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The sotoSd'and the fury; & 3
As 1 lay dying. 1929-1946.
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THE MODERN LIBRARY
OF THE WORLD'S BEST BOOKS
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
&
AS I LAY DYING
The publishers will be pleased to send, upon request,
an illustrated j older setting forth the purpose and
scope o/THE MODERN LIBRARY, and listing
each volume in the series. Every reader of books mill
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THE SOUND
AND THE FURY
AS I LAY
DYING
by WILLIAM FAULKNER
WITH A NEWAPPENDIX AS A
FOREWORD BY THE AUTHOR
THE
MODERN LIBRARY
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1929, BY WILLIAM FAULKNER
COPYRIGHT, 1930, BY WILLIAM FAULKNER
COPYRIGHT, 1946, BYRANDOM HOUSE, INC.
This Appendix for The Sound and the Fury
was written for The Portable Faulkner, ed-
ited by Malcolm Cowley, and is used here
by permission of The Viking Press
Random House is THE PUBLISHER OF
THE MODERN LIBRARY
BENNETT A. CERF DONALD 8. KLOPFBK - ROBERT K. HAAS
Manufactured in th United States of America
By H. Wolff
The Sound and the Fury
THE AND THE
APPENDIX
COMPSON: 1699-1945
IKKEMOTUBBE. A dispossessed American king,
Called THomme" (and sometimes "de ITiornme") by hi$
fosterbrother, a Chevalier of France, who had he not
been born too late could have been among the brightest
in that glittering galaxy of knightly blackguards who
were Napoleon's marshals, who thus translated the Chick*
asaw title meaning "The Man"; which translation Ikke*.
motubbe, himself a man of wit and imagination as well
as a shrewd judge of character, including his own, car-
ried one step further and anglicised it to "Doom/* Who
granted out of his vast lost domain a solid square mile of
virgin North Mississippi dirt as truly angled as the four
corners of a cardtable top (forested then because these
were the old days before 1833 when the stars fell and
Jefferson Mississippi was one long rambling onestorey
mudchinked log building housing the Chickasaw Agent
and his tradingpost store) to the grandson of a Scottish
refugee who had lost his own birthright by casting his
lot with a king who himself had been dispossessed. This
in partial return for the right to proceed in peace, by
whatever means he and his people saw fit, afoot or
ahorse provided they were Chickasaw horses, to the wild
western land presently to be called Oklahoma: not
knowing then about the oil.
JACKSON. A Creat White Father with a sword.
(An old duellist, a brawling lean fierce mangy durabla
4 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
imperishable old lion who set the wellbeing of the nation
above the White House and the health of his new polit-
ical party above either and above them all set not his
wife's honor but the principle that honor must be de-
fended whether it was or not because defended it was
whether or not.) Who patented sealed and counter-
signed the grant with his own hand in his gold tepee in
Wassi Town, not knowing about the oil either: so that
one day the homeless descendants of the dispossessed
would ride supine with drink and splendidly comatose
above the dusty allotted harborage of their bones in spe-
ciallybuilt scarletpainted hearses and fire-engines.
These were Compsons:
QUENTIN MACLACHAN. Son of a GlaSgOW
printer, orphaned and raised by his mother's people in
the Perth highlands. Fled to Carolina from Culloden
Moor with a claymore and the tartan he wore by day and
slept under by night, and little else. At eighty, having
fought once against an English king and lost, he would
not make that mistake twice and so fled again one night
In 1779, with his infant grandson and the tartan (the clay-
more had vanished, along with his son, the grandson's
father, from one of Tarleton's regiments on a Georgia
battlefield about a year ago) into Kentucky, where a
neighbor named Boon or Boone had already established
a settlement.
CHARLES. STUART. Attainted and proscribed by
name and grade in his British regiment. Left for dead in
a Georgia swamp by his own retreating army and then
by the advancing American one, both of which were
wrong. He still had the claymore even when on his home-
THE SOU3STB A2STB THE FIIBY J
made wooden leg he finally overtook Ms father and son
four years later at Harrodsburg, Kentucky, just in time to
bury the father and enter upon a long period of being a
split personality while still trying to be the schoolteacher
which he believed he wanted to be, until he gave up at
last and became the gambler he actually was and which
no Coxnpson seemed to realize they all were provided
the gambit was desperate and the odds long enough,
Succeeded at last in risking not only his neck but the se*
curity of his family and the very integrity of the name he
would leave behind him, by joining the confederation
headed by an acquaintance named Wilkinson ( a man of
considerable talent and influence and intellect and
power) in a plot to secede the whole Mississippi Valley
from the United States and join it to Spain. Fled in his
turn when the bubble burst (as anyone except a Comp-
son schoolteacher should have known it would), him-*
self unique in being the only one of the plotters who had
to flee the country: this not from the vengeance and ret-
ribution of the government which he had attempted to
dismember, but from the furious revulsion of his late con-
federates now frantic for their own safety. He was not
expelled from the United States, he talked himself coun-
tryless, his expulsion due not to the treason but to his
having been so vocal and vocif erant in the conduct of it,
burning each bridge vocally behind him before he had
even reached the place to build the next one: so that it
was no provost marshal nor even a civic agency but his
late coplotters themselves who put afoot the movement
to evict him from Kentucky and the United States and s
if they had caught him, probably from tha world too.
Fled by night, running true to family tradition, with hi
son and the old claymore and the tartan.
G THE SOUND AND THE FURY
JASON LYCURGtrs. Who, driven perhaps by the
compulsion of the flamboyant name given him by the
sardonic embittered woodenlegged indomitable father
who perhaps still believed with his heart that what he
wanted to be was a classicist schoolteacher, rode up the
Natchez Trace one day in 1811 with a pair of fine pistols
and one meagre saddlebag on a small lightwaisted but
stronghocked mare which could do the first two furlongs
in definitely under the halfminute and the next two in
not appreciably more, though that was all. But it was
enough: who reached the Chickasaw Agency at Okatoba
(which in 1860 was still called Old Jefferson) and went
no further. Who within six months was the Agent's clerk
and within twelve his partner, officially still the clerk
though actually halfowner of what was now a consider-
able store stocked with the mare's winnings in races
against the horses of Ikkemotubbe's young men which
he, Cornpson, was always careful to limit to a quarter or
at most three furlongs; and in the next year it was Ikke-
motubbe who owned the little mare and Compson
owned the solid square mile of land which someday
would be almost in the center of the town of Jefferson,
forested then and still forested twenty years later though
rather a park than a forest by that time, with its slave-
quarters and stables and kitchengardens and the forma]
lawns and promenades and pavilions laid out by the
same architect who built the columned porticoed house
furnished by steamboat from France and New Orleans,
and still the square intact mile in 1840 (with not only the
little white village called Jefferson beginning to enclose
it but an entire white county about to surround it be-
cause in a few years now Ikkemotubbe's descendants
and people would be gone, those remaining living not as
Warriors and hunters but as white men as shiftless f aim-
THE SOUND AKB THE FURY 7
ers or, here and there, the masters of what they too
called plantations and the owners o shiftless slaves, a
little dirtier than the white man, a little lazier, a little
crueller until at last even the wild blood itself would
have vanished, to be seen only occasionally in the nose*
shape of a Negro on a cottonwagon or a white sawmill
hand or trapper or locomotive fireman), known as the
Compson Domain then, since now it was fit to breed
princes, statesmen and generals and bishops, to avenge
the dispossessed Compsons from Culloden and Carolina
and Kentucky, then known as the Governor's house be-
cause sure enough in time it did produce or at least
spawn a governor Quentin MacLachan again, after the
Culloden grandfather and still known as the Old Gov-
ernor's even after it had spawned (1861) a general
(called so by predetermined accord and agreement by
the whole town and county, as though they knew even
then and beforehand that the old governor was the last
Compson who would not fail at everything he touched
save longevity or suicide) the Brigadier Jason Lycurgus
II who failed at Shiloh in '62 and failed again though
not so badly at Resaca in '64, who put the first mortgage
on the still intact square mile to a New England carpet-
bagger in '66, after the old town had been burned by the
Federal General Smith and the new little town, in time
to be populated mainly by the descendants not of Comp-
sons but of Snopeses, had begun to encroach and then
nibble at and into it as the failed brigadier spent the next
forty years selling fragments of it off to keep up the
mortage on the remainder: until one day in 1900 he died
quietly on an army cot in the hunting and fishing camp
in the Tallahatchie Biver bottom where hie passed most
of the end of his days.
THE SOXJKB AND THE FUBY
And even the old governor was forgotten now; what
Was left of the old square mile was now known merely
as the Compson place the weedchoked traces of the old
Jniined lawns and promenades, the house which had
needed painting too long already, the scaling columns
of the portico where Jason III ( bred for a lawyer and in-
deed he kept an office upstairs above the Square, where
entombed in dusty filingcases some of the oldest names
in the county Holston and Sutpen, Grenier and Beau-
champ and Coldfleld faded year by year among the
bottomless labyrinths of chancery: and who knows what
dream in the perennial heart of his father, now complet-
ing the third of his three avatars the one as son of a
brilliant and gallant statesman, the second as battle-
leader of brave and gallant men, the third as a sort of
privileged pseudo-Daniel Boone-Robinson Crusoe, who
had not returned to juvenility because actually he had
never left it that that lawyer's office might again be the
anteroom to the governor's mansion and the old splen-
dor) sat all day long with a decanter of whiskey and a
litter of dogeared Horaces and Livys and Catulluses,
composing (it was said) caustic and satiric eulogies on
both his dead and his living fellowtownsmen, who sold
the last of the property, except that fragment containing
the house and the kitchengarden and the collapsing sta-
bles and one servant's cabin in which Dilsev's family
lived, to a golf club for the ready money with which his
daughter Candace could have her fine wedding in April
and his son Quentin could finish one year at Harvard
and commit suicide in the following June of 1910; al-
ready known as the Old Compson place even while
Ctarpsons were still living in it on that spring dusk in
1928 when the old governor's doomed lost nameless
seventeen-year-old greatgreatgranddaughter robbed her
THE SOUKD A1STB THE FURY 9
last remaining sane male relative (her uncle Jason IV) of
bis secret hoard of money and climbed down a rainpipe
and ran off with a pitchman in a travelling streetshow^
and still known as the Old Compson place long after all
traces of Compsons were gone from it: after the wid-
owed mother died and Jason IV, no longer needing to
fear Dilsey now, committed his idiot brother, Benjaira%
to the State Asylum in Jackson and sold the house to, a
countryman who operated it as a boarding house for ju-
ries and horse- and muletraders, and still known as the
Old Compson place even after the boardinghouse (and
presently the golf course too) had vanished and the old
square mile was even intact again in row after row of
small crowded jerrybuilt individuallyowned demiurbaxi
bungalows.
And these:
QtiENTJN in. Who loved not his sister's "b&dy
but some concept of Compson honor precariously aad
(he knew well) only temporarily supported by
minute fragile membrane of her maidenhead as a
iature replica of all the whole vast globy earth may
be poised on the nose of a trained seat Who loved not
the idea of the incest which he would not commit, but
some presbyterian concept of its eternal punishment: he t
not God, could by that means cast himself and his sister
both into hell, where he could guard her forever and
keep her forevermore intact amid the eternal fires. But
who loved death above all, who loved only death, loved
and lived in a deliberate and almost perverted anticipa-
tion of death as a lover loves and deliberately refrains
from the waiting willing friendly tender incredible body
of his beloved, until he can no longer bear not the re-
fraining but the restraint and so flings, hurls himself, re<
10 THE SOUNB AND THE FUUY
linquishing, drowning. Committed suicide in Cambridge
Massachusetts, June 1910, two months after Ms sister's
wedding, waiting first to complete the current academic
year and so get the full value of his paid-in-advance tui-
tion, not because he had his old Culloden and Carolina
and Kentucky grandfathers in him but because the re-
maining piece of the old Compson mile which had been
sold to pay for his sister's wedding and his year at Har-
vard had been the one thing, excepting that same sister
and the sight of an open fire, which his youngest brother,
born an idiot, had loved,
( CADDY ). Doomed and knew it, ac-
cepted the doom without either seeking or fleeing it.
Loved her brother despite him, loved not only him but
loved in him that bitter prophet and inflexible corrupt-
less judge of what he considered the family's honor and
its doom, as he thought he loved but really hated in her
what he considered the frail doomed vessel of its pride
and the foul instrument of its disgrace; not only this, she
loved him not only in spite of but because of the fact
that he himself was incapable of love, accepting the fact
that he must value above all not her but the virginity of
which she was custodian and on which she placed no
value whatever: the frail physical stricture which to her
was no more than a hangnail would have been. Knew the
brother loved death best of all and was not jealous,
would (and perhaps in the calculation and deliberation
of her marriage did) have handed him the hypothetical
hemlock. Was two months pregnant with another man's
child which regardless of what its sex would be she had
already named Quentin after the brother whom they
both (she and the brother) knew was already the same
as dead, when she married (1910) an extremely eligible
THE SOTTED AISTB THE FXJKY II
young Indianian she and her mother had met while va-
cationing at French Lick the summer before. Divorced
by him 1911. Married 1920 to a minor movingpicture
magnate, Hollywood California. Divorced by mutual
agreement, Mexico 1925. Vanished in Paris with the
German occupation, 1940, still beautiful and probably
still wealthy too since she did not look within fifteen
years of her actual fortyeight, and was not heard of
again. Except there was a woman in Jefferson, the county
librarian, a mousesized and -colored woman who had
never married, v/ho had passed through the city schools
in the same class with Candace Compson and then spent
the rest of her life trying to keep Forever Amber in its
orderly overlapping avatars and Jurgen and Tom Jones
out of the hands of the highschool juniors and seniors
who could reach them down without even having to tip-
toe from the back shelves where she herself would have
to stand on a box to hide them. One day in 1943, after a
week of a distraction bordering on disintegration almost,
during which those entering the library would find her
always in the act of hurriedly closing her desk drawer
and turning the key in it (so that the matrons, wives of
the bankers and doctors and lawyers, some of whom had
also been in that old highschool class, who came and
went in the afternoons with the copies of the Forever
Ambens and the volumes of Thome Smith carefully
wrapped from view in sheets of Memphis and Jackson
newspapers, believed she was on the verge of illness or
perhaps even loss of mind) she closed and locked the li-
brary in the middle of the afternoon and with her hand-
bag clasped tightly under her arm and two feverish spots
of determination in her ordinarily colorless cheeks, she
entered the farmers' supply store where Jason IV had
started as a clerk and where he now owned his own busi-
1* THE SOUND AND THE FURY
mess as a buyei of and dealer In cotton, striding on
through that gloomy cavern which only men ever entered
* a cavern cluttered and walled and stalagmitehung
with plows and discs and loops of tracechain and single-
%rees and mulecollars and sidemeat and cheap shoes and
iiorselinament and flour and molasses, gloomy because
the goods it contained were not shown but hidden rather
since those who supplied Mississippi farmers or at least
Negro Mississippi fanners for a share of the crop did not
wish, until that crop was made and its value approxi-
mately computable, to show them what they could learn
to want but only to supply them on specific demand with
what they could not help but need and strode on back
to Jason's particular domain in the rear: a railed enclo-
sure cluttered with shelves and pigeonholes bearing
spiked dust-and-lintgathering gin receipts and ledgers
and cottonsamples and rank with the blended smell of
cheese and kerosene and harnessoil and the tremendous
Iron stove against which chewed tobacco had been spat
for almost a hundred yt^ars, and up to the long high slop-
Ing counter behind which Jason stood and, not looking
again at the overalled men who had quietly stopped talk-
ing and even chewing when she entered, with a kind of
fainting desperation she opened the handbag and fum-
bled something out of it and laid it open on the counter
and stood trembling and breathing rapidly while Jason
looked down at it a picture, a photograph in color
clipped obviously from a slick magazine a picture filled
with luxury and money and sunlight a Cannebiere
backdrop of mountains and palms and cypresses and the
sea, an open powerful expensive chromiumtrimmed
sports car, the woman's face hairless between a rich scarf
and a seal coat, ageless and beautiful, cold serene and
damned; beside her a handsome lean man of middleage
THE SOU^B AND THE FUHY 13
in the ribbons and tabs of a German staffgeneral and
the mousesized mousecolored spinster trembling and
aghast at her own temerity, staring across it at the child-
less bachelor in whom ended that long line of men who
had had something in them of decency and pride even
after they had begun to fail at the integrity and the pride
had become mostly vanity and self pity: from the expatri-
ate who had to flee his native land with little else except,
his life yet who still refused to accept defeat, through
the man who gambled his life and his good name twice
and lost twice and declined to accept that either, and the
one who with only a clever small quarterhorse for too]
avenged his dispossessed father and grandfather and
gained a principality, and the brilliant and gallant gover-
nor and the general who though he failed at leading in
battle brave and gallant men at least risked his own life
too in the failing, to the cultured dipsomaniac who sold
the last of his patrimony not to buy drink but to give one
of his descendants at least the best chance in life he
could think of.
