money all of a sudden for?” +<span class='pageno' title='166' id='Page_166'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ten dollars?” she says, like she was talking in her sleep, “Just +ten dollars?” She made a grab at the money order. “You’re lying,” +she says. “Thief!” she says, “Thief!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You would, would you?” I says, holding her off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give it to me!” she says, “It’s mine. She sent it to me. I will +see it. I will.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You will?” I says, holding her, “How’re you going to do it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Just let me see it, Jason,” she says, “Please. I wont ask you for +anything again.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Think I’m lying, do you?” I says. “Just for that you wont see +it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But just ten dollars,” she says, “She told me she—she told me—Jason, +please please please. I’ve got to have some money. I’ve +just got to. Give it to me, Jason. I’ll do anything if you will.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tell me what you’ve got to have money for,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve got to have it,” she says. She was looking at me. Then all +of a sudden she quit looking at me without moving her eyes at all. +I knew she was going to lie. “It’s some money I owe,” she says. +“I’ve got to pay it. I’ve got to pay it today.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who to?” I says. Her hands were sort of twisting. I could watch +her trying to think of a lie to tell. “Have you been charging things +at stores again?” I says. “You needn’t bother to tell me that. If +you can find anybody in this town that’ll charge anything to you +after what I told them, I’ll eat it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a girl,” she says, “It’s a girl. I borrowed some money from +a girl. I’ve got to pay it back. Jason, give it to me. Please. I’ll do +anything. I’ve got to have it. Mother will pay you. I’ll write to her +to pay you and that I wont ever ask her for anything again. You +can see the letter. Please, Jason. I’ve got to have it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tell me what you want with it, and I’ll see about it,” I says. +“Tell me.” She just stood there, with her hands working against +her dress. “All right,” I says, “If ten dollars is too little for you, +I’ll just take it home to Mother, and you know what’ll happen to +it then. Of course, if you’re so rich you dont need ten dollars—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She stood there, looking at the floor, kind of mumbling to herself. +“She said she would send me some money. She said she sends +money here and you say she dont send any. She said she’s sent a +<span class='pageno' title='167' id='Page_167'></span> +lot of money here. She says it’s for me. That it’s for me to have +some of it. And you say we haven’t got any money.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know as much about that as I do,” I says. “You’ve seen +what happens to those checks.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she says, looking at the floor. “Ten dollars,” she says, +“Ten dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And you’d better thank your stars it’s ten dollars,” I says. +“Here,” I says. I put the money order face down on the desk, holding +my hand on it, “Sign it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you let me see it?” she says. “I just want to look at +it. Whatever it says, I wont ask for but ten dollars. You can have +the rest. I just want to see it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not after the way you’ve acted,” I says. “You’ve got to learn +one thing, and that is that when I tell you to do something, you’ve +got it to do. You sign your name on that line.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She took the pen, but instead of signing it she just stood there +with her head bent and the pen shaking in her hand. Just like her +mother. “Oh, God,” she says, “oh, God.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “That’s one thing you’ll have to learn if you never +learn anything else. Sign it now, and get on out of here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She signed it. “Where’s the money?” she says. I took the order +and blotted it and put it in my pocket. Then I gave her the +ten dollars.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now you go on back to school this afternoon, you hear?” I +says. She didn’t answer. She crumpled the bill up in her hand like +it was a rag or something and went on out the front door just as +Earl came in. A customer came in with him and they stopped up +front. I gathered up the things and put on my hat and went +up front.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Been much busy?” Earl says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not much,” I says. He looked out the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That your car over yonder?” he says. “Better not try to go out +home to dinner. We’ll likely have another rush just before the show +opens. Get you a lunch at Rogers’ and put a ticker in the drawer.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Much obliged,” I says. “I can still manage to feed myself, I +reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And right there he’d stay, watching that door like a hawk until I +came through it again. Well, he’d just have to watch it for a while; +<span class='pageno' title='168' id='Page_168'></span> +I was doing the best I could. The time before I says that’s the last +one now; you’ll have to remember to get some more right away. +But who can remember anything in all this hurrah. And now this +damn show had to come here the one day I’d have to hunt all over +town for a blank check, besides all the other things I had to do to +keep the house running, and Earl watching the door like a hawk.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went to the printing shop and told him I wanted to play a joke +on a fellow, but he didn’t have anything. Then he told me to have +a look in the old opera house, where somebody had stored a lot of +papers and junk out of the old Merchants’ and Farmers’ Bank +when it failed, so I dodged up a few more alleys so Earl couldn’t +see me and finally found old man Simmons and got the key from +him and went up there and dug around. At last I found a pad on +a Saint Louis bank. And of course she’d pick this one time to look +at it close. Well, it would have to do. I couldn’t waste any more +time now.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went back to the store. “Forgot some papers Mother wants to +go to the bank,” I says. I went back to the desk and fixed the check. +Trying to hurry and all, I says to myself it’s a good thing her eyes +are giving out, with that little whore in the house, a Christian forbearing +woman like Mother. I says you know just as well as I do +what she’s going to grow up into but I says that’s your business, +if you want to keep her and raise her in your house just because +of Father. Then she would begin to cry and say it was her own +flesh and blood so I just says All right. Have it your way. I can +stand it if you can.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I fixed the letter up again and glued it back and went out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Try not to be gone any longer than you can help,” Earl says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says. I went to the telegraph office. The smart boys +were all there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Any of you boys made a million yet?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who can do anything, with a market like that?” Doc says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s it doing?” I says. I went in and looked. It was three +points under the opening. “You boys are not going to let a little +thing like the cotton market beat you, are you?” I says. “I thought +you were too smart for that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Smart, hell,” Doc says. “It was down twelve points at twelve +o’clock. Cleaned me out.” +<span class='pageno' title='169' id='Page_169'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Twelve points?” I says. “Why the hell didn’t somebody let me +know? Why didn’t you let me know?” I says to the operator.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I take it as it comes in,” he says. “I’m not running a bucket +shop.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re smart, aren’t you?” I says. “Seems to me, with the money +I spend with you, you could take time to call me up. Or maybe +your damn company’s in a conspiracy with those damn eastern +sharks.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He didn’t say anything. He made like he was busy.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re getting a little too big for your pants,” I says. “First +thing you know you’ll be working for a living.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter with you?” Doc says. “You’re still three +points to the good.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “If I happened to be selling. I haven’t mentioned +that yet, I think. You boys all cleaned out?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I got caught twice,” Doc says. “I switched just in time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I. O. Snopes says, “I’ve picked hit; I reckon taint no +more than fair fer hit to pick me once in a while.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So I left them buying and selling among themselves at a nickel +a point. I found a nigger and sent him for my car and stood on the +corner and waited. I couldn’t see Earl looking up and down the +street, with one eye on the clock, because I couldn’t see the door +from here. After about a week he got back with it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where the hell have you been?” I says, “Riding around where +the wenches could see you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I come straight as I could,” he says, “I had to drive clean +around the square, wid all dem wagons.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I never found a nigger yet that didn’t have an airtight alibi for +whatever he did. But just turn one loose in a car and he’s bound to +show off. I got in and went on around the square. I caught a +glimpse of Earl in the door across the square.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went straight to the kitchen and told Dilsey to hurry up with +dinner.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin aint come yit,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What of that?” I says. “You’ll be telling me next that Luster’s +not quite ready to eat yet. Quentin knows when meals are served +in this house. Hurry up with it, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mother was in her room. I gave her the letter. She opened it +<span class='pageno' title='170' id='Page_170'></span> +and took the check out and sat holding it in her hand. I went and +got the shovel from the corner and gave her a match. “Come on,” +I says, “Get it over with. You’ll be crying in a minute.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She took the match, but she didn’t strike it. She sat there, looking +at the check. Just like I said it would be.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hate to do it,” she says, “To increase your burden by adding +Quentin. . . .”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I guess we’ll get along,” I says. “Come on. Get it over with.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But she just sat there, holding the check.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“This one is on a different bank,” she says. “They have been on +an Indianapolis bank.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says. “Women are allowed to do that too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do what?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep money in two different banks,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” she says. She looked at the check a while. “I’m glad to +know she’s so . . . she has so much . . . God sees that I am doing +right,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on,” I says, “Finish it. Get the fun over.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Fun?” she says, “When I think—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought you were burning this two hundred dollars a month +for fun,” I says. “Come on, now. Want me to strike the match?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I could bring myself to accept them,” she says, “For my childrens’ +sake. I have no pride.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d never be satisfied,” I says, “You know you wouldn’t. +You’ve settled that once, let it stay settled. We can get along.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I leave everything to you,” she says. “But sometimes I become +afraid that in doing this I am depriving you all of what is rightfully +yours. Perhaps I shall be punished for it. If you want me to, I will +smother my pride and accept them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What would be the good in beginning now, when you’ve been +destroying them for fifteen years?” I says. “If you keep on doing +it, you have lost nothing, but if you’d begin to take them now, you’ll +have lost fifty thousand dollars. We’ve got along so far, haven’t +we?” I says. “I haven’t seen you in the poorhouse yet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she says, “We Bascombs need nobody’s charity. Certainly +not that of a fallen woman.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She struck the match and lit the check and put it in the shovel, +and then the envelope, and watched them burn. +<span class='pageno' title='171' id='Page_171'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont know what it is,” she says, “Thank God you will +never know what a mother feels.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There are lots of women in this world no better than her,” I +says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But they are not my daughters,” she says. “It’s not myself,” +she says, “I’d gladly take her back, sins and all, because she is my +flesh and blood. It’s for Quentin’s sake.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well, I could have said it wasn’t much chance of anybody hurting +Quentin much, but like I say I dont expect much but I do want +to eat and sleep without a couple of women squabbling and crying +in the house.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And yours,” she says. “I know how you feel toward her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let her come back,” I says, “far as I’m concerned.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she says. “I owe that to your father’s memory.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When he was trying all the time to persuade you to let her come +home when Herbert threw her out?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont understand,” she says. “I know you dont intend to +make it more difficult for me. But it’s my place to suffer for my +children,” she says. “I can bear it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Seems to me you go to a lot of unnecessary trouble doing it,” +I says. The paper burned out. I carried it to the grate and put it +in. “It just seems a shame to me to burn up good money,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let me never see the day when my children will have to accept +that, the wages of sin,” she says. “I’d rather see even you dead in +your coffin first.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have it your way,” I says. “Are we going to have dinner soon?” +I says, “Because if we’re not, I’ll have to go on back. We’re pretty +busy today.” She got up. “I’ve told her once,” I says. “It seems +she’s waiting on Quentin or Luster or somebody. Here, I’ll call +her. Wait.” But she went to the head of the stairs and called.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin aint come yit,” Dilsey says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll have to get on back,” I says. “I can get a sandwich +downtown. I dont want to interfere with Dilsey’s arrangements,” +I says. Well, that got her started again, with Dilsey hobbling and +mumbling back and forth, saying,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right, all right, Ise puttin hit on fast as I kin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I try to please you all,” Mother says, “I try to make things as +easy for you as I can.” +<span class='pageno' title='172' id='Page_172'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not complaining, am I?” I says. “Have I said a word except +I had to go back to work?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know,” she says, “I know you haven’t had the chance the +others had, that you’ve had to bury yourself in a little country +store. I wanted you to get ahead. I knew your father would never +realise that you were the only one who had any business sense, +and then when everything else failed I believed that when she married, +and Herbert . . . after his promise . . .”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, he was probably lying too,” I says. “He may not have +even had a bank. And if he had, I dont reckon he’d have to come +all the way to Mississippi to get a man for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We ate awhile. I could hear Ben in the kitchen, where Luster +was feeding him. Like I say, if we’ve got to feed another mouth +and she wont take that money, why not send him down to Jackson. +He’ll be happier there, with people like him. I says God knows +there’s little enough room for pride in this family, but it dont take +much pride to not like to see a thirty year old man playing around +the yard with a nigger boy, running up and down the fence and +lowing like a cow whenever they play golf over there. I says if +they’d sent him to Jackson at first we’d all be better off today. I +says, you’ve done your duty by him; you’ve done all anybody can +expect of you and more than most folks would do, so why not send +him there and get that much benefit out of the taxes we pay. Then +she says, “I’ll be gone soon. I know I’m just a burden to you” and +I says “You’ve been saying that so long that I’m beginning to believe +you” only I says you’d better be sure and not let me know +you’re gone because I’ll sure have him on number seventeen that +night and I says I think I know a place where they’ll take her too +and the name of it’s not Milk street and Honey avenue either. Then +she begun to cry and I says All right all right I have as much pride +about my kinfolks as anybody even if I dont always know where +they come from.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>We ate for awhile. Mother sent Dilsey to the front to look for +Quentin again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I keep telling you she’s not coming to dinner,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She knows better than that,” Mother says, “She knows I dont +permit her to run about the streets and not come home at meal +time. Did you look good, Dilsey?” +<span class='pageno' title='173' id='Page_173'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont let her, then,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What can I do,” she says. “You have all of you flouted me. +Always.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you wouldn’t come interfering, I’d make her mind,” I says. +“It wouldn’t take me but about one day to straighten her out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d be too brutal with her,” she says. “You have your Uncle +Maury’s temper.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>That reminded me of the letter. I took it out and handed it to +her. “You wont have to open it,” I says. “The bank will let you +know how much it is this time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s addressed to you,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on and open it,” I says. She opened it and read it and +handed it to me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“ ‘My dear young nephew,’ it says,</p> + +<div class='blockquote'> + +<p class='pindent'>‘You will be glad to learn that I am now in a position to avail +myself of an opportunity regarding which, for reasons which I +shall make obvious to you, I shall not go into details until I have an +opportunity to divulge it to you in a more secure manner. My business +experience has taught me to be chary of committing anything +of a confidential nature to any more concrete medium than speech, +and my extreme precaution in this instance should give you some +inkling of its value. Needless to say, I have just completed a most +exhaustive examination of all its phases, and I feel no hesitancy in +telling you that it is that sort of golden chance that comes but once +in a lifetime, and I now see clearly before me that goal toward +which I have long and unflaggingly striven: i.e., the ultimate solidification +of my affairs by which I may restore to its rightful +position that family of which I have the honour to be the sole +remaining male descendant; that family in which I have ever included +your lady mother and her children.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>‘As it so happens, I am not quite in a position to avail myself of +this opportunity to the uttermost which it warrants, but rather than +go out of the family to do so, I am today drawing upon your +Mother’s bank for the small sum necessary to complement my +own initial investment, for which I herewith enclose, as a matter +of formality, my note of hand at eight percent per annum. Needless +to say, this is merely a formality, to secure your Mother in the event +<span class='pageno' title='174' id='Page_174'></span> +of that circumstance of which man is ever the plaything and sport. +For naturally I shall employ this sum as though it were my own +and so permit your Mother to avail herself of this opportunity +which my exhaustive investigation has shown to be a bonanza—if +you will permit the vulgarism—of the first water and purest ray +serene.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>‘This is in confidence, you will understand, from one business +man to another; we will harvest our own vineyards, eh? And knowing +your Mother’s delicate health and that timorousness which +such delicately nutured Southern ladies would naturally feel regarding +matters of business, and their charming proneness to divulge +unwittingly such matters in conversation, I would suggest +that you do not mention it to her at all. On second thought, I advise +you not to do so. It might be better to simply restore this sum to +the bank at some future date, say, in a lump sum with the other +small sums for which I am indebted to her, and say nothing about +it at all. It is our duty to shield her from the crass material world +as much as possible.</p> + +<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:10em;'>‘Your affectionate Uncle,</p> +<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'>‘Maury L. Bascomb.’ ”</p> + +</div> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you want to do about it?” I says, flipping it across the +table.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know you grudge what I give him,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s your money,” I says. “If you want to throw it to the birds +even, it’s your business.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s my own brother,” Mother says. “He’s the last Bascomb. +When we are gone there wont be any more of them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’ll be hard on somebody, I guess,” I says. “All right, all +right,” I says, “It’s your money. Do as you please with it. You +want me to tell the bank to pay it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know you begrudge him,” she says. “I realise the burden on +your shoulders. When I’m gone it will be easier on you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I could make it easier right now,” I says. “All right, all right, +I wont mention it again. Move all bedlam in here if you want to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s your own brother,” she says, “Even if he is afflicted.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll take your bank book,” I says. “I’ll draw my check today.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He kept you waiting six days,” she says. “Are you sure the +<span class='pageno' title='175' id='Page_175'></span> +business is sound? It seems strange to me that a solvent business +cannot pay its employees promptly.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s all right,” I says, “Safe as a bank. I tell him not to bother +about mine until we get done collecting every month. That’s why +it’s late sometimes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just couldn’t bear to have you lose the little I had to invest +for you,” she says. “I’ve often thought that Earl is not a good business +man. I know he doesn’t take you into his confidence to the extent +that your investment in the business should warrant. I’m going +to speak to him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, you let him alone,” I says. “It’s his business.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You have a thousand dollars in it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You let him alone,” I says, “I’m watching things. I have your +power of attorney. It’ll be all right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont know what a comfort you are to me,” she says. “You +have always been my pride and joy, but when you came to me of +your own accord and insisted on banking your salary each month +in my name, I thanked God it was you left me if they had to be +taken.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They were all right,” I says. “They did the best they could, I +reckon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When you talk that way I know you are thinking bitterly of +your father’s memory,” she says. “You have a right to, I suppose. +But it breaks my heart to hear you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I got up. “If you’ve got any crying to do,” I says, “you’ll have +to do it alone, because I’ve got to get on back. I’ll get the bank +book.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll get it,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep still,” I says, “I’ll get it.” I went upstairs and got the bank +book out of her desk and went back to town. I went to the bank and +deposited the check and the money order and the other ten, and +stopped at the telegraph office. It was one point above the opening. +I had already lost thirteen points, all because she had to come helling +in there at twelve, worrying me about that letter.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What time did that report come in?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“About an hour ago,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“An hour ago?” I says. “What are we paying you for?” I says, +<span class='pageno' title='176' id='Page_176'></span> +“Weekly reports? How do you expect a man to do anything? The +whole damn top could blow off and we’d not know it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont expect you to do anything,” he says. “They changed +that law making folks play the cotton market.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They have?” I says. “I hadn’t heard. They must have sent the +news out over the Western Union.