carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第37章

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The　fire　shadows　lapped　against　the　walls。　The　dark；　shadowy　
waves　rose　higher　and　the　room　took　on　motion。　The　room　
rose　and　fell　and　all　balance　was　gone。　Alone　Jake　felt　himself　
sink　downward；　slowly　in　wavelike　motions　downward　into　a　
shadowed　ocean。　In　helplessness　and　terror　he　strained　his　
eyes；　but　he　could　see　nothing　except　the　dark　and　scarlet　
waves　that　roared　hungrily　over　him。　Then　at　last　he　made　out　
the　thing　which　he　sought。　The　mute's　face　was　faint　and　very　
far　away。　Jake　closed　his　eyes。　
The　next　morning　he　awoke　very　late。　Singer　had　been　gone　
for　hours。　There　was　bread；　cheese；　an　orange；　and　a　pot　of　
coffee　on　the　table。　When　he　had　finished　his　breakfast　it　was　
time　for　work。　He　walked　somberly；　his　head　bent；　across　the　
town　toward　his　room。　When　he　reached　the　neighborhood　
where　he　lived　he　passed　through　a　certain　narrow　street　that　
was　flanked　on　one　side　by　a　smoke…blackened　brick　
warehouse。　On　the　wall　of　this　building　there　was　something　
that　vaguely　distracted　him。　He　started　to　walk　on；　and　then　
his　attention　was　suddenly　held。　On　the　wall　a　message　was　
written　in　bright　red　chalk；　the　letters　drawn　thickly　and　
curiously　formed：　

Ye　shall　eat　the　flesh　of　the　mighty；　and　drink　the　blood　of　the　
princes　of　the　earth。　

He　read　the　message　twice　and　looked　anxiously　up　and　down　
the　street。　No　one　was　in　sight。　After　a　few　minutes　of　puzzled　
deliberation　he　took　from　his　pocket　a　thick　red　pencil　and　
wrote　carefully　beneath　the　inscription：　

Whoever　wrote　the　above　meet　me　here　tomorrow　at　noon；　
Wednesday；　November　29。　Or　the　next　day。　

At　twelve　o'clock　the　next　day　he　waited　before　the　wall。　
。
Now　and　then　he　walked　impatiently　to　the　corner　to　look　：　up
and　down　the　streets。　No　one　came。　After　an　hour　he　■　had　to
leave　for　the　show。136


The　next　day　he　waited；　also。
Then　on　Friday　there　was　a　long；　slow　winter　rain。　The　wall
was　sodden　and　the　messages　streaked　so　that　no　word　could
be　read。　The　rain　continued；　gray　and　bitter　and　cold。



ICK；'　Bubber　said。　'I　come　to　believe　we　all　gonna　drown。'　It　
was　true　that　it　like　to　never　quit　raining。　Mrs。　Wells　rode　
them　back　and　forth　to　school　in　her　car；　and　every　afternoon　
they　had　to　stay　on　the　front　porch　or　in　the　house。　She　and　
Bubber　played　Parcheesi　and　Old　Maid　and　shot　marbles　on　
the　living…room　rug。　It　was　nearing　along　toward　Christmas　
time　and　Bubber　began　to　talk　about　the　Little　Lord　Jesus　and　
the　red　bicycle　he　wanted　Santa　Claus　to　bring　him。　The　rain　
was　silver　on　the　win…dowpanes　and　the　sky　was　wet　and　cold　
and　gray。　The　river　rose　so　high　that　some　of　the　factory　
people　had　to　move　out　of　their　houses。　Then　when　it　looked　
like　the　rain　would　keep　on　and　on　forever　it　suddenly　
stopped。　They　woke　up　one　morning　and　the　bright　sun　was　
shining。　By　afternoon　the　weather　was　almost　warm　as　
summer。　Mick　came　home　late　from　school　and　Bubber　and　
Ralph　and　Spareribs　were　on　the　front　sidewalk。　The　kids　
looked　hot　and　sticky　and　their　winter　clothes　had　a　sour　
smell。　Bubber　had　his　slingshot　and　a　pocketful　of　rocks。　
Ralph　sat　up　in　his　wagon；　his　hat　crooked　on　his　head；　and　he　
was　fretful。　Spareribs　had　bis　new　rifle　with　him。　The　sky　was　
a　wonderful　blue。　
'We　waited　for　you　a　long　time；　Mick；'　Bubber　said。　'Where　
you　been？'　
She　jumped　up　the　front　steps　three　at　a　time　and　threw　her　
sweater　toward　the　hat　rack。　'Practicing　on　the　piano　in　the　
gym。'　
Every　afternoon　she　stayed　after　school　for　an　hour　to　play。　
The　gym　was　crowded　and　noisy　because　the　girls'　team　had　
basketball　games。　Twice　today　she　was　hit　on　the　head　with　
the　ball。　But　getting　a　chance　to　sit　at　a　piano　was　worth　any　
amount　of　knocks　and　trouble。　She　would　arrange　bunches　of　
notes　together　until　the　sound　came　
that　she　wanted。　It　was　eaiser　than　she　had　thought。　After　the　
first　two　or　three　hours　she　figured　out　some　sets　of　chords　in　
the　bass　that　would　fit　in　with　the　main　tune　her　right　hand　
was　playing。　She　could　pick　out　almost　any　piece　now。　And　
she　made　up　new　music　too。　That　was　better　than　just　copying　
tunes。　When　her　hands　hunted　out　these　beautiful　new　sounds　
it　was　the　best　feeling　she　had　ever　known。　
She　wanted　to　learn　how　to　read　music　already　written　down。　