It's Caddy!' the librarian whispered. We must save
her!'
It's Cad, all right/ Jason said. Then he began to laugh.
He stood there laughing above the picture, above file
cold beautiful face now creased and dogeared from its
week's sojourn in the desk drawer and the handbag. And
the librarian knew why he was laughing, who had not
called him anything but Mr Compson for thirty-two
years now, ever since the day in 1911 when Candace, casl
off by her husband, had brought her infant daughtei
Jiome and left the child and departed by the next train,
to return no more, and not only the Negro cook, Dilsey,
but the librarian too divined by simple instinct thai
Jason was somehow using the child's life and its illegiti
14 THE SOUND AND THE FTJ&Y
macy both to blackmail the mother not only into staying
away from Jefferson for the rest of her life but into ap^
pointing him sole unchallengeable trustee of the money
she would send for the child's maintenance, and had re-
fused to speak to him at all since that day in 1928 when
the daughter climbed down the rainpipe and ran away
with the pitchman.
'Jason!' she cried. We must save her! Jason! Jason!'
%nd still crying it even when he took up the picture be-
tween thumb and finger and threw it back across the
counter toward her.
That Candace?' he said. T)ont make me laugh. This
bitch aint thirty yet. The other one's fifty now/
And the library was still locked all the next day too
when at three oclock in the afternoon, footsore and spent
yet still unflagging and still clasping the handbag tightly
under her arm, she turned into a neat small yard in the
Negro residence section of Memphis and mounted the
steps of the neat small house and rang the bell and the
door opened and a black woman of about her own age
looked quietly out at her. It's Frony, isn't it?' the librar-
ian said. TDont you remember me Melissa Meek,
from Jefferson *
'Yes,* the Negress said. 'Come in. You want to see
Mania/ And she entered the room, the neat yet cluttered
bedroom of an old Negro, rank with the smell of old peo-
ple, old women, old Negroes, where the old woman her-
self sat in a rocker beside the hearth where even though
it was June a fire smoldered a big woman once, in faded
clean calico and an immaculate turban wound round her
head above the bleared and now apparently almost sight-
less eyes and put the dogeared clipping into the black
liands which, like the women of her race, were still as
THE SOUND AND THE 1"|JBY 1$
supple and delicately shaped as they had been when she
Was thirty or twenty or even seventeen.
It's Caddy!' the librarian said. It is! Dilsey! Dilseyi*
What did he say?' the old Negress said. And the li
brarian knew whom she meant by lie', nor did the librar-
ian marvel, not only that the old Negress would know
that she (the librarian) would know whom she meant by
the Tie', but that the old Negress would know at once
that she had already shown the picture to Jason.
Dont you know what he said?' she cried. "When he
realised she was in danger, he said it was her, even if I
hadn't even had a picture to show him. But as soon as he
realised that somebody, anybody, even just me, wanted
to save her, would try to save her, he said it wasn't. But
it is! Look at it!"
*Look at my eyes/ the old Negress said. 'How can I see
that picture?'
"Call Frony!' the librarian cried. 'She will know her! 1
But already the old Negress was folding the clipping
carefully back into its old creases, handing it back.
*My eyes aint any good anymore/ she said, *L cant see
it*
And that was all. At six oclock she fought her way
through the crowded bus terminal, the bag clutched un^
der one arm and the return half of her rouiidtrip ticket
in the other hand, and was swept out onto the roaring
platf orm on the diurnal tide of a few middleaged civilians
but mostly soldiers and sailors enroute either to leave or
to death and the homeless young women,, their compan-
ions, who for two years now had lived from day to day
in pullrnans and hotels when they were lucky and in day-
coaches and busses and stations and lobbies and public
restrooms when not, pausing only long enough to drop
I<y THE, SOTJKD AKD THE FUUY
their foals in charity wards or policestations and then
move on again, and fought her way into the bus, smaller
than any other there so that her feet touched the floor
only occasionally until a shape (a man in khaki; she
Couldn't see him at all because she was already crying)
rose and picked her up bodily and set her into a seat
next the window, where still crying quietly she could
look out upon the fleeing city as it streaked past and then
was behind and presently now she would be home again,
safe in Jefferson where life lived too with all its incom-
prehensible passion and turmoil and grief and fury and
despair, but here at six odock you could close the covers
on it and even the weightless hand of a child could put
it back among its unfeatured kindred on the quiet eter-
nal shelves and turn the key upon it for the whole and
dreamless night. Yes she thought, crying quietly that was
it she didn't want to see it know whether it was Caddy
&r not because she knows Caddy doesn't want to be
saved hasnt anything anymore worth being saved for
nothing worth being lost that she can lose
JASON IV. The first sane Compson since before Cul-
loden and (a childless bachelor) hence the last. Logical
rational contained and even a philosopher in the old stoic
tradition: thinking nothing whatever of God one way or
the other and simply considering the police and so fear-
ing and respecting only the Negro woman, his sworn en-
emy since his birth and his mortal one since that day in
1911 when she too divined by simple clairvoyance that
he was somehow using his infant niece's illegitimacy to
blackmail its mother, who cooked the food he ate. Who
not only fended off and held his own with Compsons but
competed and held his own with the Snopeses who took
over the little town following the turn of the century as
THE SOUND AND THE FTJEY *7
the Compsons and Sartorises and their ilk faded from it
(no Snopes, but Jason Compson himself who as soon as
Ms mother died the niece had already climbed down
the rainpipe and vanished so Dilsey no longer had either
of these clubs to hold over him committed his idiot
younger brother to the state and vacated the old house,
first chopping up the vast oncesplendid rooms into what
he called apartments and selling the whole thing to a
countryman who opened a boardinghouse in it), though
this was not difficult since to him all the rest of the town
and the world and the human race too except himself
were Compsons, inexplicable yet quite predictable in that
they were in no sense whatever to be trusted. Who, all
the money from the sale of the pasture having gone for
his sister's wedding and his brother's course at Harvard,
used his own niggard savings out of his meagre wages as
a storeclerk to send himself to a Memphis school where
he learned to class and grade cotton, and so established
his own business with which, following his dipsomaniac
father's death, he assumed the entire burden of the rot-
ting family in the rotting house, supporting his idiot
brother because of their mother, sacrificing what pleas-
ures might have been the right and just due and even the
necessity of a thirty-year-old bachelor, so that his
mother's life might continue as nearly as possible to what
it had been; this not because he loved her but (a sane
man always ) simply because he was afraid of the Negro
cook whom he could not even force to leave, even when
he tried to stop paying her weekly wages; and who de-
spite all this, still managed to save almost three thousand
dollars ($2840.50 as he reported it on the night his niece
stole it; in niggard and agonised dimes and quarters and
halfdollars, which hoard he kept in no bank because to
him a banker too was just one more Compson, but hid
18 THE SOUND A3STB THE FX/JSttf
in a locked bureau drawer in his bedroom whose bed 1&
made and changed himself since he kept the bedroom
door locked all the time save when he was passing
through it. Who, following a fumbling abortive attempt
by his idiot brother on a passing female child, had him-
self appointed the idiot's guardian without letting their
mother know and so was able to have the creature cas-
trated before the mother even knew it was out of the
house, and who following the mother's death in 1933 was
able to free himself forever not only from the idiot
brother and the house but from the Negro woman too,
moving into a pair of offices up a flight of stairs above
the supplystore containing his cotton ledgers and sam-
ples, which he had converted into a bedroom-kitchen-
bath, m and out of which on weekends there would be
seer? a big plain friendly brazenhaired pleasantfaced
woman no longer very young, in round picture hats and
(in its season) an imitation fur coat, the two of them, the
middleaged cottonbuyer and the woman whom the town
called, simply, his friend from Memphis, seen at the local
picture show on Saturday night and on Sunday morning
mounting the apartment stairs with paper bags from the
grocer's containing loaves and eggs and oranges and cans
of soup, domestic, uxorious, connubial, until the late aft-
ernoon bus carried her back to Memphis. He was eman-
cipated now. He was free. In 1865,* he would say, 'Abe
Lincoln freed the niggers from the Coinpsons. In 1933,
Jason Coinpson freed the Compsons from the niggers/
BENJAMIN. Born Maury, after his mother's only
brother: a handsome flashing swaggering workless
bachelor who borrowed money from almost anyone, even
Dilsey although she was a Negro, explaining to her as he
withdrew his hand from his pocket that she was not only
THE SOUND AJXD THE FURY 19
in his eyes the same, as a member of Bis sister's family,
she would be considered a born lady anywhere in any
eyes. Who, when at last even his mother realised what he
was and insisted weeping that his name must be
changed, was rechristened Benjamin by his brother
Quentin (Benjamin, our lastbom, sold into Egypt). Who
loved three things: the pasture which was sold to pay for
Candace's wedding and to sendj^uentin Jto HaxvagL his
sister Candaceg^firgHghfa Who lost none of them because
he could not remember his sister but only the loss of her,
and firelight was the same bright shape as going to sleep s
and the pasture was even better sold than before because
now he and TP could not only follow timeless along the
fence the motions which it did not even matter to him
were humanbeings swinging golfsticks, TP could lead
them to clumps of grass or weeds where there would ap-
pear suddenly in XB's hand .smaJl-^feite-sph^^
competed with and even conquered what he did not
even know was gravity and all the immutable laws when
released from the hand^ toward plank floor. .QX .^nipke*
house wall or c<crswalk. Gelded 1913. Commit-
^
ted to die~?tafe"Asylum, Jackson 1933. Lost nothing then
elffiSn^e^^ not the
pasture but only its loss, and firelight wa still the same
bright shape of sleep.
QUENTIN. The last. Candace's daughter. Fatherless
Bine months before her birth, nameless at birth and al-
ready doomed to be unwed from the instant riie dividing
egg determined its sex. Who at seventeen, on the one
thousand eight hundred ninetyfifth anniversary of the day
before the resurrection of Our Lord, swung herself by a
rainpipe from the window of the room in which hex
uncle had locked her at noon, to the locked window of
20 THE SOITKD 'AND THE FURY
his own locked and empty bedroom and broke a pane
and entered the window and with the uncle's firepoker
burst open the locked bureau drawer and took the money
(it was not $2840.50 either, it was almost seven thou-
sand dollars and this was Jason's rage, the red unbear-
able fury which on that night and at intervals recurring
with little or no diminishment for the next five years,
made him seriously believe would at some unwarned in-
stant destroy him, kill him as instantaneously dead as a
bullet or a iightningbolt: that although he had been
robbed not of a mere petty three thousand dollars but of
almost seven thousand he couldn't even tell anybody; be-
cause he had been robbed of seven thousand dollars in-
stead of just three he could not only never receive justifi-
cation he did not want sympathy from other men
unlucky enough to have one bitch for a sister and another
for a niece, he couldn't even go to the police; because he
had lost four thousand dollars which did not belong to
him he couldn't even recover the three thousand which
did since those first four thousand dollars were not only
the legal property of his niece as a part of the money sup-
plied for her support and maintenance by her mother
over the last sixteen years, they did not exist at all, hav-
ing been officially recorded as expended and consumed
in the annual reports he submitted to the district Chan-
cellor, as required of him as guardian and trustee by his
bondsmen: so that he had been robbed not onl^of Jos
but his ^savings too, and"""6yliis^^ he
^
had been robbed not only of the four thousand dollars
which he had risked jail to acquire but of the three thou-
sand which he had hoarded at the price of sacrifice and
denial, almost a nickel and a dime at a time, over a period
of almost twenty years: and this not only by his own vie-
THE SOUND AND THE FURY M
tim but by a child who did it at one blow, without pie*
meditation or plan, not even knowing or even caring bow
much she would find when she broke the drawer open;
and now he couldn't even go to the police for help: he
who had considered the police always, never given them
any trouble, had paid the taxes for years which sup-
ported them in parasitic and ^aiii^^S2S.> no ^ on V
that, he didn't dare pursue the girl himself because hf.
might catch her and she would talk, so that his only re-
course was a vain dream which kept him tossing and
sweating on nights two and three and even four years
after the event, when he should have forgotten about it;
before she had spent all the money, and
iniarder her before she had^tme toopen her mouth) and
climbed down the same rainpipem^tET^Husk and ran
away with the pitchman^ who was already under sentence
j Arid so vanished; whatever occupation over-
took her would have arrived in no chromium Mercedes;
whatever snapshot would have contained no general of
staff.
And that was all. These others were not Compsons.
They were black:
TP. Who wore on Memphis's Beale Street the fine
bright cheap intransigent clothes manufactured specifi"
cally for him by the owners of Chicago and New York
sweatshops.
FRONT. Who married a pullman porter and went to
St Louis to live and later moved back to Memphis to
make a home for her mother since Dilsey refused to go
further than that.
22 THE SOUND A1STD THE FUBY
LUSTER. A man, aged 14. Who was not only
capable of the complete care and security of an idiot
twice his age and three times his size, but could keep him
entertained.
D i L s E Y.
They endured*
APRIL
7
1928
f I THROUGH THE FENCE, BETWEEN THUS CURLING FLOWER
JL spaces, I could see them hitting. They were coming
toward where the flag was and I went along the fence.
Luster was hunting in the grass by the flower tree. They
took the flag out, and they were hitting. Then they put
the flag back and they went to the table, and he hit and
the other hit. Then they went on, and I went along the
fence. Luster came away from the flower tree and we
went along the fence and they stopped and we stopped
and I looked through the fence while Luster was hunt-
ing in the grass.
"Here, caddie." He hit. They went away across the pas-
ture. I held to the fence and watched them going away.
"Listen at you, now/' Luster said. "Aint you something,
thirty-three years old, going on that way. After I done
went all the way to town to buy you that cake. Hush up
that moaning. Aint you going to help me find that quar-
ter so I can go to the show tonight."
They were hitting little, across the pasture. I went
along the fence to where the flag was. It flapped on the
bright grass and the trees.
24 THE SOUND A3STD THE FURY
"Come on." Luster said. "We done looked there. They
aint no more coming right now. Lets go down to the
branch and find that quarter before them niggers finds
it."
