th.red dragon-第35部分

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　It　was　true　that　Grandmother　had　enjoyed　a　season　as　a　belle　in　1907　and　was　invited　to　some　of　the　better　balls　across　the　river　in　St。　Louis。
　There　was　an　〃object　lesson〃　in　this　for　everyone；　she　said。　She　looked　pointedly　at　Francis；　who　crossed　his　legs　beneath　the　table。
　〃I　came　up　at　a　time　when　little　could　be　done　medically　to　overe　the　little　accidents　of　nature；〃　she　said。　〃I　had　lovely　skin　and　hair　and　I　took　full　advantage　of　them。　I　overcame　my　teeth　with　force　of　personality　and　bright　spirits　…　so　successfully；　in　fact；　that　they　became　my　'beauty　spot。'　I　think　you　might　even　call　them　my　'charming　trademark。'　I　wouldn't　have　traded　them　for　the　world。〃
　She　distrusted　doctors；　she　explained　at　length；　but　when　it　became　clear　that　gum　problems　would　cost　her　her　teeth；　she　sought　out　one　of　the　most　renowned　dentists　in　the　Midwest；　Dr。　Felix　Bertl；　a　Swiss。　Dr。　BertI's　〃Swiss　teeth〃　were　very　popular　with　a　certain　class　of　people；　Grandmother　said；　and　he　had　a　remarkable　practice。
　Opera　singers　fearing　that　new　shapes　in　their　mouths　would　affect　their　tone；　actors　and　others　in　public　life　came　from　as　far　away　as　San　Francisco　to　be　fitted。
　Dr。　Bertl　could　reproduce　a　patient's　natural　teeth　exactly　and　had　experimented　with　various　pounds　and　their　effect　on　resonance。
　When　Dr。　Bertl　had　pleted　her　dentures；　her　teeth　appeared　just　as　they　had　before。　She　overcame　them　with　personality　and　lost　none　of　her　unique　charm；　she　said　with　a　spiky　smile。
　If　there　was　an　object　lesson　in　all　this；　Francis　did　not　appreciate　it　until　later；　there　would　be　no　further　surgery　for　him　until　he　could　pay　for　it　himself。
　Francis　could　make　it　through　dinner　because　there　was　something　he　looked　forward　to　afterward。
　Queen　Mother　Bailey's　husband　came　for　her　each　evening　in　the　mule…drawn　wagon　he　used　to　haul　firewood。　If　Grandmother　was　occupied　upstairs；　Francis　could　ride　with　them　down　the　lane　to　the　main　road。
　He　waited　all　day　for　the　evening　ride：　sitting　on　the　wagon　seat　beside　Queen　Mother；　her　tall　flat　husband　silent　and　almost　invisible　in　the　dark；　the　iron　tires　of　the　wagon　loud　in　the　gravel　behind　the　jingle　of　the　bits。　Two　mules；　brown　and　sometimes　muddy；　their　cropped　manes　standing　up　like　brushes；　swishing　their　tails　across　their　rumps。　The　smell　of　sweat　and　boiled　cotton　doth；　snuff　and　warm　harness。　There　was　the　smell　of　woodsmoke　when　Mr。　Bailey　had　been　clearing　new　ground　and　sometimes；　when　he　took　his　shotgun　to　the　new　ground；　a　couple　of　rabbits　or　squirrels　lay　in　the　wagon　box；　stretched　long　as　though　they　were　running。
　They　did　not　talk　on　the　ride　down　the　lane；　Mr。　Bailey　spoke　only　to　the　mules。　The　wagon　motion　bumped　the　boy　pleasantly　against　the　Baileys。　Dropped　off　at　the　end　of　the　lane；　he　gave　his　nightly　promise　to　walk　straight　back　to　the　house　and　watched　the　lantern　on　the　wagon　move　away。　He　could　hear　them　talking　down　the　road。　Sometimes　Queen　Mother　made　her　husband　laugh　and　she　laughed　with　him。　Standing　in　the　dark；　it　was　pleasant　to　hear　them　and　know　they　were　not　laughing　at　him。
　Later　he　would　change　his　mind　about　that　。　。　。
　
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　Francis　Dolarhyde's　occasional　playmate　was　the　daughter　of　a　sharecropper　who　lived　three　fields　away。　Grandmother　let　her　e　to　play　because　it　amused　her　now　and　then　to　dress　the　child　in　the　clothing　Marian　had　worn　when　she　was　small。
