carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第5部分

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fifteenth　century　when　everybody　believed　the　world　was　flat　
and　only　Columbus　and　a　few　other　fellows　knew　the　truth。　
But　it's　different　in　that　it　took　talent　to　figure　that　the　earth　is　
round。　While　this　truth　is　so　obvious　it's　a　miracle　of　all　
history　that　people　don't　know。　You　savvy。'　
Biff　rested　his　elbows　on　the　counter　and　looked　at　Blount　
with　curiosity。　'Know　what？'　he　asked。　
〃Don't　listen　to　him；'　Blount　said。　'Don't　mind　that　flat…footed；　
blue…jowled；　nosy　bastard。　For　you　see；　when　us　people　who　
know　run　into　each　other　mat's　an　event。　It　almost　never　
happens。　Sometimes　we　meet　each　other　and　neither　guesses　
that　the　other　is　one　who　knows。　That's　a　bad　thing。　It's　
happened　to　me　a　lot　of　times。　But　you　see　there　are　so　few　of　
us。'　
'Masons？'　Biff　asked。　
'Shut　up；　you！　Else　111　snatch　your　arm　off　and　beat　you　
black　with　it；'　Blount　bawled。　He　hunched　over　close　to　the　
mute　and　his　voice　dropped　to　a　drunken　whisper。　'And　how　
come？　Why　has　this　miracle　of　ignorance　endured？　Because　
of　one　thing。　A　conspiracy。　A　vast　and　insidious　conspiracy。　

Obscurantism。
'
The　men　in　the　booth　were　still　laughing　at　the　drunk20


who　was　trying　to　hold　a　conversation　with　the　mute。　Only
Biff　was　serious。　He　wanted　to　ascertain　if　the　mute　really
understood　what　was　said　to　him。　The　fellow　nodded
frequently　and　his　face　seemed　contemplative。　He　was　only
slow—that　was　all。　Blount　began　to　crack　a　few　jokes　along
with　this　talk　about　knowing。　The　mute　never　smiled　until
several　seconds　after　the　funny　remark　had　been　made；　then
when　the　talk　was　gloomy　again　the　smile　still　hung　on　his
face　a　little　too　long。　The　fellow　was　downright　uncanny。
People　felt　themselves　watching　him　even　before　they　knew
that　there　was　anything　different　about　him。　His　eyes　made　
a
person　think　that　he　heard　things　nobody　else　had　ever　heard；
that　he　knew　things　no　one　had　ever　guessed　before。　He　did
not　seem　quite　human。
Jake　Blount　leaned　across　the　table　and　the　words　came　out　as
though　a　dam　inside　him　had　broken。　Biff　could　not
understand　him　any　more。　Blount's　tongue　was　so　heavy　with
drink　and　he　talked　at　such　a　violent　pace　that　the　sounds　were
all　shaken　up　together。　Biff　wondered　where　he　would　go
when　Alice　turned　him　out　of　the　place。　And　in　the　morning
she　would　do　it；　too—like　she　said。
Biff　yawned　wanly；　patting　his　open　mouth　with　his　fingertips
until　his　jaw　had　relaxed。　It　was　almost　three　o'clock；　the　most
stagnant　hour　in　the　day　or　night
The　mute　was　patient。　He　had　been　listening　to　Blount　for
almost　an　hour。　Now　he　began　to　look　at　the　clock
occasionally。　Blount　did　not　notice　this　and　went　on　without　
a
pause。　At　last　he　stopped　a　to　roll　a　cigarette；　and　then　the
mute　nodded　his　head　in　the　direction　of　the　clock；　smiled　in
that　hidden　way　of　his；　and　got　up　from　the　table。　His　hands
stayed　stuffed　in　his　pockets　as　always。　He　went　out　quickly。
Blount　was　so　drunk　that　he　did　not　know　what　had　happened。
He　had　never　even　caught　on　to　the　fact　that　the　mute　made　no
answers。　He　began　to　look　around　the　place　with　his　mouth
open　and　his　eyes　rolling　and　fuddled。　A　red　vein　stood　out　on
his　forehead　and　he　began　to　hit　the　table　angrily　with　his
fists。　His　bout　could　not　last　much　longer　now。



'Come　on　over；'　Biff　said　kindly。　〃Your　friend　has　gone。
'


