carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第23部分

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Mick　and　his　niece；　Baby；　and　there　were　also　strange　young　
faces　no　one　had　ever　seen　before。　Biff　bowed　his　head。　
After　a　long　while　he　got　up　from　his　chair　and　stood　in　the　
middle　of　the　room。　He　could　hear　his　sister…in…law；　Lucile；　
walking　up　and　down　the　hall　outside。　A　fat　bee　crawled　
across　the　top　of　the　dresser；　and　adroitly　Biff　caught　it　in　his　
hand　and　put　it　out　the　open　window。　He　glanced　at　the　dead　
face　one　more　time；　and　then　with　widowed　sedateness　he　
opened　the　door　mat　led　out　into　the　hospital　corridor。　
Late　the　next　morning　he　sat　sewing　in　the　room　upstairs。　
Why？　Why　was　it　that　in　cases　of　real　love　the　one　who　is　left　
does　not　more　often　follow　the　beloved　by　suicide？　Only　
because　the　living　must　bury　the　dead？　Because　of　the　
measured　rites　that　must　be　fulfilled　after　a　death？　Because　it　
is　as　though　the　one　who　is　left　steps　for　a　time　upon　a　stage　
and　each　second　swells　to　an　unlimited　amount　of　time　and　he　
is　watched　by　many　eyes？　Because　there　is　a　function　he　must　
carry　out？　Or　perhaps；　when　there　is　love；　the　widowed　must　
stay　for　the　resurrection　of　the　beloved—so　that　the　one　who　
has　gone　is　not　really　dead；　but　grows　and　is　created　for　a　
second　time　in　the　soul　of　the　living？　Why？　
Biff　bent　close　over　his　sewing　and　meditated　on　many　things。　
He　sewed　skillfully；　and　the　calluses　on　the　tips　of　his　fingers　
were　so　hard　that　he　pushed　the　needle　through　the　cloth　
without　a　thimble。　Already　the　mourning　bands　had　been　sewn　
around　the　arms　of　two　gray　suits；　and　now　he　was　on　the　last。　
The　day　was　bright　and　hot；　and　the　first　dead　leaves　of　the　
new　autumn　scraped　on　the　sidewalks。　He　had　gone　out　early。　
Each　minute　was　very　long。　Before　him　there　was　infinite　
leisure。　He　had　locked　the　door　of　the　restaurant　and　hung　on　
the　outside　a　white　wreath　of　lilies。　To　the　funeral　home　he　
went　first　and　looked　carefully　at　the　selection　of　caskets。　He　
touched　the　materials　of　the　linings　and　tested　the　strength　of　
the　frames。　
'What　is　the　name　of　the　crepe　of　this　one—Georgette？'

