carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第46部分

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Some　of　his　permanent　teeth　had　already　come—but　they　
were210　
small　and　blue　like　he　had　been　eating　blackberries。　He　
drew　a　line　for　taw　and　lay　on　his　stomach　to　take　aim　for　the　
first　hole。　When　their　Dad　went　back　to　his　watch　work　he　
carried　Ralph　with　him。　And　after　a　while　George　went　off　
into　the　alley　by　himself。　Since　he　shot　Baby　he　wouldn't　
buddy　with　a　single　person。　
'I　got　to　go；'　Harry　said。　'I　got　to　be　at　work　before　six。'　'You　
like　it　at　the　cafe？　Do　you　get　good　things　to　eat　free？'　
'Sure。　And　all　kinds　of　folks　come　in　the　place。　I　like　it　better　
than　any　job　I　ever　had。　It　pays　more。'　
'I　hate　Mister　Brannon；'　Mick　said。　It　was　true　that　even　
though　he　never　said　anything　mean　to　her　he　always　spoke　in　
a　rough；　funny　way。　He　must　have　known　all　along　about　the　
pack　of　chewing…gum　she　and　George　swiped　that　time。　And　
then　why　would　he　ask　her　how　her　business　was　coming　
along—like　he　did　up　in　Mister　Singer's　room？　Maybe　he　
thought　they　took　things　regular。　And　they　didn't。　They　
certainly　did　not。　Only　once　a　little　water…color　set　from　the　
ten…cent　store。　And　a　nickel　pencil…sharpener。　
'I　can't　stand　Mister　Brarmon。'　
'He's　all　right；'　Harry　said。　'Sometimes　he　seems　a　right　queer　
kind　of　person；　but　he's　not　crabby。　When　you　get　to　know　
him。'　
'One　thing　I've　thought　about；'　Mick　said。　'A　boy　has　a　better　
advantage　like　that　than　a　girl。　I　mean　a　boy　can　usually　get　
some　part…time　job　that　don't　take　him　out　of　school　and　leaves　
him　time　for　other　things。　But　there's　not　jobs　like　that　for　
girls。　When　a　girl　wants　a　job　she　has　to　quit　school　and　work　
full　time。　I'd　sure　like　to　earn　a　couple　of　bucks　a　week　like　
you　do；　but　there's　just　not　any　way。'　
Harry　sat　on　the　steps　and　untied　his　shoestrings。　He　pulled　at　
them　until　one　broke。　'A　man　comes　to　the　caf6　named　Mr。　
Blount。　Mr。　Jake　Blount。　I　like　to　listen　to　him。　I　learn　a　lot　


from　the　things　he　says　when　he　drinks　beer。　He's　given　me　
some　new　ideas。'　
'I　know　him　good。　He　comes　here　every　Sunday。'　
Harry　unlaced　his　shoe　and　pulled　the　broken　string　to　even　
lengths　so　he　could　tie　it　in　a　bow　again。　'Listen'—he　

rubbed　his　glasses　on　his　lumberjack　in　a　nervous　way—　'You　
needn't　mention　to　him　what　I　said。　I　mean　I　doubt　if　he　would　
remember　me。　He　don't　talk　to　me。　He　just　talks　to　Mr。　Singer。　
He　might　think　it　was　funny　if　you　—you　know　what　I　mean。'　
'O。K。'　She　read　between　the　words　that　he　had　a　crush　on　
Mister　Blount　and　she　knew　how　he　felt。　'I　wouldn't　mention　
it。'　
Dark　came　on。　The　moon；　white　like　milk；　showed　in　the　blue　
sky　and　the　air　was　cold。　She　could　hear　Ralph　and　George　
and　Portia　in　the　kitchen。　The　fire　in　the　stove　made　the　
kitchen　window　a　warm　orange。　There　was　the　smell　of　smoke　
and　supper。　
'You　know　this　is　something　I　never　have　told　anybody；'　he　
said。　'I　hate　to　realize　about　it　myself。'　