It was red ? flapping on the pasture. Then- there was a
bird slanting and tilting on it. Luster threw. The flag
flapped on the bright grass and the trees. I held to the
fence.
"Shut up that moaning." Luster said. "I cant make
them come if they aint coming, can I. If you dont hush
up, mammy aint going to have no birthday for you. If
you dont hush, you know what I going to do. I going to
eat that cake all up. Eat them candles, too. Eat all them
thirty-three candles. Come on, let's go down to the
branch. I got to find my quarter. Maybe we can find one
f they balls. Here. Here they is. Way over yonder. See."
He came to the fence and pointed his arm. "See them.
They aint coming back here no more. Come on."
We went along the fence and came to the garden
fence, where our shadows were. My shadow was higher
than Luster's on the fence. We came to the broken place
and went through it.
"Wait a minute." Luster said. "You snagged on that nail
again. Cant you never crawl through here without snag-
ging on that nail."
Caddy uncaught me and we crawled through. Uncle
Maury said to not let anybody see us, so we better stoop
over, Caddy said. Stoop over, Benjy. Like this, see. We
stooped over and crossed the garden, where the flowers
rasped and rattled against us. The ground was hard. We
climbed the -fence, where the pigs were grunting and
snuffing. I expect they're sorry because one of them got
killed today, Caddy said. The ground was hard, churned
and knotted.
THE SOUKB A3SFB THE FURY 2$
they II get froze. You dont wank your hands froze ot*
Christmas, do you.
"If s too cold out there." Versh said. "You dont want to
go out doors."
"What is it now." Mother said.
"He want to go out doors/' Versh said.
"Let him go/* Uncle Maury said.
"It's too cold." Mother said. "He'd better stay in. Benja-
min. Stop that, now/'
"It wont hurt him." Uncle Maury said.
"You, Benjamin." Mother said. "If you dont be good,
youll have to go to the kitchen."
"Mammy say keep him out the kitchen today." Versh
saici. "She say she got all that cooking to get done."
. "Let him go, Caroline." Uncle Maury said. "You' 11 worry
yourself sick over him/'
"I know it." Mother said. "It's a judgment on me. I
sometimes wonder."
"I know, I know." Uncle Maury said. "You must keep
your strength up. Ill make you a toddy."
"It just upsets me that much more." Mother said. "Dont
you know it does."
"Youll feel better." Uncle Maury said. "Wrap him up
good, boy, and take him out for a while."
Uncle Maury went away. Versh went away.
"Please hush." Mother said. "We're trying to get you
out as fast as we can. I dont want you to get sick."
Versh put my overshoes and overcoat on and we took
my cap and went out. Uncle Maury was putting the bot*
tie away in the sideboard in the dining-room.
"Keep him out about half an hour, boy." Uncle Maury
said. "Keep him in the yard, now."
"Yes, sir." Versh said. <0 We dont never let him get ofi
the place."
W? went out doors. The sun was cold and bright,
16 THE SOUND AKB THE FU&Y
"Where you heading for/* Versh said. "You dont think
you going to town, does you." We went through the rat-
tling leaves. The gate was cold. "You better keep them
hands in your pockets/* Versh said, "You get them froze
onto that gate, then what you do. Whyn*t you wait for
them in the house." He put my hands into my pockets. I
could hear him rattling in the leaves. I could smell the
cold. The gate was cold.
"Here some hickeynuts. Whooey. Git up that tree. Look
here at this squirl, Benjy/*
I couldn't feel the gate at all, but I could smell the
bright cold.
'TTou better put them hands back in your pockets/*
Caddy was walking. Then she was running, her book*
satchel swinging and jouncing behind her.
"Hello, Benjy/* Caddy said. She opened the gate and
came in and stooped down. Caddy smelled like leaves.
"Did you come to meet me.** she said. "Did you come to
meet Caddy. What did you let him get his hands so cold
for, Versh/*
"I told him to keep them in his pockets/* Versh said.
"Holding onto that ahun gate."
"Did you come to meet Caddy/* she said, rubbing my
hands. "What is it What are you trying to tell Caddy/*
Caddy smelled like trees and like when she says we were
asleep.
What are you moaning about, Luster said. You can
watch them again when we get to the branch. Here.
Heres you a jimson weed. He gave me the flower. We
went through the fence, into the lot.
"What is it/* Caddy said. ""What are you trying to tell
Caddy. Did they send him out, Versh/*
"Couldn't keep him in.** Versh said. "He kept on until
they let him go and he come right straight down here s
looking through the gate."
THE SOUjSTD AND THE FURY */
"What is it." Caddy said. "Did you think it would be
Christmas v r hen I came home from school. Is that what
you thought. Christmas is the day after tomorrow. Santy
Glaus, Benjy. Santy Claus. Come on, let's run to the
house and get warm." She took my hand and we ran
through the bright rustling leaves. We ran up the steps
and out of the bright cold, into the dark cold. Uncle
Maury was putting the bottle back in the sideboard. He
called Caddy. Caddy said,
'Take him in to the fire, Versh. Go with Versa." she
said. "I'll come in a minute."
We went to the fire. Mother said,
"Is he cold, Versh."
"Nome." Versh said.
"Take his overcoat and overshoes off." Mother said,
<c How many times do I have to tell you not to bring him
into the house with his overshoes on."
"Yessum." Versh said. "Hold still, now." He took my
overshoes off and unbuttoned my coat. Caddy said,
"Wait, Versh. Cant he go out again, Mother. I want
him to go with me."
"You'd better leave him here." Uncle Maury said. "He's
been out enough today."
"I think you'd both better stay in." Mother said. "It's
getting colder, Dilsey says."
"Oh, Mother." Caddy said.
"Nonsense/' Uncle Maury said. "She's been in school
all day. She needs the fresh air. Run along, Candace."
"Let him go, Mother." Caddy said. "Please. You know
hell cry."
"Then why did you mention it before him." Mother
said. 'Why did you come in here. To give him some ex-
cuse to worry me again. You've been out enough today
I think you'd better sit down here and play with him/*
"Let them go, Caroline." Uncle Maury said. "A litdf
28 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
cold wont hurt them. Remember, youVe got to keep yom
strength, up."
"I know." Mother said. "Nobody knows how I dread
Christmas. Nobody knows. I am not one of those women
who can stand things. I wish for Jason's and the chil-
dren^ sakes I was stronger/*
"You must do the best you can and not let them worry
you/* Uncle Maury said. "Run along, you two. But dont
stay out long, now. Your mother will worry/'
"Yes, sir.'' Caddy said. "Come on, Benjy. We're going
out doors again/' She buttoned my coat and we went to-
ward the door.
"Are you going to take that baby out without his over-
shoes/' Mother said. "Do you want to make him sick,
with the house full of company."
"I forgot/' Caddy said. "I thought he had them on."
We went back. "You must think/' Mother said. Hold
still now Versh said. He put my overshoes on. "Someday
I'll be gone, and you'll have to think for him." Now stomp
Versh said. "Come here and kiss Mother, Benjamin."
Caddy took me to Mother's chair and Mother took my
face in her hands and then she held me against her.
"My poor baby/' she said. She let me go. "You and
Versh take good care of him, honey."
"Yessum." Caddy said. We went out. Caddy said,
"You needn't go, Versh. I'll keep him for a while/'
"All right." Versh said. "I aint going out in that cold for
no fun/' He went on and we stopped in the hall and
Caddy knelt and put her arms around me and her cold
blight face against mine. She srnelled like trees.
"You're not a poor baby. Are you. You've got your
Caddy. Haven't you got your Caddy."
Cant you shut up that moaning and clobbering, Lustef
$aid. Aint you shamed of yourself, making all this rackei*
THE SOUND ANB THE FURY 2$
We passed the carriage house, whene the carnage was. If
had a new wheel,
"Git in, now, and set still until your maw come." Dilsey
said. She shoved me into the carriage. T. P. held the
reins. " 'Clare I don't see how come Jason wont get a new
surrey." Dilsey said. "This thing going to fall to pieces un-
der you all some day. Look at them wheels."
Mother came out, pulling her veil down. She had some
flowers.
"Where's Roskus." she said.
"Roskus cant lift his arms, today." Dilsey said. "T, P.
can drive all right."
"I'm afraid to." Mother said. "It seems to me you all
could furnish me with a driver for the carriage once a
week. It's little enough I ask, Lord knows."
"You know just as well as me that Roskus got the rheu-
matism too bad to do more than he have to, Miss Cah-
line." Dilsey said. "You come on and get in, now. T. P.
can drive you just as good as Roskus."
Tm afraid to." Mother said. "With the baby."
Dilsey went up the steps. "You calling that thing a
baby," she said. She took Mother's arm. "A man big as
T. P. Come on, now, if you going."
"I'm afraid to." Mother said. They came down the
steps and Dilsey helped Mother in. "Perhaps Ml be the
best thing, for all of us." Mother said.
"Aint you shamed, talking that way.'* Dilsey said,
"Don't you know it'll take more than a eighteen year old
nigger to make Queenie run away. She older than him
and Benjy put together. And dont you start no projeck-
ing with Queenie, you hear n?e, T. P. If you dont drive
to suit Miss Cahline, I going to put Roskus on you. He
aint too tied up to do that."
"Yessum." T. P. said.
30 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"I just know something will happen." Mother said,
"Stop, Benjamin.'*
"'Give him a flower to hold/' Dilsey said, "That what he
wanting." She reached her hand in.
"No, no." Mother said. "You'll have them all scattered/'
"You hold them." Dilsey said. Ill get him one out."
She gave me a flower and her hand went away.
"Go on now, "fore Quentin see you and have to go
too." Dilsey said.
"Where is she.** Mother said.
"She down to the house playing with Luster," Dilsey
said. "Go on, T. P. Drive that surrey like Roskus told you,
now."
"Yessran ." T. P. said. "Hum up, Queenie."
"Quentin." Mother said. "Don't let"
"Course I is." Dilsey said.
The carriage jolted arid crunched on the drive. *Tm
afraid to go and leave Quentin." Mother said. "I'd better
not go. T. P." We went through the gate, where it didnt
jolt anymore. T. P. hit Queenie with the whip.
"You, T. P." Mother said.
"Got to get her going." T. P. said. "Keep her wake up
till we get back to the barn."
"Turn around." Mother said. "I'm afraid to go and leave
Quentin."
"Can't turn here." T. P. said. Then it was broader.
"Cant you turn here." Mother said.
"All right." T. P. said. We began to turn.
"You, T. P." Mother said, clutching me.
"I got to turn around somehow." T. P. said. "Whoa,
Queenie." We stopped.
"You'll tun) us over." Mother said.
"What you want to do, then." T, P. said.
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 3"^
"I'm afraid for you to try to turn around." Mother said.
"Get up, Queenie." T. P. said, We went on.
"I just know Dilsey will let something happen to Quen-
tin while I'm gone." Mother said. "We must hurry back."
"Hum up, there/' T. P. said. He hit Queenie with the
whip.
"You, T. P." Mother said, clutching me. I could hear
Queenie's feet and the bright shapes went smooth and
steady on both sides, the shadows of them flowing across
Queenie's back. They went on like the bright tops of
wheels. Then those on one side stopped at the tall white
post where the soldier was. But on the other side they
went on smooth and steady, but a little slower.
'"What do you want." Jason said. He had his hands in
his pockets and a pencil behind his ear.
"We're going to the cemetery." Mother said,
"All right." Jason said. "I dont aim to stop you, do I,
Was that all you wanted with me, just to tell me that."
"I know you wont come." Mother said. "I'd feel safer
if you would."
"Safe from what." Jason said. "Father and Quentin
cant hurt you."
Mother put her handkerchief under her veil. "Stop it,
Mother." Jason said. "Do you want to get that damn
loony to bawling in the middle of the square. Drive on,
r. P."
"Hum up, Queenie." T, P, said.
"It's a judgment on me." Mother said. "But I'll be gone
too, soon,"
"Here." Jason said.
"Whoa." T. P. said, Jason said,
"Uncle Maury's drawing on you for fifty. What do you
want to do about it."
$2 THE SOU3STB AND THE FUHY
"Why ask me." Mother said. "I dont have any say so. I
try not to worry you and Dilsey. Ill be gone soon, and
then you"
"Go on, T. P." Jason said.
"Hum up, Queenie." T. P. said. The shapes flowed on
The ones on the other side began again, bright and fast
and smooth, like when Caddy says we are going to sleep*
Cry baby, Luster said. Aint you shamed. We went
through the barn. The stalls were all open. Hou aint got
no spotted pony to ride now., Luster said. The floor was
dry and dusty. The roof was falling. The slanting holes
were full of spinning yellow. What do you want to go
that way for. You want to get your head knocked of
with one of them balls,
"Keep your hands in your pockets." Caddy said, "Or
they'll be froze. You dont want your hands froze on
Christmas, do you."
We went around the barn. The big cow and the little
one were standing in the door, and we could hear Prince
and Queenie and Fancy stomping inside the barn. "If it
wasn't so cold, we'd ride Fancy." Caddy said, "But it's
too cold to hold on today." Then we could see the
branch, where the smoke was blowing. "That's where
they are killing the pig." Caddy said. "We can come back
by there and see them." We went down the hill.
"You want to carry the letter." Caddy said. < You cai*
carry it." She took the letter out of her pocket and put it
in mine, "it's a Christmas present/' Caddy said. "Uncle
Maury is going to surprise Mrs Patterson with it. We got
to give it to her without letting anybody see it. Keep
your hands in your pockets good, now." We came to the
branch.
"If s froze." Caddy said, "Look." She broke the top of
the water and held a piece of it against my face. "Ice*
THE SOUND A2STD THE FTTRY 33
That means how cold it is." She helped me across and we
went up the hill. "We cant even tell Mother and Father*
You know what I think it is. I think it's a surprise for
Mother and Father and Mr Patterson both, because Mr
Patterson sent you some candy. Do you remember when
Mr Patterson sent you some candy last summer."
There was a fence. The vine was dry, and the wind
rattled in it.
"Only I dont see why Uncle Maury didn't send Versii/*
Caddy said. "Versh wont tell." Mrs Patterson was looking
out the window. "You wait here.'' Caddy said. "Wait righl
here, now. Ill be back in a minute. Give me the letter/
She took the letter out of my pocket. ""Keep your hands
in your pockets." She climbed the fence with the letter in
her hand and went through the brown, rattling flowers.
Mrs Patterson came to the door and opened it and stood
there.
Mr Patterson was chopping in the green flowers. He
stopped chopping and looked at me. Mrs Patterson came
across the garden, running. When I saw her eyes 1 began
to cry. Jou idiot, Mrs Patterson said, I told him never to
send you alone again. Give it to me. Quick. Mr Patterson
came fast, with the hoe. Mr\s Patterson leaned across the
fence., reaching her hand. She was trying to climb the
fence. Give it to me, she said, Give it to me. Mr Patterson
climbed the fence. He took the letter. Mrs Pattersons
dress was caught on the fence. I saw her eyes again and
I ran down the hill.
"They aint nothing over yonder but houses." Lustei
said. "We going down to the branch."
They were washing down at the branch. One of them
was singing. I could smell the clothes flapping, and the
smoke blowing across the branch.
34 THTE SOTTED AKD XBCE
"You stay down here/' Luster said. "You aint got no
business up yonder. Them folks hit you, sho."
"What he want to do."
"He dont know what he want to do." Luster said. "He
think he want to go up yonder where they knocking that
ball. You sit down here and play with your jimson weed.