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went back to the store. Thirteen points. Damn if I believe anybody +knows anything about the damn thing except the ones that sit +back in those New York offices and watch the country suckers +come up and beg them to take their money. Well, a man that just +calls shows he has no faith in himself, and like I say if you aren’t +going to take the advice, what’s the use in paying money for it. +Besides, these people are right up there on the ground; they know +everything that’s going on. I could feel the telegram in my pocket. +I’d just have to prove that they were using the telegraph company +to defraud. That would constitute a bucket shop. And I wouldn’t +hesitate that long, either. Only be damned if it doesn’t look like a +company as big and rich as the Western Union could get a market +report out on time. Half as quick as they’ll get a wire to you saying +Your account closed out. But what the hell do they care about the +people. They’re hand in glove with that New York crowd. Anybody +could see that.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When I came in Earl looked at his watch. But he didn’t say anything +until the customer was gone. Then he says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You go home to dinner?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I had to go to the dentist,” I says because it’s not any of his +business where I eat but I’ve got to be in the store with him all the +afternoon. And with his jaw running off after all I’ve stood. You +take a little two by four country storekeeper like I say it takes a +man with just five hundred dollars to worry about it fifty thousand +dollars’ worth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You might have told me,” he says. “I expected you back right +away.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll trade you this tooth and give you ten dollars to boot, any +time,” I says. “Our agreement was an hour for dinner,” I says, “and +if you dont like the way I do, you know what you can do about it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve known that some time,” he says. “If it hadn’t been for your +mother I’d have done it before now, too. She’s a lady I’ve got a lot +<span class='pageno' title='177' id='Page_177'></span> +of sympathy for, Jason. Too bad some other folks I know cant say +as much.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then you can keep it,” I says. “When we need any sympathy +I’ll let you know in plenty of time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve protected you about that business a long time, Jason,” he +says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes?” I says, letting him go on. Listening to what he would +say before I shut him up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I believe I know more about where that automobile came from +than she does.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You think so, do you?” I says. “When are you going to spread +the news that I stole it from my mother?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont say anything,” he says, “I know you have her power of +attorney. And I know she still believes that thousand dollars is in +this business.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says, “Since you know so much, I’ll tell you a little +more: go to the bank and ask them whose account I’ve been depositing +a hundred and sixty dollars on the first of every month for +twelve years.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont say anything,” he says, “I just ask you to be a little more +careful after this.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I never said anything more. It doesn’t do any good. I’ve found +that when a man gets into a rut the best thing you can do is let him +stay there. And when a man gets it in his head that he’s got to +tell something on you for your own good, good-night. I’m glad I +haven’t got the sort of conscience I’ve got to nurse like a sick +puppy all the time. If I’d ever be as careful over anything as he is +to keep his little shirt tail full of business from making him more +then eight percent. I reckon he thinks they’d get him on the usury +law if he netted more than eight percent. What the hell chance has +a man got, tied down in a town like this and to a business like +this. Why I could take his business in one year and fix him so he’d +never have to work again, only he’d give it all away to the church +or something. If there’s one thing gets under my skin, it’s a damn +hypocrite. A man that thinks anything he dont understand all about +must be crooked and that first chance he gets he’s morally bound to +tell the third party what’s none of his business to tell. Like I say if +I thought every time a man did something I didn’t know all about +<span class='pageno' title='178' id='Page_178'></span> +he was bound to be a crook, I reckon I wouldn’t have any trouble +finding something back there on those books that you wouldn’t see +any use for running and telling somebody I thought ought to know +about it, when for all I knew they might know a damn sight more +about it now than I did, and if they didn’t it was damn little of +my business anyway and he says, “My books are open to anybody. +Anybody that has any claim or believes she has any claim on this +business can go back there and welcome.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure, you wont tell,” I says, “You couldn’t square your conscience +with that. You’ll just take her back there and let her find it. +You wont tell, yourself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not trying to meddle in your business,” he says. “I know +you missed out on some things like Quentin had. But your mother +has had a misfortunate life too, and if she was to come in here and +ask me why you quit, I’d have to tell her. It aint that thousand +dollars. You know that. It’s because a man never gets anywhere +if fact and his ledgers dont square. And I’m not going to lie to +anybody, for myself or anybody else.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, then,” I says, “I reckon that conscience of yours is a +more valuable clerk than I am; it dont have to go home at noon +to eat. Only dont let it interfere with my appetite,” I says, because +how the hell can I do anything right, with that damn family and her +not making any effort to control her nor any of them, like that +time when she happened to see one of them kissing Caddy and all +next day she went around the house in a black dress and a veil +and even Father couldn’t get her to say a word except crying and +saying her little daughter was dead and Caddy about fifteen then +only in three years she’d been wearing haircloth or probably sandpaper +at that rate. Do you think I can afford to have her running +bout the streets with every drummer that comes to town, I says, +and them telling the new ones up and down the road where to +pick up a hot one when they made Jefferson. I haven’t got much +pride, I can’t afford it with a kitchen full of niggers to feed and +robbing the state asylum of its star freshman. Blood, I says, governors +and generals. It’s a damn good thing we never had any +kings and presidents; we’d all be down there at Jackson chasing +butterflies. I say it’d be bad enough if it was mine; I’d at least be +<span class='pageno' title='179' id='Page_179'></span> +sure it was a bastard to begin with, and now even the Lord doesn’t +know that for certain probably.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So after awhile I heard the band start up, and then they begun to +clear out. Headed for the show, every one of them. Haggling over +a twenty cent hame string to save fifteen cents, so they can give it +to a bunch of Yankees that come in and pay maybe ten dollars for +the privilege. I went on out to the back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I says, “If you dont look out, that bolt will grow into +your hand. And then I’m going to take an axe and chop it out. +What do you reckon the boll-weevils’ll eat if you dont get those +cultivators in shape to raise them a crop?” I says, “sage grass?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dem folks sho do play dem horns,” he says. “Tell me man +in dat show kin play a tune on a handsaw. Pick hit like a banjo.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Listen,” I says. “Do you know how much that show’ll spend in +this town? About ten dollars,” I says. “The ten dollars Buck Turpin +has in his pocket right now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut dey give Mr Buck ten dollars fer?” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“For the privilege of showing here,” I says. “You can put the +balance of what they’ll spend in your eye.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You mean dey pays ten dollars jest to give dey show here?” he +says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s all,” I says. “And how much do you reckon . . .”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Gret day,” he says, “You mean to tell me dey chargin um to let +um show here? I’d pay ten dollars to see dat man pick dat saw, ef I +had to. I figures dat tomorrow mawnin I be still owin um nine +dollars and six bits at dat rate.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And then a Yankee will talk your head off about niggers getting +ahead. Get them ahead, what I say. Get them so far ahead you cant +find one south of Louisville with a blood hound. Because when I +told him about how they’d pick up Saturday night and carry off at +least a thousand dollars out of the county, he says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t begrudge um. I kin sho afford my two bits.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Two bits hell,” I says. “That dont begin it. How about the +dime or fifteen cents you’ll spend for a damn two cent box of candy +or something. How about the time you’re wasting right now, listening +to that band.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s de troof,” he says. “Well, ef I lives twell night hit’s gwine +to be two bits mo dey takin out of town, dat’s sho.” +<span class='pageno' title='180' id='Page_180'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then you’re a fool,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he says, “I dont spute dat neither. Ef dat uz a crime, all +chain-gangs wouldn’t be black.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well, just about that time I happened to look up the alley and +saw her. When I stepped back and looked at my watch I didn’t +notice at the time who he was because I was looking at the watch. +It was just two thirty, forty-five minutes before anybody but me +expected her to be out. So when I looked around the door the first +thing I saw was the red tie he had on and I was thinking what the +hell kind of a man would wear a red tie. But she was sneaking +along the alley, watching the door, so I wasn’t thinking anything +about him until they had gone past. I was wondering if she’d have +so little respect for me that she’d not only play out of school when +I told her not to, but would walk right past the store, daring me +not to see her. Only she couldn’t see into the door because the sun +fell straight into it and it was like trying to see through an automobile +searchlight, so I stood there and watched her go on past, +with her face painted up like a damn clown’s and her hair all +gummed and twisted and a dress that if a woman had come out +doors even on Gayoso or Beale street when I was a young fellow +with no more than that to cover her legs and behind, she’d been +thrown in jail. I’ll be damned if they dont dress like they were trying +to make every man they passed on the street want to reach out +and clap his hand on it. And so I was thinking what kind of a +damn man would wear a red tie when all of a sudden I knew he was +one of those show folks well as if she’d told me. Well, I can stand +a lot; if I couldn’t, damn if I wouldn’t be in a hell of a fix, so when +they turned the corner I jumped down and followed. Me, without +any hat, in the middle of the afternoon, having to chase up and +down back alleys because of my mother’s good name. Like I +say you cant do anything with a woman like that, if she’s got it in +her. If it’s in her blood, you cant do anything with her. The only +thing you can do is to get rid of her, let her go on and live with her +own sort.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on to the street, but they were out of sight. And there I +was, without any hat, looking like I was crazy too. Like a man +would naturally think, one of them is crazy and another one +drowned himself and the other one was turned out into the street +<span class='pageno' title='181' id='Page_181'></span> +by her husband, what’s the reason the rest of them are not crazy too. +All the time I could see them watching me like a hawk, waiting for +a chance to say Well I’m not surprised I expected it all the time the +whole family’s crazy. Selling land to send him to Harvard and paying +taxes to support a state University all the time that I never saw +except twice at a baseball game and not letting her daughter’s +name be spoken on the place until after a while Father wouldn’t +even come down town anymore but just sat there all day with the +decanter I could see the bottom of his nightshirt and his bare legs +and hear the decanter clinking until finally T. P. had to pour it for +him and she says You have no respect for your Father’s memory +and I says I dont know why not it sure is preserved well enough to +last only if I’m crazy too God knows what I’ll do about it just to +look at water makes me sick and I’d just as soon swallow gasoline as +a glass of whiskey and Lorraine telling them he may not drink +but if you dont believe he’s a man I can tell you how to find out she +says If I catch you fooling with any of these whores you know what +I’ll do she says I’ll whip her grabbing at her I’ll whip her as long as +I can find her she says and I says if I dont drink that’s my business +but have you ever found me short I says I’ll buy you enough beer +to take a bath in if you want it because I’ve got every respect for a +good honest whore because with Mother’s health and the position I +try to uphold to have her with no more respect for what I try to +do for her than to make her name and my name and my Mother’s +name a byword in the town.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She had dodged out of sight somewhere. Saw me coming and +dodged into another alley, running up and down the alleys with a +damn show man in a red tie that everybody would look at and think +what kind of a damn man would wear a red tie. Well, the boy kept +speaking to me and so I took the telegram without knowing I had +taken it. I didn’t realise what it was until I was signing for it, +and I tore it open without even caring much what it was. I knew all +the time what it would be, I reckon. That was the only thing else +that could happen, especially holding it up until I had already had +the check entered on the pass book.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I dont see how a city no bigger than New York can hold enough +people to take the money away from us country suckers. Work like +hell all day every day, send them your money and get a little piece +<span class='pageno' title='182' id='Page_182'></span> +of paper back, Your account closed at 20.62. Teasing you along, +letting you pile up a little paper profit, then bang! Your account +closed at 20.62. And if that wasn’t enough, paying ten dollars a +month to somebody to tell you how to lose it fast, that either dont +know anything about it or is in cahoots with the telegraph company. +Well, I’m done with them. They’ve sucked me in for the last +time. Any fool except a fellow that hasn’t got any more sense than +to take a jew’s word for anything could tell the market was going up +all the time, with the whole damn delta about to be flooded again +and the cotton washed right out of the ground like it was last year. +Let it wash a man’s crop out of the ground year after year, and +them up there in Washington spending fifty thousand dollars a +day keeping an army in Nicaragua or some place. Of course it’ll +overflow again, and then cotton’ll be worth thirty cents a pound. +Well, I just want to hit them one time and get my money back. I +don’t want a killing; only these small town gamblers are out for +that, I just want my money back that these damn jews have gotten +with all their guaranteed inside dope. Then I’m through; they can +kiss my foot for every other red cent of mine they get.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went back to the store. It was half past three almost. Damn +little time to do anything in, but then I am used to that. I never had +to go to Harvard to learn that. The band had quit playing. Got them +all inside now, and they wouldn’t have to waste any more wind. Earl +says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He found you, did he? He was in here with it a while ago. I +thought you were out back somewhere.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “I got it. They couldn’t keep it away from me all +afternoon. The town’s too small. I’ve got to go out home a minute,” +I says. “You can dock me if it’ll make you feel any better.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go ahead,” he says, “I can handle it now. No bad news, I +hope.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll have to go to the telegraph office and find that out,” I +says. “They’ll have time to tell you. I haven’t.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just asked,” he says. “Your mother knows she can depend +on me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’ll appreciate it,” I says. “I wont be gone any longer than +I have to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take your time,” he says. “I can handle it now. You go ahead.” +<span class='pageno' title='183' id='Page_183'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>I got the car and went home. Once this morning, twice at noon, +and now again, with her and having to chase all over town and +having to beg them to let me eat a little of the food I am paying +for. Sometimes I think what’s the use of anything. With the precedent +I’ve been set I must be crazy to keep on. And now I reckon +I’ll get home just in time to take a nice long drive after a basket of +tomatoes or something and then have to go back to town smelling +like a camphor factory so my head wont explode right on my +shoulders. I keep telling her there’s not a damn thing in that aspirin +except flour and water for imaginary invalids. I says you dont +know what a headache is. I says you think I’d fool with that damn +car at all if it depended on me. I says I can get along without one +I’ve learned to get along without lots of things but if you want to +risk yourself in that old wornout surrey with a halfgrown nigger +boy all right because I says God looks after Ben’s kind, God knows +He ought to do something for him but if you think I’m going to +trust a thousand dollars’ worth of delicate machinery to a halfgrown +nigger or a grown one either, you’d better buy him one yourself +because I says you like to ride in the car and you know you do.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey said Mother was in the house. I went on into the hall +and listened, but I didn’t hear anything. I went up stairs, but just +as I passed her door she called me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just wanted to know who it was,” she says. “I’m here alone so +much that I hear every sound.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dont have to stay here,” I says. “You could spend the +whole day visiting like other women, if you wanted to.” She came +to the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought maybe you were sick,” she says. “Having to hurry +through your dinner like you did.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Better luck next time,” I says. “What do you want?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is anything wrong?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What could be?” I says. “Cant I come home in the middle of +the afternoon without upsetting the whole house?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have you seen Quentin?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’s in school,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s after three,” she says. “I heard the clock strike at least a +half an hour ago. She ought to be home by now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ought she?” I says. “When have you ever seen her before dark?” +<span class='pageno' title='184' id='Page_184'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She ought to be home,” she says. “When I was a girl . . .”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You had somebody to make you behave yourself,” I says. “She +hasn’t.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can’t do anything with her,” she says. “I’ve tried and I’ve +tried.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And you wont let me, for some reason,” I says, “So you ought +to be satisfied.” I went on to my room. I turned the key easy and +stood there until the knob turned. Then she says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just thought something was wrong.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not in here,” I says. “You’ve come to the wrong place.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont mean to worry you,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad to hear that,” I says. “I wasn’t sure. I thought I might +have been mistaken. Do you want anything?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After awhile she says, “No. Not any thing.” Then she went +away. I took the box down and counted out the money and hid the +box again and unlocked the door and went out. I thought about +the camphor, but it would be too late now, anyway. And I’d just +have one more round trip. She was at her door, waiting.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You want anything from town?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she says. “I dont mean to meddle in your affairs. But I +dont know what I’d do if anything happened to you, Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m all right,” I says. “Just a headache.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wish you’d take some aspirin,” she says. “I know you’re not +going to stop using the car.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s the car got to do with it?” I says. “How can a car give +a man a headache?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know gasoline always made you sick,” she says. “Ever +since you were a child. I wish you’d take some aspirin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep on wishing it,” I says. “It wont hurt you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I got in the car and started back to town. I had just turned onto +the street when I saw a ford coming helling toward me. All of +a sudden it stopped. I could hear the wheels sliding and it slewed +around and backed and whirled and just as I was thinking what +the hell they were up to, I saw that red tie. Then I recognised her +face looking back through the window. It whirled into the alley. +<span class='pageno' title='185' id='Page_185'></span> +I saw it turn again, but when I got to the back street it was just +disappearing, running like hell.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I saw red. When I recognised that red tie, after all I had told her, +I forgot about everything. I never thought about my head even until +I came to the first forks and had to stop. Yet we spend money and +spend money on roads and damn if it isn’t like trying to drive over +a sheet of corrugated iron roofing. I’d like to know how a man could +be expected to keep up with even a wheelbarrow. I think too much +of my car; I’m not going to hammer it to pieces like it was a ford. +Chances were they had stolen it, anyway, so why should they give +a damn. Like I say blood always tells. If you’ve got blood like that +in you, you’ll do anything. I says whatever claim you believe she +has on you has already been discharged; I says from now on you +have only yourself to blame because you know what any sensible +person would do. I says if I’ve got to spend half my time being a +damn detective, at least I’ll go where I can get paid for it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>So I had to stop there at the forks. Then I remembered it. It felt +like somebody was inside with a hammer, beating on it. I says I’ve +tried to keep you from being worried by her; I says far as I’m concerned, +let her go to hell as fast as she pleases and the sooner the +better. I says what else do you expect except every drummer and +cheap show that comes to town because even these town jellybeans +give her the go-by now. You dont know what goes on I says, you +dont hear the talk that I hear and you can just bet I shut them up +too. I says my people owned slaves here when you all were running +little shirt tail country stores and farming land no nigger would look +at on shares.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If they ever farmed it. It’s a good thing the Lord did something for +this country; the folks that live on it never have. Friday afternoon, +and from right here I could see three miles of land that hadn’t +even been broken, and every able bodied man in the county in +town at that show. I might have been a stranger starving to death, +and there wasn’t a soul in sight to ask which way to town even. And +she trying to get me to take aspirin. I says when I eat bread I’ll +do it at the table. I says you always talking about how much you +give up for us when you could buy ten new dresses a year on the +money you spend for those damn patent medicines. It’s not +something to cure it I need it’s just an even break not to have to +<span class='pageno' title='186' id='Page_186'></span> +have them but as long as I have to work ten hours a day to support +a kitchen full of niggers in the style they’re accustomed to and send +them to the show with every other nigger in the county, only he was +late already. By the time he got there it would be over.