[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
than in Riley's. Pressing ft mildly against his cheek, he distantly said, "We are speaking of love.
A leaf, a handful of seed-begin with these, learn a little what it is to love. First, a leaf, a fall of
rain, then someone to receive what a leaf has taught you, what a fall of rain has ripened. No
easy process, understand; it could take a lifetime, it has mine, and still I've never mastered it-I
only know how true it is: that love is a chain of love, as nature is a chain of life."
"Then," said Dolly with an intake of breath, "I've been in love afl my life." She sank down
into the quilt. "Well, no," and her voice fell off, "I guess not. I've never loved a," while she
searched for the word wind frolicked her veil, "gentleman. You might say that I've never had
the opportunity. Except Papa," she paused, as though she'd said too much. A gauze of starlight
wrapped her closely as the quilt; something, the reciting frogs, the string of voices stretching
from the field of grass, lured, impelled her: "But I have loved everything else. Like the color
pink; when I was a child I had one colored crayon, and it was pink; I drew pink cats, pink trees-
for thirty-four years I lived in a pink room. And the box I kept, it's somewhere in the attic now,
I must ask Verena please to give it to me, it would be nice to see my first loves again: what is
there? a dried honeycomb, an empty hornet's nest, other things, or an orange stuck with cloves
and a jaybird's egg-when I loved those love collected inside me so that it went flying about like
a bird in a sunflower field. But it's best not to show such things, it burdens people and makes
them, I don't know why, unhappy. Verena scolds at me for what she calls hiding in comers, but
I'm afraid of scaring people if I show that I care for them. Like Paul Jimson's wife; after he got
sick and couldn't deliver the papers any more, remember she took over his roulte? poor thin
little thing just dragging herself with that sack of papers. It was one cold afternoon, she came up
on the porch her nose running and tears of cold hanging in her eyes-she put down the paper, and
I said wait, hold on, and took my handkerchief to wipe her eyes: I wanted to say, if I could, that
I was sorry and that I loved her-my hand grazed her face, she turned with the smallest shout and
ran down the steps. Then on, she always tossed the papers from the street, and whenever I heard
them hit the porch it sounded in my bones."
"Paul Jimson's wife: worrying yourself over trash like that!" said Catherine, rinsing her mouth
with the last of the wine. "I've got a bowl of goldfish, just 'cause I like them don't make me love
the world. Love a lot of mess, my foot. You can talk what you want, not going to do anything
but harm, bringing up what's best forgot. People ought to keep more things to themselves. The
deepdown ownself part of you, that's the good part: what's left of a human being that goes
around speaking his privates? The Judge, he say we all up here 'cause of trouble some kind.
Shoot! We here for very plain reasons. One is, this our tree-house, and two, That One and the
Jew's trying to steal what belongs to us. Three: you here, every one of you, 'cause you want to
be: the deepdown part of you tells you so. This last don't apply to me. I like a roof over my own
head. Dollyheart, give the Judge a portion of that quilt: man's shivering like was Halloween."
Shyly Dolly lifted a wing of the quilt and nodded to him; the Judge, not at all shy, slipped under
it. The branches of the China tree swayed like immense oars dipping into a sea rolling and
chilled by the far far stars. Left alone, Riley sat hunched up in himself like a pitiful orphan.
"Snuggle up, hard head: you cold like anybody else," said Catherine, offering him the position
on her right that I occupied on her left. He didn't seem to want to; maybe he noticed that she
smelled like bitter-weed, or maybe he thought it was sissy; but I said come on, Riley,
Catherine's good and warm, better than a quilt. After a while Riley moved over to us. It was
quiet for so long I thought everyone had gone to sleep. Then I felt Catherine stiffen. "It's just
come to me who it was sent my letter: Bill Nobody. That One, that's who. Sure as my name's
Catherine Creek she got some nigger in Miami to mail me a letter, thinking I'd scoot off there
never to be heard from again." Dolly sleepily said hush now hush, shut your eyes: "Nothing to
be afraid of; we've men here to watch out for us." A branch swung back, moonlight ignited the
tree: I saw the Judge take Dolly's hand. It was the last thing I saw.
Four
Riley was the first to wake, and he wakened me. On the skyline three morning stars swooned
in the flush of an arriving sun; dew tinseled the leaves, a jet chain of blackbirds swung out to
meet the mounting light. Riley beckoned for me to come with him; we slid silently down
through the tree. Catherine, snoring with abandon, did not hear us go; nor did Dolly and the
Judge who, like two children lost in a witch-ruled forest, were asleep with their cheeks together.
We headed toward the river, Riley leading the way. The legs of his canvas trousers whispered
against each other. Every little bit he stopped and stretched himself, as though he'd been riding
on a train. Somewhere we came to a hill of already about and busy red ants. Riley unbuttoned
his fly and began to flood them; I don't know that it was funny, but I laughed to keep him
company. Naturally I was insulted when he switched around and peed on my shoe. I thought it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
than in Riley's. Pressing ft mildly against his cheek, he distantly said, "We are speaking of love.