　105　The　undertaker　answered　his　questions　in　an　oily；　


unctuous　voice。　
'And　what　is　the　percentage　of　cremations　in　your　business？'　
Out　on　the　street　again　Biff　walked　with　measured　formality。　
From　the　west　there　was　a　warm　wind　and　the　sun　was　very　
bright。　His　watch　had　stopped；　so　he　turned　down　toward　the　
street　where　Wilbur　Kelly　had　recently　put　out　his　sign　as　
watchmaker。　Kelly　was　sitting　at　his　bench　in　a　patched　
bathrobe。　His　shop　was　also　a　bedroom；　and　the　baby　Mick　
pulled　around　with　her　in　a　wagon　sat　quietly　on　a　pallet　on　
the　floor。　Each　minute　was　so　long　that　in　it　there　was　ample　
time　for　contemplation　and　enquiry。　He　asked　Kelly　to　explain　
the　exact　use　of　jewels　in　a　watch。　He　noted　the　distorted　look　
of　Kelly's　right　eye　as　it　appeared　through　his　watchmaker's　
loupe。　They　talked　for　a　while　about　Chamberlain　and　
Munich。　Then　as　the　time　was　still　early　he　decided　to　go　up　
to　the　mute's　room。　
Singer　was　dressing　for　work。　Last　night　there　had　come　from　
him　a　letter　of　condolence。　He　was　to　be　a　pallbearer　at　the　
funeral。　Biff　sat　on　the　bed　and　they　smoked　a　cigarette　
together。　Singer　looked　at　him　now　and　then　with　his　green　
observant　eyes。　He　offered　him　a　drink　of　coffee。　Biff　did　not　
talk；　and　once　the　mute　stopped　to　pat　him　on　the　shoulder　and　
look　for　a　second　into　his　face。　When　Singer　was　dressed　they　
went　out　together。　
Biff　bought　the　black　ribbon　at　the　store　and　saw　the　preacher　
of　Alice's　church。　When　all　was　arranged　he　came　back　home。　
To　put　things　in　order—that　was　the　thought　in　his　mind。　He　
bundled　up　Alice's　clothes　and　personal　possessions　to　give　to　
Lucile。　He　thoroughly　cleaned　and　straightened　the　bureau　
drawers。　He　even　rearranged　the　shelves　of　the　kitchen　
downstairs　and　removed　the　gaily　colored　crSpe　streamers　
from　the　electric　fans。　Then　when　this　was　done　he　sat　in　the　
tub　and　bathed　himself　all　over。　And　the　morning　was　done。　
Biff　bit　the　thread　and　smoothed　the　black　band　on　the　sleeve　
of　his　coat。　By　now　Lucile　would　be　waiting　for　him。　He　and　
she　and　Baby　would　ride　in　the　funeral　car　together。　He　put　
away　the　work　basket　and　fitted　the　coat106　

with　the　mourning　band　very　carefully　on　his　shoulders。　He　
glanced　swiftly　around　the　room　to　see　that　all　was　well　


before　going　out　again。
An　hour　later　he　was　in　Lucile's　kitchenette。　He　sat　with　his
legs　crossed；　a　napkin　over　his　thigh；　drinking　a　cup　of　tea。
Lucile　and　Alice　had　been　so　different　in　all　ways　that　it　was
not　easy　to　realize　they　were　sisters。　Lucile　was　thin　and　dark；
and　today　she　had　dressed　completely　in　black。　She　was　fixing
Baby's　hair。　The　kid　waited　patiently　on　the　kitchen　table　with
her　hands　folded　in　her　lap　while　her　mother　worked　on　her。
The　sunlight　was　quiet　and　mellow　in　the　room。
'Bartholomew'　said　Lucile。


。What？'　
〃Don't　you　ever　start　thinking　backward？'　
'I　don't；'said　Biff。　
'You　know　it's　like　I　got　to　wear　blinders　all　the　time　so　I　won't　
think　sideways　or　in　the　past。　All　I　can　let　myself　think　about　
is　going　to　work　every　day　and　fixing　meals　and　Baby's　
future。'　
That's　the　right　attitude。'　
'I　been　giving　Baby　finger　waves　down　at　the　shop。　But　they　
come　out　so　quick　I　been　thinking　about　letting　her　have　a　
permanent。　I　don't　want　to　give　it　to　her　myself—　I　think　
maybe　111　take　her　up　to　Atlanta　when　I　go　to　the　
cosmetologist　convention　and　let　her　get　it　there。'　
'Motherogod！　She's　not　but　four。　It's　liable　to　scare　her。　And　
besides；　permanents　tend　to　coarsen　the　hair。'　
Lucile　dipped　the　comb　in　a　glass　of　water　and　mashed　the　
curls　over　Baby's　ears。　'No；　they　don't。　And　she　wants　one。　
Young　as　Baby　is；　she　already　has　as　much　ambition　as　I　got。　
And　that's　saying　plenty。'　
Biff　polished　his　nails　on　the　palm　of　his　hand　and　shook　his　
head。　
'Every　time　Baby　and　I　go　to　the　movies　and　see　those　kids　in　
all　the　good　roles　she　feels　the　same　way　I　do。　I　swear　she　
does；　Bartholomew。　I　can't　even　get　her　to　eat　her　supper　
afterward。'　
'For　goodness'　sake；'　Biff　said。　
'She's　getting　along　so　fine　with　her　dancing　and　expression　
lessons。　Next　year　I　want　her　to　start　with　the　piano　because　I　
think　it'll　be　a　help　for　her　to　play　some。　
107　Her　dancing　teacher　is　going　to　give　her　a　solo　in　the　