。What？'　
'You　remember　when　you　first　began　to　read　the　newspapers　
and　think　about　the　things　you　read？'　
'Sure。'　
'I　used　to　be　a　Fascist。　I　used　to　think　I　was。　It　was　this　way。　
You　know　all　the　pictures　of　the　people　our　age　in　Europe　
marching　and　singing　songs　and　keeping　step　together。　I　used　
to　think　that　was　wonderful。　All　of　them　pledged　to　each　other　
and　with　one　leader。　All　of　them　with　the　same　ideals　and　
marching　in　step　together。　I　didn't　worry　much　about　what　was　
happening　to　the　Jewish　minorities　because　I　didn't　want　to　
think　about　it。　And　because　at　the　time　I　didn't　want　to　think　
like　I　was　Jewish。　You　see；　I　didn't　know。　I　just　looked　at　the　
pictures　and　read　what　it　said　underneath　and　didn't　
understand。　I　never　knew　what　an　awful　thing　it　was。　I　thought　
I　was　a　Fascist。　Of　course　later　on　I　found　out　different。'　
His　voice　was　bitter　against　himself　and　kept　changing　from　a　
man's　voice　to　a　young　boy's。　
'Well；　you　didn't　realize　then'　she　said。　

'It　was　a　terrible　transgression。　A　moral　wrong。'　
That　was　the　way　he　was。　Everything　was　either　very　right　or　
very　wrong—with　no　middle　way。　It　was　wrong　for　anyone　
under　twenty　to　touch　beer　or　wine　or　smoke　a　cigarette。　It　
was　a　terrible　sin　for　a　person　to　cheat　on　a　test；　but　not　a　sin　
to　copy　homework。　It　was　a　moral　wrong212　

for　girls　to　wear　lipstick　or　sun…backed　dresses。　It　was　a　
terrible　sin　to　buy　anything　with　a　German　or　Japanese　label；　
no　matter　if　it　cost　only　a　nickel。　
She　remembered　Harry　back　to　the　time　when　they　were　kids。　
Once　his　eyes　got　crossed　and　stayed　crossed　for　a　year。　He　
would　sit　out　on　his　front　steps　with　his　hands　between　his　
knees　and　watch　everything。　Very　quiet　and　cross…eyed。　He　
skipped　two　grades　in　grammar　school　and　when　he　was　
eleven　he　was　ready　for　Vocational。　But　at　Vocational　when　
they　read　about　the　Jew　in　'Ivanhoe'　the　other　kids　would　look　
around　at　Harry　and　he　would　come　home　and　cry。　So　his　
mother　took　him　out　of　school。　He　stayed　out　for　a　whole　year。　
He　grew　taller　and　very　fat。　Every　time　she　climbed　the　fence　
she　would　see　him　making　himself　something　to　eat　in　his　
kitchen。　They　both　played　around　on　the　block；　and　sometimes　
they　would　wrestle。　When　she　was　a　kid　she　liked　to　fight　with　
boys—　not　real　fights　but　just　in　play。　She　used　a　combination　
jujitsu　and　boxing。　Sometimes　he　got　her　down　and　sometimes　
she　got　him。　Harry　never　was　very　rough　with　anybody。　When　
little　kids　ever　broke　any　toy　they　would　come　to　him　and　he　
always　took　the　time　to　fix　it。　He　could　fix　anything。　The　
ladies　on　the　block　got　him　to　fix　their　electric　lights　or　
sewing…machines　when　something　i　went　wrong。　Then　when　
he　was　thirteen　he　started　back　｜　at　Vocational　and　began　to　
study　hard。　He　threw　papers　and　worked　on　Saturdays　and　
read。　For　a　long　time　she　didn't　see　much　of　him—until　after　
that　party　she　gave。　He　was　very　changed。　

'Like　this；'　Harry　said。　'It　used　to　be　I　had　some　big　。　ambition　
for　myself　all　the　time。　A　great　engineer　or　a　great　doctor　or　
lawyer。　But　now　I　don't　have　it　that　way。　。　All　I　can　think　
about　is　what　happens　in　the　world　now。　i　About　Fascism　and　
the　terrible　things　in　Europe—and　on　f　the　other　hand　


Democracy。　I　mean　I　can't　think　and　work　on　what　I　mean　to　
be　in　life　because　I　think　too　much　about　this　other。　I　dream　
about　killing　Hitler　every　night　And　I　wake　up　in　the　dark　very　
thirsty　and　scared　of　some…■　thing—I　don't　know　what'　
She　looked　at　Harry's　face　and　a　deep；　serious　feeling　made　
her　sad。　His　hair　hung　over　his　forehead。　His　upper　lip　was　
thin　and　tight；　but　the　lower　one　was　thick　and　it

