carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第45部分

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bawled　so　much　when　she　was　a　baby。　Her　Dad　would　have　to　
get　up　and　walk　with　her　every　night　when　she　was　Ralph's　
age。　The　only　thing　would　hush　her；　he　always　said；　was　for　
him　to　beat　the　coal　scuttle　with　a　poker　and　sing　'Dixie。'　
She　lay　on　her　stomach　on　the　cold　floor　and　thought。　Later　on　
—when　she　was　twenty—she　would　be　a　great　world…famous　
composer。　She　would　have　a　whole　symphony　orchestra　and　
conduct　all　of　her　music　herself。　She　would　stand　up　on　the　
platform　in　front　of　the　big　crowds　of　people。　To　conduct　the　
orchestra　she　would　wear　either　a　real　man's　evening　suit　or　
else　a　red　dress　spangled　with　rhine…stones。　The　curtains　of　the　
stage　would　be　red　velvet　and　M。K。　would　be　printed　on　them　
in　gold。　Mister　Singer　would　be　there；　and　afterward　they　
would　go　out　and　eat　fried　chicken。　He　would　admire　her　and　


count　her　as　his　very　best　friend。　George　would　bring　up　big　
wreaths　of　flowers　to　the　stage。　It　would　be　in　New　York　City　
or　else　in　a　foreign　country。　Famous　people　would　point　at　her　
—206　
CARSON　McCULLBRS　
Carole　Lombard　and　Arturo　Toscanini　and　Admiral　Byrd。　
And　she　could　play　the　Beethoven　symphony　any　time　she　
wanted　to。　It　was　a　queer　thing　about　this　music　she　had　heard　
last　autumn。　The　symphony　stayed　inside　her　always　and　grew　
little　by　little。　The　reason　was　this：　the　whole　symphony　was　
in　her　mind。　It　had　to　be。　She　had　heard　every　note；　and　
somewhere　in　the　back　of　her　mind　the　whole　of　the　music　
was　still　there　just　as　it　had　been　played。　But　she　could　do　
nothing　to　bring　it　all　out　again。　Except　wait　and　be　ready　for　
the　times　when　suddenly　a　new　part　came　to　her。　Wait　for　it　to　
grow　like　leaves　grow　slowly　on　the　branches　of　a　spring　oak　
tree。　
In　the　inside　room；　along　with　music；　there　was　Mister　Singer。　
Every　afternoon　as　soon　as　she　finished　playing　on　the　piano　
in　the　gym　she　walked　down　the　main　street　past　the　store　
where　he　worked。　From　the　front　window　she　couldn't　see　
Mister　Singer。　He　worked　in　the　back；　behind　a　curtain。　But　
she　looked　at　the　store　where　he　stayed　every　day　and　saw　the　
people　he　knew。　Then　every　night　she　waited　on　the　front　
porch　for　him　to　come　home。　Sometimes　she　followed　him　
upstairs。　She　sat　on　the　bed　and　watched　him　put　away　his　hat　
and　undo　the　button　on　bis　collar　and　brush　his　hair。　For　some　
reason　it　was　like　they　had　a　secret　together。　Or　like　they　
waited　to　tell　each　other　things　that　had　never　been　said　
before。　
He　was　the　only　person　in　the　inside　room。　A　long　time　ago　
there　had　been　others。　She　thought　back　and　remembered　how　
it　was　before　he　came。　She　remembered　a　girl　way　back　in　the　
sixth　grade　named　Celeste。　This　girl　had　straight　blonde　hair　
and　a　turned…up　nose　and　freckles。　She　wore　a　red…wool　
jumper　with　a　white　blouse。　She　walked　pigeon…toed。　Every　
day　she　brought　an　orange　for　little　recess　and　a　blue　tin　box　
of　lunch　for　big　recess。　Other　kids　would　gobble　the　food　they　
had　brought　at　little　recess　and　then　were　hungry　later—but　
not　Celeste。　She　pulled　off　the　crusts　of　her　sandwiches　and　


ate　only　the　soft　middle　part。　Always　she　had　a　stuffed　hardboiled　egg　and　she　would　hold　it　in　her　hand；　mashing　the　
yellow　with　her　thumb　so　that　the　print　of　her　finger　was　left　
there。　
Celeste　never　talked　to　her　and　she　never　talked　to　Celeste。　
Although　that　was　what　she　wanted　more　than　anything　else。　
At　night　she　would　lie　awake　and　think　about