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After awhile he got up to the car and when I finally got it through +his head if two people in a ford had passed him, he said yes. So I +went on, and when I came to where the wagon road turned off I +could see the tire tracks. Ab Russell was in his lot, but I didn’t +bother to ask him and I hadn’t got out of sight of his barn hardly +when I saw the ford. They had tried to hide it. Done about as well +at it as she did at everything else she did. Like I say it’s not that I +object to so much; maybe she cant help that, it’s because she hasn’t +even got enough consideration for her own family to have any +discretion. I’m afraid all the time I’ll run into them right in the +middle of the street or under a wagon on the square, like a couple of +dogs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I parked and got out. And now I’d have to go way around and +cross a plowed field, the only one I had seen since I left town, with +every step like somebody was walking along behind me, hitting +me on the head with a club. I kept thinking that when I got across +the field at least I’d have something level to walk on, that wouldn’t +jolt me every step, but when I got into the woods it was full of underbrush +and I had to twist around through it, and then I came to +a ditch full of briers. I went along it for awhile, but it got thicker +and thicker, and all the time Earl probably telephoning home +about where I was and getting Mother all upset again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When I finally got through I had had to wind around so much +that I had to stop and figure out just where the car would be. I +knew they wouldn’t be far from it, just under the closest bush, so I +turned and worked back toward the road. Then I couldn’t tell +just how far I was, so I’d have to stop and listen, and then with my +legs not using so much blood, it all would go into my head like +it would explode any minute, and the sun getting down just to where +it could shine straight into my eyes and my ears ringing so I couldn’t +hear anything. I went on, trying to move quiet, then I heard a dog +or something and I knew that when he scented me he’d have to +come helling up, then it would be all off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I had gotten beggar lice and twigs and stuff all over me, inside +<span class='pageno' title='187' id='Page_187'></span> +my clothes and shoes and all, and then I happened to look around +and I had my hand right on a bunch of poison oak. The only +thing I couldn’t understand was why it was just poison oak and +not a snake or something. So I didn’t even bother to move it. I +just stood there until the dog went away. Then I went on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I didn’t have any idea where the car was now. I couldn’t think +about anything except my head, and I’d just stand in one place and +sort of wonder if I had really seen a ford even, and I didn’t +even care much whether I had or not. Like I say, let her lay out all +day and all night with everything in town that wears pants, what +do I care. I dont owe anything to anybody that has no more consideration +for me, that wouldn’t be a damn bit above planting that +ford there and making me spend a whole afternoon and Earl taking +her back there and showing her the books just because he’s too +damn virtuous for this world. I says you’ll have one hell of a time +in heaven, without anybody’s business to meddle in only dont you +ever let me catch you at it I says, I close my eyes to it because of +your grandmother, but just you let me catch you doing it one +time on this place, where my mother lives. These damn little slick +haired squirts, thinking they are raising so much hell, I’ll show them +something about hell I says, and you too. I’ll make him think that +damn red tie is the latch string to hell, if he thinks he can run the +woods with my niece.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>With the sun and all in my eyes and my blood going so I kept +thinking every time my head would go on and burst and get it over +with, with briers and things grabbing at me, then I came onto the +sand ditch where they had been and I recognised the tree where +the car was, and just as I got out of the ditch and started running I +heard the car start. It went off fast, blowing the horn. They kept on +blowing it, like it was saying Yah. Yah. Yaaahhhhhhhh, going out +of sight. I got to the road just in time to see it go out of sight.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>By the time I got up to where my car was, they were clean out of +sight, the horn still blowing. Well, I never thought anything about +it except I was saying Run. Run back to town. Run home and try +to convince Mother that I never saw you in that car. Try to make +her believe that I dont know who he was. Try to make her believe +that I didn’t miss ten feet of catching you in that ditch. Try to +make her believe you were standing up, too. +<span class='pageno' title='188' id='Page_188'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>It kept on saying Yahhhhh, Yahhhhh, Yaaahhhhhhhhh, getting +fainter and fainter. Then it quit, and I could hear a cow lowing up +at Russell’s barn. And still I never thought. I went up to the +door and opened it and raised my foot. I kind of thought then that +the car was leaning a little more than the slant of the road would +be, but I never found it out until I got in and started off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Well, I just sat there. It was getting on toward sundown, and +town was about five miles. They never even had guts enough to +puncture it, to jab a hole in it. They just let the air out. I just +stood there for awhile, thinking about that kitchen full of niggers +and not one of them had time to lift a tire onto the rack and screw +up a couple of bolts. It was kind of funny because even she couldn’t +have seen far enough ahead to take the pump out on purpose, +unless she thought about it while he was letting out the air maybe. +But what it probably was, was somebody took it out and gave it to +Ben to play with for a squirt gun because they’d take the whole car +to pieces if he wanted it and Dilsey says, Aint nobody teched yo +car. What we want to fool with hit fer? and I says You’re a nigger. +You’re lucky, do you know it? I says I’ll swap with you any day +because it takes a white man not to have anymore sense than to +worry about what a little slut of a girl does.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I walked up to Russell’s. He had a pump. That was just an oversight +on their part, I reckon. Only I still couldn’t believe she’d have +had the nerve to. I kept thinking that. I dont know why it is I cant +seem to learn that a woman’ll do anything. I kept thinking, Let’s +forget for awhile how I feel toward you and how you feel toward +me: I just wouldn’t do you this way. I wouldn’t do you this way no +matter what you had done to me. Because like I say blood is blood +and you cant get around it. It’s not playing a joke that any eight +year old boy could have thought of, it’s letting your own uncle be +laughed at by a man that would wear a red tie. They come into +town and call us all a bunch of hicks and think it’s too small to hold +them. Well he doesn’t know just how right he is. And her too. If +that’s the way she feels about it, she’d better keep right on going +and a damn good riddance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I stopped and returned Russell’s pump and drove on to town. I +went to the drugstore and got a coca-cola and then I went to the +telegraph office. It had closed at 12.21, forty points down. Forty +<span class='pageno' title='189' id='Page_189'></span> +times five dollars; buy something with that if you can, and she’ll +say, I’ve got to have it I’ve just got to and I’ll say that’s too bad +you’ll have to try somebody else, I haven’t got any money; I’ve +been too busy to make any.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I just looked at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you some news,” I says, “You’ll be astonished to learn +that I am interested in the cotton market,” I says. “That never +occurred to you, did it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I did my best to deliver it,” he says. “I tried the store twice and +called up your house, but they didn’t know where you were,” he +says, digging in the drawer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Deliver what?” I says. He handed me a telegram. “What time +did this come?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“About half past three,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And now it’s ten minutes past five,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I tried to deliver it,” he says. “I couldn’t find you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s not my fault, is it?” I says. I opened it, just to see what +kind of a lie they’d tell me this time. They must be in one hell of a +shape if they’ve got to come all the way to Mississippi to steal ten +dollars a month. Sell, it says. The market will be unstable, with +a general downward tendency. Do not be alarmed following +government report.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How much would a message like this cost?” I says. He told +me.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They paid it,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then I owe them that much,” I says. “I already knew this. +Send this collect,” I says, taking a blank. Buy, I wrote, Market +just on point of blowing its head off. Occasional flurries for purpose +of hooking a few more country suckers who haven’t got in to the +telegraph office yet. Do not be alarmed. “Send that collect,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He looked at the message, then he looked at the clock. “Market +closed an hour ago,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I says, “That’s not my fault either. I didn’t invent it; I +just bought a little of it while under the impression that the telegraph +company would keep me informed as to what it was doing.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“A report is posted whenever it comes in,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “And in Memphis they have it on a blackboard +<span class='pageno' title='190' id='Page_190'></span> +every ten seconds,” I says. “I was within sixty-seven miles of there +once this afternoon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He looked at the message. “You want to send this?” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I still haven’t changed my mind,” I says. I wrote the other one +out and counted the money. “And this one too, if you’re sure you +can spell b-u-y.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went back to the store. I could hear the band from down the +street. Prohibition’s a fine thing. Used to be they’d come in Saturday +with just one pair of shoes in the family and him wearing them, +and they’d go down to the express office and get his package; now +they all go to the show barefooted, with the merchants in the door +like a row of tigers or something in a cage, watching them pass. Earl +says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hope it wasn’t anything serious.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What?” I says. He looked at his watch. Then he went to the +door and looked at the courthouse clock. “You ought to have a +dollar watch,” I says. “It wont cost you so much to believe it’s +lying each time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What?” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing,” I says. “Hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We were not busy much,” he says. “They all went to the show. +It’s all right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If it’s not all right,” I says, “You know what you can do about +it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I said it was all right,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I heard you,” I says. “And if it’s not all right, you know what +you can do about it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you want to quit?” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s not my business,” I says. “My wishes dont matter. But +dont get the idea that you are protecting me by keeping me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d be a good business man if you’d let yourself, Jason,” +he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“At least I can tend to my own business and let other peoples’ +alone,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know why you are trying to make me fire you,” he says. +“You know you could quit anytime and there wouldn’t be any +hard feelings between us.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Maybe that’s why I dont quit,” I says. “As long as I tend to my +<span class='pageno' title='191' id='Page_191'></span> +job, that’s what you are paying me for.” I went on to the back and +got a drink of water and went on out to the back door. Job had the +cultivators all set up at last. It was quiet there, and pretty soon my +head got a little easier. I could hear them singing now, and then +the band played again. Well, let them get every quarter and dime +in the county; it was no skin off my back. I’ve done what I could; +a man that can live as long as I have and not know when to quit is a +fool. Especially as it’s no business of mine. If it was my own daughter +now it would be different, because she wouldn’t have time to; +she’d have to work some to feed a few invalids and idiots and +niggers, because how could I have the face to bring anybody there. +I’ve too much respect for anybody to do that. I’m a man, I can +stand it, it’s my own flesh and blood and I’d like to see the colour of +the man’s eyes that would speak disrespectful of any woman that +was my friend it’s these damn good women that do it I’d like to see +the good, church-going woman that’s half as square as Lorraine, +whore or no whore. Like I say if I was to get married you’d go +up like a balloon and you know it and she says I want you to be +happy to have a family of your own not to slave your life away for +us. But I’ll be gone soon and then you can take a wife but you’ll +never find a woman who is worthy of you and I says yes I could. +You’d get right up out of your grave you know you would. I says +no thank you I have all the women I can take care of now if I +married a wife she’d probably turn out to be a hophead or something. +That’s all we lack in this family, I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The sun was down beyond the Methodist church now, and the +pigeons were flying back and forth around the steeple, and when +the band stopped I could hear them cooing. It hadn’t been four +months since Christmas, and yet they were almost as thick as ever. +I reckon Parson Walthall was getting a belly full of them now. +You’d have thought we were shooting people, with him making +speeches and even holding onto a man’s gun when they came +over. Talking about peace on earth good will toward all and not a +sparrow can fall to earth. But what does he care how thick they +get, he hasn’t got anything to do; what does he care what time it is. +He pays no taxes, he doesn’t have to see his money going every +year to have the courthouse clock cleaned to where it’ll run. +They had to pay a man forty-five dollars to clean it. I counted +<span class='pageno' title='192' id='Page_192'></span> +over a hundred half-hatched pigeons on the ground. You’d think +they’d have sense enough to leave town. It’s a good thing I dont +have any more ties than a pigeon, I’ll say that.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The band was playing again, a loud fast tune, like they were +breaking up. I reckon they’d be satisfied now. Maybe they’d have +enough music to entertain them while they drove fourteen or fifteen +miles home and unharnessed in the dark and fed the stock +and milked. All they’d have to do would be to whistle the music and +tell the jokes to the live stock in the barn, and then they could +count up how much they’d made by not taking the stock to the +show too. They could figure that if a man had five children and +seven mules, he cleared a quarter by taking his family to the show. +Just like that. Earl came back with a couple of packages.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here’s some more stuff going out,” he says. “Where’s Uncle +Job?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Gone to the show, I imagine,” I says. “Unless you watched +him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He doesn’t slip off,” he says. “I can depend on him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Meaning me by that,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He went to the door and looked out, listening.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s a good band,” he says. “It’s about time they were breaking +up, I’d say.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Unless they’re going to spend the night there,” I says. The +swallows had begun, and I could hear the sparrows beginning to +swarm in the trees in the courthouse yard. Every once in a while +a bunch of them would come swirling around in sight above the +roof, then go away. They are as big a nuisance as the pigeons, to +my notion. You cant even sit in the courthouse yard for them. +First thing you know, bing. Right on your hat. But it would take +a millionaire to afford to shoot them at five cents a shot. If they’d +just put a little poison out there in the square, they’d get rid of +them in a day, because if a merchant cant keep his stock from +running around the square, he’d better try to deal in something +besides chickens, something that dont eat, like plows or onions. +And if a man dont keep his dogs up, he either dont want it or he +hasn’t any business with one. Like I say if all the businesses in +a town are run like country businesses, you’re going to have a +country town. +<span class='pageno' title='193' id='Page_193'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It wont do you any good if they have broke up,” I says. “They’ll +have to hitch up and take out to get home by midnight as it is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he says, “They enjoy it. Let them spend a little money +on a show now and then. A hill farmer works pretty hard and gets +mighty little for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There’s no law making them farm in the hills,” I says, “Or +anywhere else.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where would you and me be, if it wasn’t for the farmers?” he +says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’d be home right now,” I says, “Lying down, with an ice pack +on my head.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You have these headaches too often,” he says. “Why dont you +have your teeth examined good? Did he go over them all this +morning?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did who?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You said you went to the dentist this morning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you object to my having the headache on your time?” I +says. “Is that it?” They were crossing the alley now, coming up +from the show.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There they come,” he says. “I reckon I better get up front.” +He went on. It’s a curious thing how no matter what’s wrong with +you, a man’ll tell you to have your teeth examined and a woman’ll +tell you to get married. It always takes a man that never made +much at any thing to tell you how to run your business, though. +Like these college professors without a whole pair of socks to their +name, telling you how to make a million in ten years, and a woman +that couldn’t even get a husband can always tell you how to raise a +family.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Old man Job came up with the wagon. After a while he got +through wrapping the lines around the whip socket.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” I says, “Was it a good show?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint been yit,” he says. “But I kin be arrested in dat tent +tonight, dough.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Like hell you haven’t,” I says. “You’ve been away from here +since three oclock. Mr Earl was just back here looking for you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I been tendin to my business,” he says. “Mr Earl knows whar +I been.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You may can fool him,” I says. “I wont tell on you.” +<span class='pageno' title='194' id='Page_194'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den he’s de onliest man here I’d try to fool,” he says. “Whut +I want to waste my time foolin a man whut I dont keer whether +I sees him Sat’dy night er not? I wont try to fool you,” he says. +“You too smart fer me. Yes, suh,” he says, looking busy as hell, +putting five or six little packages into the wagon, “You’s too smart +fer me. Aint a man in dis town kin keep up wid you fer smartness. +You fools a man whut so smart he cant even keep up wid hisself,” +he says, getting in the wagon and unwrapping the reins.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who’s that?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s Mr Jason Compson,” he says. “Git up dar, Dan!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>One of the wheels was just about to come off. I watched to +see if he’d get out of the alley before it did. Just turn any vehicle +over to a nigger, though. I says that old rattletrap’s just an eyesore, +yet you’ll keep it standing there in the carriage house a hundred +years just so that boy can ride to the cemetery once a week. I says +he’s not the first fellow that’ll have to do things he doesn’t want to. +I’d make him ride in that car like a civilised man or stay at home. +What does he know about where he goes or what he goes in, and +us keeping a carriage and a horse so he can take a ride on Sunday +afternoon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A lot Job cared whether the wheel came off or not, long as he +wouldn’t have too far to walk back. Like I say the only place for +them is in the field, where they’d have to work from sunup to sundown. +They cant stand prosperity or an easy job. Let one stay +around white people for a while and he’s not worth killing. They +get so they can outguess you about work before your very eyes, +like Roskus the only mistake he ever made was he got careless one +day and died. Shirking and stealing and giving you a little more lip +and a little more lip until some day you have to lay them out with a +scantling or something. Well, it’s Earl’s business. But I’d hate to +have my business advertised over this town by an old doddering +nigger and a wagon that you thought every time it turned a corner +it would come all to pieces.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The sun was all high up in the air now, and inside it was beginning +to get dark. I went up front. The square was empty. Earl was +back closing the safe, and then the clock begun to strike.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You lock the back door,” he says. I went back and locked it +<span class='pageno' title='195' id='Page_195'></span> +and came back. “I suppose you’re going to the show tonight,” he +says. “I gave you those passes yesterday, didn’t I?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I said. “You want them back?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, no,” he says, “I just forgot whether I gave them to you or +not. No sense in wasting them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He locked the door and said Goodnight and went on. The sparrows +were still rattling away in the trees, but the square was empty +except for a few cars. There was a ford in front of the drugstore, +but I didn’t even look at it. I know when I’ve had enough of anything. +I dont mind trying to help her, but I know when I’ve had +enough. I guess I could teach Luster to drive it, then they could +chase her all day long if they wanted to, and I could stay home and +play with Ben.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went in and got a couple of cigars. Then I thought I’d have +another headache shot for luck, and I stood and talked with +them awhile.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” Mac says, “I reckon you’ve got your money on the +Yankees this year.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What for?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The Pennant,” he says. “Not anything in the League can beat +them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Like hell there’s not,” I says. “They’re shot,” I says. “You +think a team can be that lucky forever?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont call it luck,” Mac says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t bet on any team that fellow Ruth played on,” I +says. “Even if I knew it was going to win.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes?” Mac says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can name you a dozen men in either League who’re more +valuable than he is,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What have you got against Ruth?” Mac says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing,” I says. “I haven’t got any thing against him. I dont +even like to look at his picture.” I went on out. The lights were +coming on, and people going along the streets toward home. Sometimes +the sparrows never got still until full dark. The night they +turned on the new lights around the courthouse it waked them up +and they were flying around and blundering into the lights all night +long. They kept it up two or three nights, then one morning they +<span class='pageno' title='196' id='Page_196'></span> +were all gone. Then after about two months they all came back +again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I drove on home. There were no lights in the house yet, but +they’d all be looking out the windows, and Dilsey jawing away in +the kitchen like it was her own food she was having to keep hot +until I got there. You’d think to hear her that there wasn’t but one +supper in the world, and that was the one she had to keep back a +few minutes on my account. Well at least I could come home +one time without finding Ben and that nigger hanging on the gate +like a bear and a monkey in the same cage. Just let it come toward +sundown and he’d head for the gate like a cow for the barn, +hanging onto it and bobbing his head and sort of moaning to himself. +That’s a hog for punishment for you. If what had happened +to him for fooling with open gates had happened to me, I never +would want to see another one. I often wondered what he’d be +thinking about, down there at the gate, watching the girls going +home from school, trying to want something he couldn’t even +remember he didn’t and couldn’t want any longer. And what he’d +think when they’d be undressing him and he’d happen to take a +look at himself and begin to cry like he’d do. But like I say +they never did enough of that. I says I know what you need, you +need what they did to Ben then you’d behave. And if you dont +know what that was I says, ask Dilsey to tell you.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a light in Mother’s room. I put the car up and went +on into the kitchen. Luster and Ben were there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’s Dilsey?” I says. “Putting supper on?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She upstairs wid Miss Cahline,” Luster says. “Dey been goin +hit. Ever since Miss Quentin come home. Mammy up there +keepin um fum fightin. Is dat show come, Mr Jason?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought I heard de band,” he says. “Wish I could go,” he +says. “I could ef I jes had a quarter.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey came in. “You come, is you?” she says. “Whut you been +up to dis evenin? You knows how much work I got to do; whyn’t +you git here on time?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Maybe I went to the show,” I says. “Is supper ready?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wish I could go,” Luster said. “I could ef I jes had a quarter.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You aint got no business at no show,” Dilsey says. “You go +<span class='pageno' title='197' id='Page_197'></span> +on in de house and set down,” she says. “Dont you go up stairs and +git um started again, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin come in a while ago and says you been follerin her +around all evenin and den Miss Cahline jumped on her. Whyn’t +you let her alone? Cant you live in de same house wid you own +blood niece widout quoilin?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant quarrel with her,” I says, “because I haven’t seen her +since this morning. What does she say I’ve done now? made her +go to school? That’s pretty bad,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, you tend to yo business and let her alone,” Dilsey says, +“I’ll take keer of her ef you’n Miss Cahline’ll let me. Go on in dar +now and behave yoself twell I get supper on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ef I jes had a quarter,” Luster says, “I could go to dat show.