　213　
trembled。　Harry　didn't　look　old　enough　to　be　fifteen。　With　the　
darkness　a　cold　wind　came。　The　wind　sang　up　in　the　oak　trees　
on　the　block　and　banged　the　blinds　against　the　side　of　the　
house。　Down　the　street　Mrs。　Wells　was　calling　Sucker　home。　
The　dark　late　afternoon　made　the　sadness　heavy　inside　her。　I　
want　a　piano—I　want　to　take　music　lessons；　she　said　to　
herself。　She　looked　at　Harry　and　he　was　lacing　his　thin　fingers　
together　in　different　shapes。　There　was　a　warm　boy　smell　
about　him。　
What　was　it　made　her　act　like　she　suddenly　did？　Maybe　it　was　
remembering　the　times　when　they　were　younger。　Maybe　it　
was　because　the　sadness　made　her　feel　queer。　But　anyway　all　
of　a　sudden　she　gave　Harry　a　push　that　nearly　knocked　him　off　
the　steps。　'S。O。B。　to　your　Grandmother；'　she　hollered　to　him。　
Then　she　ran。　That　was　what　kids　used　to　say　in　the　
neighborhood　when　they　picked　a　fight　Harry　stood　up　and　
looked　surprised。　He　settled　his　glasses　on　his　nose　and　
watched　her　for　a　second。　Then　he　ran　back　to　the　alley。　
The　cold　air　made　her　strong　as　Samson。　When　she　laughed　
there　was　a　short；　quick　echo。　She　butted　Harry　with　her　
shoulder　and　he　got　a　holt　on　her。　They　wrestled　hard　and　
laughed。　She　was　the　tallest　but　his　hands　were　strong。　He　
didn't　fight　good　enough　and　she　got　him　on　the　ground。　Then　
suddenly　he　stopped　moving　and　she　stopped　too。　His　
breathing　was　warm　on　her　neck　and　he　was　very　still。　She　felt　
his　ribs　against　her　knees　and　his　hard　breathing　as　she　sat　on　
him。　They　got　up　together。　They　did　not　laugh　any　more　and　
the　alley　was　very　quiet。　As　they　walked　across　the　dark　back　
yard　for　some　reason　she　felt　funny。　There　was　nothing　to　feel　
queer　about；　but　suddenly　it　had　just　happened。　She　gave　him　
a　little　push　and　he　pushed　her　back。　Then　she　laughed　again　
and　felt　all　right。　


'So　long；'　Harry　said。　He　was　too　old　to　climb　the　fence；　so　he　
ran　through　the　side　alley　to　the　front　of　his　house。　
'Gosh　it's　hot！'　she　said。　'I　could　smother　in　here。'　
Portia　was　warming　her　supper　in　the　stove。　Ralph　
banged　his　spoon　on　his　high…chair　tray。　George's　dirty　
little　hand　pushed　up　his　grits　with　a　piece　of　bread　and　
his　eyes　were　squinted　in　a　faraway　look。　She　helped　her…214　

self　to　white　meat　and　gravy　and　grits　and　a　few　raisins　and　
mixed　them　up　together　on　her　plate。　She　ate　three　bites　of　
them。　She　ate　until　all　the　grits　were　gone　but　still　she　wasn't　
full。　
She　had　thought　about　Mister　Singer　all　the　day；　and　as　soon　
as　supper　was　over　she　went　upstairs。　But　when　she　reached　
the　third　floor　she　saw　that　his　door　was　open　and　his　room　
dark。　This　gave　her　an　empty　feeling。　
Downstairs　she　couldn't　sit　still　and　study　for　the　English　test。　
It　was　like　she　was　so　strong　she　couldn't　sit　on　a　chair　in　a　
room　the　same　as　other　people。　It　was　like　she　could　knock　
down　all　the　walls　of　the　house　and　then　march　through　the　
streets　big　as　a　giant。　
Finally　she　got　out　her　private　box　from　under　the　bed。　She　lay　
on　her　stomach　and　looked　over　the　notebook。　There　were　
about　twenty　songs　now；　but　she　didn't　feel　satisfied　with　
them。　If　she　could　write　a　symphony！　For　a　whole　orchestra—　
how　did　you　write　that？　Sometimes　several　instruments　played　
one　note；　so　the　staff　would　have　to　be　very　large。　She　drew　
five　lines　across　a　big　sheet　of　test　paper—the　lines　about　an　
inch　apart。　When　a　note　was　for　violin　or　'cello　or　flute　she　
would　write　the　name　of　the　instrument　to　show。　And　when　
they　all　played　the　same　note　together　she　would　draw　a　circle　
around　t