Delores　Brown　had　taken　music　lessons　for　five　years。　She　
paid　Delores　the　fifty　cents　a　week　she　got　for　lunch　money　to　
give　her　lessons。　This　made　her　very　hungry　all　through　the　
day。　Delores　played　a　good　many　fast；　runny　pieces—but　
Delores　did　not　know　how　to　answer　all　the　questions　she　
wanted　to　know。　Delores　only　taught　her　about　the　different　
scales；　the　major　and　minor　chords；　the　values　of　the　notes；　
and　such　beginning　rules　as　those。　
Mick　slammed　the　door　of　the　kitchen　stove。　〃This　all　we　got　
to　eat？'　
'Honey；　it　the　best　I　can　do　for　you；'　Portia　said。　Just　
cornpones　and　margarine。　As　she　ate　she　drank　a　glass　of　
water　to　help　wash　down　the　swallows。　
'Quit　acting　so　greedy。　Nobody　going　to　snatch　it　out　your　
hand。'　
The　kids　still　hung　around　in　front　of　the　house。　Bubber　had　
put　his　slingshot　in　his　pocket　and　now　he　played　with　the　
rifle。　Spareribs　was　ten　years　old　and　his　father　had　died　the　
month　before　and　this　had　been　his　father's　gun…All　the　
smaller　kids　loved　to　handle　that　rifle。　Every　few　minutes　
Bubber　would　haul　the　gun　up　to　his　shoulder。　He　took　aim　
and　made　a　loud　pow　sound。　
'Don't　monkey　with　the　trigger；'　said　Spareribs。　1　got　the　gun　
loaded。'　
Mick　finished　the　cornbread　and　looked　around　for　something　
to　do。　Harry　Minowitz　was　sitting　on　his　front　porch　banisters　
with　the　newspaper。　She　was　glad　to　see　him。　For　a　joke　she　
threw　up　her　arm　and　hollered　to　him；　'Heil！'　
But　Harry　didn't　take　it　as　a　joke。　He　went　into　his　front　hall　
and　shut　the　door。　It　was　easy　to　hurt　his　feelings。　She　was　
sorry；　because　lately　she　and　Harry　had　been　right　good　
friends。　They　had　always　played　in　the　same　gang138　

when　they　were　kids；　but　in　the　last　three　years　he　had　been　at　
Vocational　while　she　was　still　in　grammar　school。　Also　he　
worked　at　part…time　jobs。　He　grew　up　very　suddenly　and　quit　
hanging　around　the　back　and　front　yards　with　kids。　Sometimes　
she　could　see　him　reading　the　paper　in　his　bedroom　or　
undressing　late　at　night。　In　mathematics　and　history　he　was　the　
smartest　boy　at　Vocational。　Often；　now　that　she　was　in　high　


school　too；　they　would　meet　each　other　on　the　way　home　and　
walk　together。　They　were　in　the　same　shop　class；　and　once　the　
teacher　made　them　partners　to　assemble　a　motor。　He　read　
books　and　kept　up　with　the　newspapers　every　day。　World　
politics　were　all　the　time　on　his　mind。　He　talked　slow；　and　
sweat　stood　out　on　his　forehead　when　he　was　very　serious　
about　something。　And　now　she　had　made　him　mad　with　her。　
'I　wonder　has　Harry　still　got　his　gold　piece；'　Spareribs　said。　
'What　gold　piece？'　
'When　a　Jew　boy　is　born　they　put　a　gold　piece　in　the　bank　for　
him。　That's　what　Jews　do。'　
'Shucks。　You　got　it　mixed　up；'　she　said。　'It's　Catholics　you're　
thinking　about。　Catholics　buy　a　pistol　for　a　baby　soon　as　it's　
born。　Some　day　the　Catholics　mean　to　start　a　war　and　kill　
everybody　else。'　
'Nuns　give　me　a　funny　feeling；'　Spareribs　said。　'It　scares　me　
when　I　see　one　on　the　street。'　
She　sat　down　on　the　steps　and　laid　her　head　on　her　knees。　She　
went　into　the　inside　room。　With　her　it　was　like　there　was　two　
places—the　inside　room　and　the　outside　room。　School　and　the　
family　and　the　things　that　happened　every　day　were　in　the　
outside　room。　Mister　Singer　was　in　both　rooms。　Foreign　
countries　and　plans　and　music　were　in　the　inside　room。　The　
songs　she　thought　about　were　there。　And　the　symphony。　When　
she　was　by　herself　hi　this　inside　room　the　music　she　had　heard　
that　night　after　the　party　would　come　back　to　her。　This　
symphony　grew　slow　like　a　big　flower　in　her　mind。　During　the　
day　sometimes；　or　when　she　had　just　waked　up　in　the　
morning；　a　new　part　of　the　symphony　would　suddenly　come　to　
her。　Then　she　would　have　to　go　into　the　inside　room　and　listen　
to　it　many　times　and　try　to　join　it　into　the　parts　of　th