　207　Celeste。　She　would　plan　that　they　were　best　friends　and　
think　about　the　time　when　Celeste　could　come　home　with　her　
to　eat　supper　and　spend　the　night。　But　that　never　happened。　
The　way　she　felt　about　Celeste　would　never　let　her　go　up　and　
make　friends　with　her　like　she　would　any　other　person。　After　a　
year　Celeste　moved　to　another　part　of　town　and　went　to　
another　school。　
Then　there　was　a　boy　called　Buck。　He　was　big　and　had　
pimples　on　his　face。　When　she　stood　by　him　in　line　to　march　
in　at　eight…thirty　he　smelled　bad—like　bis　britches　needed　
airing。　Buck　did　a　nose　dive　at　the　principal　once　and　was　
suspended。　When　he　laughed　he　lifted　his　upper　lip　and　shook　
all　over。　She　thought　about　him　like　she　had　thought　about　
Celeste。　Then　there　was　the　lady　who　sold　lottery　tickets　for　a　
turkey　raffle。　And　Miss　Anglin；　who　taught　the　seventh　grade。　
And　Carole　Lombard　in　the　movies。　All　of　them。　
But　with　Mister　Singer　there　was　a　difference。　The　way　she　
felt　about　him　came　on　her　slowly；　and　she　could　not　think　
back　and　realize　just　how　it　happened。　The　other　people　had　
been　ordinary；　but　Mister　Singer　was　not　The　first　day　he　rang　
the　doorbell　to　ask　about　a　room　she　had　looked　a　long　time　
into　his　face。　She　had　opened　the　door　and　read　over　the　card　
he　handed　her。　Then　she　called　her　Mama　and　went　back　in　
the　kitchen　to　tell　Portia　and　Bubber　about　him。　She　followed　
him　and　her　Mama　up　the　stairs　and　watched　him　poke　the　
mattress　on　the　bed　and　roll　up　the　shades　to　see　if　they　
worked。　The　day　he　moved　she　sat　on　the　front　porch　banisters　
and　watched　him　get　out　of　the　ten…cent　taxi　with　his　suitcase　
and　his　chessboard。　Then　later　she　listened　to　him　thump　
around　in　his　room　and　imagined　about　him。　The　rest　came　in　
a　gradual　way。　So　that　now　there　was　this　secret　feeling　
between　them。　She　talked　to　him　more　than　she　had　ever　
talked　to　a　person　before。　And　if　he　could　have　talked　he　


would　have　told　her　many　things。　It　was　like　he　was　some　kind　
of　a　great　teacher；　only　because　he　was　a　mute　he　did　not　
teach。　In　the　bed　at　night　she　planned　about　how　she　was　an　
orphan　and　lived　with　Mister　Singer—just　the　two　of　them　in　
a　foreign　house　where　in　the　winter　it　would　snow。　Maybe　in　a　
little　Switzerland　town　with　the　high　glaciers　and　the　
mountains　all　around。　Where　rocks　were208　

CARSON　McCULLERS　

on　top　of　all　the　houses　and　the　roofs　were　steep　and　pointed。　
Or　in　France　where　the　people　carried　home　bread　from　the　
store　without　its　being　wrapped。　Or　in　the　foreign　country　of　
Norway　by　the　gray　winter　ocean。　
In　the　morning　the　first　thing　she　would　think　of　him。　Along　
with　music。　When　she　put　on　her　dress　she　wondered　where　
she　would　see　him　that　day。　She　used　some　of　Etta's　perfume　
or　a　drop　of　vanilla　so　that　if　she　met　him　in　the　hall　she　
would　smell　good。　She　went　to　school　late　so　she　could　see　
him　come　down　the　stairs　on　his　way　to　work。　And　in　the　
afternoon　and　night　she　never　left　the　house　if　he　was　there。　
Each　new　thing　she　learned　about　him　was　important。　He　kept　
his　toothbrush　and　toothpaste　in　a　glass　on　his　table。　So　
instead　of　leaving　her　toothbrush　on　the　bathroom　shelf　she　
kept　it　in　a　glass；　also。　He　didn't　like　cabbage。　Harry；　who　
worked　for　Mister　Brannon；　mentioned　that　to　her。　Now　she　
couldn't　eat　cabbage　either。　When　she　learned　new　facts　about　
him；　or　when　she　said　something　to　him　and　he　wrote　a　few　
words　with　his　silver　pencil；　she　had　to　be　off　by　herself　for　a　
long　time　to　think　it　over。　When　she　was　with　him　the　main　
thought　in　her　mind　was　to　store　up　everything　so　that　later　
she　could　live　it　over　and　remember。　
But　in　the　inside　room　with　music　and　Mister　Singer　was　not　
all。　Many　things　happened　in　the　outside　room。　She　fell　down　
the　stairs　and　broke　off　one　of　her　front　teeth。　Miss　Minner　
gave　her　two　bad　cards　in　English。　She　lost　a　quarter　in　a　
vacant　lot；　and　although　she　and　George　hunted　for　three　days　
they　never　found　it　This　happened：　
One　afternoon　she　was　studying　for　an　English　test　out　on　the　
back　steps。　Harry　began　to　chop　wood　over　on　his　side　of　the　
fence　and　she　hollered　to　him。　He　came　and　diagrammed　a　
few　sentences　for　her。　His　eyes　were　quick　behind　his　horn