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En ef you had wings you could fly to heaven,” Dilsey says. “I +dont want to hear another word about dat show.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That reminds me,” I says, “I’ve got a couple of tickets they +gave me.” I took them out of my coat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You fixin to use um?” Luster says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not me,” I says. “I wouldn’t go to it for ten dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Gimme one of um, Mr Jason,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll sell you one,” I says. “How about it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint got no money,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s too bad,” I says. I made to go out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Gimme one of um, Mr Jason,” he says. “You aint gwine need +um bofe.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush yo mouf,” Dilsey says, “Dont you know he aint gwine +give nothing away?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How much you want fer hit?” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Five cents,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint got dat much,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How much you got?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint got nothing,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says. I went on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mr Jason,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you hush up?” Dilsey says. “He jes teasin you. He +fixin to use dem tickets hisself. Go on, Jason, and let him lone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont want them,” I says. I came back to the stove. “I came +<span class='pageno' title='198' id='Page_198'></span> +in here to burn them up. But if you want to buy one for a nickel?” +I says, looking at him and opening the stove lid.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint got dat much,” he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says. I dropped one of them in the stove.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Jason,” Dilsey says, “Aint you shamed?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mr Jason,” he says, “Please, suh. I’ll fix dem tires ev’ry day +fer a mont’.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I need the cash,” I says. “You can have it for a nickel.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Luster,” Dilsey says. She jerked him back. “Go on,” +she says, “Drop hit in. Go on. Git hit over with.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You can have it for a nickel,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go on,” Dilsey says. “He aint got no nickel. Go on. Drop hit +in.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says. I dropped it in and Dilsey shut the stove.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“A big growed man like you,” she says. “Git on outen my +kitchen. Hush,” she says to Luster. “Dont you git Benjy started. +I’ll git you a quarter fum Frony tonight and you kin go tomorrow +night. Hush up, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went on into the living room. I couldn’t hear anything from +upstairs. I opened the paper. After awhile Ben and Luster came +in. Ben went to the dark place on the wall where the mirror used +to be, rubbing his hands on it and slobbering and moaning. Luster +begun punching at the fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’re you doing?” I says. “We dont need any fire tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I trying to keep him quiet,” he says. “Hit always cold Easter,” +he says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Only this is not Easter,” I says. “Let it alone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He put the poker back and got the cushion out of Mother’s +chair and gave it to Ben, and he hunkered down in front of the +fireplace and got quiet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I read the paper. There hadn’t been a sound from upstairs when +Dilsey came in and sent Ben and Luster on to the kitchen and said +supper was ready.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says. She went out. I sat there, reading the paper. +After a while I heard Dilsey looking in at the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you come on and eat?” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m waiting for supper,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit’s on the table,” she says. “I done told you.” +<span class='pageno' title='199' id='Page_199'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is it?” I says. “Excuse me. I didn’t hear anybody come down.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They aint comin,” she says. “You come on and eat, so I can +take something up to them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are they sick?” I says. “What did the doctor say it was? Not +Smallpox, I hope.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on here, Jason,” she says, “So I kin git done.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says, raising the paper again. “I’m waiting for +supper now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I could feel her watching me at the door. I read the paper.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut you want to act like this fer?” she says. “When you knows +how much bother I has anyway.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If Mother is any sicker than she was when she came down to +dinner, all right,” I says. “But as long as I am buying food for +people younger than I am, they’ll have to come down to the table +to eat it. Let me know when supper’s ready,” I says, reading the +paper again. I heard her climbing the stairs, dragging her feet and +grunting and groaning like they were straight up and three feet +apart. I heard her at Mother’s door, then I heard her calling +Quentin, like the door was locked, then she went back to Mother’s +room and then Mother went and talked to Quentin. Then they +came down stairs. I read the paper.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey came back to the door. “Come on,” she says, “fo you kin +think up some mo devilment. You just tryin yoself tonight.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I went to the diningroom. Quentin was sitting with her head +bent. She had painted her face again. Her nose looked like a porcelain +insulator.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad you feel well enough to come down,” I says to Mother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s little enough I can do for you, to come to the table,” she +says. “No matter how I feel. I realise that when a man works all +day he likes to be surrounded by his family at the supper table. I +want to please you. I only wish you and Quentin got along better. +It would be easier for me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We get along all right,” I says. “I dont mind her staying +locked up in her room all day if she wants to. But I cant have all +this whoop-de-do and sulking at mealtimes. I know that’s a lot to +ask her, but I’m that way in my own house. Your house, I meant +to say.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s yours,” Mother says, “You are the head of it now.” +<span class='pageno' title='200' id='Page_200'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin hadn’t looked up. I helped the plates and she begun to +eat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you get a good piece of meat?” I says. “If you didn’t, I’ll +try to find you a better one.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She didn’t say anything.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I say, did you get a good piece of meat?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What?” she says. “Yes. It’s all right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you have some more rice?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Better let me give you some more,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont want any more,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not at all,” I says, “You’re welcome.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is your headache gone?” Mother says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Headache?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I was afraid you were developing one,” she says. “When you +came in this afternoon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” I says. “No, it didn’t show up. We stayed so busy this +afternoon I forgot about it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Was that why you were late?” Mother says. I could see Quentin +listening. I looked at her. Her knife and fork were still going, +but I caught her looking at me, then she looked at her plate again. +I says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No. I loaned my car to a fellow about three o’clock and I had +to wait until he got back with it.” I ate for a while.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who was it?” Mother says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was one of those show men,” I says. “It seems his sister’s +husband was out riding with some town woman, and he was +chasing them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin sat perfectly still, chewing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You ought not to lend your car to people like that,” Mother +says. “You are too generous with it. That’s why I never call on you +for it if I can help it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I was beginning to think that myself, for awhile,” I says. +“But he got back, all right. He says he found what he was looking +for.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who was the woman?” Mother says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you later,” I says. “I dont like to talk about such things +before Quentin.” +<span class='pageno' title='201' id='Page_201'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>Quentin had quit eating. Every once in a while she’d take a drink +of water, then she’d sit there crumbling a biscuit up, her face bent +over her plate.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” Mother says, “I suppose women who stay shut up like I +do have no idea what goes on in this town.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “They dont.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My life has been so different from that,” Mother says. “Thank +God I dont know about such wickedness. I dont even want to +know about it. I’m not like most people.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I didn’t say any more. Quentin sat there, crumbling the biscuit +until I quit eating, then she says,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Can I go now?” without looking at anybody.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What?” I says. “Sure, you can go. Were you waiting on us?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She looked at me. She had crumbled all the biscuit, but her hands +still went on like they were crumbling it yet and her eyes looked +like they were cornered or something and then she started biting +her mouth like it ought to have poisoned her, with all that red lead.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Grandmother,” she says, “Grandmother—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you want something else to eat?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why does he treat me like this, Grandmother?” she says. “I +never hurt him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I want you all to get along with one another,” Mother says, +“You are all that’s left now, and I do want you all to get along +better.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s his fault,” she says, “He wont let me alone, and I have to. +If he doesn’t want me here, why wont he let me go back to—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s enough,” I says, “Not another word.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then why wont he let me alone?” she says. “He—he just—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He is the nearest thing to a father you’ve ever had,” Mother +says. “It’s his bread you and I eat. It’s only right that he should expect +obedience from you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s his fault,” she says. She jumped up. “He makes me do it. +If he would just—” she looked at us, her eyes cornered, kind of +jerking her arms against her sides.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I would just what?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whatever I do, it’s your fault,” she says. “If I’m bad, it’s because +I had to be. You made me. I wish I was dead. I wish we were +<span class='pageno' title='202' id='Page_202'></span> +all dead.” Then she ran. We heard her run up the stairs. Then a +door slammed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s the first sensible thing she ever said,” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She didn’t go to school today,” Mother says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How do you know?” I says. “Were you down town?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I just know,” she says. “I wish you could be kinder to her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I did that I’d have to arrange to see her more than once a +day,” I says. “You’ll have to make her come to the table every +meal. Then I could give her an extra piece of meat every time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There are little things you could do,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Like not paying any attention when you ask me to see that she +goes to school?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She didn’t go to school today,” she says. “I just know she didn’t. +She says she went for a car ride with one of the boys this afternoon +and you followed her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How could I,” I says, “When somebody had my car all afternoon? +Whether or not she was in school today is already past,” +I says, “If you’ve got to worry about it, worry about next Monday.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wanted you and she to get along with one another,” she says. +“But she has inherited all of the headstrong traits. Quentin’s too. +I thought at the time, with the heritage she would already have, +to give her that name, too. Sometimes I think she is the judgment +of Caddy and Quentin upon me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Good Lord,” I says, “You’ve got a fine mind. No wonder you +kept yourself sick all the time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What?” she says. “I dont understand.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hope not,” I says. “A good woman misses a lot she’s better +off without knowing.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They were both that way,” she says, “They would make interest +with your father against me when I tried to correct them. +He was always saying they didn’t need controlling, that they already +knew what cleanliness and honesty were, which was all that +anyone could hope to be taught. And now I hope he’s satisfied.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got Ben to depend on,” I says, “Cheer up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They deliberately shut me out of their lives,” she says, “It +was always her and Quentin. They were always conspiring against +me. Against you too, though you were too young to realise it. +They always looked on you and me as outsiders, like they did your +<span class='pageno' title='203' id='Page_203'></span> +Uncle Maury. I always told your father that they were allowed +too much freedom, to be together too much. When Quentin started +to school we had to let her go the next year, so she could be with +him. She couldn’t bear for any of you to do anything she couldn’t. +It was vanity in her, vanity and false pride. And then when her +troubles began I knew that Quentin would feel that he had to do +something just as bad. But I didn’t believe that he would have +been so selfish as to—I didn’t dream that he—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Maybe he knew it was going to be a girl,” I says, “And that +one more of them would be more than he could stand.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He could have controlled her,” she says. “He seemed to +be the only person she had any consideration for. But that is a +part of the judgment too, I suppose.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I says, “Too bad it wasn’t me instead of him. You’d +be a lot better off.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You say things like that to hurt me,” she says. “I deserve it +though. When they began to sell the land to send Quentin to Harvard +I told your father that he must make an equal provision for +you. Then when Herbert offered to take you into the bank I said, +Jason is provided for now, and when all the expense began to +pile up and I was forced to sell our furniture and the rest of the +pasture, I wrote her at once because I said she will realise that she +and Quentin have had their share and part of Jason’s too and that +it depends on her now to compensate him. I said she will do that +out of respect for her father. I believed that, then. But I’m just a +poor old woman; I was raised to believe that people would deny +themselves for their own flesh and blood. It’s my fault. You were +right to reproach me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think I need any man’s help to stand on my feet?” I +says, “Let alone a woman that cant name the father of her own +child.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” I says. “I didn’t mean that. Of course not.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I believed that were possible, after all my suffering.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course it’s not,” I says. “I didn’t mean it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hope that at least is spared me,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure it is,” I says, “She’s too much like both of them to doubt +that.” +<span class='pageno' title='204' id='Page_204'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t bear that,” she says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then quit thinking about it,” I says. “Has she been worrying +you any more about getting out at night?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No. I made her realise that it was for her own good and that +she’d thank me for it some day. She takes her books with her and +studies after I lock the door. I see the light on as late as eleven +oclock some nights.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How do you know she’s studying?” I says.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know what else she’d do in there alone,” she says. +“She never did read any.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” I says, “You wouldn’t know. And you can thank your +stars for that,” I says. Only what would be the use in saying it +aloud. It would just have her crying on me again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I heard her go up stairs. Then she called Quentin and Quentin +says What? through the door. “Goodnight,” Mother says. Then I +heard the key in the lock, and Mother went back to her room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When I finished my cigar and went up, the light was still on. I +could see the empty keyhole, but I couldn’t hear a sound. She +studied quiet. Maybe she learned that in school. I told Mother +goodnight and went on to my room and got the box out and +counted it again. I could hear the Great American Gelding snoring +away like a planing mill. I read somewhere they’d fix men +that way to give them women’s voices. But maybe he didn’t know +what they’d done to him. I dont reckon he even knew what he +had been trying to do, or why Mr Burgess knocked him out with +the fence picket. And if they’d just sent him on to Jackson while +he was under the ether, he’d never have known the difference. But +that would have been too simple for a Compson to think of. Not +half complex enough. Having to wait to do it at all until he broke +out and tried to run a little girl down on the street with her own +father looking at him. Well, like I say they never started soon +enough with their cutting, and they quit too quick. I know at least +two more that needed something like that, and one of them not +over a mile away, either. But then I dont reckon even that would +do any good. Like I say once a bitch always a bitch. And just +let me have twenty-four hours without any damn New York jew +to advise me what it’s going to do. I dont want to make a killing; +<span class='pageno' title='205' id='Page_205'></span> +save that to suck in the smart gamblers with. I just want an even +chance to get my money back. And once I’ve done that they can +bring all Beale Street and all bedlam in here and two of them can +sleep in my bed and another one can have my place at the table +too. +<span class='pageno' title='206' id='Page_206'></span></p> + +<h1 id='t10614'>APRIL EIGHTH, 1928</h1> + +<p class='noindent'>The day dawned bleak and chill, a moving wall of grey light out +of the northeast which, instead of dissolving into moisture, seemed +to disintegrate into minute and venomous particles, like dust that, +when Dilsey opened the door of the cabin and emerged, needled +laterally into her flesh, precipitating not so much a moisture as a +substance partaking of the quality of thin, not quite congealed oil. +She wore a stiff black straw hat perched upon her turban, and a +maroon velvet cape with a border of mangy and anonymous fur +above a dress of purple silk, and she stood in the door for awhile +with her myriad and sunken face lifted to the weather, and one +gaunt hand flac-soled as the belly of a fish, then she moved the +cape aside and examined the bosom of her gown.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The gown fell gauntly from her shoulders, across her fallen +breasts, then tightened upon her paunch and fell again, ballooning +a little above the nether garments which she would remove layer by +layer as the spring accomplished and the warm days, in colour +regal and moribund. She had been a big woman once but now +her skeleton rose, draped loosely in unpadded skin that tightened +again upon a paunch almost dropsical, as though muscle and tissue +had been courage or fortitude which the days or the years had +consumed until only the indomitable skeleton was left rising like a +ruin or a landmark above the somnolent and impervious guts, and +above that the collapsed face that gave the impression of the bones +themselves being outside the flesh, lifted into the driving day with +<span class='pageno' title='207' id='Page_207'></span> +an expression at once fatalistic and of a child’s astonished disappointment, +until she turned and entered the house again and closed +the door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The earth immediately about the door was bare. It had a patina, +as though from the soles of bare feet in generations, like old silver +or the walls of Mexican houses which have been plastered by hand. +Beside the house, shading it in summer, stood three mulberry +trees, the fledged leaves that would later be broad and placid as +the palms of hands streaming flatly undulant upon the driving air. +A pair of jaybirds came up from nowhere, whirled up on the blast +like gaudy scraps of cloth or paper and lodged in the mulberries, +where they swung in raucous tilt and recover, screaming into the +wind that ripped their harsh cries onward and away like scraps of +paper or of cloth in turn. Then three more joined them and they +swung and tilted in the wrung branches for a time, screaming. +The door of the cabin opened and Dilsey emerged once more, +this time in a man’s felt hat and an army overcoat, beneath the +frayed skirts of which her blue gingham dress fell in uneven balloonings, +streaming too about her as she crossed the yard and +mounted the steps to the kitchen door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A moment later she emerged, carrying an open umbrella now, +which she slanted ahead into the wind, and crossed to the woodpile +and laid the umbrella down, still open. Immediately she caught +at it and arrested it and held to it for a while, looking about her. +Then she closed it and laid it down and stacked stovewood into +her crooked arm, against her breast, and picked up the umbrella +and got it open at last and returned to the steps and held the wood +precariously balanced while she contrived to close the umbrella, +which she propped in the corner just within the door. She dumped +the wood into the box behind the stove. Then she removed the +overcoat and hat and took a soiled apron down from the wall and +put it on and built a fire in the stove. While she was doing so, rattling +the grate bars and clattering the lids, Mrs Compson began to +call her from the head of the stairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She wore a dressing gown of quilted black satin, holding it +close under her chin. In the other hand she held a red rubber hot +water bottle and she stood at the head of the back stairway, calling +“Dilsey” at steady and inflectionless intervals into the quiet +<span class='pageno' title='208' id='Page_208'></span> +stairwell that descended into complete darkness, then opened again +where a grey window fell across it. “Dilsey,” she called, without +inflection or emphasis or haste, as though she were not listening for +a reply at all. “Dilsey.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey answered and ceased clattering the stove, but before she +could cross the kitchen Mrs Compson called her again, and before +she crossed the diningroom and brought her head into relief against +the grey splash of the window, still again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” Dilsey said, “All right, here I is. I’ll fill hit soon ez +I git some hot water.” She gathered up her skirts and mounted +the stairs, wholly blotting the grey light. “Put hit down dar en g’awn +back to bed.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t understand what was the matter,” Mrs Compson +said. “I’ve been lying awake for an hour at least, without hearing +a sound from the kitchen.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You put hit down and g’awn back to bed,” Dilsey said. She +toiled painfully up the steps, shapeless, breathing heavily. “I’ll +have de fire gwine in a minute, en de water hot in two mo.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been lying there for an hour, at least,” Mrs Compson said. +“I thought maybe you were waiting for me to come down and +start the fire.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey reached the top of the stairs and took the water bottle. +“I’ll fix hit in a minute,” she said. “Luster overslep dis mawnin, up +half de night at dat show. I gwine build de fire myself. Go on +now, so you wont wake de others twell I ready.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you permit Luster to do things that interfere with his work, +you’ll have to suffer for it yourself,” Mrs Compson said. “Jason +wont like this if he hears about it. You know he wont.