Look at them chillen playing in the branch, if you got to
look at something. How come you cant behave yourself
like folks." I sat down on the bank, where they were
washing, and the smoke blowing blue.
"Is you all seen anything of a quarter down here." Lus-
ter said.
"What quarter."
"The one I had here this morning." Luster said. "I lost
it somewhere. It fell through this here hole in my pocket
If I dont find it I cant go to the show tonight."
"Where'd you get a quarter, boy. Find it in white folks'
pocket while they aint looking."
"Got it at the getting place." Luster said. "Plenty more
where that one come from. Only I got to find that one.
Is you all found it yet."
"I aint studying no quarter. I got my own business to
tend to."
"Come on here/' Luster said. "Help me look for it."
"He wouldn't know a quarter if he was to see it, would
he."
"He can help look Just the same." Luster said. "You all
going to the show tonight."
"Dont talk to me about no show. Time I get done over
this here tub I be too tired to lift my hand to do noth-
ing/'
"I bet you be there." Luster said. "I bet you was there
last night. I bet you all be right there when that tent
open."
THE SOUND AND THE
"Be enough niggers there without me. Was last night. 91
"Nigger's money good as white folks, I reckon."
'White folks gives nigger money because know first
white man comes along with a band going to get it all
back, so nigger can go to work for some more/'
"Aint nobody going make you go to that show."
"Aint yet. Aint thought of it, I reckon/*
"What you got against white folks/'
"Aint got nothing against them. I goes my way and lets
white folks go theirs. I aint studying that show/'
"Got a man in it can play a tune on a saw. Play it like
a banjo/'
"You go last night" Luster said. "I going tonight. If I
can find where I lost that quarter/'
"You going take him with you, I reckon/'
"Me." Luster said. "You reckon I be found anywhere
with him, time he start bellering."
"What does you do when he start bellering/*
1 whips him." Luster said. He sat down and rolled up
his overalls. They played in the branch.
"You all found any balls yet." Luster said.
"Aint you talking biggity. I bet you better not let your
grandmammy hear you talking like that/ 7
Luster got into the branch, where they were playing.
He hunted in the water, along the bank.
"I had it when we was down here this morning/' Lus-
ter said.
"Where 'bouts you lose it*"
"Right out this here hole in rny pocket/' Luster said.
They hunted in the branch. Then they all stood up quick
and stopped, then they splashed and fought in the
branch. Luster got it and they squatted in the water,
looking up the hill through the bushes.
'Where is they." Luster said
Jo THE SOUND AND THE FtJBY
"Aint in sight yet/'
Luster put it in his pocket. They came down the hill*
"Did a ball come down here/ 7
"It ought to be in the water. Didn't any of you boys see
it or hear it/*
"Aint heard nothing come down here." Luster said.
*Heard something hit that tree up yonder. Dont know
which way it went/'
They looked in the branch.
"Hell. Look along the branch. It came down here. I
saw it/ 5
They looked along the branch. Then they went back
up the hill.
"Have you got that ball/* the boy said.
"What I want with it/' Luster said. "I aint seen no ball/*
The boy got in the water. He went on. He turned and
looked at Luster again. He went on down the branch.
The man said "Caddie" up the hill. The boy got out of
the water and went up the hill.
"Now, just listen at you/* Luster said. "Hush up/*
"What he moaning about now/'
"Lawd knows." Luster said. "He just starts like that.'
He been at it aU morning. Cause it his birthday, I reckon.**
"How old he/'
"He thirty-three/' Luster said. 'Thirty-three this morn-
ing/'
"You mean, he been three years old thirty years/*
"I going by what mammy say/' Luster said. "I dont
know. We going to have thirty-three candles on a cake,
anyway. Little cake. Wont hardly hold them. Hush up.
Come on back here/* He came and caught my arm. "You
old loony/' he said. "You want me to whip you/'
"I bet you will."
"I is done it. Hush, now/' Luster said. "Aint I told you
TH1E SOUND X^TB TELE FXJK1T 37
you cant go up there. They'll knock your head clean ofl
with one of them balls. Come on, here."" He palled me
back. "Sit down." I sat down and he took off my shoes
and rolled up my trousers. "Now, git in that water and
play and see can you stop that slobbering and moaning/ 1
I hushed and got in the water and Roskus came and
said to come to supper and Caddy said,
It's not supper time yet. I'm not going.
She was wet. We were playing in the branch and
Caddy squatted down and got her dress wet and Versh
said,
"Your mommer going to whip you for getting youi
dress wet"
"She's not going to do any such thing/' Caddy said.
"How do you know/' Quentin said.
"That's all right how I know/' Caddy said. "How do
you know/'
"She said she was." Quentin said. "Besides, I'm older
than you/*
"I'm seven years old." Caddy said, "I guess I know/'
"I'm older than that/' Quentin said. "I go to school.
Dont I, Versh/'
"I'm going to school next year/' Caddy said, "When it
comes. Aint I, Versh."
"You know she whip you when you get your dress
wet" Versh said.
"It's not wet." Caddy said. She stood up in the water
and looked at her dress. Til take it off." she said, "Then
it'll dry/'
"I bet you wont." Quentin said.
"I bet I will/' Caddy said.
"I bet you better not," Quentin said.
Caddy came to Versh and me and turned her bacle.
"Unbutton it, Versh." she said.
3$ THE SOtTNB AKB THE FUSY
TDont you do it, Versh." Quentin said*
'Taint none of my dress." Versh said.
"You unbutton it, Versh/' Caddy said, "Or Til tel Dil-
sey what you did yesterday/* So Versh unbuttoned it.
"You just take your dress off/ 5 Quentin said. Caddy
took her dress off and threw it on the bank. Then she
didn't have on anything but her bodice and drawers, and
Queiitin slapped her and she slipped and fell down in
lie water. When she got up she began to splash water on
Quentin, and Quentin splashed water on Caddy. Some of
it splashed on Versh and me and Versh picked me up
and put me on the bank. He said he was going to tell on
Caddy and Quentin, and then Quentin and Caddy began
to splash water at Versh. He got behind a bush.
Tm going to tell mammy on you all/* Versh said.
Quentin climbed up on the bank and tried to catch
Versh, but Versh ran away and Quentin couldn't. When
Quentin came back Versh stopped and hollered that he
was going to tell. Caddy told him that if he wouldn't tell,
they'd let him come back. So Versh said he wouldn't, and
they let him.
* Now I guess you're satisfied/* Quentin said, <c WeTl
both get whipped now/*
*I dont care/* Caddy said. Til run away/'
"Yes you will." Quentin said.
Til run away and never come back/* Caddy said. I be-
gan to cry. Caddy turned around and said "Hush." So I
hushed. Then they played in the branch. Jason was play-
ing too. He was by himself further down the branch.
Versh came around the bush and lifted me down into the
watei again. Caddy was all wet and muddy behind, and
I started to cry and she came and squatted in the water.
"Hush now/' she said. "I'm not going to run away/* So
I hushed. Caddv smelled like trees in the rain-
TIT tiUXTWB ASTD THE FIT&Y 39
is /ie matter with you, Luster said. Cant you gei
done with that moaning and play in the branch like folks.
Whynt you take him on home. Didn't they told you
not to take him off the place.
He still think they own this pasture, Luster said. Cant
nobody see down here from the house, noways.
We can. And folks dont like to look at a loony. Taint
no luck in it.
Roskus came and said to come to supper and Caddy
said it wasn't supper time yet.
"Yes tis." Roskus said. "Dilsey say for you all to come
on to the house. Bring them on, Versh." He went up the
hill, where the cow was lowing.
"Maybe we'll bs dry by the time we get to the house.*
Quentin said.
"It was all your fault/' Caddy said. "I hope we do get
whipped/' She put her dress on and Versh buttoned it.
"They wont know you got wet" Versh said. "It doni
show on you. Less me and Jason tells/*
"Are you going to tell, Jason/' Caddy said.
"Tell on who." Jason said.
"He wont tell." Quentin said. "Will you, Jason/'
"I bet he does tell." Caddy said. "He'll tell Damuddy *
"He cant tell her." Quentin said. "She's sick. If we walk
slow it'll be too dark for them to see."
"I dont care whether they see or not" Caddy said. Tm
going to tell, myself. You. carry him up the hill, Versh."
"Jason wont tell." Quentin said. "You remember that
bow and arrow I made you, Jason."
"It's broke now." Jason said.
"Let him tell." Caddy said. "I dont give a cuss. Carry
Maury up the hill, Versh." Versh squatted and I got on
his back.
4 ~THE SOUND AND THE FUKY
See you all at the show tonight, Luster said. Come on?
here. We got to find that quarter.
"If we go slow, it'll be dark when we get there.' 1
Quentin said.
"I'm not going slow." Caddy said. We went up the hill,
but Quentm didn't come. He was down at the branch
when we got to where we could smell the pigs. They
were grunting and snuffing in the trough in the corner.
Jason came behind us, with his hands in his pockets. Bos-
kets was milkmg the cow in the barn door,
The cows came jumping out of the barn.
"Go on." T v P. said. "Holler again. I going to holler my-
self, Whooey/' Quentin kicked T. P. again. He kicked
T* P. into thtf trough where the pigs ate and T. P. lay
there. "Hot dog/' T. P. said, "Didn't he get rne then. You
see that white man kick me that time. Whooey/'
I wasn't crying, but I couldn't stop. I wasn't crying, but
the ground wasn't still, and then I was crying. The
groind kept sloping up and the cows ran up the hill.
T. P. tried to get up. He fell down again and the cows ran
down the hill. Quentin held my arm and we went toward
the barn. Then the barn wasn't there and we had to wait
until it came back. I didn't see it come back, It came be-
Iiind us and Quentin set me down in the trough where
the cows ate. I held on to it. It was going away too, c&d
I held to it. The cows ran down the hill again, across the
door. I couldn't stop. Quentin and T. P came up the hill,
fighting. T. P. was falling down the hill and Quentin
dragged him up the hill. Quentin hit T. P. I couldn't stop*
"Stand up." Quentin said, "You stay right here. Dont
you go away until I get back/*
"Me and Benjy going back to the wedding." T. P, said.
'Whooey/'
Ouentin hit T. P. again. Then he began to thump T. P.
THE SOUND AKD THE FtTXY 4*
against the wall. T. P. was laughing. Every time Quentin
thumped him against the wall he tried to say Whooey,
but he couldn't say it for laughing. I quit crying, but I
couldn't stop. T. P. fell on me and the bam door went
away. It went down the hill and T. P. was fighting by
himself and he fell down again. He was still laughing,
and I couldn't stop, and I tried to get up and I fell down,
and I couldn't stop. Versh said,
"You sho done it now. Ill declare if you aint. Shut up
that yelling."
T. P. was still laughing. He flopped on the door and
laughed. "Whooey." he said, "Me and Benjy going back
to the wedding. Sassprilluh." T. P. said.
"Hush." Versh said. "Where you get it."
"Out the cellar." T. P. said. "Whooey:'
"Hush up." Versh said, "Where'bouts in the cellar."
"Anywhere." T. P. said. He laughed some more. "Moren
a hundred bottles left. Moren a million. Look out, nigger,
I going to holler."
Quentin said, "Lift him up."
Versh lifted me up,
"Drink this, Benjy." Quentin said. The glass was hot
"Hush, now." Quentin said. "Drink it."
"Sassprilluh." T. P. said. "Lemme drink it, Mr Quentin."
"You shut your mouth." Versh said, "Mr Quentin weal
you out."
"Hold him, Versh." Quentin said.
They held me. It was hot on my chin and on my shirt.
"Drink." Quentin said. They held my head. It was hot in-
side me, and I began again. It was crying now, and some'
thing was happening inside me and I cried more, and
they held me until it stopped happening. Then I hushed,
It was still going around, and then the shapes began.
"Open the crib, Versh," They were going slow. "Spread
4* THE SOUND AKB THE
those empty sacks on the floor/' They were going faster,
almost fast enough. "Now. Pick up his feet." They went
on, smooth and bright. I could hear T. P. laughing. I
went on with them, up the bright hill.
At the top of the hill Versh put me down. "Come on
here, Quentin/' he called, looking back down the hill.
Quentin was still standing there by the branch. He was
chunking into the shadows where the branch was,
"Let the old skizzard stay there." Caddy said. She took
my hand and we went on past the barn and through the
gate. There was a frog on the brick walk, squatting in
the middle of it. Caddy stepped over it and pulled me
on.
"Come on, Maury." she said. It still squatted there until
Jason poked at it with his toe.
"He'll make a wart on you." Versh said. The frog
hopped away.
"Come on, Maury." Caddy said.
"They got company tonight." Versh said.
"How do you know." Caddy said.
'With all them lights on." Versh said, "Light in every
Window."
"I reckon we can turn all the lights on without com-
pany, if we want to." Caddy said.
"I bet it's company." Versh said. "You all better go in
the back and slip upstairs."
"I dont care." Caddy said. "I'll walk right in the parlor
where they are/'
"I bet your pappy whip you if you do." Versh said.
"I dont care." Caddy said, "111 walk right in the parlor.
Ill walk right in the dining room and eat supper."
'Where you sit." Versh said.
"I'd sit in Damuddy's chair." Caddy said. "She eats in
bed."
THE SOU3STD A1STB THE FTJ&Y 43
*Tm hungry." Jason said. He passed us and ran on up
the walk. He had his hands in his pockets and he fell
down. Versh went and picked him up.
"If you keep them hands out your pockets, you could
stay on your feet." Versh said. "You cant never get them
out in time to catch yourself, fat as you is."
Father was standing by the kitchen steps.
"Where's Quentin." he said.
"He coming up the walk." Versh said. Quentin was
coming slow. His shirt was a white blur.
"Oh" Father said. Light fell down the steps, on him.
"Caddy and Quentin threw water on each other." Ja-
son said.
We waited.
"They did." Father said. Quentin came, and Father
said, "You can eat supper in the kitchen tonight." He
stopped and took me up, and the light came tumbling
down the steps on me too, and I could look down at
Caddy and Jason and Quentin and Versh. Father turned
toward the steps. "You must be quiet, though/' he said.
"Why must we be quiet, Father." Caddy said. "Have
we got company."
"Yes." Father said.
"I told you they was company." Versh said.
"You did not." Caddy said, "I was the one that said
there was. I said I would"
"Hush." Father said. They hushed and Father opened
the door and we crossed the back porch and went in to
the kitchen. Dilsey was there, and Father put me in the
chair and closed the apron down and pushed it to the
table, where supper was. It was steaming up.
"You mind Dilsey, now." Father said. "Dont let them
make any more noise than they can help, Dilsey."
"Yes, sir." Dilsey said. Father went away.
44 THE SOUSTD ATSTB THE FURT
"Remember to mind Dilsey, now." he said behind us.
I leaned my face over where the supper was. It steamed
up on my face.
"Let them mind me tonight, Father," Caddy said
"I wont." Jason said. "I'm going to mind Dilsey."
"You'll have to, if Father says so." Caddy said. "Let
them mind me, Father."
"I wont" Jason said, "I wont mind you."
"Hush." Father said. 'You all mind Caddy, then. When
they are done, bring them up the back stairs, Dilsey."
"Yes, sir." Dilsey said.
"There." Caddy said, "Now I guess youll mind me."
"You all hush, now." Dilsey said. "You got to be quiet
tonight."
"Why do we have to be quiet tonight." Caddy whis-
pered.
"Never you mind." Dilsey said. "Youll know in the
JLawd's own time." She brought my bowl. The steam
from it came and tickled my face. "Come here, Versh."
Dilsey said.