　She　was　a　red…haired　listless　child　and　she　was　too　tired　to　play　much　of　the　time。
　One　hot　June　afternoon；　bored　with　fishing　for　doodlebugs　in　the　chicken　yard　with　straws；　she　asked　to　see　Francis'　private　parts。
　In　a　corner　between　the　chicken　house　and　a　low　hedge　that　shielded　them　from　the　lower　windows　of　the　house；　he　showed　her。　She　reciprocated　by　showing　him　her　own；　standing　with　her　pilled　Cotton　underwear　around　her　ankles。　As　he　squatted　on　his　heels　to　see；　a　headless　chicken　flapped　around　the　corner；　traveling　on　its　back；　flapping　up　the　dust。　The　hobbled　girl　hopped　backward　as　it　spattered　blood　on　her　feet　and　legs。
　Francis　jumped　to　his　feet；　his　trousers　still　down；　as　Queen　Mother　Bailey　came　around　the　corner　after　the　chicken　and　saw　them。
　〃Look　here；　boy；〃　she　said　calmly；　〃you　want　to　see　what's　what；　well　now　you　see；　so　go　on　and　find　yourselves　something　else　to　do。　Occupy　yourself　with　children's　doings　and　keep　your　clothes　on。　You　and　that　child　help　me　catch　that　rooster。〃
　The　children's　embarrassment　quickly　passed　as　the　rooster　eluded　them。　　But　Grandmother　was　　watching　　from　　the　　upstairs　window　。　。　。
　
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　Grandmother　watched　Queen　Mother　e　back　inside。　The　children　went　into　the　chicken　house。　Grandmother　waited　five　minutes；　then　came　up　on　them　silently。　She　flung　open　the　door　and　found　them　gathering　feathers　for　headdresses。
　She　sent　the　girl　home　and　led　Francis　into　the　house。
　She　told　him　he　was　going　back　to　Brother　Buddy's　orphanage　after　she　had　punished　him。　〃Go　upstairs。　Go　to　your　room　and　take　your　trousers　off　and　wait　for　me　while　I　get　my　scissors。〃
　He　waited　for　hours　in　his　room；　lying　on　the　bed　with　his　trousers　off；　clutching　the　bedspread　and　waiting　for　the　scissors。　He　waited　through　the　sounds　of　supper　downstairs　and　he　heard　the　creak　and　clop　of　the　firewood　wagon　and　the　snort　of　the　mules　as　Queen　Mother's　husband　came　for　her。
　Sometime　toward　morning　he　slept；　and　woke　in　starts　to　wait。　Grandmother　never　came。　Perhaps　she　had　forgotten。　He　waited　through　the　routine　of　the　days　that　followed；　remembering　many　times　a　day　in　a　rush　of　freezing　dread。　He　would　never　cease　from　waiting。
　He　avoided　Queen　Mother　Bailey；　would　not　speak　to　her　and　wouldn't　tell　her　why：　be　mistakenly　believed　that　she　had　told　Grandmother　what　she　saw　in　the　chicken　yard。　Now　he　was　convinced　that　the　laughter　he　heard　while　he　watched　the　wagon　Ian…tern　diminish　down　the　road　was　about　him。　Clearly　he　could　trust　no　one。
　It　was　hard　to　lie　still　and　go　to　sleep　when　it　was　there　to　think　about。　It　was　hard　to　lie　still　on　such　a　bright　night。
　Francis　knew　that　Grandmother　was　right。　He　had　hurt　her　so。　He　had　shamed　her。　Everyone　must　know　what　he　had　done　…　even　as　far　away　as　St。　Charles。　He　was　not　angry　at　Grandmother。　He　knew　that　he　Loved　her　very　much。　He　wanted　to　do　right。
　He　imagined　that　burglars　were　breaking　in　and　he　protected　Grandmother　and　she　took　back　what　she　said。　〃You're　not　a　Child　of　the　Devil　after　all；　Francis。　You　are　my　good　boy。〃
　He　thought　about　a　burglar　breaking　in。　ing　in　the　house　determined　to　show　Grandmother　his　private　parts。
　How　would　Francis　protect　her？　He　was　too　small　to　fight　a　big　burglar。