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Twusn’t none of Jason’s money he went on,” Dilsey said. +“Dat’s one thing sho.” She went on down the stairs. Mrs Compson +returned to her room. As she got into bed again she could hear +Dilsey yet descending the stairs with a sort of painful and terrific +slowness that would have become maddening had it not presently +ceased beyond the flapping diminishment of the pantry door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She entered the kitchen and built up the fire and began to prepare +breakfast. In the midst of this she ceased and went to the window +and looked out toward her cabin, then she went to the door +and opened it and shouted into the driving weather. +<span class='pageno' title='209' id='Page_209'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Luster!” she shouted, standing to listen, tilting her face from +the wind, “You, Luster?” She listened, then as she prepared to +shout again Luster appeared around the corner of the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ma’am?” he said innocently, so innocently that Dilsey looked +down at him, for a moment motionless, with something more than +mere surprise.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whar you at?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nowhere,” he said. “Jes in de cellar.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut you doin in de cellar?” she said. “Dont stand dar in de +rain, fool,” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint doin nothin,” he said. He came up the steps.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you dare come in dis do widout a armful of wood,” she +said. “Here I done had to tote yo wood en build yo fire bofe. Didn’t +I tole you not to leave dis place last night befo dat woodbox wus +full to de top?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I did,” Luster said, “I filled hit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whar hit gone to, den?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know’m. I aint teched hit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, you git hit full up now,” she said. “And git on up den en +see bout Benjy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She shut the door. Luster went to the woodpile. The five jaybirds +whirled over the house, screaming, and into the mulberries again. +He watched them. He picked up a rock and threw it. “Whoo,” he +said, “Git on back to hell, whar you belong at. ’Taint Monday yit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He loaded himself mountainously with stove wood. He could +not see over it, and he staggered to the steps and up them and +blundered crashing against the door, shedding billets. Then Dilsey +came and opened the door for him and he blundered across the +kitchen. “You, Luster!” she shouted, but he had already hurled +the wood into the box with a thunderous crash. “Hah!” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is you tryin to wake up de whole house?” Dilsey said. She hit +him on the back of his head with the flat of her hand. “Go on +up dar and git Benjy dressed, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” he said. He went toward the outer door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whar you gwine?” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought I better go round de house en in by de front, so I +wont wake up Miss Cahline en dem.” +<span class='pageno' title='210' id='Page_210'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You go on up dem backstairs like I tole you en git Benjy’s +clothes on him,” Dilsey said. “Go on, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. He returned and left by the diningroom +door. After awhile it ceased to flap. Dilsey prepared to make biscuit. +As she ground the sifter steadily above the bread board, she +sang, to herself at first, something without particular tune or words, +repetitive, mournful and plaintive, austere, as she ground a faint, +steady snowing of flour onto the bread board. The stove had begun +to heat the room and to fill it with murmurous minors of the +fire, and presently she was singing louder, as if her voice too had +been thawed out by the growing warmth, and then Mrs Compson +called her name again from within the house. Dilsey raised her +face as if her eyes could and did penetrate the walls and ceiling and +saw the old woman in her quilted dressing gown at the head of the +stairs, calling her name with machinelike regularity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Lawd,” Dilsey said. She set the sifter down and swept up +the hem of her apron and wiped her hands and caught up the bottle +from the chair on which she had laid it and gathered her apron +about the handle of the kettle which was now jetting faintly. “Jes +a minute,” she called, “De water jes dis minute got hot.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was not the bottle which Mrs Compson wanted, however, +and clutching it by the neck like a dead hen Dilsey went to the foot +of the stairs and looked upward.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint Luster up dar wid him?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Luster hasn’t been in the house. I’ve been lying here listening +for him. I knew he would be late, but I did hope he’d come in +time to keep Benjamin from disturbing Jason on Jason’s one day +in the week to sleep in the morning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont see how you expect anybody to sleep, wid you standin +in de hall, holl’in at folks fum de crack of dawn,” Dilsey said. She +began to mount the stairs, toiling heavily. “I sont dat boy up dar +half hour ago.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs Compson watched her, holding the dressing gown under +her chin. “What are you going to do?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Gwine git Benjy dressed en bring him down to de kitchen, +whar he wont wake Jason en Quentin,” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Haven’t you started breakfast yet?” +<span class='pageno' title='211' id='Page_211'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tend to dat too,” Dilsey said. “You better git back in bed +twell Luster make yo fire. Hit cold dis mawnin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know it,” Mrs Compson said. “My feet are like ice. They +were so cold they waked me up.” She watched Dilsey mount the +stairs. It took her a long while. “You know how it frets Jason when +breakfast is late,” Mrs Compson said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant do but one thing at a time,” Dilsey said. “You git on +back to bed, fo I has you on my hands dis mawnin too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you’re going to drop everything to dress Benjamin, I’d better +come down and get breakfast. You know as well as I do how Jason +acts when it’s late.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En who gwine eat yo messin?” Dilsey said. “Tell me dat. Go +on now,” she said, toiling upward. Mrs Compson stood watching +her as she mounted, steadying herself against the wall with one +hand, holding her skirts up with the other.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you going to wake him up just to dress him?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey stopped. With her foot lifted to the next step she stood +there, her hand against the wall and the grey splash of the window +behind her, motionless and shapeless she loomed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He aint awake den?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He wasn’t when I looked in,” Mrs Compson said. “But it’s +past his time. He never does sleep after half past seven. You know +he doesn’t.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey said nothing. She made no further move, but though she +could not see her save as a blobby shape without depth, Mrs Compson +knew that she had lowered her face a little and that she stood +now like a cow in the rain, as she held the empty water bottle by +its neck.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re not the one who has to bear it,” Mrs Compson said. +“It’s not your responsibility. You can go away. You dont have to +bear the brunt of it day in and day out. You owe nothing to them, +to Mr Compson’s memory. I know you have never had any tenderness +for Jason. You’ve never tried to conceal it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey said nothing. She turned slowly and descended, lowering +her body from step to step, as a small child does, her hand against +the wall. “You go on and let him alone,” she said. “Dont go in +dar no mo, now. I’ll send Luster up soon as I find him. Let him +alone, now.” +<span class='pageno' title='212' id='Page_212'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>She returned to the kitchen. She looked into the stove, then she +drew her apron over her head and donned the overcoat and opened +the outer door and looked up and down the yard. The weather +drove upon her flesh, harsh and minute, but the scene was empty +of all else that moved. She descended the steps, gingerly, as if for +silence, and went around the corner of the kitchen. As she did so +Luster emerged quickly and innocently from the cellar door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey stopped. “Whut you up to?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothin,” Luster said, “Mr Jason say fer me to find out whar +dat water leak in de cellar fum.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En when wus hit he say fer you to do dat?” Dilsey said. “Last +New Year’s day, wasn’t hit?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought I jes be lookin whiles dey sleep,” Luster said. Dilsey +went to the cellar door. He stood aside and she peered down into +the obscurity odorous of dank earth and mould and rubber.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Huh,” Dilsey said. She looked at Luster again. He met her +gaze blandly, innocent and open. “I dont know whut you up to, but +you aint got no business doin hit. You jes tryin me too dis mawnin +cause de others is, aint you? You git on up dar en see to Benjy, +you hear?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. He went on toward the kitchen steps, +swiftly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here,” Dilsey said, “You git me another armful of wood while +I got you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” he said. He passed her on the steps and went to the +woodpile. When he blundered again at the door a moment later, +again invisible and blind within and beyond his wooden avatar, +Dilsey opened the door and guided him across the kitchen with a +firm hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jes thow hit at dat box again,” she said, “Jes thow hit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I got to,” Luster said, panting, “I cant put hit down no other +way.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den you stand dar en hold hit a while,” Dilsey said. She unloaded +him a stick at a time. “Whut got into you dis mawnin? Here +I sont you fer wood en you aint never brought mo’n six sticks at a +time to save yo life twell today. Whut you fixin to ax me kin you +do now? Aint dat show lef town yit?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum. Hit done gone.” +<span class='pageno' title='213' id='Page_213'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>She put the last stick into the box. “Now you go on up dar wid +Benjy, like I tole you befo,” she said. “And I dont want nobody +else yellin down dem stairs at me twell I rings de bell. You hear +me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. He vanished through the swing door. +Dilsey put some more wood in the stove and returned to the bread +board. Presently she began to sing again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The room grew warmer. Soon Dilsey’s skin had taken on a rich, +lustrous quality as compared with that as of a faint dusting of wood +ashes which both it and Luster’s had worn, as she moved about the +kitchen, gathering about her the raw materials of food, coordinating +the meal. On the wall above a cupboard, invisible save +at night, by lamp light and even then evincing an enigmatic profundity +because it had but one hand, a cabinet clock ticked, then +with a preliminary sound as if it had cleared its throat, struck five +times.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Eight oclock,” Dilsey said. She ceased and tilted her head upward, +listening. But there was no sound save the clock and the +fire. She opened the oven and looked at the pan of bread, then +stooping she paused while someone descended the stairs. She +heard the feet cross the diningroom, then the swing door opened +and Luster entered, followed by a big man who appeared to have +been shaped of some substance whose particles would not or did +not cohere to one another or to the frame which supported it. His +skin was dead looking and hairless; dropsical too, he moved with +a shambling gait like a trained bear. His hair was pale and fine. It +had been brushed smoothly down upon his brow like that of children +in daguerreotypes. His eyes were clear, of the pale sweet blue +of cornflowers, his thick mouth hung open, drooling a little.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is he cold?” Dilsey said. She wiped her hands on her apron and +touched his hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ef he aint, I is,” Luster said. “Always cold Easter. Aint never +seen hit fail. Miss Cahline say ef you aint got time to fix her hot +water bottle to never mind about hit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Lawd,” Dilsey said. She drew a chair into the corner between +the woodbox and the stove. The man went obediently and +sat in it. “Look in de dinin room and see whar I laid dat bottle +down,” Dilsey said. Luster fetched the bottle from the diningroom +<span class='pageno' title='214' id='Page_214'></span> +and Dilsey filled it and give it to him. “Hurry up, now,” she said. +“See ef Jason wake now. Tell em hit’s all ready.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Luster went out. Ben sat beside the stove. He sat loosely, utterly +motionless save for his head, which made a continual bobbing +sort of movement as he watched Dilsey with his sweet vague +gaze as she moved about. Luster returned.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He up,” he said, “Miss Cahline say put hit on de table.” He +came to the stove and spread his hands palm down above the firebox. +“He up, too,” He said, “Gwine hit wid bofe feet dis mawnin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut’s de matter now?” Dilsey said. “Git away fum dar. How +kin I do anything wid you standin over de stove?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cold,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You ought to thought about dat whiles you wus down dar in +dat cellar,” Dilsey said. “Whut de matter wid Jason?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sayin me en Benjy broke dat winder in his room.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is dey one broke?” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s whut he sayin,” Luster said. “Say I broke hit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How could you, when he keep hit locked all day en night?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Say I broke hit chunkin rocks at hit,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En did you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nome,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont lie to me, boy,” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I never done hit,” Luster said. “Ask Benjy ef I did. I aint stud’in +dat winder.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who could a broke hit, den?” Dilsey said. “He jes tryin hisself, +to wake Quentin up,” she said, taking the pan of biscuits out of +the stove.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Reckin so,” Luster said. “Dese is funny folks. Glad I aint none +of em.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint none of who?” Dilsey said. “Lemme tell you somethin, +nigger boy, you got jes es much Compson devilment in you es any +of em. Is you right sho you never broke dat window?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut I want to break hit fur?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut you do any of yo devilment fur?” Dilsey said. “Watch +him now, so he cant burn his hand again twell I git de table set.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She went to the diningroom, where they heard her moving about, +then she returned and set a plate at the kitchen table and set food +there. Ben watched her, slobbering, making a faint, eager sound. +<span class='pageno' title='215' id='Page_215'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right, honey,” she said, “Here yo breakfast. Bring his chair, +Luster.” Luster moved the chair up and Ben sat down, whimpering +and slobbering. Dilsey tied a cloth about his neck and wiped +his mouth with the end of it. “And see kin you kep fum messin up +his clothes one time,” she said, handing Luster a spoon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ben ceased whimpering. He watched the spoon as it rose to his +mouth. It was as if even eagerness were muscle-bound in him too, +and hunger itself inarticulate, not knowing it is hunger. Luster +fed him with skill and detachment. Now and then his attention +would return long enough to enable him to feint the spoon and +cause Ben to close his mouth upon the empty air, but it was apparent +that Luster’s mind was elsewhere. His other hand lay on +the back of the chair and upon that dead surface it moved tentatively, +delicately, as if he were picking an inaudible tune out of the +dead void, and once he even forgot to tease Ben with the spoon +while his fingers teased out of the slain wood a soundless and involved +arpeggio until Ben recalled him by whimpering again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>In the diningroom Dilsey moved back and forth. Presently she +rang a small clear bell, then in the kitchen Luster heard Mrs +Compson and Jason descending, and Jason’s voice, and he rolled +his eyes whitely with listening.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sure, I know they didn’t break it,” Jason said. “Sure, I know +that. Maybe the change of weather broke it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont see how it could have,” Mrs Compson said. “Your room +stays locked all day long, just as you leave it when you go to town. +None of us ever go in there except Sunday, to clean it. I dont want +you to think that I would go where I’m not wanted, or that I would +permit anyone else to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I never said you broke it, did I?” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont want to go in your room,” Mrs Compson said. “I respect +anybody’s private affairs. I wouldn’t put my foot over the +threshold, even if I had a key.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” Jason said, “I know your keys wont fit. That’s why I had +the lock changed. What I want to know is, how that window got +broken.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Luster say he didn’t do hit,” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knew that without asking him,” Jason said. “Where’s Quentin?” +he said. +<span class='pageno' title='216' id='Page_216'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where she is ev’y Sunday mawnin,” Dilsey said. “Whut got +into you de last few days, anyhow?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, we’re going to change all that,” Jason said. “Go up and +tell her breakfast is ready.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You leave her alone now, Jason,” Dilsey said. “She gits up fer +breakfast ev’y week mawnin, en Cahline lets her stay in bed ev’y +Sunday. You knows dat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant keep a kitchen full of niggers to wait on her pleasure, +much as I’d like to,” Jason said. “Go and tell her to come down to +breakfast.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint nobody have to wait on her,” Dilsey said. “I puts her +breakfast in de warmer en she—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you hear me?” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hears you,” Dilsey said. “All I been hearin, when you in de +house. Ef hit aint Quentin er yo maw, hit’s Luster en Benjy. Whut +you let him go on dat way fer, Miss Cahline?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better do as he says,” Mrs Compson said, “He’s head of +the house now. It’s his right to require us to respect his wishes. I +try to do it, and if I can, you can too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“’Taint no sense in him bein so bad tempered he got to make +Quentin git up jes to suit him,” Dilsey said. “Maybe you think she +broke dat window.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She would, if she happened to think of it,” Jason said. “You +go and do what I told you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En I wouldn’t blame her none ef she did,” Dilsey said, going +toward the stairs. “Wid you naggin at her all de blessed time you +in de house.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Dilsey,” Mrs Compson said, “It’s neither your place nor +mine to tell Jason what to do. Sometimes I think he is wrong, but +I try to obey his wishes for you alls’ sakes. If I’m strong enough to +come to the table, Quentin can too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey went out. They heard her mounting the stairs. They heard +her a long while on the stairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got a prize set of servants,” Jason said. He helped his +mother and himself to food. “Did you ever have one that was worth +killing? You must have had some before I was big enough to remember.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I have to humour them,” Mrs Compson said. “I have to depend +<span class='pageno' title='217' id='Page_217'></span> +on them so completely. It’s not as if I were strong. I wish I +were. I wish I could do all the house work myself. I could at least +take that much off your shoulders.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And a fine pigsty we’d live in, too,” Jason said. “Hurry up, +Dilsey,” he shouted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know you blame me,” Mrs Compson said, “for letting them +off to go to church today.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go where?” Jason said. “Hasn’t that damn show left yet?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“To church,” Mrs Compson said. “The darkies are having a +special Easter service. I promised Dilsey two weeks ago that they +could get off.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Which means we’ll eat cold dinner,” Jason said, “or none at +all.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know it’s my fault,” Mrs Compson said. “I know you blame +me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“For what?” Jason said. “You never resurrected Christ, did +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They heard Dilsey mount the final stair, then her slow feet overhead.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin,” she said. When she called the first time Jason laid +his knife and fork down and he and his mother appeared to wait +across the table from one another, in identical attitudes; the one +cold and shrewd, with close-thatched brown hair curled into two +stubborn hooks, one on either side of his forehead like a bartender +in caricature, and hazel eyes with black-ringed irises like marbles, +the other cold and querulous, with perfectly white hair and eyes +pouched and baffled and so dark as to appear to be all pupil or +all iris.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin,” Dilsey said, “Get up, honey. Dey waitin breakfast +on you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant understand how that window got broken,” Mrs Compson +said. “Are you sure it was done yesterday? It could have been +like that a long time, with the warm weather. The upper sash, behind +the shade like that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve told you for the last time that it happened yesterday,” +Jason said. “Dont you reckon I know the room I live in? Do you +reckon I could have lived in it a week with a hole in the window +you could stick your hand—” his voice ceased, ebbed, left him +<span class='pageno' title='218' id='Page_218'></span> +staring at his mother with eyes that for an instant were quite empty +of anything. It was as though his eyes were holding their breath, +while his mother looked at him, her face flaccid and querulous, +interminable, clairvoyant yet obtuse. As they sat so Dilsey said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quentin. Dont play wid me, honey. Come on to breakfast, +honey. Dey waitin fer you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant understand it,” Mrs Compson said, “It’s just as if somebody +had tried to break into the house—” Jason sprang up. His +chair crashed over backward. “What—” Mrs Compson said, staring +at him as he ran past her and went jumping up the stairs, where he +met Dilsey. His face was now in shadow, and Dilsey said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She sullin. Yo ma aint unlocked—” But Jason ran on past her +and along the corridor to a door. He didn’t call. He grasped the +knob and tried it, then he stood with the knob in his hand and his +head bent a little, as if he were listening to something much further +away than the dimensioned room beyond the door, and which he +already heard. His attitude was that of one who goes through the +motions of listening in order to deceive himself as to what he already +hears. Behind him Mrs Compson mounted the stairs, calling +his name. Then she saw Dilsey and she quit calling him and began +to call Dilsey instead.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told you she aint unlocked dat do’ yit,” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When she spoke he turned and ran toward her, but his voice +was quiet, matter of fact. “She carry the key with her?” he said. +“Has she got it now, I mean, or will she have—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dilsey,” Mrs Compson said on the stairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is which?” Dilsey said. “Whyn’t you let—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The key,” Jason said, “To that room. Does she carry it with her +all the time. Mother.” Then he saw Mrs Compson and he went +down the stairs and met her. “Give me the key,” he said. He fell +to pawing at the pockets of the rusty black dressing sacque she +wore. She resisted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” she said, “Jason! Are you and Dilsey trying to put me +to bed again?” she said, trying to fend him off, “Cant you even let +me have Sunday in peace?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The key,” Jason said, pawing at her, “Give it here.” He looked +back at the door, as if he expected it to fly open before he could +get back to it with the key he did not yet have. +<span class='pageno' title='219' id='Page_219'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Dilsey!” Mrs Compson said, clutching her sacque about +her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give me the key, you old fool!” Jason cried suddenly. From +her pocket he tugged a huge bunch of rusted keys on an iron ring +like a mediaeval jailer’s and ran back up the hall with the two +women behind him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Jason!” Mrs Compson said. “He will never find the right +one,” she said, “You know I never let anyone take my keys, +Dilsey,” she said. She began to wail.