soiree。　I　feel　like　I　got　to　push　Baby　all　I　can。　Because　the　
sooner　she　gets　started　on　her　career　the　better　it'll　be　for　both　
of　us。'　
'Motherogod！'　
'You　don't　understand。　A　child　with　talent　can't　be　treated　like　
ordinary　kids。　That's　one　reason　I　want　to　get　Baby　out　of　this　
common　neighborhood。　I　can't　let　her　start　to　talk　vulgar　like　
these　brats　around　her　or　run　wild　like　they　do。'　
'I　know　the　kids　on　this　block；'　Biff　said。　'They're　all　right。　
Those　Kelly　kids　across　the　street—the　Crane　boy。　
'You　know　good　and　well　that　none　of　them　are　up　to　
Baby's　level。'　
Lucile　set　the　last　wave　in　Baby's　hair。　She　pinched　the　kid's　
little　cheeks　to　put　more　color　in　them。　Then　she　lifted　her　
down　from　the　table。　For　the　funeral　Baby　had　on　a　little　white　
dress　with　white　shoes　and　white　socks　and　even　small　white　
gloves。　There　was　a　certain　way　Baby　always　held　her　head　
when　people　looked　at　her；　and　it　was　turned　that　way　now。　
They　sat　for　a　while　in　the　small；　hot　kitchenette　without　
saying　anything。　Then　Lucile　began　to　cry。　'It's　not　like　we　
was　ever　very　close　as　sisters。　We　had　our　differences　and　we　
didn't　see　much　of　each　other。　Maybe　it　was　because　I　was　so　
much　younger。　But　there's　something　about　your　own　blood　
kin；　and　when　anything　like　this　happens'　
Biff　clucked　soothingly。　
'I　know　how　you　two　were；'　she　said。　It　wasn't　all　just　roses　
with　you　and　she。　But　maybe　that　sort　of　makes　it　worse　for　
you　now。'　
Biff　caught　Baby　under　the　arms　and　swung　her　up　to　his　
shoulder。　The　kid　was　getting　heavier。　He　held　her　carefully　as　
he　stepped　into　the　living…room。　Baby　felt　warm　and　close　on　
his　shoulder；　and　her　little　silk　skirt　was　white　against　the　dark　
cloth　of　his　coat。　She　grasped　one　of　his　ears　very　tight　with　
her　little　hand。　
'Unca　Biff！　Watch　me　do　the　split。'　
Gently　he　set　Baby　on　her　feet　again。　She　curved　both　arms　
above　her　head　and　her　feet　slid　slowly　in　opposite108　

directions　on　the　yellow　waxed　floor。　In　a　moment　she　was　
seated　with　one　leg　stretched　straight　in　front　of　her　and　one　


behind。　She　posed　with　her　arms　held　at　a　fancy　angle；　looking　
sideways　at　the　wall　with　a　sad　expression。　
She　scrambled　up　again。　'Watch　me　do　a　handspring。　Watch　
me　do　a'　
'Honey；　be　a　little　quieter；'　Lucile　said。　She　sat　down　beside　
Biff　on　the　plush　sofa。　'Don't　she　remind　you　a　little　of　him—　
something　about　her　eyes　and　face？'　
'Hell；　no。　I　can't　see　the　slightest　resemblance　between　Baby　
and　Leroy　Wilson。'　
Lucile　looked　too　thin　and　worn　out　for　her　age。　Maybe　it　was　
the　black　dress　and　because　she　had　been　crying。　'After　all；　we　
got　to　admit　he's　Baby's　father；'　she　said。　
'Can't　you　ever　forget　about　that　man？'　
'I　don't　know。　I　guess　I　always　been　a　fool　about　two　things。　
And　that's　Leroy　and　Baby。'　
Bill's　new　growth　of　beard　was　blue　against　the　pale　skin　of　
his　face　and　his　voice　sounded　tired。　'Don't　you　ever　just　think　
a　thing　through　and　find　out　what's　happened　and　what　ought　
to　come　from　that？　Don't　you　ever　use　logi