"When is the Lawd's own time, Dilsey." Caddy said.
"It's Sunday." Quentin said. "Dont you know anything."
"Shhhhhh." Dilsey said. "Didn't Mr Jason say for you
all to be quiet. Eat your supper, now. Here, Versh. Git
his spoon." Versh's hand came with the spoon, into the
bowl. The spoon came up to my mouth. The steam tick-
led into my mouth. Then we quit eating and we looked
at each other and we were quiet, and then we heard it
again and I began to cry.
"What was that." Caddy said. She put her hand on
my hand,
"That was Mother." Quentin said. The spoon came up
and I ate, then I cried again.
"Hush." Caddy said. But I didn't hush and she came
THE source AND THE ruBY 45
and put her arms around me. Dilsey went and closed
both the doors and then we couldn't hear it.
"Hush, now." Caddy said. I hushed and ate. Quentin
wasn't eating, but Jason was.
'That was Mother." Quentin said. He got up.
"You set right down." Dilsey said. "They got company
in there, and you in them muddy clothes. You set down
too, Caddy, and get done eating."
"She was crying." Quentin said.
"It was somebody singing." Caddy said. "Wasn't it,
Dilsey,"
'You all eat your supper, now, like Mr Jason said." Dil-
sey said. 'You'll know in the Lawd's own time." Caddy
went back to her chair.
"I told you it was a party." she said.
Versh said, "He done et all that."
"Bring his bowl here." Dilsey said. The bowl went
away.
"Dilsey." Caddy said, "Quentin's not eating his supper*
Hasn't he got to mind me."
"Eat your supper, Quentin." Dilsey said, 'You all got
to get done and get out of my kitchen."
"I dont want any more supper." Quentin said.
"You've got to eat i I say you have." Caddy said*
"Hasn't he, Dilsey."
The bowl steamed up to my face, and Versh's hand
dipped the spoon in it and the steam tickled into my
mouth.
"I dont want any more." Quentin said. "How can they
have a party when Damuddy's sick."
"They'll have it down stairs." Caddy said. "She can
come to the landing and see it. That's what I'm going to
do when I get my nightie on."
\6 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"Mother was crying/* Quentin said. 'Wasn't she crying,
Dilsey."
"Dont you come pestering at me, boy." Dilsey said. *1
got to get supper for all them folks soon as you all get
done eating."
After a while even Jason was through eating, and lie
began to cry.
"Now you got to tune up." Dilsey said.
"He does it every night since Damuddy was sick and
%e cant sleep with her." Caddy said. "Cry baby."
"I'm going to tell on you." Jason said.
He was crying. "You've already told." Caddy said,
^There's not anything else you can tell, now."
"You all needs to go to bed." Dilsey said. She came and
lifted me down and wiped my face and hands with a
warm cloth. "Versh, can you get them up the back stairs
quiet You, Jason, shut up that crying."
"It's too early to go to bed now." Caddy said. **We
dont ever have to go to bed this early."
"You is tonight." Dilsey said. "Your pa say for you to
come right on up stairs when you et supper. You heard
him."
"He said to mind me." Caddy said.
Tm not going to mind you." Jason said.
"You have to." Caddy said. "Come on, now. You have
to do like I say."
"Make them be quiet, Versh." Dilsey said. "You all go-
Ing to be quiet, ain't you."
"What do we have to be so quiet for, tonight." Caddy
said.
"Your mommer aint feeling well." Dilsey said. "You all
go on with Versh, now."
*1 told you Mother was crying." Quentin said. Versh
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY 47
took me up and opened the door onto the back porch,
We went out and Versh closed the door back. I couM
smell Versh and feel him. "You all be quiet, now. We're
not going up stairs yet. Mr. Jason said for you to come
right up stairs. He said to mind me. I'm not going to
mind you. But he said for all of us to. Didn't he, Quen-
tin." I could feel Versh's head. I could hear us. TDidn'i
he, Versh. Yes, that's right. Then I say for us to go out
doors a while. Come on/' Versh opened the door and we
went out.
We went down the steps.
"I expect we'd better go down to Versh's house, so well
be quiet/* Caddy said. Versh put me down and Caddy
took my hand and we went down the brick walk.
"Come on." Caddy said, 'That frog's gone. He's
hopped way over to the garden, by now. Maybe we'll see
another one." Roskus came with the milk buckets. He
went on. Quentin wasn't coming with us. He was sitting
on the kitchen steps. We went down to Versh's house. I
liked to smell Versh's house. There was a fire in it and
T. P. squatting in his shirt tail in front of it, chunking U
into a blaze.
Then I got up and T. P. dressed me and we went to
the kitchen and ate. Dilsey was singing and I began to
cry and she stopped.
"Keep him away from the house, now/' Dilsey said.
"We cant go that way/' T. P. said.
We played in the branch.
"We cant go around yonder/' T. P. said. "Dont you
know mammy say we cant/'
Dilsey was singing in the kitchen and I began to cry,
"Hush." T. P. said. "Come on. Lets go down to the
barn/ 9
48 THE SOUNB AND THE :FTJRY
Roskus was milking at the bam. He was milking with
one hand, and groaning. Some birds sat on the barn door
and watched him. One of them came down and ate with
the cows. I watched Roskus milk while T. P, was feeding
Queenie and Prince. The calf was in the pig pen. It nuz-
zled at the wire, bawling.
T. P." Roskus said. T. P. said Sir, in the barn. Fancy
held her head over the door, because T. P. hadn't fed her
yet. "Git done there/ 7 Roskus said. "You got to do this
milking. I cant use my right hand no more."
T. P. came and milked.
"Whyn't you get the doctor." T, P. said,
"Doctor cant do no good/' Roskus said< "Not on this
place/'
"What wrong with this place/' T. P. said.
"Taint no luck on this place/' Roskus said. "Turn that
calf in if you done."
Taint no hick on this place, Roskus said. The "fire rose
and fell behind him and Versh, sliding on his and VersKs
face. Dilsey finished putting me to bed. The bed smelled
like T. P. I liked it.
"What you know about it." Dilsey said. "What trance
you been in."
"Dont need no trance/' Roskus said. "Aint the sign of it
laying right there on that bed. Aint the sign of it been
here for folks to see fifteen years now/*
"Spose it is." Dilsey said. "It aint hurt none of you and
youra, is it. Versh working and Frony married off your
hands and T. P. getting big enough to take your place
when rheumatism finish getting you."
They been two, now." Roskus said. "Going to be one
more. I seen the sign, and you is too."
"I heard a squinch owl that night." T. P. said. "Dan
wouldn't corne and get his supper, neither. Wouldn't
THE SOUND A3STB THE FURY 49
tjome no closer than the barn. Begun howling right after
dark. Versh heard him."
"Going to be more than one more." Dilsey said. "Show
me the man what aint going to die, bless Jesus."
"Dying aint all/* Roskus said.
"I knows what you thinking/' Dilsey said. "And they
aint going to be no luck in saying that name, lessen you
going to set up with him while he cries."
"They aint no luck on this place/' Roskus said* "I seen
it at first but when they changed his name I knowed it."
"Hush your mouth/' Dilsey said. She pulled the covers
up. It smelled like T. P. "You all shut up now, till he get
to sleep/'
"I seen the sign/* Roskus said.
"Sign T. P. got to do all your work for you." Dilsey
said. Take him and Quentin down to the house and lei
them play with Luster, where Frony can watch them^
T. P., and go and help your pa.
We finished eating. T. P. took Quentin up and we went
down to T. P/s house. Luster was playing in the dirt,
T. P. put Quentin down and she played in the dirt too.
Luster had some spools and he and Quentin fought and
Quentin had the spools. Luster cried and Frony came
and gave Luster a tin can to play with, and then I had
the spools and Quentin fought me and I cried.
"Hush." Frony said, "Aint you shamed of yourself. Tak-
ing a baby's play pretty/' She took the spools from me
and gave them back to Quentin.
"Hush, now/' Frony said, "Hush, I tell you/'
"Hush up/' Frony said. "You needs whipping, that's
what you needs/' She took Luster and Quentin up.
"Come on here." she said. We went to the barn. T. P. was
milking the cow. Roskus was sitting on the box.
"What's the matter with him now." Roskus said.
JO THE SOIJ^D AND THE FURY
"You have to keep him down here." Frony said. "He
fighting these babies again. Taking they play things. Stay
here with T. P. now, and see can you hush a while/'
"Clean that udder good now." Roskus said. "You milked
that young cow dry last winter. If you milk this one dry,
they aint going to be no more milk/*
Dilsey was singing.
"Not around yonder." T. P. said. "Dont you know
mammy say you cant go around there/*
They were singing.
"Come on." T. P. said. "Lets go play with Quentin and
Luster. Come on."
Quentin and Luster were playing in the dirt in front of
T. P/s house. There was a fire in the house, rising and
falling, with Roskus sitting black against it.
"That's three, thank the Lawd." Roskus said "I told
you two years ago. They aint no luck on this place."
"Whyn't you get out, then." Dilsey said. She was un-
dressing me. ""Your bad luck talk got them Memphis no-
tions into Versh. That ought to satisfy you/'
"If that all the bad luck Versh have." Roskus said.
Frony came in.
"You all done/* Dilsey said.
"T. P. finishing up." Frony said. "Miss Cahline want
you to put Quentin to bed."
"I'm coming just as fast as I can." Dilsey said. "She
ought to know by this time I aint got no wings."
"That's what I tell you." Roskus said. "They aint no
hick going be on no place Where one of they own chillens*
name aint never spoke."
"Hush." Dilsey said. "Do you want to get him started"
"Raising a child not to know its own mammy's name."
fioskus said.
"Dont you bother your head about her." Dilsey said.
SOUSTD " AND THE FTJBY 5*
*1 raised all of them and I reckon I can raise one more.
Hush now. Let him get to sleep if he will/'
"Saying a name." Frony said. "He dont know nobody*s
name/'
""You just say it and see if he dont." Dilsey said. "You
say it to him while he sleeping and I bet he hear you/*
"He know lot more than folks thinks." Roskus said. "He
knowed they time was coming, like that pointer done.
He could tell you when hisn coming, if he could talk. Oi
yours. Or mine."
"You take Luster outen that bed, mammy ." Frony said.
"That boy conjure him."
"Hush your mouth." Dilsey said, "Aint you got no bet-
ter sense than that. What you want to listen to Roskus
for, anyway. Get in, Benjy."
Dilsey pushed me and I got in the bed, where Lustet
already was. He was alseep. Dilsey took a long piece of
wood and laid it between Luster and me. "Stay on your
side now." Dilsey said. "Luster little, and you don't want
to hurt him/*
You cant go yet, T. P. said. Wait.
We looked around the corner of the house and
watched the carriages go away.
"Now/' T. P. said. He took Quentin up and we ran
down to the corner of the fence and watched them pass.
"There he go/' T. P. said. "See that one with the glass in
it. Look at him. He laying in there. See him."
Come on, Luster said, I going to take this here ball
down home, where I wont lose it. Naw, sir y you cant
have it. If them men sees you with it, they'll say you stole
it. Hush up, now. You cant have it. What business you got
with it. You cant play no ball.
Frony and T. P. were playing in the dirt by the door,
T. R had lightning bugs in a bottle.
f2 THE SOTJ-KB AND THE FURY
"How did you all get back out/ 7 Frony said.
"We've got company." Caddy said. "Father said for us
to mind me tonight. I expect you and T. P. will have to
mind me too."
"I'm not going to mind you/* Jason said. "Frony and
T. P. dont have to either/'
'They will if I say so/' Caddy said. "Maybe I wont say
for them to/*
"T. P. dont mind nobody/' Frony said. "Is they started
the funeral yet/'
"What's a funeral." Jason said.
"Didn't mammy tell you not to tell them/" Versh said.
'Where they moans/' Frony said. 'They moaned twc
lays on Sis Beulah Clay/'
They moaned at Dilsey s house. Dilsey was moaning.
When Dilsey moaned Luster said y Hush, and we hushed^
and then I began to cry and Blue howled under the
kitchen steps. Then Dilsey stopped and we stopped,
"Oh/ Caddy said, "That's niggers. White folks dont
have funerals."
Mammy said us not to tell them, Frony/' Versh said,
Tell them what." Caddy said.
Dilsey moaned, and when it got to the place I began
fo cry and Blue howled under the steps. Luster, Frony 9
$aid in the window, Take them down to the barn. I cant
get no cooking done with all that racket. That hound too.
Get them outen here.
I aint going down there, Luster said. I might meet
pappy down there. I seen him last night, waving his arms
in the barn.
"I like to know why not." Frony said. "White folks dies
too. Your grandmammy dead as any nigger can get, I
reckon."
TDogs are dead." Caddy said, "And when Nancy fell in
THE SOUHD ANB THE PTJBY S3
the ditch and Roskus shot her and the buzzards came
and undressed her."
The bones rounded out of the ditch, where the dark
vines were in the black ditch, into the moonlight, like
some of the shapes had stopped. Then they all stopped
and it was dark, and when I stopped to start again 1
could hear Mother, and feet walking fast away, and 1
could smell it. Then the room came, but my eyes went
shut. I didn't stop. I could smell it. T. P, unpinned the
bed clothes.
"Hush." he said, "Shhhhhhhh "
But I could smell it, T. P. pulled me up and he put on
my clothes fast.
"Hush, Benjy." he said. 'We going down to our house*
You want to go down to our house, where Frony is*
Hush. Shhhhh."
He laced my shoes and put my cap on and we went
out. There was a light in the hall. Across the hall we
could hear Mother.
"Shhhhhh, Benjy " T. P. said, "Well be out m a
minute."
A door opened and I could smell it more than ever a
and a head came out. It wasn't Father. Father was sick
there.
"Can you take him out of the house."
"That's where we going." T. P. said. Dilsey came up
the stairs.
"Hush." she said, "Hush. Take him down home, T. P.
Frony fixing him a bed. You all look after him, now.
Hush, Benjy. Go on with T. P."
She went where we could hear Mother.
"Better keep him there." It wasn't Father. He shut th
door, but I could still smell it.
We went down stairs. The stairs went down into the
*>4 THE SOUKB AISTD THE PUR1T
dark and T. P. took my hand, and we went out the door,
out of the dark. Dan was sitting in the back yard, howl-
ing.
"He smell it" T. P, said. "Is that the way you found it
out/ 5
We went down the steps, where our shadows were.
"I forgot your coat." T. P. said. "You ought to had it
But I aint going back,"
Dan howled.
"Hush now." T. P. said. Our shadows moved, but Dan's
shadow didn't move except to howl when he did.
"I cant take you down home, bellering like you is. 1 '
T. P. said. "You was bad enough before you got that bull-
frog voice. Come on."
We went along the brick walk, with our shadows.
The pig pen smelled like pigs. The cow stood in the lot,
chewing at us. Dan howled.
"You going to wake the whole town up." T. P, said,
*Cant you hush."
We sa\v Fancy, eating by die branch. The moon shone
on tie water when we got there.
"Naw, sir." T. P. said, "This too close. We cant stop
here. Come on. Now, just look at you. Got your whole
leg wet. Come on, here." Dan howled.
The ditch came up out of the buzzing grass. The bones
rounded out of the black vines.
"Now." T. P. said. "TJeller your head off if you want
to. You got the whole night and a twenty acre pasture to
beller in."
T. P. lay down in the ditch and I sat down, watching
the bones where the buzzards ate Nancy, flapping black
<and slow and heavy out of the ditch.
I had it when we was down here before, Luster said.