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush,” Dilsey said, “He aint gwine do nothin to her. I aint gwine +let him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But on Sunday morning, in my own house,” Mrs Compson +said, “When I’ve tried so hard to raise them Christians. Let me +find the right key, Jason,” she said. She put her hand on his arm. +Then she began to struggle with him, but he flung her aside with a +motion of his elbow and looked around at her for a moment, his +eyes cold and harried, then he turned to the door again and the +unwieldy keys.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush,” Dilsey said, “You, Jason!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Something terrible has happened,” Mrs Compson said, wailing +again, “I know it has. You, Jason,” she said, grasping at him +again. “He wont even let me find the key to a room in my own +house!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, now,” Dilsey said, “Whut kin happen? I right here. I +aint gwine let him hurt her. Quentin,” she said, raising her voice, +“dont you be skeered, honey, I’se right here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The door opened, swung inward. He stood in it for a moment, +hiding the room, then he stepped aside. “Go in,” he said in a thick, +light voice. They went in. It was not a girl’s room. It was not anybody’s +room, and the faint scent of cheap cosmetics and the few +feminine objects and the other evidences of crude and hopeless +efforts to feminize it but added to its anonymity, giving it that dead +and stereotyped transience of rooms in assignation houses. The +bed had not been disturbed. On the floor lay a soiled undergarment +of cheap silk a little too pink; from a half open bureau drawer +dangled a single stocking. The window was open. A pear tree +grew there, close against the house. It was in bloom and the +branches scraped and rasped against the house and the myriad +<span class='pageno' title='220' id='Page_220'></span> +air, driving in the window, brought into the room the forlorn scent +of the blossoms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dar now,” Dilsey said, “Didn’t I told you she all right?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right?” Mrs Compson said. Dilsey followed her into the +room and touched her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You come on and lay down, now,” she said. “I find her in ten +minutes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs Compson shook her off. “Find the note,” she said. “Quentin +left a note when he did it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” Dilsey said, “I’ll find hit. You come on to yo room, +now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knew the minute they named her Quentin this would happen,” +Mrs Compson said. She went to the bureau and began to +turn over the scattered objects there—scent bottles, a box of +powder, a chewed pencil, a pair of scissors with one broken blade +lying upon a darned scarf dusted with powder and stained with +rouge. “Find the note,” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I is,” Dilsey said. “You come on, now. Me and Jason’ll find +hit. You come on to yo room.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” Mrs Compson said, “Where is he?” She went to the +door. Dilsey followed her on down the hall, to another door. It +was closed. “Jason,” she called through the door. There was no +answer. She tried the knob, then she called him again. But there +was still no answer, for he was hurling things backward out of the +closet: garments, shoes, a suitcase. Then he emerged carrying a +sawn section of tongue-and-groove planking and laid it down and +entered the closet again and emerged with a metal box. He set it +on the bed and stood looking at the broken lock while he dug a +key ring from his pocket and selected a key, and for a time longer +he stood with the selected key in his hand, looking at the broken +lock, then he put the keys back in his pocket and carefully tilted +the contents of the box out upon the bed. Still carefully he sorted +the papers, taking them up one at a time and shaking them. Then +he upended the box and shook it too and slowly replaced the +papers and stood again, looking at the broken lock, with the box +in his hands and his head bent. Outside the window he heard some +jaybirds swirl shrieking past, and away, their cries whipping away +along the wind, and an automobile passed somewhere and died +<span class='pageno' title='221' id='Page_221'></span> +away also. His mother spoke his name again beyond the door, +but he didn’t move. He heard Dilsey lead her away up the hall, +and then a door closed. Then he replaced the box in the closet and +flung the garments back into it and went down stairs to the telephone. +While he stood there with the receiver to his ear, waiting, +Dilsey came down the stairs. She looked at him, without stopping, +and went on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The wire opened. “This is Jason Compson,” he said, his voice +so harsh and thick that he had to repeat himself. “Jason Compson,” +he said, controlling his voice. “Have a car ready, with a +deputy, if you cant go, in ten minutes. I’ll be there—What?—Robbery. +My house. I know who it—Robbery, I say. Have a car +read—What? Aren’t you a paid law enforcement—Yes, I’ll be +there in five minutes. Have that car ready to leave at once. If you +dont, I’ll report it to the governor.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He clapped the receiver back and crossed the diningroom, +where the scarce-broken meal now lay cold on the table, and entered +the kitchen. Dilsey was filling the hot water bottle. Ben sat, +tranquil and empty. Beside him Luster looked like a fice dog, +brightly watchful. He was eating something. Jason went on across +the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint you going to eat no breakfast?” Dilsey said. He paid her +no attention. “Go on and eat yo breakfast, Jason.” He went on. +The outer door banged behind him. Luster rose and went to the +window and looked out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whoo,” he said, “Whut happenin up dar? He been beatin’ Miss +Quentin?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You hush yo mouf,” Dilsey said. “You git Benjy started now +en I beat yo head off. You keep him quiet es you kin twell I get +back, now.” She screwed the cap on the bottle and went out. They +heard her go up the stairs, then they heard Jason pass the house +in his car. Then there was no sound in the kitchen save the simmering +murmur of the kettle and the clock.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know whut I bet?” Luster said. “I bet he beat her. I bet +he knock her in de head en now he gone fer de doctor. Dat’s whut +I bet.” The clock tick-tocked, solemn and profound. It might have +been the dry pulse of the decaying house itself; after a while it +whirred and cleared its throat and struck six times. Ben looked +<span class='pageno' title='222' id='Page_222'></span> +up at it, then he looked at the bullet-like silhouette of Luster’s +head in the window and he begun to bob his head again, drooling. +He whimpered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush up, loony,” Luster said without turning. “Look like we +aint gwine git to go to no church today.” But Ben sat in the chair, +his big soft hands dangling between his knees, moaning faintly. +Suddenly he wept, a slow bellowing sound, meaningless and sustained. +“Hush,” Luster said. He turned and lifted his hand. “You +want me to whup you?” But Ben looked at him, bellowing slowly +with each expiration. Luster came and shook him. “You hush dis +minute!” he shouted. “Here,” he said. He hauled Ben out of the +chair and dragged the chair around facing the stove and opened +the door to the firebox and shoved Ben into the chair. They looked +like a tug nudging at a clumsy tanker in a narrow dock. Ben sat +down again facing the rosy door. He hushed. Then they heard the +clock again, and Dilsey slow on the stairs. When she entered he +began to whimper again. Then he lifted his voice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut you done to him?” Dilsey said. “Why cant you let him +lone dis mawnin, of all times?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint doin nothin to him,” Luster said. “Mr Jason skeered +him, dat’s whut hit is. He aint kilt Miss Quentin, is he?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Benjy,” Dilsey said. He hushed. She went to the window +and looked out. “Is it quit rainin?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. “Quit long time ago.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den y’all go out do’s awhile,” she said. “I jes got Miss Cahline +quiet now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is we gwine to church?” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I let you know bout dat when de time come. You keep him +away fum de house twell I calls you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kin we go to de pastuh?” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right. Only you keep him away fum de house. I done stood +all I kin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. “Whar Mr Jason gone, mammy?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s some mo of yo business, aint it?” Dilsey said. She began +to clear the table. “Hush, Benjy. Luster gwine take you out to +play.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut he done to Miss Quentin, mammy?” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aint done nothin to her. You all git on outen here?” +<span class='pageno' title='223' id='Page_223'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet she aint here,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey looked at him. “How you know she aint here?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Me and Benjy seed her clamb out de window last night. Didn’t +us, Benjy?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You did?” Dilsey said, looking at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We sees her doin hit ev’y night,” Luster said, “Clamb right +down dat pear tree.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you lie to me, nigger boy,” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint lyin. Ask Benjy ef I is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you say somethin about it, den?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“’Twarn’t none o my business,” Luster said. “I aint gwine git +mixed up in white folks’ business. Come on here, Benjy, les go out +do’s.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They went out. Dilsey stood for awhile at the table, then she +went and cleared the breakfast things from the diningroom and +ate her breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. Then she removed +her apron and hung it up and went to the foot of the stairs and +listened for a moment. There was no sound. She donned the overcoat +and the hat and went across to her cabin.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The rain had stopped. The air now drove out of the southeast, +broken overhead into blue patches. Upon the crest of a hill beyond +the trees and roofs and spires of town sunlight lay like a pale +scrap of cloth, was blotted away. Upon the air a bell came, then as +if at a signal, other bells took up the sound and repeated it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The cabin door opened and Dilsey emerged, again in the maroon +cape and the purple gown, and wearing soiled white elbow-length +gloves and minus her headcloth now. She came into the +yard and called Luster. She waited awhile, then she went to the +house and around it to the cellar door, moving close to the wall, +and looked into the door. Ben sat on the steps. Before him Luster +squatted on the damp floor. He held a saw in his left hand, the +blade sprung a little by pressure of his hand, and he was in the act +of striking the blade with the worn wooden mallet with which she +had been making beaten biscuit for more than thirty years. The +saw gave forth a single sluggish twang that ceased with lifeless +alacrity, leaving the blade in a thin clean curve between Luster’s +hand and the floor. Still, inscrutable, it bellied. +<span class='pageno' title='224' id='Page_224'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s de way he done hit,” Luster said. “I jes aint foun de right +thing to hit it wid.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s whut you doin, is it?” Dilsey said. “Bring me dat mallet,” +she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint hurt hit,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Bring hit here,” Dilsey said. “Put dat saw whar you got hit +first.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He put the saw away and brought the mallet to her. Then Ben +wailed again, hopeless and prolonged. It was nothing. Just sound. +It might have been all time and injustice and sorrow become vocal +for an instant by a conjunction of planets.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Listen at him,” Luster said, “He been gwine on dat way ev’y +since you sont us outen de house. I dont know whut got in to him +dis mawnin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Bring him here,” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on, Benjy,” Luster said. He went back down the steps +and took Ben’s arm. He came obediently, wailing, that slow hoarse +sound that ships make, that seems to begin before the sound itself +has started, seems to cease before the sound itself has stopped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Run and git his cap,” Dilsey said. “Dont make no noise Miss +Cahline kin hear. Hurry, now. We already late.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She gwine hear him anyhow, ef you dont stop him.” Luster +said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He stop when we git off de place,” Dilsey said. “He smellin +hit. Dat’s whut hit is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Smell whut, mammy?” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You go git dat cap,” Dilsey said. Luster went on. They stood +in the cellar door, Ben one step below her. The sky was broken +now into scudding patches that dragged their swift shadows up +out of the shabby garden, over the broken fence and across the +yard. Dilsey stroked Ben’s head, slowly and steadily, smoothing +the bang upon his brow. He wailed quietly, unhurriedly. “Hush,” +Dilsey said, “Hush, now. We be gone in a minute. Hush, now.” +He wailed quietly and steadily.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Luster returned, wearing a stiff new straw hat with a coloured +band and carrying a cloth cap. The hat seemed to isolate Luster’s +skull, in the beholder’s eye as a spotlight would, in all its individual +<span class='pageno' title='225' id='Page_225'></span> +planes and angles. So peculiarly individual was its shape that at +first glance the hat appeared to be on the head of someone standing +immediately behind Luster. Dilsey looked at the hat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you wear yo old hat?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Couldn’t find hit,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you couldn’t. I bet you fixed hit last night so you couldn’t +find hit. You fixin to ruin dat un.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aw, mammy,” Luster said, “Hit aint gwine rain.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How you know? You go git dat old hat en put dat new un +away.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aw, mammy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den you go git de umbreller.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aw, mammy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take yo choice,” Dilsey said. “Git yo old hat, er de umbreller. +I dont keer which.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Luster went to the cabin. Ben wailed quietly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on,” Dilsey said, “Dey kin ketch up wid us. We gwine +to hear de singin.” They went around the house, toward the gate. +“Hush,” Dilsey said from time to time as they went down the drive. +They reached the gate. Dilsey opened it. Luster was coming down +the drive behind them, carrying the umbrella. A woman was with +him. “Here dey come,” Dilsey said. They passed out the gate. +“Now, den,” she said. Ben ceased. Luster and his mother overtook +them. Frony wore a dress of bright blue silk and a flowered hat. +She was a thin woman, with a flat, pleasant face.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You got six weeks’ work right dar on yo back,” Dilsey said. +“Whut you gwine do ef hit rain?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Git wet, I reckon,” Frony said. “I aint never stopped no rain +yit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mammy always talkin bout hit gwine rain,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ef I dont worry bout y’all, I dont know who is,” Dilsey said. +“Come on, we already late.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Rev’un Shegog gwine preach today,” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is?” Dilsey said. “Who him?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He fum Saint Looey,” Frony said. “Dat big preacher.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Huh,” Dilsey said, “Whut dey needs is a man kin put de fear +of God into dese here triflin young niggers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Rev’un Shegog gwine preach today,” Frony said. “So dey tells.” +<span class='pageno' title='226' id='Page_226'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>They went on along the street. Along its quiet length white people +in bright clumps moved churchward, under the windy bells, +walking now and then in the random and tentative sun. The wind +was gusty, out of the southeast, chill and raw after the warm days.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wish you wouldn’t keep on bringin him to church, mammy,” +Frony said. “Folks talkin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut folks?” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hears em,” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And I knows whut kind of folks,” Dilsey said, “Trash white +folks. Dat’s who it is. Thinks he aint good enough fer white church, +but nigger church aint good enough fer him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dey talks, jes de same,” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den you send um to me,” Dilsey said. “Tell um de good Lawd +dont keer whether he smart er not. Dont nobody but white trash +keer dat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A street turned oil at right angles, descending, and became a +dirt road. On either hand the land dropped more sharply; a broad +flat dotted with small cabins whose weathered roofs were on a +level with the crown of the road. They were set in small grassless +plots littered with broken things, bricks, planks, crockery, things +of a once utilitarian value. What growth there was consisted of +rank weeds and the trees were mulberries and locusts and sycamores—trees +that partook also of the foul desiccation which surrounded +the houses; trees whose very burgeoning seemed to be +the sad and stubborn remnant of September, as if even spring had +passed them by, leaving them to feed upon the rich and unmistakable +smell of negroes in which they grew.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>From the doors negroes spoke to them as they passed, to Dilsey +usually:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sis’ Gibson! How you dis mawnin?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m well. Is you well?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m right well, I thank you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They emerged from the cabins and struggled up the shading +levee to the road-men in staid, hard brown or black, with gold +watch chains and now and then a stick; young men in cheap violent +blues or stripes and swaggering hats; women a little stiffly +sibilant, and children in garments bought second hand of white +<span class='pageno' title='227' id='Page_227'></span> +people, who looked at Ben with the covertness of nocturnal +animals:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you wont go up en tech him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How come I wont?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you wont. I bet you skeered to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He wont hurt folks. He des a loony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How come a loony wont hurt folks?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat un wont. I teched him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I bet you wont now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Case Miss Dilsey lookin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You wont no ways.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He dont hurt folks. He des a loony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And steadily the older people speaking to Dilsey, though, unless +they were quite old, Dilsey permitted Frony to respond.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mammy aint feelin well dis mawnin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s too bad. But Rev’un Shegog’ll cure dat. He’ll give her +de comfort en de unburdenin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The road rose again, to a scene like a painted backdrop. +Notched into a cut of red clay crowned with oaks the road appeared +to stop short off, like a cut ribbon. Beside it a weathered +church lifted its crazy steeple like a painted church, and the whole +scene was as flat and without perspective as a painted cardboard +set upon the ultimate edge of the flat earth, against the windy sunlight +of space and April and a midmorning filled with bells. Toward +the church they thronged with slow sabbath deliberation. +The women and children went on in, the men stopped outside +and talked in quiet groups until the bell ceased ringing. Then they +too entered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The church had been decorated, with sparse flowers from +kitchen gardens and hedgerows, and with streamers of coloured +crepe paper. Above the pulpit hung a battered Christmas bell, +the accordian sort that collapses. The pulpit was empty, though +the choir was already in place, fanning themselves although it was +not warm.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Most of the women were gathered on one side of the room. +They were talking. Then the bell struck one time and they dispersed +to their seats and the congregation sat for an instant, expectant. +The bell struck again one time. The choir rose and began +<span class='pageno' title='228' id='Page_228'></span> +to sing and the congregation turned its head as one, as six small +children—four girls with tight pigtails bound with small scraps of +cloth like butterflies, and two boys with close napped heads,—entered +and marched up the aisle, strung together in a harness of +white ribbons and flowers, and followed by two men in single file. +The second man was huge, of a light coffee colour, imposing in a +frock coat and white tie. His head was magisterial and profound, +his neck rolled above his collar in rich folds. But he was familiar +to them, and so the heads were still reverted when he had passed, +and it was not until the choir ceased singing that they realised that +the visiting clergyman had already entered, and when they saw +the man who had preceded their minister enter the pulpit still +ahead of him an indescribable sound went up, a sigh, a sound of +astonishment and disappointment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The visitor was undersized, in a shabby alpaca coat. He had a +wizened black face like a small, aged monkey. And all the while +that the choir sang again and while the six children rose and sang +in thin, frightened, tuneless whispers, they watched the insignificant +looking man sitting dwarfed and countrified by the minister’s +imposing bulk, with something like consternation. They were still +looking at him with consternation and unbelief when the minister +rose and introduced him in rich, rolling tones whose very unction +served to increase the visitor’s insignificance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En dey brung dat all de way fum Saint Looey,” Frony +whispered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve knowed de Lawd to use cuiser tools dan dat,” Dilsey said. +“Hush, now,” she said to Ben, “Dey fixin to sing again in a +minute.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When the visitor rose to speak he sounded like a white man. +His voice was level and cold. It sounded too big to have come from +him and they listened at first through curiosity, as they would have +to a monkey talking. They began to watch him as they would a +man on a tight rope. They even forgot his insignificant appearance +in the virtuosity with which he ran and poised and swooped upon +the cold inflectionless wire of his voice, so that at last, when with +a sort of swooping glide he came to rest again beside the reading +desk with one arm resting upon it at shoulder height and his +monkey body as reft of all motion as a mummy or an emptied +<span class='pageno' title='229' id='Page_229'></span> +vessel, the congregation sighed as if it waked from a collective +dream and moved a little in its seats. Behind the pulpit the choir +fanned steadily. Dilsey whispered, “Hush, now. Dey fixin to sing +in a minute.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then a voice said, “Brethren.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The preacher had not moved. His arm lay yet across the desk, +and he still held that pose while the voice died in sonorous echoes +between the walls. It was as different as day and dark from his +former tone, with a sad, timbrous quality like an alto horn, sinking +into their hearts and speaking there again when it had ceased in +fading and cumulate echoes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Brethren and sisteren,” it said again. The preacher removed +his arm and he began to walk back and forth before the desk, his +hands clasped behind him, a meagre figure, hunched over upon +itself like that of one long immured in striving with the implacable +earth, “I got the recollection and the blood of the Lamb!” He +tramped steadily back and forth beneath the twisted paper and +the Christmas bell, hunched, his hands clasped behind him. He +was like a worn small rock whelmed by the successive waves of +his voice. With his body he seemed to feed the voice that, succubus +like, had fleshed its teeth in him. And the congregation seemed +to watch with its own eyes while the voice consumed him, until +he was nothing and they were nothing and there was not even a +voice but instead their hearts were speaking to one another in +chanting measures beyond the need for words, so that when he +came to rest against the reading desk, his monkey face lifted and +his whole attitude that of a serene, tortured crucifix that transcended +its shabbiness and insignificance and made it of no moment, +a long moaning expulsion of breath rose from them, and a +woman’s single soprano: “Yes, Jesus!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As the scudding day passed overhead the dingy windows +glowed and faded in ghostly retrograde. A car passed along the +road outside, labouring in the sand, died away. Dilsey sat bolt +upright, her hand on Ben’s knee. Two tears slid down her fallen +cheeks, in and out of the myriad coruscations of immolation and +abnegation and time.