The　fellow　was　still　hunting　for　Singer。　He　had　never　seemed
really　drunk　like　that　before。　He　had　an　ugly　look。
'I　have　something　for　you　over　here　and　I　want　to　speak　with
you　a　minute；'　Biff　coaxed。
Blount　pulled　himself　up　from　the　table　and　walked　with　big；
loose　steps　toward　the　street　again。
Biff　leaned　against　the　wall。　In　and　out—in　and　out。　After　all；
it　was　none　of　his　business。　The　room　was　very　empty　and
quiet。　The　minutes　lingered。　Wearily　he　let　his　head　sag
forward。　All　motion　seemed　slowly　to　be　leaving　the　room。
The　counter；　faces；　the　booths　and　tables；　the　radio　in　the
corner；　whirring　fans　on　the　ceiling—all　seemed　to　become
very　faint　and　still。
He　must　have　dozed。　A　hand　was　shaking　his　elbow。　His　wits
came　back　to　him　slowly　and　he　looked　up　to　see　what　was
wanted。　Willie；　the　colored　boy　in　the　kitchen；　stood　before
him　dressed　in　his　cap　and　his　long　white　apron。　Willie
stammered　because　he　was　excited　about　whatever　he　was
trying　to　say。
'And　so　he　were　1…1…lamming　his　fist　against　this　here　brick　w…
w…wall。
'
'What's　that？
'
'Right　down　one　of　them　alleys　two　d…d…doors　away。
'
Biff　straightened　bis　slumped　shoulders　and　arranged　his　tie。
'What？
'
'And　they　means　to　bring　him　in　here　and　they　liable　to　pile　in
any　minute
'
'Willie；'　Biff　said　patiently。　'Start　at　the　beginning　and　let　me
get　this　straight。
'
'It　this　here　short　white　man　with　the　m…m…mustache。
'


。Mr。　Blount。　Yes》　
'Well—I　didn't　see　how　it　commenced。　I　were　standing　in　the　
back　door　when　I　heard　this　here　commotion。　Sound　like　a　big　
fight　in　the　alley。　So　I　r…r…run　to　see。　And　this　here　white　man　
had　just　gone　hog　wild。　He　were　butting　bis　head　against　the　
side　of　this　brick　wall　and　hitting　with　his　fists。　He　were　
cussing　and　fighting　like　I　never　seen　a　white　man　fight　

before。　With　just　this　here　wall。　He　liable　to　broken　his　own　
head　the　way　he　were　carrying　on。　Then　two　white　mens　who　
had　heard　the　commotion　come　up　and　stand　around　and　
look'22　

'So　what　happened？'　
'Well—you　know　this　here　dumb　gentleman—hands　in　
pockets—this　here'　
'Mr。　Singer。'　
'And　he　come　along　and　just　stood　looking　around　to　see　what　
it　were　all　about。　And　Mr。　B…B…Blount　seen　him　and　
commenced　to　talk　and　holler。　And　then　all　of　a　sudden　he　
fallen　down　on　the　ground。　Maybe　he　done　really　busted　his　
head　open。　A　p…p…p…police　come　up　and　somebody　done　told　
him　Mr。　Blount　been　staying　here。'　
Biff　bowed　his　head　and　organized　the　story　he　had　just　heard　
into　a　neat　pattern。　He　rubbed　his　nose　and　thought　for　a　
minute。　
〃They　liable　to　pile　in　here　any　minute。'　Willie　went　to　the　
door　and　looked　down　the　street　'Here　they　all　come　now。　
They　having　to　drag　him。'　
A　dozen　onlookers　and　a　policeman　all　tried　to　crowd　into　the　
restaurant。　Outside　a　couple　of　whores　stood　looking　in　
through　the　front　window。　It　was　always　funny　how　many　
people　could　crowd　in　from　nowhere　when　anything　out　of　the　
ordinary　happened。　
'No　use　creating　any　more　disturbance　than　necessary；'　Biff　
said。　He　looked　at　the　policeman　who　supported　the　drunk。　
'The　rest　of　them　might　as　well　clear　out。'　
The　policeman　put　the　drunk　in　a　chair　and　hustled　the　little　
crowd　into　the　street　again。　Then　he　turned　to　Biff：　'Somebody　
said　he　was　staying　here　with　you。'　
'No。　But　he　might　as　well　be；'　Biff　said。　
'Want　me　to　take　him　with　me？'　
Biff　considered。　'He　won't　get　into　any　more　trouble　tonight。　
Of　course　I　can't　be　responsible—but　I　think　this　will　calm　
him　down。'　
'O。K。　I'll　drop　back　in　again　before　I　knock　off。'　
Biff；　Singer；　and　Jake　Blount　were　left　alone。　For　the　first　
time　since　he　had　been　brought　in；　Biff　turned　his　attention　to　