THE SOtJKB AND THE ^UBT %%
I showed it to you. Didn't you see it. I took it out of my
pocket right here and showed it to you.
"Do you think buzzards are going to undress Da-
muddy." Caddy said. "You're crazy/*
"You're a skizzard." Jason said. He began to cry.
"You're a knobnot." Caddy said. Jason cried. His hands
were In his pockets.
"Jason going to be rich man.'* Versh said. *He holding
his money all the time."
Jason cried.
"Now youVe got him started." Caddy said. "Hush up,
Jason. How can buzzards get in where Damuddy is. Fa^
ther wouldn't let them. Would you let a buzzard undress
you. Hush up, now."
Jason hushed. "Frony said it was a funeral" he said.
"Well it's not." Caddy said. "It's a party. Frony dont
know anything about it. He wants your lightning bugs,
T. P. Let him hold it a while."
T. P. gave me the bottle of lightning bugs.
"I bet if we go around to the parlor window we can
see something." Caddy said. "Then you'll believe me."
"I already knows." Frony said. "I dont need to see.**
"You better hush your mouth, Frony." Versh said*
"Mammy going whip you."
'What is it." Caddy said.
"I knows what I knows." Frony said.
"Come on." Caddy said, "Let* s go around to the front*
We started to go.
"T. P. wants his lightning bugs." Frony said.
"Let him hold it a while longer, T. P." Caddy said
"We'll bring it back."
"You all never caught them." Frony said.
"If I say you and T. P, can come too, will you let him
hold it." Caddy said.
J6 THB SOtJND AND THE FUBY
"Aint nobody said me and T. P. got to mind you.* 9
Frony said.
"If I say you dont have to, will you let liiin hold it/*
Caddy said.
"All right" Frony said. "Let him hold it, T. P. We go-
ing to watch them moaning."
"They aint moaning/' Caddy said. '1 tell you it's a
party. Are they moaning, Versh."
"We aint going to know what they doing, standing
here." Versh said.
"Come on." Caddy said. "Frony and T. P. dont have to
mind me. But the rest of us do. You better carry him,
Versh. It's getting dark."
Versh took me up and we went on around the kitchen.
When we looked around the corner we could see the
lights coming up the drive. T. P. went back to the cellar
door and opened it.
You know what's down there, T. P. said. Soda water.
I seen Mr Jason come up with both hands full of them.
Wait here a minute.
T. P. went and looked in the kitchen door. Dilsey
mid, What are you peeping in here for. Where's Benjy.
He out here, T. P. said.
Go on and watch him, Dilsey said. Keep him out the
house now.
Yessum, T. P. said. Is they started yet.
You go on and keep that boy out of sight, Dilsey said.
I got all I can tend to.
A snake crawled out from under the house. Jason said
lie wasn't afraid of snakes and Caddy said he was but
she wasn't and Versh said they botii were and Caddy said
to be quiet, like father said.
You aint got to start bettering now, T. P. said. You
want some this sassprilluh.
THE SOUND AND THE FUBT 57
It tickled my nose and eyes.
If you aint going to drink it, let me get to it, T. P.
said. All right, here tis. We better get another bottle while
nobody bothering us. You be quiet, now.
We stopped ?ander the tree by the parlor window,,
Versh set me down in the wet grass. It was cold. There
were lights in all the windows.
'That's where Damuddy is." Caddy said. "She's siclj
every day now. When she gets well we're going to hav
a picnic."
"I knows what I knows/* Frony said.
The trees were buzzing, and the grass.
"The one next to it is where we have the measles**
Caddy said. 'Where do you and T. P. have the measles t ,
Frony."
"Has them just wherever we is, I reckon.' 3 Frony said.
"They haven't started yet." Caddy said.
They getting ready to start, T. P. said. You stand
right here now while I get that box so we can see in the
window. Here, les -finish drinking this here sassprittuh.
It make me feel just like a squinch owl inside.
We drank the sassprilluh and T. P. pushed the bottle
through the lattice, under the house, and went away. I
could hear them in the parlor and I clawed my hands
against the wall. T. P. dragged the box. He f eU down*
and he began to laugh. He lay there, laughing into the
grass. He got up and dragged the box under the window,
trying not to laugh.
"I skeered I going to holler." T. P. said, "Git on the boa:
and see is they started."
"They haven't started because the band hasn't
yet." Caddy said.
"They aint going to have no band." Frony said.
<: How do you know." Caddy said.
5$ THE SOTJNB AND THE FURY
*I knows what I knows." Frony said.
"You dont know anything." Caddy said. She went to
the tree. "Push me up, Versh/'
Tour paw told you to stay out that tree." Versh said
*That was a long time ago/ 5 Caddy said. "I expect he's
forgotten about it. Besides, he said to mind me tonight.
Didn't he say to mind me tonight."
Tm not going to mind you." Jason said. "Frony and
T. P. are not going to either."
TPush me up, Versh/' Caddy said.
"AH right." Versh said. "You the one going to get
whipped. I aint" He went and pushed Caddy up into
the tree to the first limb. We watched the muddy bottom
of her drawers. Then we couldn't see her. We could hear
the tree thrashing.
"Mr Jason said if you break that tree he whip you/'
Versh said.
"I'm going to tell on her too." Jason said.
The tree quit thrashing. We looked up into the still
branches.
"What you seeing/' Frony whispered.
I saw them. Then I saw Caddy, with flowers in het
hair, and a long veil like shining wind. Caddy Caddy
"Hush/* T. P. said, "They going to hear you. Get down
quick." He pulled me. Caddy. I clawed my hands against
the wall Caddy. T. P. pulled me.
"Hush." he said. "Hush. Come on here quick." He
pulled me on, Caddy "Hush up, Benjy. You want them
to hear you. Come on, les drink some more sassprilluh,
then we can come back if you hush. We better get one
more bottle or we both be hollering. We can say Dan
drunk it. Mr Quentin always saying he so smart, we can
say he sassprilluh dog, too."
THE SOUND AND THE PITHY 59
The moonlight came down the cellar stairs. We drank
some more sasspriUuh.
Ton know what I wish/' T. P. said. "I wish a bear
would walk in that cellar door. You know what I do. I
walk right up to him and spit in he eye. Gimme that
bottle to stop my mouth before I holler."
T. P. fell down. He began to laugh, and the cellar door
and the moonlight jumped away and something hit me.
"Hush up." T. P. said, trying not to laugh, "Lawd,
they'll all hear us. Get up." T. P. said, "Get up, Benjy,
quick." He was thrashing about and laughing and I tried
to get up. The cellar steps ran up the hill in the moon-
light and T. P. fell up the hill, into the moonlight, and I
ran against the fence and T. P. ran behind me saying
"Hush up hush up" Then he fell into the flowers, laugh-
ing, and I ran into the box. But when I tried to climb
onto it it jumped away and hit me on the back of the
head and my throat made a sound. It made the sound
again and I stopped trying to get up, and it made the
sound again and I began to cry. But my throat kept o
making the sound while T. P. was pulling me. It kept on
making it and I couldn't tell if I was crying or not, and
T. P. fell down on top of me, laughing, and it kept on
making the sound and Quentin kicked T. P. and Cad
put her arms around me ? and her shining veil, and J
couldn't smell trees anymore and I began to cry.
Benjy, Caddy said Benjy. She put her arms around m&
again, but 1 went away. "What is it, Benjy." she said, "Is
it this hat." She took her hat off and came again, and I
went away.
"Benjy." she said, "What is it, Benjy. What has Caddy
done."
"He dont like that prissy dress." Jason said. "You thint
THE SOUND AND THE FUEY
you're grown up, dont you. You think you're better than
anybody else, dont you. Prissy/'
""You shut your mouth/' Caddy said, "You dirty little
beast Benjy."
^Just because you are fourteen, you think you're grown
up, dont you." Jason said. "You think you're something.
Dont you."
"Hush, Benjy." Caddy said. "You'll disturb Mother.
Hush."
But I didn't hush, and when she went away I followed,
nd she stopped on the stairs and waited and I stopped
loo.
"What is it, Benjy." Caddy said, 'Tell Caddy. She'll
Jo it. Try."
"Candace." Mother said.
"Yessum." Caddy said.
"Why are you teasing him," Mother said. "Bring him
Aere."
We went to Mother's room, where she was lying with
the sickness on a cloth on her head.
"What is the matter now." Mother said. "Benjamin."
TBenjy." Caddy said. She came again, but I went away,
**You must have done something to him." Mother said.
**Why wont you let him alone, so I can have some peace.
Give him the box and please go on and let him alone."
Caddy got the box and set it on the floor and opened
it. It was full of stars. When I was still, they were still.
When I moved, they glinted and sparkled. I hushed,
Then I heard Caddy walking and I began again.
"Benjamin." Mother said, "Come here." I went to the
door. "You, Benjamin." Mother said.
"What is it now." Father said, "Where are you going."
"Take him downstairs and get someone to watch him 3
Jason." Mother said. "You know I'm ill, yet you"
THE SOTJKD AKB THE FURY &*
Father shut the door behind us.
"T. P/ ? he said.
"Sir." T. P. said downstairs.
TBenjy's coming down." Father said. "Go with T. P.*
I went to the bathroom door. I could hear the water.
"Benjy." T. P. said downstairs.
I could hear the water. I listened to it.
"Benjy." T. P. said downstairs.
I listened to the water.
a Ijpuldn't hear the water, and Caddy opened the door.
"Why, Benjy." she said. She looked at me and I went
and she put her arms around me. "Did you find Caddy
again." she said. "Did you think Caddy had run away,,'*
Caddy smelled like trees.
We went to Caddy's room. She sat down at the mirror.
She stopped her hands and looked at me.
'Why, Benjy. What is it." she said. "You mustn't cry.
Caddy's not going away. See here." she said. She took up
the bottle and took the stopper out and held it to my
nose. "Sweet. Smell. Good."
I went away and I didn't hush, and she held the bottle
in her hand, looking at me.
"Oh." she said. She put the bottle down and came and
put her arms around me. "So that was it. And you were
trying to tell Caddy and you couldn't tell her. You
wanted to, but you couldn't, could you. Of course Caddy
wont. Of course Caddy wont. Just wait till I dress."
Caddy dressed and took up the bottle again and we
went down to the kitchen.
"Dilsey." Caddy said, "Benjy's got a present for you."
She stooped down and put the bottle in my hand. "Hold
it out to Dilsey, now." Caddy held my hand out and
Dilsey took the bottle.
'Well 111 declare." Dilsey said, "I my baby aint giva
6* THE SOUKB AlSTB THE FURY
Dilsey a bottle of perfume. Just look here, Roskus/*
Caddy smelled like trees, 'We dont like perfume our-
selves/' Caddy said.
She smelled like trees.
"Come on, now/' Dilsey said, "You too big to sleep
with folks. You a big boy now. Thirteen years old. Big
enough to sleep by yourself in Uncle Maury's room/'
Dilsey said.
Uncle Maury was sick. His eye was sick, and his
mouth. Versh took his supper up to him on the tray.
"Maury says he's going to shoot the scoundrel." Father
said. "I told him he'd better not mention it to Patterson
before hand/' He drank,
"Jason/* Mother said.
"Shoot who, Father.** Quentin said. ''What's Unde
Maury going to shoot him for."
"Because he couldn't take a little joke." Father said.
"Jason/' Mother said, "How can you. You'd sit right
there and see Maury shot down in ambush, and laugh/*
"Then Maury'd better stay out of ambush." Father
said.
"Shoot who, Father/* Quentin said, 'Who's Uncle
Maury going to shoot/*
"Nobody/* Father said. "I dont own a pistol/*
Mother began to cry. "If you begrudge Maury your
food, why aren't you man enough to say so to his face. To
ridicule him before the children, behind his back."
"Of course I dont/* Father said, "I admire Maury. He
is invaluable to my own sense of racial superiority, I
wouldn't swap Maury for a matched team. And do you
know why, Quentin/*
"No, sir." Quentin said.
"Et ego in arcadia I have forgotten the latin for hay/*
Father said. "There, there/* he said, "I was just joking/'
THE SOUND AKB THE PUBY 63
He drank and set the glass down and went and put his
hand on Mother's shoulder.
"It's no joke/' Mother said. "My people are every bit
as well bora as yours. Just because Maury s health is
bad."
"Of course/' Father said. "Bad health is the primary
reason for all Me. Created by disease, within putrefao
tion, into decay. Versh."
"Sir/* Versh said behind my chair.
"Take the decanter and fill it/*
"And tell Dilsey to come and take Benjamin up to
bed/* Mother said.
"You a big boy/' Dilsey said, ''Caddy tired sleeping
with you. Hush now, so you can go to sleep." The room
went away, but I didn't hush, and the room came back
and Dilsey came and sat on the bed, looking at me.
"Aint you going to be a good boy and hush/' Dilsey
said. "You aint, is you. See can you wait a minute, then,"
She went away. There wasn't anything in the door
Then Caddy was in it.
"Hush/' Caddy said. Tm coming/'
I hushed and Dilsey turned back the spread and
Caddy got in between the spread and the blanket. She
didn't take off her bathrobe.
"Now/' she said, "Here I am." Dilsey came with a
blanket and spread it over her and tucked it around her.
"He be gone in a minute." Dilsey said. "I leave the
light on in your room."
"All right/' Caddy said. She snuggled her head beside
mine on the pillow. "Goodnight, Dilsey/*
"Goodnight, honey/* Dilsey said. The room went black
Caddy smelled like trees.
We looked up into the tree where sLe was.
"What she seeing, Versh/* Frony whispeied
H THE SOTJKD A1STB T H S FURY
"Shhhhhhh." Caddy said in the tree. Dilsey said,
'"You come on here." She came around the corner of
the house. "Whyn't you all go on up stairs, like your paw
said, stead of slipping out behind my back, Where's
Caddy and Quentin."
"I told her not to climb up that tree." Jason said. *Tm
going to tell on her/*
"Who in what tree." Dilsey said. She came and looked
up into the tree, "Caddy." Dilsey said. The branches
began to shake again.
"You, Satan." Dilsey said. "Come down from there."
"Hush." Caddy said, "Dont you know Father said to
be quiet." Her legs came in sight and Dilsey reached up
and lifted her out of the tree.
"Arnt you got any better sense than to let them come
around here." Dilsey said.
"I couldn't do nothing with her." Versh said.
"What you all doing here." Dilsey said. "Who told you
to come up to the house."
"She did." Frony said. "She told us to come."
'Who told you you got to do what she say." Dilsey
said. "Get on home, now." Frony and T. P. went on. We
couldn't see them when they were still going away.
"Out here in the middle of the night." Dilsey said*
She took me up and we went to the kitchen.
''Slipping out behind my back." Dilsey said. "When
you knowed it's past your bedtime."
"Shhhh, Dilsey." Caddy said. "Dont talk so loud. We've
got to be quiet."
"You hush your mouth and get quiet, then." Dilsey
said. "Where's Quentin."
"Quentin's mad because he had to mind me tonight.*"
Caddy said. "He's still got T. P/s bottle o lightning
bugs,"
THE SOUND AJSTD THE FtTEY 6
"I reckon T. P. can get along without it." Dilsey said,
**You go and find Quentin, Versh. Roskus say he seen him
going towards the barn." Versh went on. We couldn't see
him.
"They're not doing anything in there." Caddy said,
"Just sitting in chairs and looking."
"They dont need no help from you all to do that"
Dilsey said. We went around the kitchen.
Where you want to go now, Luster said. You going
back to watch them knocking ball again. We done looked
for it over there. Here. Wait a minute. 'You wait right
here while I go back and get that ball. I done thought of
something.