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Brethren,” the minister said in a harsh whisper, without +moving. +<span class='pageno' title='230' id='Page_230'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Jesus!” the woman’s voice said, hushed yet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Breddren en sistuhn!” His voice rang again, with the horns. +He removed his arm and stood erect and raised his hands. “I got +de ricklickshun en de blood of de Lamb!” They did not mark just +when his intonation, his pronunciation, became negroid, they just +sat swaying a little in their seats as the voice took them into itself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When de long, cold—Oh, I tells you, breddren, when de long, +cold—I sees de light en I sees de word, po sinner! Dey passed away +in Egypt, de swingin chariots; de generations passed away. Wus a +rich man: whar he now, O breddren? Wus a po man: whar he now, +O sistuhn? Oh I tells you, ef you aint got de milk en de dew of de +old salvation when de long, cold years rolls away!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Jesus!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I tells you, breddren, en I tells you, sistuhn, dey’ll come a time. +Po sinner sayin Let me lay down wid de Lawd, lemme lay down +my load. Den whut Jesus gwine say, O breddren? O sistuhn? Is +you got de ricklickshun en de Blood of de Lamb? Case I aint +gwine load down heaven!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He fumbled in his coat and took out a handkerchief and +mopped his face. A low concerted sound rose from the congregation: +“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!” The woman’s voice said, “Yes, +Jesus! Jesus!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Breddren! Look at dem little chillen settin dar. Jesus wus like +dat once. He mammy suffered de glory en de pangs. Sometime +maybe she helt him at de nightfall, whilst de angels singin him to +sleep; maybe she look out de do’ en see de Roman po-lice passin.” +He tramped back and forth, mopping his face. “Listen, breddren! +I sees de day. Ma’y settin in de do’ wid Jesus on her lap, de little +Jesus. Like dem chillen dar, de little Jesus. I hears de angels singin +de peaceful songs en de glory; I sees de closin eyes; sees Mary +jump up, sees de sojer face: We gwine to kill! We gwine to kill! +We gwine to kill yo little Jesus! I hears de weepin en de lamentation +of de po mammy widout de salvation en de word of God!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Jesus! Little Jesus!” and another +voice, rising:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I sees, O Jesus! Oh I sees!” and still another, without words, +like bubbles rising in water.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I sees hit, breddren! I sees hit! Sees de blastin, blindin sight! +<span class='pageno' title='231' id='Page_231'></span> +I sees Calvary, wid de sacred trees, sees de thief en de murderer +en de least of dese; I hears de boasting en de braggin: Ef you be +Jesus, lif up yo tree en walk! I hears de wailin of women en de +evenin lamentations; I hears de weepin en de cryin en de turnt-away +face of God: dey done kilt Jesus; dey done kilt my Son!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Jesus! I sees, O Jesus!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“O blind sinner! Breddren, I tells you; sistuhn, I says to you, +when de Lawd did turn His mighty face, say, Aint gwine overload +heaven! I can see de widowed God shet His do’; I sees de +whelmin flood roll between; I sees de darkness en de death everlastin +upon de generations. Den, lo! Breddren! Yes, breddren! +Whut I see? Whut I see, O sinner? I sees de resurrection en de +light; sees de meek Jesus sayin Dey kilt Me dat ye shall live again; +I died dat dem whut sees en believes shall never die. Breddren, O +breddren! I sees de doom crack en hears de golden horns shoutin +down de glory, en de arisen dead whut got de blood en de ricklickshun +of de Lamb!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>In the midst of the voices and the hands Ben sat, rapt in his +sweet blue gaze. Dilsey sat bolt upright beside, crying rigidly and +quietly in the annealment and the blood of the remembered Lamb.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As they walked through the bright noon, up the sandy road with +the dispersing congregation talking easily again group to group, she +continued to weep, unmindful of the talk.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He sho a preacher, mon! He didn’t look like much at first, +but hush!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He seed de power en de glory.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, suh. He seed hit. Face to face he seed hit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey made no sound, her face did not quiver as the tears took +their sunken and devious courses, walking with her head up, making +no effort to dry them away even.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whyn’t you quit dat, mammy?” Frony said. “Wid all dese people +lookin. We be passin white folks soon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve seed de first en de last,” Dilsey said. “Never you mind +me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“First en last whut?” Frony said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Never you mind,” Dilsey said. “I seed de beginnin, en now I +sees de endin.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Before they reached the street, though, she stopped and lifted +<span class='pageno' title='232' id='Page_232'></span> +her skirt and dried her eyes on the hem of her topmost underskirt. +Then they went on. Ben shambled along beside Dilsey, watching +Luster who anticked along ahead, the umbrella in his hand and his +new straw hat slanted viciously in the sunlight, like a big foolish +dog watching a small clever one. They reached the gate and entered. +Immediately Ben began to whimper again, and for a while +all of them looked up the drive at the square, paintless house with +its rotting portico.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut’s gwine on up dar today?” Frony said. “Something is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothin,” Dilsey said. “You tend to yo business en let de white +folks tend to deir’n.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Somethin is,” Frony said. “I heard him first thing dis mawnin. +’Taint none of my business, dough.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En I knows whut, too,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You knows mo dan you got any use fer,” Dilsey said. “Aint +you jes heard Frony say hit aint none of yo business? You take +Benjy on to de back and keep him quiet twell I put dinner on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knows whar Miss Quentin is,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den jes keep hit,” Dilsey said. “Soon es Quentin need any of +yo egvice, I’ll let you know. Y’all g’awn en play in de back, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know whut gwine happen soon es dey start playin dat +ball over yonder,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dey wont start fer awhile yit. By dat time T.P. be here to take +him ridin. Here, you gimme dat new hat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Luster gave her the hat and he and Ben went on across the back +yard. Ben was still whimpering, though not loud. Dilsey and Frony +went to the cabin. After a while Dilsey emerged, again in the faded +calico dress, and went to the kitchen. The fire had died down. +There was no sound in the house. She put on the apron and went +up stairs. There was no sound anywhere. Quentin’s room was as +they had left it. She entered and picked up the undergarment and +put the stocking back in the drawer and closed it. Mrs Compson’s +door was closed. Dilsey stood beside it for a moment, listening. +Then she opened it and entered, entered a pervading reek of +camphor. The shades were drawn, the room in halflight, and the +bed, so that at first she thought Mrs Compson was asleep and was +about to close the door when the other spoke.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well?” she said, “What is it?” +<span class='pageno' title='233' id='Page_233'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit’s me,” Dilsey said. “You want anything?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs Compson didn’t answer. After awhile, without moving her +head at all, she said: “Where’s Jason?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He aint come back yit,” Dilsey said. “Whut you want?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs Compson said nothing. Like so many cold, weak people, +when faced at last by the incontrovertible disaster she exhumed +from somewhere a sort of fortitude, strength. In her case it was +an unshakable conviction regarding the yet unplumbed event. +“Well,” she said presently, “Did you find it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Find whut? Whut you talkin about?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The note. At least she would have enough consideration to +leave a note. Even Quentin did that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut you talkin about?” Dilsey said, “Dont you know she all +right? I bet she be walkin right in dis do’ befo dark.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Fiddlesticks,” Mrs Compson said, “It’s in the blood. Like +uncle, like niece. Or mother. I dont know which would be worse. +I dont seem to care.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut you keep on talkin that way fur?” Dilsey said. “Whut +she want to do anything like that fur?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dont know. What reason did Quentin have? Under God’s +heaven what reason did he have? It cant be simply to flout and hurt +me. Whoever God is, He would not permit that. I’m a lady. You +might not believe that from my offspring, but I am.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You des wait en see,” Dilsey said. “She be here by night, right +dar in her bed.” Mrs Compson said nothing. The camphor-soaked +cloth lay upon her brow. The black robe lay across the foot of +the bed. Dilsey stood with her hand on the door knob.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” Mrs Compson said. “What do you want? Are you going +to fix some dinner for Jason and Benjamin, or not?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason aint come yit,” Dilsey said. “I gwine fix somethin. You +sho you dont want nothin? Yo bottle still hot enough?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You might hand me my Bible.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I give hit to you dis mawnin, befo I left.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You laid it on the edge of the bed. How long did you expect +it to stay there?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey crossed to the bed and groped among the shadows beneath +the edge of it and found the Bible, face down. She smoothed +the bent pages and laid the book on the bed again. Mrs Compson +<span class='pageno' title='234' id='Page_234'></span> +didn’t open her eyes. Her hair and the pillow were the same color, +beneath the wimple of the medicated cloth she looked like an old +nun praying. “Dont put it there again,” she said, without opening +her eyes. “That’s where you put it before. Do you want me to +have to get out of bed to pick it up?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey reached the book across her and laid it on the broad +side of the bed. “You cant see to read, noways,” she said. “You +want me to raise de shade a little?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No. Let them alone. Go on and fix Jason something to eat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey went out. She closed the door and returned to the kitchen. +The stove was almost cold. While she stood there the clock above +the cupboard struck ten times. “One oclock,” she said aloud, “Jason +aint comin home. Ise seed de first en de last,” she said, looking at +the cold stove, “I seed de first en de last.” She set out some cold +food on a table. As she moved back and forth she sang a hymn. +She sang the first two lines over and over to the complete tune. +She arranged the meal and went to the door and called Luster, +and after a time Luster and Ben entered. Ben was still moaning a +little, as to himself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He aint never quit,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Y’all come on en eat,” Dilsey said. “Jason aint coming to dinner.” +They sat down at the table. Ben could manage solid food +pretty well for himself, though even now, with cold food before +him, Dilsey tied a cloth about his neck. He and Luster ate. Dilsey +moved about the kitchen, singing the two lines of the hymn which +she remembered. “Yo’ll kin g’awn en eat,” she said, “Jason aint +comin home.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was twenty miles away at that time. When he left the house +he drove rapidly to town, overreaching the slow sabbath groups +and the peremptory bells along the broken air. He crossed the +empty square and turned into a narrow street that was abruptly +quieter even yet, and stopped before a frame house and went up +the flower-bordered walk to the porch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Beyond the screen door people were talking. As he lifted his +hand to knock he heard steps, so he withheld his hand until a big +man in black broadcloth trousers and a stiff-bosomed white shirt +without collar opened the door. He had vigorous untidy iron-grey +<span class='pageno' title='235' id='Page_235'></span> +hair and his grey eyes were round and shiny like a little boy’s. He +took Jason’s hand and drew him into the house, still shaking it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come right in,” he said, “Come right in.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You ready to go now?” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Walk right in,” the other said, propelling him by the elbow into +a room where a man and a woman sat. “You know Myrtle’s husband, +dont you? Jason Compson, Vernon.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” Jason said. He did not even look at the man, and as +the sheriff drew a chair across the room the man said,</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’ll go out so you can talk. Come on, Myrtle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, no,” the sheriff said, “You folks keep your seat. I reckon +it aint that serious, Jason? Have a seat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you as we go along,” Jason said. “Get your hat and +coat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’ll go out,” the man said, rising.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep your seat,” the sheriff said. “Me and Jason will go out +on the porch.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You get your hat and coat,” Jason said. “They’ve already got +a twelve hour start.” The sheriff led the way back to the porch. +A man and a woman passing spoke to him. He responded with +a hearty florid gesture. Bells were still ringing, from the direction +of the section known as Nigger Hollow. “Get your hat, Sheriff,” +Jason said. The sheriff drew up two chairs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have a seat and tell me what the trouble is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told you over the phone,” Jason said, standing. “I did that +to save time. Am I going to have to go to law to compel you to do +your sworn duty?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You sit down and tell me about it,” the sheriff said. “I’ll take +care of you all right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Care, hell,” Jason said. “Is this what you call taking care of +me?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re the one that’s holding us up,” the sheriff said. “You +sit down and tell me about it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason told him, his sense of injury and impotence feeding upon +its own sound, so that after a time he forgot his haste in the violent +cumulation of his self justification and his outrage. The sheriff +watched him steadily with his cold shiny eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But you dont know they done it,” he said. “You just think so.” +<span class='pageno' title='236' id='Page_236'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont know?” Jason said. “When I spent two damn days chasing +her through alleys, trying to keep her away from him, after I +told her what I’d do to her if I ever caught her with him, and you +say I dont know that that little b—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, then,” the sheriff said, “That’ll do. That’s enough of +that.” He looked out across the street, his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And when I come to you, a commissioned officer of the law,” +Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That show’s in Mottson this week,” the sheriff said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” Jason said, “And if I could find a law officer that gave a +solitary damn about protecting the people that elected him to +office, I’d be there too by now.” He repeated his story, harshly +recapitulant, seeming to get an actual pleasure out of his outrage +and impotence. The sheriff did not appear to be listening at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jason,” he said, “What were you doing with three thousand +dollars hid in the house?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What?” Jason said. “That’s my business where I keep my +money. Your business is to help me get it back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did your mother know you had that much on the place?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” Jason said, “My house has been robbed. I know +who did it and I know where they are. I come to you as the commissioned +officer of the law, and I ask you once more, are you going +to make any effort to recover my property, or not?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you aim to do with that girl, if you catch them?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nothing,” Jason said, “Not anything. I wouldn’t lay my hand +on her. The bitch that cost me a job, the one chance I ever had to +get ahead, that killed my father and is shortening my mother’s life +every day and made my name a laughing stock in the town. I wont +do anything to her,” he said. “Not anything.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You drove that girl into running off, Jason,” the sheriff said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How I conduct my family is no business of yours,” Jason said. +“Are you going to help me or not?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You drove her away from home,” the sheriff said. “And I have +some suspicions about who that money belongs to that I dont +reckon I’ll ever know for certain.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason stood, slowly wringing the brim of his hat in his hands. +He said quietly: “You’re not going to make any effort to catch +them for me?” +<span class='pageno' title='237' id='Page_237'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s not any of my business, Jason. If you had any actual +proof, I’d have to act. But without that I dont figger it’s any of +my business.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s your answer, is it?” Jason said. “Think well, now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s it, Jason.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” Jason said. He put his hat on. “You’ll regret this. I +wont be helpless. This is not Russia, where just because he wears +a little metal badge, a man is immune to law.” He went down the +steps and got in his car and started the engine. The sheriff watched +him drive away, turn, and rush past the house toward town.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The bells were ringing again, high in the scudding sunlight in +bright disorderly tatters of sound. He stopped at a filling station +and had his tires examined and the tank filled.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Gwine on a trip, is you?” the negro asked him. He didn’t answer. +“Look like hit gwine fair off, after all,” the negro said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Fair off, hell,” Jason said, “It’ll be raining like hell by twelve +oclock.” He looked at the sky, thinking about rain, about the slick +clay roads, himself stalled somewhere miles from town. He thought +about it with a sort of triumph, of the fact that he was going to +miss dinner, that by starting now and so serving his compulsion of +haste, he would be at the greatest possible distance from both towns +when noon came. It seemed to him that, in this, circumstance was +giving him a break, so he said to the negro:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What the hell are you doing? Has somebody paid you to keep +this car standing here as long as you can?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dis here ti’ aint got no air a-tall in hit,” the negro said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then get the hell away from there and let me have that tube,” +Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit up now,” the negro said, rising. “You kin ride now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason got in and started the engine and drove off. He went into +second gear, the engine spluttering and gasping, and he raced the +engine, jamming the throttle down and snapping the choker in and +out savagely. “It’s goin to rain,” he said, “Get me half way there, +and rain like hell.” And he drove on out of the bells and out of +town, thinking of himself slogging through the mud, hunting a +team. “And every damn one of them will be at church.” He thought +of how he’d find a church at last and take a team and of the owner +coming out, shouting at him and of himself striking the man down. +<span class='pageno' title='238' id='Page_238'></span> +“I’m Jason Compson. See if you can stop me. See if you can elect +a man to office that can stop me,” he said, thinking of himself entering +the courthouse with a file of soldiers and dragging the sheriff +out. “Thinks he can sit with his hands folded and see me lose my +job. I’ll show him about jobs.” Of his niece he did not think at all, +nor of the arbitrary valuation of the money. Neither of them had +had entity or individuality for him for ten years; together they +merely symbolized the job in the bank of which he had been deprived +before he ever got it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The air brightened, the running shadow patches were not the +obverse, and it seemed to him that the fact that the day was clearing +was another cunning stroke on the part of the foe, the fresh battle +toward which he was carrying ancient wounds. From time to time +he passed churches, unpainted frame buildings with sheet iron +steeples, surrounded by tethered teams and shabby motorcars, and +it seemed to him that each of them was a picket-post where the +rear guards of Circumstance peeped fleetingly back at him. “And +damn You, too,” he said, “See if You can stop me,” thinking of +himself, his file of soldiers with the manacled sheriff in the rear, +dragging Omnipotence down from His throne, if necessary; of the +embattled legions of both hell and heaven through which he tore +his way and put his hands at last on his fleeing niece.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The wind was out of the southeast. It blew steadily upon his +cheek. It seemed that he could feel the prolonged blow of it sinking +through his skull, and suddenly with an old premonition he clapped +the brakes on and stopped and sat perfectly still. Then he lifted his +hand to his neck and began to curse, and sat there, cursing in a +harsh whisper. When it was necessary for him to drive for any +length of time he fortified himself with a handkerchief soaked in +camphor, which he would tie about his throat when clear of town, +thus inhaling the fumes, and he got out and lifted the seat cushion +on the chance that there might be a forgotten one there. He looked +beneath both seats and stood again for a while, cursing, seeing +himself mocked by his own triumphing. He closed his eyes, leaning +on the door. He could return and get the forgotten camphor, +or he could go on. In either case, his head would be splitting, but +at home he could be sure of finding camphor on Sunday, while if +he went on he could not be sure. But if he went back, he would be +<span class='pageno' title='239' id='Page_239'></span> +an hour and a half later in reaching Mottson. “Maybe I can drive +slow,” he said. “Maybe I can drive slow, thinking of something +else—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He got in and started. “I’ll think of something else,” he said, so +he thought about Lorraine. He imagined himself in bed with +her, only he was just lying beside her, pleading with her to help +him, then he thought of the money again, and that he had been +outwitted by a woman, a girl. If he could just believe it was the +man who had robbed him. But to have been robbed of that which +was to have compensated him for the lost job, which he had acquired +through so much effort and risk, by the very symbol of the +lost job itself, and worst of all, by a bitch of a girl. He drove on, +shielding his face from the steady wind with the corner of his coat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He could see the opposed forces of his destiny and his will drawing +swiftly together now, toward a junction that would be irrevocable; +he became cunning. I cant make a blunder, he told himself. +There would be just one right thing, without alternatives: he must +do that. He believed that both of them would know him on sight, +while he’d have to trust to seeing her first, unless the man still +wore the red tie. And the fact that he must depend on that red tie +seemed to be the sum of the impending disaster; he could almost +smell it, feel it above the throbbing of his head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He crested the final hill. Smoke lay in the valley, and roofs, +a spire or two above trees. He drove down the hill and into the +town, slowing, telling himself again of the need for caution, to find +where the tent was located first. He could not see very well now, +and he knew that it was the disaster which kept telling him to go +directly and get something for his head. At a filling station they +told him that the tent was not up yet, but that the show cars were +on a siding at the station. He drove there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Two gaudily painted pullman cars stood on the track. He reconnoitred +them before he got out. He was trying to breathe shallowly, +so that the blood would not beat so in his skull. He got out +and went along the station wall, watching the cars. A few garments +hung out of the windows, limp and crinkled, as though they had +been recently laundered. On the earth beside the steps of one sat +three canvas chairs. But he saw no sign of life at all until a man in a +dirty apron came to the door and emptied a pan of dishwater with +<span class='pageno' title='240' id='Page_240'></span> +a broad gesture, the sunlight glinting on the metal belly of the pan, +then entered the car again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Now I’ll have to take him by surprise, before he can warn them, +he thought. It never occurred to him that they might not be there, +in the car. That they should not be there, that the whole result +should not hinge on whether he saw them first or they saw him first, +would be opposed to all nature and contrary to the whole rhythm +of events. And more than that: he must see them first, get the +money back, then what they did would be of no importance to him, +while otherwise the whole world would know that he, Jason Compson, +had been robbed by Quentin, his niece, a bitch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He reconnoitred again. Then he went to the car and mounted +the steps, swiftly and quietly, and paused at the door. The galley +was dark, rank with stale food. The man was a white blur, singing +in a cracked, shaky tenor. An old man, he thought, and not as big +as I am. He entered the car as the man looked up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hey?” the man said, stopping his song.