rimmed　glasses。　After　he　explained　the　English　to　her　he　stood
up　and　jerked　his　hands　in　and　out　the　pockets　of　his
lumberjack。　Harry　was　always　full　of　energy；　nervous；　and　he
had　to　be　talking　or　doing　something　every　minute。
'You　see；　there's　just　two　things　nowadays；'　he　said。


He　liked　to　surprise　people　and　sometimes　she　didn't　know
how　to　answer　him。
'It's　the　truth；　there's　just　two　things　ahead　nowadays。
'


。What？'　
'Militant　Democracy　or　Fascism。'　
'Don't　you　like　Republicans？'　
'Shucks；'　Harry　said。　'That's　not　what　I　mean。'　
He　had　explained　all　about　the　Fascists　one　afternoon。　He　told　
how　the　Nazis　made　little　Jew　children　get　down　on　their　
hands　and　knees　and　eat　grass　from　the　ground。　He　told　about　
how　he　planned　to　assassinate　Hitler。　He　had　it　all　worked　out　
thoroughly。　He　told　about　how　there　wasn't　any　justice　or　
freedom　hi　Fascism。　He　said　the　newspapers　wrote　deliberate　
lies　and　people　didn't　know　what　was　going　on　in　the　world。　
The　Nazis　were　terrible—everybody　knew　that。　She　plotted　
with　him　to　kill　Hitler。　It　would　be　better　to　have　four　or　five　
people　in　the　conspiracy　so　that　if　one　missed　him　the　others　
could　bump　him　off　just　the　same。　And　even　if　they　died　they　
would　all　be　heroes。　To　be　a　hero　was　almost　like　being　a　
great　musician。　
'Either　one　or　the　other。　And　although　I　don't　believe　in　war　
I'm　ready　to　fight　for　what　I　know　is　right'　
'Me　too；'　she　said。　'I'd　like　to　fight　the　Fascists。　I　could　dress　
up　like　a　boy　and　nobody　could　ever　telL　Cut　my　hair　off　and　
all。'　
It　was　a　bright　winter　afternoon。　The　sky　was　blue…green　and　
the　branches　of　the　oak　trees　in　the　back　yard　were　black　and　
bare　against　this　color。　The　sun　was　warm。　The　day　made　her　
feel　full　of　energy。　Music　was　hi　her　mind。　Just　to　be　doing　
something　she　picked　up　a　ten…penny　nail　and　drove　it　into　the　
steps　with　a　few　good　wallops。　Their　Dad　heard　the　sound　of　
the　hammer　and　came　out　in　his　bathrobe　to　stand　around　
awhile。　Under　the　tree　there　were　two　carpenter's　horses；　and　

little　Ralph　was　busy　putting　a　rock　on　top　of　one　and　then　
carrying　it　over　to　the　other　one。　Back　and　forth。　He　walked　
with　his　hands　out　to　balance　himself。　He　was　bowlegged　and　
his　diapers　dragged　down　to　his　knees。　George　was　shooting　
marbles。　Because　he　needed　a　haircut　his　face　looked　thin。　
Some　of　his　permanent　teeth　had　already　come—but　they　
were210　
small　and　blue　like　he　had　be