The kitchen was dark. The trees were black on the
sky. Dan came waddling out from under the steps and
chewed my ankle. I went around the kitchen, where the
moon was. Dan came scuffling along, into the moon.
"Benjy." T. P, said in the house.
The flower tree by the parlor window wasn't dark, but
the thick trees were. The grass was buzzing in the moon-
light where my shadow walked on the grass.
'"You, Benjy." T. P. said in the house. "Where you
hiding. You slipping off. I knows it."
Luster came back. Wait, he said. Here. Dont go over
there. Miss Quentin and her beau in the swing yonder*
You come on this way. Come back here, Benjy.
It was dark under the trees. Dan wouldn't come. He
stayed in the moonlight. Then I could see the swing and
I began to cry.
Come away from there, Benjy, Luster said. You know
Miss Quentin going to get mad.
It was two now, and then one in the swing, Caddy
came fast, white in the darkness.
W THE SOTTED ND THE FTJBY
"Benjy," she said. "'How did you slip out. Where's
Versh."
She put her arms around me and I hushed and held
to her dress and tried to pull her away.
"Why, Benjy " she said. 'What is it. T, P." she called.
The one in the swing got up and came, and I cried and
pulled Caddy's dress.
"Benjy." Caddy said. "It's just Charlie. Dont you know
Charlie"
'Where's his nigger." Charlie said. 'What do chey let
him run around loose for."
"Hush, Benjy." Caddy said. "Go away, Charlie. He
doesn't like you/' Charlie went away and I hushed. I
pulled at Caddy's dress.
"Why, Benjy." Caddy said. "Aren't you going to let
me stay here and talk to Charlie awhile."
"Call that nigger." Charlie said. He came back. I
cried louder and pulled at Caddy's dress.
"Go away, Charlie." Caddy said. Charlie came and
put his hands on Caddy and I cried more. J cried loud.
"No, no." Caddy said. "No. No."
"He cant talk." Charlie said. "Caddy /*
"Are you crazy/* Caddy said. She b^gan to breathe
fast "He can see. Dont. Dont." Caddy fought. They both
breathed fast. "Please. Please." Caddy whispered
"Send him away." Charlie said.
"I wilL" Caddy said. "Let me go."
"Will you send him away/' Charlie said.
"Yes." Caddy said. "Let me go." Charlie went away*
"Hush." Caddy said. "He's gone." I hushed. I could hear
her and feel her chest going.
Til have to take him to the house/' she said. She took
my hand. "I'm coming/' she whispered.
'Wait/' Charlie said. "Call the nigger/*
THE SCHJND AXD THE 1 UBY ,'6^
/' Caddy said. "Ill come back. Come on, Benjy/*
"Caddy." Charlie whispered, loud. We went on. "Ton
better come back. Are you corning back/* Caddy and I
were running. "Caddy." Charlie said. We ran out into
the moonlight, toward the kitchen.
"Caddy/* Charlie said.
Tladdy and I ran. We ran up the kitchen steps, onto
the porch, and Caddy knelt down in the dark and held
me. I could h^ar her and feel her chest. "I wont." she
said. "I wont anymore, ever. Benjy. Benjy/' Then she was
crying, and I cried, and we held each other. "Hush." she
said. "Hush. I wont anymore." So I hushed and Caddy
got up and we went into the kitchen and turned the light
on and Caddy took the kitchen soap and washed her
mouth at the sink, hard. Caddy smelled like trees.
I kept a telling you to stay away from there, Luster
said. They sat up in the swing, quick. Queutin had her
hands on her hair. He had a red tie.
You old crazy loon ? Quentin said. Tm going to tell
Dilsey about the way you let him follow everywhere
I go. Tm going to make her whip you good.
"I couldn't stop him." Luster said. "Come on here }
Benjy."
<c Yes you could." Quentin said. "You didn't try. You
were both snooping around after me. Did Grandmother
send you all out here to spy on me." She jumped out
of the swing. "If you dont take him right away this min-
ute and keep him away, I'm going to make Jason whip
you/'
"I cant, do nothing with him." Luster said. "You try
it if you think you can."
"Shut your mouth/* Quentin said. "Are you going to
get him away."
"Ah, let him stay/* he said. He had a red tie. The sun
68 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
was red on it. "Look here, Jack." He struck a match and
put It In his mouth. Then he took the match out of his
mouth. It was still burning. 'Want to try it/' he said. I
went over there. "Open your mouth." he said, I opened
my mouth. Quentin hit the match with her hand and it
went away.
"Goddamn you." Quentin said. "Do you want to get
him started. Dont you know hell beller all day. I'm going
to tell Dilsey on you/' She went away running.
"Here, kid." he said. "Hey. Come on back. I aint going
to fool with him/'
Quentin ran on to the house. She went around the
kitchen,
"You played hell then, Jack/' he said. "Aint you."
"He cant tell what you saying/* Luster said. "He deef
and dumb/'
"Is/* he said. "How long's he been that way/ 7
"Been that way thirty-three years today/' Luster said.
TBorn looney. Is you one of them show folks."
'Why/' he said.
"I dont ricklick seeing you around here before/* Luster
said.
"Well, what about it." he said.
"Nothing," Luster said. "I going tonight/'
He looked at me.
"You aint the one can play a tune on that saw, is you/*
Luster said.
"It'll cost you a quarter to find that out." he said. H
looked at me. 'Why dont they lock him up/' he said.
*What'd you bring him out here for/ 7
'"You aint talking to me." Luster said. "I cant do
nothing with him. I just come over here looking for a
quarter I lost so I can go to the show tonight. Look like
now I ain't going to get to go." Luster looked on the
THE SOUND A1STD THE FURY 6
ground. ''You aint got no extra quarter, is you." Lustei
said.
"No." he said. "I aint."
"I reckon I just have to find that other one, then."
Luster said. He put his hand in his pocket. "You dont
want to buy no golf ball neither, does you." Luster said.
"What kind of ball." he said.
"Golf ball." Luster said. "I dont want but a quarter."
"What for." he said. "What do I want with it."
"I didn't think you did." Luster said. "Come on here,
mulehead." he said. "Come on here and watch them
knocking that ball. Here. Here something you can play
with along with that jimson weed." Luster picked it up
and gave it to me. It was bright,
"Where'd you get that." he said. His tie was red in
the sun, walking.
"Found it under this here bush." Luster said. "I thought
for a minute it was that quarter I lost'
He came and took it.
"Hush." Luster said. "He going to give it back when
he done looking at it."
"Agnes Mabel Becky." he said. He looked toward the
house.
"Hush." Luster said. "He fixing to give it back."
He gave it to me and I hushed.
"Who come to see her last night." he said.
"I dont know." Luster said. "They comes every night
she can climb down that tree. I dont keep no track of
them."
"Damn if one of them didn't leave a track." he said,,
He looked at the house. Then he went and lay down in
the swing. "Go away." he said. "Dont bother me."
"Come on here," Luster said. "You done played hell
now. Time Miss Quentin get done telling on you."
70 THE SOUKD AND THE PUBY
We went to the fence and looked through the curling
lower spaces. Luster hunted in the grass.
"I had it right here." he said. I saw the flag flapping.,
and the sun slanting on the broad grass.
"They'll be some along soon." Luster said. "There
some now, but they going away. Come on and help me
look for it."
We went along the fence.
"Hush." Luster said. "How can I make them come
,>ver here, if they aint coming. Wait, They'll be some in
a minute. Look yonder. Here they come."
I went along the fence, to the gate, where the girls
passed with their booksatchels. "Yoo, Benjy." Luster
said. "Come back here."
You cant do no good looking through the gate, T. P.
said. Miss Caddy done gone long mays away. Done gai
married and left you. You cant do no good., holding to
the gate and crying. She cant hear you.
What is it he wants, T. P. Mother said. Cant you play
with him and keep him quiet.
He want to go down yonder and look through the gate*
T. P. said.
Well, he cannot do it, Mother said. It's raining. "Jou
will just have to play with him and keep him quiet. Hou 9
Benjamin.
Aint nothing going to quiet him, T. P. said. He think
tf he dawn to the gate, Miss Caddy come back.
Nonsense, Mother said.
I could hear them talking. I went out the door and I
couldn't hear them, and I went down to the gate, where
the girls passed with their booksatchels. They looked at
cne, walking fast, with their heads turned. I tried to say,
but they went on, and I went along the fence, trying to
SOUND AND THU FTJKY ?*'
say, and they went faster. Then they were running and
I came to the corner of the fence and I couldn't go any
further, and I held to the fence, looking after them and
trying to say.
"You, Benjy." T. P. said. "What you doing, slipping
out. Dont you know Dilsey whip you."
'"You cant do no good, moaning and slobbering through
the fence." T. P. said. "You done skeered them cMlen.
Look at them, walking on the other side of the street"
How did he get out, "Father said. Did you leave the
gate unlatched when you came in, Jason.
Of course not, Jason said. Dont you know I've got
better sense than to do that. Do you think I wanted any^
thing like this to happen. This family is bad enough., God
knows. I could have told you, all the time. I reckon youtt
send him to Jackson, now. If Mrs Burgess dont shoot
him first.
Hush, Father said.
I could have told you, all the time, Jason said.
It was open when I touched it, and I held to it in the
twilight. I wasn't crying, and I tried to stop, watching
the girls coming along in the twilight. I wasn't crying.
'There he is."
They stopped.
"He cant get out. He wont hurt anybody, anyway.
Come on."
*Tm scared to. I'm scared. I'm going to cross the
.street."
"He cant get out."
I wasn't crying.
"'Don't be a 'fraid cat. Come on."
They came on in the twilight. I wasn't crying, and I
Jaeld to the gate. They came slow.
7^ THE SOUND AND THE FURY
I'm scared."
"He wont hurt you. I pass here every day. He just
runs along the fence."
They came on. I opened the gate and they stopped,
turning. I was trying to say, and I caught her, trying to
say, and she screamed and I was trying to say and try-
ing and the bright shapes began to stop and I tried to get
out I tried to get it off of my face, but the bright shapes
were going again. They were going up the hill to where
it fell away and I tried to cry. But when I breathed in,
I couldn't breathe out again to cry, and 1 tried to keep
from falling off the hill and I fell off the hiU into the
bright, whirling shapes.
Here, loony, Luster said. Here come some. Hush your
slobbering and moaning, now.
They came to the flag. He took it out and they hit, then
he put the flag back.
"Mister." Luster said.
He looked around. ""What." he said.
"Want to buy a golf ball." Luster said.
"Let's see it." he said. He came to the fence and Luster
reached the ball through.
"Where'd you get it. 7 ' he said.
''Found it." Luster said.
"I know that." he said. 'Where. In somebody's golf
bag."
"I found it laying over here in the yard." Luster said.
Til take a quarter for it."
"What makes you think it's yours." he said.
"I found it." Luster said.
"Then find yourself another one." he said. He put it
Jn his pocket and went away,
"I got to go to that show tonight." Luster said.
THE SOUND AND THE 1FUKY 73
'That so." he said. He went to the table. "Fore, cad*
die.** he said. He hit.
"I'll declare." Luster said. "You fusses when you dont
see them and you fusses when you does. Why cant you
hush. Dont you reckon folks gets tired of listening to
you all the time. Here. You dropped your jimson weed."
He picked it up and gave it back to me. *Tou needs a
new one. You 'bout wore that one out." We stood at the
fence and watched them.
"That white man hard to get along with." Luster said.
"You see him take my ball/' They went on. We went on
along the fence. We came to the garden and we couldn't
go any further. I held to the fence and looked through the
flower spaces. They went away.
"Now you aint got nothing to moan about." Luster
said. "Hush up. I the one got something to moan over s
you aint. Here. Whyn't you hold on to that weed. You be
bellering about it next/' He gave me the flower. "Where
you heading now."
Our shadows were on the grass. They got to the trees
before we did. Mine got there first. Then we got there,
and then the shadows were gone. There was a flower in
the bottle. I put the other flower in it.
"Aint you a grown man, now." Luster said. "Playing
with two weeds in a bottle. You know what they going
to do with you when Miss Cahline die. They going to
send you to Jackson, where you belong. Mr Jason say so.
Where you can hold the bars all day long with the rest of
the looneys and slobber. How you like that."
Luster knocked the flowers over with his hand. "That's
what they'll do to you at Jackson when you starts beller-
ing."
I tried to pick up the flowers. Luster picked them up,
and they went away. I began to cry.
P4 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"Beller." Luster said. "Beller, You want something to
beller about. All right, then. Caddy." he whispered
"Caddy. Beller now. Caddy/'
"Luster." Dilsey said from the kitchen.
The flowers came back.
"Hush." Luster said. "Here they is. Look. It's fixed
back just like it was at first. Hush, now.'*
"You, Luster." Dilsey said.
"Yessum." Luster said. "We coming. You done played
hell. Get up." He jerked my arm and I got up. We went
out of the trees. Our shadows were gone.
"Hush." Luster said. "Look at all them folks watching
you. Hush."
"You bring him on here." Dilsey said. She came down
the steps.
"What you done to him now." she said.
"Aint done nothing to him." Luster said. "He just
started bellering."
"Yes you is." Dilsey said. "You done something to him.
Where you been."
"Over yonder under them cedars." Luster said.
"Getting Quentin all riled up " Dilsey said. "Why can't
you keep him away from her. Dont you know she dorA
like him where she at."
"Got as much time for him as I is." Luster said. "He
aint none of my uncle."
"Dont you sass me, nigger boy." Dilsey said.
"I aint done nothing to him." Luster said. "He was
playing there, and all of a sudden he started bellering."
"Is you been projecking with his graveyard." Dilsey
said.
"I aint touched his graveyard." Luster said.
"Dont lie to me, boy." Dilsey said. We went up the
steps and into the kitchen. Dilsey opened the firedoot
THE SOUKB ANB THE FURY 75
and drew a chair tip in front of it and I sat down. I
hushed.
What you want to get her started for, Dilsey said,
Whyrit you keep him out of there.
He was just looking at the fire, Caddy said. Mother
was telling him his new name. We didnt mean to get
her started.
I knows you didnt , Dilsey said. Him at one end of the
house and her at the other. You let my things alone, now.
Dont you touch nothing till I get back.
"Aint you shamed of yourself." Dilsey said. "Teasing
him." She set the cake on the table.
"I aint been teasing him." Luster said. "He was playing
with that bottle full of dogfennel and all of a sudden he
started up bellering. You heard him."
"You aint done nothing to his flowers." Dilsey said.
"I aint touched his graveyard." Luster said. "What I
want with his truck. I was just hunting for that quarter.*"
"You lost it, did you." Dilsey said. She lit the candles
on the cake. Some of them were little ones. Some were
big ones cut into little pieces. "I told you to go put it
away. Now I reckon you want me to get you anothei
one from Frony."
"I got to go to that show, Benjy or no Benjy." Luster
said. "I aint going to follow him around day and nighi
both."
"You going to do just what he want you to, nigger
boy." Dilsey said. "You hear me."
"Aint I always done it." Luster said. TDonfc I always
does what he wants. Dont I, Benjy."
"Then you keep it up." Dilsey said. "Bringing him
In here, bawling and getting her started too. You all go
ahead and eat this cake, now, before Jason come. 1
dont want him jumping on me about a cake I bough*
7^ THE SOUND AND THE FURY
with my own money. Me baking a cake here, with him
counting every egg that comes into this kitchen. See can
you let him alone now, less you dont want to go to that
show tonight."
Dilsey went away.