A leaf, a handful of seed-begin with these, learn a little what it is to love. First, a leaf, a fall of
rain, then someone to receive what a leaf has taught you, what a fall of rain has ripened. No
easy process, understand; it could take a lifetime, it has mine, and still I've never mastered it-I
only know how true it is: that love is a chain of love, as nature is a chain of life."
"Then," said Dolly with an intake of breath, "I've been in love afl my life." She sank down
into the quilt. "Well, no," and her voice fell off, "I guess not. I've never loved a," while she
searched for the word wind frolicked her veil, "gentleman. You might say that I've never had
the opportunity. Except Papa," she paused, as though she'd said too much. A gauze of starlight
wrapped her closely as the quilt; something, the reciting frogs, the string of voices stretching
from the field of grass, lured, impelled her: "But I have loved everything else. Like the color
pink; when I was a child I had one colored crayon, and it was pink; I drew pink cats, pink trees-
for thirty-four years I lived in a pink room. And the box I kept, it's somewhere in the attic now,
I must ask Verena please to give it to me, it would be nice to see my first loves again: what is
there? a dried honeycomb, an empty hornet's nest, other things, or an orange stuck with cloves
and a jaybird's egg-when I loved those love collected inside me so that it went flying about like
a bird in a sunflower field. But it's best not to show such things, it burdens people and makes
them, I don't know why, unhappy. Verena scolds at me for what she calls hiding in comers, but
I'm afraid of scaring people if I show that I care for them. Like Paul Jimson's wife; after he got
sick and couldn't deliver the papers any more, remember she took over his roulte? poor thin
little thing just dragging herself with that sack of papers. It was one cold afternoon, she came up
on the porch her nose running and tears of cold hanging in her eyes-she put down the paper, and
I said wait, hold on, and took my handkerchief to wipe her eyes: I wanted to say, if I could, that
I was sorry and that I loved her-my hand grazed her face, she turned with the smallest shout and
ran down the steps. Then on, she always tossed the papers from the street, and whenever I heard
them hit the porch it sounded in my bones."
"Paul Jimson's wife: worrying yourself over trash like that!" said Catherine, rinsing her mouth
with the last of the wine. "I've got a bowl of goldfish, just 'cause I like them don't make me love
the world. Love a lot of mess, my foot. You can talk what you want, not going to do anything
but harm, bringing up what's best forgot. People ought to keep more things to themselves. The
deepdown ownself part of you, that's the good part: what's left of a human being that goes
around speaking his privates? The Judge, he say we all up here 'cause of trouble some kind.
Shoot! We here for very plain reasons. One is, this our tree-house, and two, That One and the
Jew's trying to steal what belongs to us. Three: you here, every one of you, 'cause you want to
be: the deepdown part of you tells you so. This last don't apply to me. I like a roof over my own
head. Dollyheart, give the Judge a portion of that quilt: man's shivering like was Halloween."
Shyly Dolly lifted a wing of the quilt and nodded to him; the Judge, not at all shy, slipped under
it. The branches of the China tree swayed like immense oars dipping into a sea rolling and
chilled by the far far stars. Left alone, Riley sat hunched up in himself like a pitiful orphan.
"Snuggle up, hard head: you cold like anybody else," said Catherine, offering him the position
on her right that I occupied on her left. He didn't seem to want to; maybe he noticed that she
smelled like bitter-weed, or maybe he thought it was sissy; but I said come on, Riley,
Catherine's good and warm, better than a quilt. After a while Riley moved over to us. It was
quiet for so long I thought everyone had gone to sleep. Then I felt Catherine stiffen. "It's just
come to me who it was sent my letter: Bill Nobody. That One, that's who. Sure as my name's
Catherine Creek she got some nigger in Miami to mail me a letter, thinking I'd scoot off there
never to be heard from again." Dolly sleepily said hush now hush, shut your eyes: "Nothing to
be afraid of; we've men here to watch out for us." A branch swung back, moonlight ignited the
tree: I saw the Judge take Dolly's hand. It was the last thing I saw.
Four
Riley was the first to wake, and he wakened me. On the skyline three morning stars swooned
in the flush of an arriving sun; dew tinseled the leaves, a jet chain of blackbirds swung out to
meet the mounting light. Riley beckoned for me to come with him; we slid silently down
through the tree. Catherine, snoring with abandon, did not hear us go; nor did Dolly and the
Judge who, like two children lost in a witch-ruled forest, were asleep with their cheeks together.
We headed toward the river, Riley leading the way. The legs of his canvas trousers whispered
against each other. Every little bit he stopped and stretched himself, as though he'd been riding
on a train. Somewhere we came to a hill of already about and busy red ants. Riley unbuttoned
his fly and began to flood them; I don't know that it was funny, but I laughed to keep him
company. Naturally I was insulted when he switched around and peed on my shoe. I thought it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]