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where are they?” Jason said. “Quick, now. In the sleeping +car?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’s who?” the man said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont lie to me,” Jason said. He blundered on in the cluttered +obscurity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s that?” the other said, “Who you calling a liar?” And +when Jason grasped his shoulder he exclaimed, “Look out, +fellow!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont lie,” Jason said, “Where are they?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why, you bastard,” the man said. His arm was frail and thin +in Jason’s grasp. He tried to wrench free, then he turned and fell +to scrabbling on the littered table behind him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Come on,” Jason said, “Where are they?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you where they are,” the man shrieked, “Lemme find +my butcher knife.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here,” Jason said, trying to hold the other, “I’m just asking +you a question.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You bastard,” the other shrieked, scrabbling at the table. Jason +tried to grasp him in both arms, trying to prison the puny fury of +him. The man’s body felt so old, so frail, yet so fatally single-purposed +<span class='pageno' title='241' id='Page_241'></span> +that for the first time Jason saw clear and unshadowed +the disaster toward which he rushed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quit it!” he said, “Here! Here! I’ll get out. Give me time, and +I’ll get out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Call me a liar,” the other wailed, “Lemme go. Lemme go just +one minute. I’ll show you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jason glared wildly about, holding the other. Outside it was +now bright and sunny, swift and bright and empty, and he thought +of the people soon to be going quietly home to Sunday dinner, +decorously festive, and of himself trying to hold the fatal, furious +little old man whom he dared not release long enough to turn his +back and run.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you quit long enough for me to get out?” he said, “Will +you?” But the other still struggled, and Jason freed one hand +and struck him on the head. A clumsy, hurried blow, and not hard, +but the other slumped immediately and slid clattering among pans +and buckets to the floor. Jason stood above him, panting, listening. +Then he turned and ran from the car. At the door he restrained +himself and descended more slowly and stood there again. His +breath made a hah hah hah sound and he stood there trying to +repress it, darting his gaze this way and that, when at a scuffling +sound behind him he turned in time to see the little old man leaping +awkwardly and furiously from the vestibule, a rusty hatchet +high in his hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He grasped at the hatchet, feeling no shock but knowing that +he was falling, thinking So this is how it’ll end, and he believed +that he was about to die and when something crashed against the +back of his head he thought How did he hit me there? Only maybe +he hit me a long time ago, he thought, And I just now felt it, and +he thought Hurry. Hurry. Get it over with, and then a furious desire +not to die seized him and he struggled, hearing the old man +wailing and cursing in his cracked voice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He still struggled when they hauled him to his feet, but they held +him and he ceased.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Am I bleeding much?” he said, “The back of my head. Am I +bleeding?” He was still saying that while he felt himself being +propelled rapidly away, heard the old man’s thin furious voice +dying away behind him. “Look at my head,” he said, “Wait, I—” +<span class='pageno' title='242' id='Page_242'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wait, hell,” the man who held him said, “That damn little +wasp’ll kill you. Keep going. You aint hurt.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He hit me,” Jason said. “Am I bleeding?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Keep going,” the other said. He led Jason on around the corner +of the station, to the empty platform where an express truck +stood, where grass grew rigidly in a plot bordered with rigid flowers +and a sign in electric lights: +Keep your +<img src="images/eye.png" alt="eye" height="30" style="vertical-align:middle"/> +on Mottson, the gap filled by a human eye with an electric pupil. +The man released him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now,” he said, “You get on out of here and stay out. What +were you trying to do? Commit suicide?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I was looking for two people,” Jason said. “I just asked him +where they were.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Who you looking for?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a girl,” Jason said. “And a man. He had on a red tie in +Jefferson yesterday. With this show. They robbed me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” the man said. “You’re the one, are you. Well, they aint +here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I reckon so,” Jason said. He leaned against the wall and put his +hand to the back of his head and looked at his palm. “I thought I +was bleeding,” he said. “I thought he hit me with that hatchet.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You hit your head on the rail,” the man said. “You better go +on. They aint here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes. He said they were not here. I thought he was lying.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think I’m lying?” the man said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” Jason said. “I know they’re not here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told him to get the hell out of there, both of them,” the man +said. “I wont have nothing like that in my show. I run a respectable +show, with a respectable troupe.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” Jason said. “You dont know where they went?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No. And I dont want to know. No member of my show can +pull a stunt like that. You her—brother?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” Jason said. “It dont matter. I just wanted to see them. +You sure he didn’t hit me? No blood, I mean.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There would have been blood if I hadn’t got there when I did. +You stay away from here, now. That little bastard’ll kill you. +That your car yonder?” +<span class='pageno' title='243' id='Page_243'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, you get in it and go back to Jefferson. If you find them, it +wont be in my show. I run a respectable show. You say they +robbed you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” Jason said, “It dont make any difference.” He went to the +car and got in. What is it I must do? he thought. Then he remembered. +He started the engine and drove slowly up the street until +he found a drugstore. The door was locked. He stood for a while +with his hand on the knob and his head bent a little. Then he +turned away and when a man came along after a while he asked +if there was a drugstore open anywhere, but there was not. Then +he asked when the northbound train ran, and the man told him at +two thirty. He crossed the pavement and got in the car again and +sat there. After a while two negro lads passed. He called to them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Can either of you boys drive a car?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, suh.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’ll you charge to drive me to Jefferson right away?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They looked at one another, murmuring.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll pay a dollar,” Jason said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They murmured again. “Couldn’t go fer dat,” one said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What will you go for?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kin you go?” one said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant git off,” the other said. “Whyn’t you drive him up dar? +You aint got nothin to do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes I is.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whut you got to do?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They murmured again, laughing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll give you two dollars,” Jason said. “Either of you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I cant git away neither,” the first said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” Jason said. “Go on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He sat there for sometime. He heard a clock strike the half +hour, then people began to pass, in Sunday and Easter clothes. +Some looked at him as they passed, at the man sitting quietly behind +the wheel of a small car, with his invisible life ravelled out +about him like a wornout sock. After a while a negro in overalls +came up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is you de one wants to go to Jefferson?” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” Jason said. “What’ll you charge me?” +<span class='pageno' title='244' id='Page_244'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Fo dollars.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give you two.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Cant go fer no less’n fo.” The man in the car sat quietly. He +wasn’t even looking at him. The negro said, “You want me er +not?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” Jason said, “Get in.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He moved over and the negro took the wheel. Jason closed +his eyes. I can get something for it at Jefferson, he told himself, +easing himself to the jolting, I can get something there. They drove +on, along the streets where people were turning peacefully into +houses and Sunday dinners, and on out of town. He thought that. +He wasn’t thinking of home, where Ben and Luster were eating +cold dinner at the kitchen table. Something—the absence of disaster, +threat, in any constant evil—permitted him to forget Jefferson +as any place which he had ever seen before, where his life +must resume itself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Ben and Luster were done Dilsey sent them outdoors. +“And see kin you keep let him alone twell fo oclock. T.P. be here +den.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. They went out. Dilsey ate her dinner +and cleared up the kitchen. Then she went to the foot of the stairs +and listened, but there was no sound. She returned through the +kitchen and out the outer door and stopped on the steps. Ben and +Luster were not in sight, but while she stood there she heard another +sluggish twang from the direction of the cellar door and she +went to the door and looked down upon a repetition of the +morning’s scene.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He done it jes dat way,” Luster said. He contemplated the +motionless saw with a kind of hopeful dejection. “I aint got de +right thing to hit it wid yit,” he said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“En you aint gwine find hit down here, neither,” Dilsey said. +“You take him on out in de sun. You bofe get pneumonia down +here on dis wet flo.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She waited and watched them cross the yard toward a clump of +cedar trees near the fence. Then she went on to her cabin.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, dont you git started,” Luster said, “I had enough +trouble wid you today.” There was a hammock made of barrel +staves slatted into woven wires. Luster lay down in the swing, but +<span class='pageno' title='245' id='Page_245'></span> +Ben went on vaguely and purposelessly. He began to whimper +again. “Hush, now,” Luster said, “I fixin to whup you.” He lay +back in the swing. Ben had stopped moving, but Luster could hear +him whimpering. “Is you gwine hush, er aint you?” Luster said. +He got up and followed and came upon Ben squatting before a +small mound of earth. At either end of it an empty bottle of blue +glass that once contained poison was fixed in the ground. In one +was a withered stalk of jimson weed. Ben squatted before it, +moaning, a slow, inarticulate sound. Still moaning he sought +vaguely about and found a twig and put it in the other bottle. +“Whyn’t you hush?” Luster said, “You want me to give you somethin’ +to sho nough moan about? Sposin I does dis.” He knelt and +swept the bottle suddenly up and behind him. Ben ceased moaning. +He squatted, looking at the small depression where the bottle +had sat, then as he drew his lungs full Luster brought the bottle +back into view. “Hush!” he hissed, “Dont you dast to beller! Dont +you. Dar hit is. See? Here. You fixin to start ef you stays here. +Come on, les go see ef dey started knockin ball yit.” He took Ben’s +arm and drew him up and they went to the fence and stood side +by side there, peering between the matted honeysuckle not yet in +bloom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dar,” Luster said, “Dar come some. See um?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They watched the foursome play onto the green and out, and +move to the tee and drive. Ben watched, whimpering, slobbering. +When the foursome went on he followed along the fence, bobbing +and moaning. One said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here, caddie. Bring the bag.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Benjy,” Luster said, but Ben went on at his shambling +trot, clinging to the fence, wailing in his hoarse, hopeless voice. +The man played and went on, Ben keeping pace with him until +the fence turned at right angles, and he clung to the fence, watching +the people move on and away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you hush now?” Luster said, “Will you hush now?” He +shook Ben’s arm. Ben clung to the fence, wailing steadily and +hoarsely. “Aint you gwine stop?” Luster said, “Or is you?” Ben +gazed through the fence. “All right, den,” Luster said, “You want +somethin to beller about?” He looked over his shoulder, toward +<span class='pageno' title='246' id='Page_246'></span> +the house. Then he whispered: “Caddy! Beller now. Caddy! +Caddy! Caddy!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A moment later, in the slow intervals of Ben’s voice, Luster +heard Dilsey calling. He took Ben by the arm and they crossed the +yard toward her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I tole you he warn’t gwine stay quiet,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You vilyun!” Dilsey said, “Whut you done to him?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I aint done nothin. I tole you when dem folks start playin, he +git started up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You come on here,” Dilsey said. “Hush, Benjy. Hush, now.” +But he wouldn’t hush. They crossed the yard quickly and went to +the cabin and entered. “Run git dat shoe,” Dilsey said. “Dont you +sturb Miss Cahline, now. Ef she say anything, tell her I got him. +Go on, now; you kin sho do dat right, I reckon.” Luster went out. +Dilsey led Ben to the bed and drew him down beside her and she +held him, rocking back and forth, wiping his drooling mouth upon +the hem of her skirt. “Hush, now,” she said, stroking his head, +“Hush. Dilsey got you.” But he bellowed slowly, abjectly, without +tears; the grave hopeless sound of all voiceless misery under the +sun. Luster returned, carrying a white satin slipper. It was yellow +now, and cracked and soiled, and when they placed it into Ben’s +hand he hushed for a while. But he still whimpered, and soon he +lifted his voice again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You reckon you kin find T. P.?” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He say yistiddy he gwine out to St John’s today. Say he be back +at fo.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey rocked back and forth, stroking Ben’s head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dis long time, O Jesus,” she said, “Dis long time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I kin drive dat surrey, mammy,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You kill bofe y’all,” Dilsey said, “You do hit fer devilment. +I knows you got plenty sense to. But I cant trust you. Hush, now,” +she said. “Hush. Hush.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nome I wont,” Luster said. “I drives wid T. P.” Dilsey rocked +back and forth, holding Ben. “Miss Cahline say ef you cant quiet +him, she gwine git up en come down en do hit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hush, honey,” Dilsey said, stroking Ben’s head. “Luster, +honey,” she said, “Will you think about yo ole mammy en drive +dat surrey right?” +<span class='pageno' title='247' id='Page_247'></span></p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. “I drive hit jes like T. P.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dilsey stroked Ben’s head, rocking back and forth. “I does de +bes I kin,” she said, “Lawd knows dat. Go git it, den,” she said, +rising. Luster scuttled out. Ben held the slipper, crying. “Hush, +now. Luster gone to git de surrey en take you to de graveyard. We +aint gwine risk gittin yo cap,” she said. She went to a closet contrived +of a calico curtain hung across a corner of the room and got +the felt hat she had worn. “We’s down to worse’n dis, ef folks jes +knowed,” she said. “You’s de Lawd’s chile, anyway. En I be His’n +too, fo long, praise Jesus. Here.” She put the hat on his head and +buttoned his coat. He wailed steadily. She took the slipper from +him and put it away and they went out. Luster came up, with an +ancient white horse in a battered and lopsided surrey.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You gwine be careful, Luster?” she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. She helped Ben into the back seat. He +had ceased crying, but now he began to whimper again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit’s his flower,” Luster said. “Wait, I’ll git him one.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You set right dar,” Dilsey said. She went and took the cheek-strap. +“Now, hurry en git him one.” Luster ran around the house, +toward the garden. He came back with a single narcissus.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dat un broke,” Dilsey said, “Whyn’t you git him a good un?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hit de onliest one I could find,” Luster said. “Y’all took all +of um Friday to dec’rate de church. Wait, I’ll fix hit.” So while Dilsey +held the horse Luster put a splint on the flower stalk with a +twig and two bits of string and gave it to Ben. Then he mounted +and took the reins. Dilsey still held the bridle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You knows de way now?” she said, “Up de street, round de +square, to de graveyard, den straight back home.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said, “Hum up, Queenie.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You gwine be careful, now?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum.” Dilsey released the bridle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hum up, Queenie,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here,” Dilsey said, “You han me dat whup.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aw, mammy,” Luster said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give hit here,” Dilsey said, approaching the wheel. Luster +gave it to her reluctantly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wont never git Queenie started now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Never you mind about dat,” Dilsey said. “Queenie know mo +<span class='pageno' title='248' id='Page_248'></span> +bout whar she gwine dan you does. All you got to do is set dar en +hold dem reins. You knows de way, now?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum. Same way T. P. goes ev’y Sunday.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den you do de same thing dis Sunday.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Cose I is. Aint I drove fer T. P. mo’n a hund’ed times?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Den do hit again,” Dilsey said. “G’awn, now. En ef you hurts +Benjy, nigger boy, I dont know whut I do. You bound fer de chain +gang, but I’ll send you dar fo even chain gang ready fer you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yessum,” Luster said. “Hum up, Queenie.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He flapped the lines on Queenie’s broad back and the surrey +lurched into motion.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You, Luster!” Dilsey said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hum up, dar!” Luster said. He flapped the lines again. With +subterranean rumblings Queenie jogged slowly down the drive +and turned into the street, where Luster exhorted her into a gait +resembling a prolonged and suspended fall in a forward direction.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ben quit whimpering. He sat in the middle of the seat, holding +the repaired flower upright in his fist, his eyes serene and ineffable. +Directly before him Luster’s bullet head turned backward continually +until the house passed from view, then he pulled to the +side of the street and while Ben watched him he descended and +broke a switch from a hedge. Queenie lowered her head and fell +to cropping the grass until Luster mounted and hauled her head +up and harried her into motion again, then he squared his elbows +and with the switch and the reins held high he assumed a swaggering +attitude out of all proportion to the sedate clopping of +Queenie’s hooves and the organlike basso of her internal accompaniment. +Motors passed them, and pedestrians; once a group of +half grown negroes:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dar Luster. Whar you gwine, Luster? To de boneyard?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hi,” Luster said, “Aint de same boneyard y’all headed fer. +Hum up, elefump.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They approached the square, where the Confederate soldier +gazed with empty eyes beneath his marble hand into wind and +weather. Luster took still another notch in himself and gave the +impervious Queenie a cut with the switch, casting his glance about +the square. “Dar Mr Jason’s car,” he said then he spied another +group of negroes. “Les show dem niggers how quality does, +<span class='pageno' title='249' id='Page_249'></span> +Benjy,” he said, “Whut you say?” He looked back. Ben sat, holding +the flower in his fist, his gaze empty and untroubled. Luster hit +Queenie again and swung her to the left at the monument.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>For an instant Ben sat in an utter hiatus. Then he bellowed. +Bellow on bellow, his voice mounted, with scarce interval for +breath. There was more than astonishment in it, it was horror; +shock; agony eyeless, tongueless; just sound, and Luster’s eyes +backrolling for a white instant. “Gret God,” he said, “Hush! Hush! +Gret God!” He whirled again and struck Queenie with the switch. +It broke and he cast it away and with Ben’s voice mounting toward +its unbelievable crescendo Luster caught up the end of the +reins and leaned forward as Jason came jumping across the square +and onto the step.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>With a backhanded blow he hurled Luster aside and caught +the reins and sawed Queenie about and doubled the reins back +and slashed her across the hips. He cut her again and again, into +a plunging gallop, while Ben’s hoarse agony roared about them, +and swung her about to the right of the monument. Then he struck +Luster over the head with his fist.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dont you know any better than to take him to the left?” he +said. He reached back and struck Ben, breaking the flower stalk +again. “Shut up!” he said, “Shut up!” He jerked Queenie back and +jumped down. “Get to hell on home with him. If you ever cross +that gate with him again, I’ll kill you!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, suh!” Luster said. He took the reins and hit Queenie with +the end of them. “Git up! Git up, dar! Benjy, fer God’s sake!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ben’s voice roared and roared. Queenie moved again, her feet +began to clop-clop steadily again, and at once Ben hushed. Luster +looked quickly back over his shoulder, then he drove on. The +broken flower drooped over Ben’s fist and his eyes were empty +and blue and serene again as cornice and façade flowed smoothly +once more from left to right; post and tree, window and doorway, +and signboard, each in its ordered place.</p> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<h1 id='t12801'>Transcriber’s Notes</h1> + +<p class='pindent'>Because of William Faulkner’s unorthodox use of punctuation, it is +sometimes difficult to distinguish printing errors from the author’s +intentions. Therefore, every effort has been made to make the text +of this eBook correspond exactly to the printed edition of the book +from which the text was derived. The only correction made was the +addition of a missing closing quotation mark in the paragraph that +begins with “He fumbled in his coat” on page 230.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The illustration of an eye on page 242 has been replaced by the text, +“[Illustration: Eye]”, in the plain text version of this eBook.</p> + +<p class='line'> </p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75170 ***</div> + </body> + <!-- created with fpgen.py 4.17C on 2014-10-19 14:41:48 GMT --> +</html> + diff --git a/75170-h/images/cover.jpg b/75170-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2455704 --- /dev/null +++ b/75170-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75170-h/images/eye.png b/75170-h/images/eye.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1001697 --- /dev/null +++ b/75170-h/images/eye.png diff --git a/75170-h/images/image.png b/75170-h/images/image.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a7704e --- /dev/null +++ b/75170-h/images/image.png diff --git a/75170-h/images/rhlogo.png b/75170-h/images/rhlogo.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..36ecf5a --- /dev/null +++ b/75170-h/images/rhlogo.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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