　He　thought　about　it。　There　was　Queen　Mother's　hatchet　in　the　pantry。　She　wiped　it　with　newspaper　after　she　killed　a　chicken。　He　should　see　about　the　hatchet。　It　was　his　responsibility。　He　would　fight　his　fear　of　the　dark。　If　he　really　Loved　Grandmother；　he　should　be　the　thing　to　be　afraid　of　in　the　dark。　The　thing　for　the　burglar　to　be　afraid　of。
　He　crept　downstairs　and　found　the　hatchet　hanging　on　its　nail。　It　had　a　strange　smell；　like　the　smell　at　the　sink　when　they　were　drawing　a　chicken。　It　was　sharp　and　its　weight　was　reassuring　in　his　hand。
　He　carried　the　hatchet　to　Grandmother's　room　to　be　sure　there　were　no　burglars。
　Grandmother　was　asleep。　It　was　very　dark　but　he　knew　exactly　where　she　was。　If　there　was　a　burglar；　he　would　hear　him　breathing　just　as　he　could　hear　Grandmother　breathing。　He　would　know　where　his　neck　was　just　as　surely　as　he　knew　where　Grandmother's　neck　was。　It　was　just　below　the　breathing。
　If　there　was　a　burglar；　he　would　e　up　on　him　quietly　like　this。　He　would　raise　the　hatchet　over　his　head　with　both　hands　like　this。
　Francis　stepped　on　Grandmother's　slipper　beside　the　bed。　The　hatchet　swayed　in　the　dizzy　dark　and　pinged　against　the　metal　shade　of　her　reading　lamp。
　Grandmother　rolled　over　and　made　a　wet　noise　with　her　mouth。　Francis　stood　still。　His　arms　trembled　from　the　effort　of　holding　up　the　hatchet。　Grandmother　began　to　snore。
　The　Love　Francis　felt　almost　burst　him。　He　crept　out　of　the　room。　He　was　frantic　to　be　ready　to　protect　her。　He　must　do　something。　He　did　not　fear　the　dark　house　now；　but　it　was　choking　him。
　He　went　out　the　back　door　and　stood　in　the　brilliant　night；　face　upturned；　gasping　as　though　he　could　breathe　the　light。　A　tiny　disk　of　moon；　distorted　on　the　whites　of　his　rolled…back　eyes；　rounded　as　the　eyes　rolled　down　and　was　centered　at　last　in　his　pupils。
　The　Love　swelled　in　him　unbearably　tight　and　he　could　not　gasp　it　out。　He　walked　toward　the　chicken　house；　hurrying　now；　the　ground　cold　under　his　feet；　the　hatchet　bumping　cold　against　his　leg；　running　now　before　he　burst　。　。　。
　
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　Francis；　scrubbing　himself　at　the　chicken…yard　pump；　had　never　felt　such　sweet　and　easy　peace。　He　felt　his　way　cautiously　into　it　and　found　that　the　peace　was　endless　and　all　around　him。
　What　Grandmother　kindly　had　not　cut　off　was　still　there　like　a　prize　when　he　washed　the　blood　off　his　belly　and　legs。　His　mind　was　clear　and　calm。
　He　should　do　something　about　the　nightshirt。　Better　hide　it　under　the　sacks　in　the　smokehouse。
　
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　Discovery　of　the　dead　chicken　puzzled　Grandmother。　She　said　it　didn't　look　like　a　fox　job。
　A　month　later　Queen　Mother　found　another　one　when　she　went　to　gather　eggs。　This　time　the　head　had　been　wrung　off。
　Grandmother　said　at　the　dinner　table　that　she　was　convinced　it　was　done　for　spite　by　some　〃sorry　help　I　ran　off。〃　She　said　she　had　called　the　sheriff　about　it。
　Francis　sat　silent　at　his　place；　opening　and　closing　his　hand　on　the　memory　of　an　eye　blinking　against　his　palm。　Sometimes　in　bed　he　held　himself　to　be　sure　he　hadn't　been　cut。　Sometimes　when　he　held　himself　he　thought　he　felt　a　blink。
　
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　Grandmother　was　changing　rapidly。　She　was　increasingly　contentious　and　could　not　keep　household　help。　Though　she　was　short　of　housekeepers；　it　was　the　kitchen　where　she　took　personal　charge；　directing　Queen　Mother　Bailey　to　the　detriment　of　the　food。　Queen　Mother；　who　had　worked　for　the　Dolarhydes　all　her　life；　was　the　only　constant　on　the　staff。
　Red…faced　in　the