the　drunk　man。　It　seemed　that　Blount　had　hurt　his　jaw　very　
badly。　He　was　slumped　down　on　the　table　with　his　big　hand　
over　his　mouth；　swaying　backward　and　forward。　There　was　a　
gash　in　his　head　and　the　blood　ran　from　his　temple。　His　
knuckles　were　skinned　raw；　and　he　was　so　filthy　that　he　
looked　as　if　he　had　been　pulled　by　the　scruff　of　the　neck　from　
a　sewer。　All　the　juice　had　

23　

spurted　out　of　him　and　he　was　completely　collapsed。　The　mute　
sat　at　the　table　across　from　him；　taking　it　all　in　with　his　gray　
eyes。　
Then　Biff　saw　that　Blount　had　not　hurt　his　jaw；　but　he　was　
holding　his　hand　over　his　mouth　because　bis　lips　were　
trembling。　The　tears　began　to　roll　down　his　grimy　face。　Now　
and　then　he　glanced　sideways　at　Biff　and　Singer；　angry　that　
they　should　see　him　cry。　It　was　embarrassing。　Biff　shrugged　
his　shoulders　at　the　mute　and　raised　his　eyebrows　with　a　what…
to…do？　expression。　Singer　cocked　his　head　on　one　side。　
Biff　was　in　a　quandary。　Musingly　he　wondered　just　how　he　
should　manage　the　situation。　He　was　still　trying　to　decide　
when　the　mute　turned　over　the　menu　and　began　to　write。　
//　you　cannot　think　of　any　place　for　him　to　go　he　can　go　home　
with　me。　First　some　soup　and　coffee　would　be　good　for　him。　

With　relief　Biff　nodded　vigorously。　
On　the　table　he　placed　three　special　plates　of　the　last　evening　
meal；　two　bowls　of　soup；　coffee；　and　dessert。　But　Blount　
would　not　eat。　He　would　not　take　his　hand　away　from　his　
mouth；　and　it　was　as　though　his　lips　were　some　very　secret　
part　of　himself　which　was　being　exposed。　His　breath　came　in　
ragged　sobs　and　his　big　shoulders　jerked　nervously。　Singer　
pointed　to　one　dish　after　the　other；　but　Blount　just　sat　with　his　
hand　over　his　mouth　and　shook　his　head。　
Biff　enunciated　slowly　so　that　the　mute　could　see。　'The　
jitters'　he　said　conversationally。　
The　steam　from　the　soup　kept　floating　up　into　Blount's　face；　
and　after　a　little　while　he　reached　shakily　for　his　spoon。　He　
drank　the　soup　and　ate　part　of　his　dessert。　His　thick；　heavy　lips　
still　trembled　and　he　bowed　his　head　far　down　over　his　plate。　
Biff　noted　this。　He　was　thinkng　that　in　nearly　every　person　


there　was　some　special　physical　part　kept　always　guarded。　
With　the　mute　his　hands。　The　kid　Mick　picked　at　the　front　of　
her　blouse　to　keep　the　cloth　from　rubbing　the　new；　tender　
nipples　beginning　to　come　out　on　her24　

breast。　With　Alice　it　was　her　hair；　she　used　never　to　let　him　
sleep　with　her　when　he　rubbed　oil　in　his　scalp。　And　with　
himself？　
Lingeringly　Biff　turned　the　ring　on　his　little　finger。　Anyway　
he　knew　what　it　was　not。　Not。　Any　more。　A　sharp　line　cut　into　
his　forehead。　His　hand　in　his　pocket　moved　nervously　toward　
his　genitals。　He　began　whistling　a　song　and　got　up　from　the　
table。　Funny　to　spot　it　in　other　people；　though。　
They　helped　Blount　to　his　feet。　He　teetered　weakly。　He　was　
not　crying　any　more；　but　he　seemed　to　be　brooding　on　
something　shameful　and　sullen。　He　walked　in　the　direction　he　
was　led。　Biff　brought　out　the　suitcase　from　behind　the　counter　
and　explained　to　the　mute　about　it。　Singer　loo