'"You cant blow out no candles." Luster said. 'Watch
me blow them out." He leaned down and puffed his face.
The candles went away. I began to cry. "Hush." Luster
said. "Here. Look at the fire whiles I cuts this cake."
I could hear the clock) and I could hear Caddy stand-
ing behind me, and I could hear the roof. It's still rain"
ing, Caddy said. I hate rain. I hate everything. And then
her head came into my lap and she was crying, holding
me, and I began to cry. Then I looked at the fire again
and the bright, smooth shapes went again. I could hear
the clock and the roof and Caddy.
I ate some cake. Luster's hand came and took another
piece. I could hear him eating. I looked at the fire,
A long piece of wire came across my shoulder. It went
to the door, and then the fire went away. I began to cry*
"What you howling for now." Luster said. "Look
there." The fire was there. I hushed. "Cant you set and
look at the fire and be quiet like mammy told you."
Luster said. **You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Here.
Here's you some more cake."
'What you done to him now." Dilsey said. "Cant you
never let him alone."
"I was just trying to get him to hush up and not sturb
Miss Cahline." Luster said. "Something got him started
again."
"And I know what that something name." Dilsey said.
'Tm going to get Versh to take a stick to you when he
.comes home. You just trying yourself. You been doing
it all day. Did you take him down to the branch/*
THE SOUtKTD AND THE IFTJRY 77
"Nome." Luster said. <c We been right here in this yard
all day, like you said."
His hand came for another piece of cake. Dilsey hit
his hand. "Reach it again, and I chop it right off with
this here butcher knife." Dilsey said. <e l bet he aint had
one piece of it."
"Yes he is." Luster said. "He already had twice as
much as me. Ask him if he aint."
"Reach hit one more time." Dilsey said. "Just reach, it. 91
That's right, Dilsey said. I reckon it'll be my time to
cry next. Reckon Maury going to let me cry on him a
while, too.
His name's Benjy now, Caddy said.
How come it is, Dilsey said. He aint wore out the name
he was born with yet, is he.
Benjamin came out of the bible, Caddy said. It's a
better name for him than Maury was.
How come it is, Dilsey said.
Mather says it is, Caddy said.
Huh, Dilsey said. Name aint going to help him. Hurt
him, neither. Folks dont have no luck, changing names.
My name been Dilsey since fore I could remember and it
be Dilsey when theys long forgot me.
How will they know it's Dilsey, when it's long forgot,
Dilsey, Caddy said.
It'll be in the Book, honey, Dilsey said. Writ out.
Can you read it, Caddy said.
Wont have to, Dilsey said. They'll read it for me. All
I got to do is say Ise here.
The long wire came across my shoulder, and the fire
went away. I began to cry.
Dilsey and Luster fought.
"I seen you." Dilsey said. "Oho, I seen you.** She
dragged Luster out of the corner, shaking him. "Wasn't
78 THE SOUISTB AND THE FURY
nothing bothering him, was they. You just wait till your
pappy come home. I wish I was young like I use to be,
I'd tear them years right off your head. I good mind to
lock you up m that cellar and not let you go to that show
tonight, I sho is."
"Ow, mammy ." Luster said. *Ow, mammy ."
I put my hand out to where the fire had been,
"Catch him." Dilsey said. "Catch him back/'
My hand jerked back and I put it in my mouth and
Dilsey caught me. I could still hear the clock between
my voice. Dilsey reached back and hit Luster on the
head. My voice was going loud every time.
"Get that soda/' Dilsey said. She took my hand out of
my mouth. My voice went louder then and my hand tried
to go back to my mouth, but Dilsey held it. My voice
went loud. She sprinkled soda on my hand.
"Look in the pantry and tear a piece off of that rag
hanging on the nail/' she said. "Hush, now. You dont
Want to make your ma sick again, does you. Here, look
at the fire. Dilsey make your hand stop hurting in just
a minute. Look at the fire/' She opened the fire door. I
looked at the fire, but my hand didn't stop and I didn't
stop. My hand was trying to go to my mouth but Dilsey
h^ld it.
She wrapped the cloth around it. Mother said,
"What is it now. Cant I even be sick in peace. Do I
have to get up out of bed to come down to him, with two
grown negroes to take care of him."
"He all right now." Dilsey said. "He going to quit
He just burnt his hand a little."
"With two grown negroes, you must bring him into
the house, bawling." Mother said. "You got him started
on purpose, because you know I'm sick." She came and
THE SOUND A1STD THE FTJB.Y 7$
stood by me. "Hush." she said. "Right this minute. Did
you give him this cake."
"I bought it." Dilsey said. "It never come out of Ja-
son's pantry. I fixed him some birthday."
"Do you want to poison him with that cheap store
cake." Mother said. "Is that what you are trying to do.
Am I never to have one minute's peace/"
"You go on back up stairs and lay down." Dilsey said
"It'll quit smarting him in a minute now, and he'll hush
Come on, now."
"And leave him down here for you all to do something
else to." Mother said. "How can I lie there, with him
bawling down here. Benjamin. Hush this minute."
"They aint nowhere else to take him." Dilsey said. "We
aint got the room we use to have. He cant stay out in
the yard, crying where all the neighbors can see him."
"I know, I know." Mother said. "It's all my fault. Ill
be gone soon, and you and Jason will both get along
better." She began to cry.
"You hush that, now." Dilsey said. "You'll get your-
self down again. You come on back up stairs. Luster
going to take him lo the liberty and play with him till
I get his supper done."
Dilsey and Mother went out.
"Hush up." Luster said. "You hush up. You want
me to burn your other hand for you. You aint hurt. Hush
y>
up.
"Here." Dilsey said. "Stop crying, now." She gave me
the slipper, and I hushed. "Take him to the liberry."
she said. "And if I hear him again, I going to whip you
myself."
We went to the library. Luster turned on the light,
The windows went black, and the dark tall place on
to THE SOIHSTD AND THE
the wall came and I went and touched it. It was like a
door, only it wasn't a door.
The fire came behind me and I went to the fire and
sat on the floor, holding the slipper. The fire went higher.
It went onto the cushion in Mother's chair.
"Hush up." Luster said. "Cant you never get done for
a while. Here I done built you a fire, and you wont even
look at it"
Your name is Benjy. Caddy said. Do you hear. Benjy.
Benjy.
Dent tell him that, Mother said. Bring him here.
Caddy lifted me under the arms.
Get up, Mau I mean Benjy, she said.
Dont try to carry him, Mother said. Cant you lead
him over here. Is that too much for you to think of.
1 can carry him, Caddy said. "Let me carry him up,
Dilsey.*
"Go on, Minute." Dilsey said. "You aint big enough
to tote a flea. You go on and be quiet, like Mr Jason
said."
There was a light at the top of the stairs. Father was
there, in his shirt sleeves. The way he looked said Hush.
Caddy whispered,
"Is Mother sick/'
Versh set me down and we went into Mothers room.
There was a fire. It was rising and falling on the walls.
There was another fire in the mirror. I could smell the
sickness. It was a cloth folded on Mothers head. Her
hair was on the pillow. The fire didnt reach it y but it
shone on her hand, where her rings were jumping.
"Come and tell Mother goodnight/' Caddy said. We
went to the bed. The fire went out of the mirror. Father
got up from the bed and lifted me up and Mother put
bar hand on my head.
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 8l
"What time is it." Mother said. Her eyes were closed,
"Ten minutes to seven.*' Father said.
"It's too early for him to go to bed." Mother said.
*He'll wake up at daybreak, and I simply cannot bear
another day like today."
"There, there." Father said. He touched Mother's face.
"I know I'm nothing but a burden to you." Mother
said. "But I'll be gone soon. Then you will be rid of my
bothering."
"Hush." Father said. "I'll take him downstairs awhile.* 1
He took me up. "Come on, old fellow. Let's go down-
stairs awhile. We'll have to be quiet while Quentin is
studying, now."
Caddy went and leaned her face over the bed and
Mother's hand came into the firelight. Her rings jumped
on Caddy's back.
Mothers sick, Father said. Dilsey will put you to bed.
Where's Quentin.
Versh getting him, Dilsey said.
Father stood and watched us go past. We could hea*
Mother in her room. Caddy said "Hush." Jason was still
climbing the stairs. He had his hands in his pockets.
"You all must be good tonight." Father said. "And be
quiet, so you wont disturb Mother."
"We'll be qmet." Caddy said. "You must be quiet now,
Jason." she said. We tiptoed.
We could hear the roof. I could see the fire in the
mirror too. Caddy lifted me again.
"Come on, now." she said, "Then you can come back
to the fire. Hush, now."
"Candace." Mother said.
"Hush, Benjy." Caddy said. "Mother wants you a
minute. Like a good boy. Then you can come back
Benjy"
82 THE SOUND AND THE FXJKY
Caddy let me down, and I hushed.
"Let him stay here, Mother. When he's through look-
ing at the fire, then you can tell him."
"Candace." Mother said. Caddy stooped and lifted me.
We staggered. "Candace." Mother said.
"Hush." Caddy said. "You can still see it. Hush.'
"Bring him here." Mother said. "He's too big for you
to carry. You must stop trying. You'll injure your back.
All of our women have prided themselves on their car-
riage. Do you want to look like a washer-woman."
"He's not too heavy." Caddy said. "I can carry him. 9 *
"Well, I dont want him carried, then." Mother said.
"A five year old child. No, no. Not in my lap. Let him
stand up."
"If you'll hold him, he 11 stop." Caddy said. "Hush."
she said. "You can go right back. Here. Here's your
cushion. See."
"Dont, Candace." Mother said.
"Let him look at it and he'll be quiet." Caddy said*
"Hold up just a minute while I slip it out. There, Benjy.
Look."
I looked at it and hushed.
"You humour him too much." Mother said. "You and
your father both. You dont realise that I am the one who
has to pay for it. Damuddy spoiled Jason that way and
it took him two years to outgrow it, and I am not strong
enough to go through the same thing with Benjamin."
"You dont need to bother with him." Caddy said. "I
like to take care of him. Dont I, Benjy."
"Candace." Mother said. "I told you not to call him
that. It was bad enough when your father insisted on
calling you by that silly nickname, and I will not have
him called by one. Nicknames axe vulgar. Only common
people use them. Benjamin." she said
THCE SOUND AND THE FURY 3
"Look at me." Mother said.
"Benjamin/' she said. She took my face in her hands
and turned it to hers.
"Benjamin/* she said. "Take that cushion away, Can-
dace/*
"Hell cry/' Caddy said.
"Take that cushion away, like I told you/' Mother saidl
"He must learn to mind/*
The cushion went away.
"Hush, Benjy/' Caddy said.
"You go over there and sit down.** Mother said. "Ben-
jamin/* She held my face to hers.
"Stop that/' she said. "Stop it."
But I didn't stop and Mother caught me in her arms
and began to cry, and I cried. Then the cushion came
back and Caddy held it above Mother's head. She drew
Mother back in the chair and Mother lay crying against
the red and yellow cushion.
"Hush, Mother." Caddy said. "You go upstairs and
lay down, so you can be sick. I'll go get Dilsey/* She led
me to the fire and I looked at the bright, smooth shapes.
I could hear the fire and the roof.
Father took me up. He smelled like rain.
"Well, Benjy/* he said. "Have you been a good boy
today/*
Caddy and Jason were fighting in the mirror.
"You, Caddy." Father said.
They fought. Jason began to cry.
"Caddy/* Father said. Jason was crying. He wasn't
fighting any more, but we could see Caddy fighting in
the mirror and Father put me down and went into the
mirror and fought too. He lifted Caddy up. She fought.
Jason lay on the floor, crying. He had the scissors in his
hand. Father held Caddy.
84 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"He cut up all Benjy's dolls." Caddy said. Til slit his
gizzle."
"Candace." Father said.
"I will." Caddy said. "I will" She fought. Father held
her. She kicked at Jason. He rolled into the corner, out
of the mirror. Father brought Caddy to the fire. They
were all out of the mirror. Only the fire was in it. Like
the fire was in a door,
"Stop that." Father said, "Do you want to make
Mother sick in her room.'*
Caddy stopped. "He cut up all the dolls Mau Benjy
and I made." Caddy said. "He did it just for meanness."
"I didn't/' Jason said. He was sitting up, crying. "I
didn't know they were his. I just thought they were some
old papers."
"You couldn't help but know." Caddy said. "You did
it just."
"Hush," Father said. "Jason " he said.
"I'll make you some more tomorrow.'* Caddy said.
'We'll make a lot of them. Here, you can look at tha
cushion, too."
Jason came in.
I kept telling you to hush, Luster said.
What's the matter now, Jason said.
"He just trying hisself." Luster said. "That the way he
been going on all day."
"Why dont you let him alone, then." Jason said. "If
you cant keep him quiet, you'll have to take him out to
the kitchen. The rest of us cant shut ourselves up in a
room like Mother does."
"Mammy say keep him out the kitchen till she get
supper." Luster said.
"Then play with him and keep him quiet/* Jason said.
THE SOUND AND THE FUB-Y $S
*Do I have to work all day and then come home to a
tnad house." He opened the paper and read It
You can look at the fire and the mirror and the cushion
too, Caddy said. You wont have to wait until supper to
look at the cushion, now. We could hear the roof. We
could hear Jason too, crying loud beyond the wall.
Dilsey said, "You come, Jason. You letting him alone,
Is you."
"Yessum." Luster said.
'Where Quentin." Dilsey said. "'Slipper near bout
ready."
"I dont know'm." Luster said. "I aint seen her."
Dilsey went away. "Quentin." she said in the hall*
"Quentin. Supper ready/*
We could hear the roof. Quentin smelted like -rain,
too.
What did Jason do, he said.
He cut up all Eenjys dolls, Caddy said.
Mather said to not call him Benjy, Quentin said. He
sat on the rug by us. I wish it wouldnt rain, he said*
You cant do anything.
Youve been in a fight, Caddy said. Haven t you.
It wasnt much, Quentin said.
You can tell it, Caddy said. Father'll see it.
I dont care, Quentin said. I wish it wouldnt rain.
Quentin said, "Didn't Dilsey say supper was ready."
**Yessum." Luster said. Jason looked at Quentin. Then
he read the paper again. Quentin came in, "She say it
bout ready." Luster said. Quentin jumped down in
Mother's chair. Luster said,
"Mr Jason."
"What." Jason said.
"Let me have two bits." Luster said.
"What for." Jason said-
16 THE SOUND AKJD THE FURY
To go to the show tonight." Luster said.
"I thought Dilsey was going to get a quarter from
Frony for you." Jason said.
"She did." Luster said. "I lost it Me and Eenjy hunted
all day for that quarter. You can ask him."
"Then borrow one from him/' Jason said. "I have to
Work for mine." He read the paper. Quentin looked at
the fire. The fire was in her eyes and on her mouth. Hei
mouth was red.
*! tried to keep him away from there." Luster said.
"Shut your mouth." Quentin said. Jason looked at her.
"What did I tell you I was going to do if I saw you
With that show fellow again/* he said. Quentin looked at
the fire. "Did you hear me." Jason said.
"I heard you." Quentin said. "Why dont you do it,
then."
"Dont you worry." Jason said.
Tig not." Quentin said. Jason read the paper again.
I could hear the roof. Father leaned forward and
looked at Quentin.
Hello, he said. Who won.
"Nobody." Quentin said. They stopped us. Teachers."
'Who was it." Father said. "Will you tell."
"It was all right." Quentin said. "He was as big as me."
That's good." Father said. "Can you tell what it was
about."
"It wasn't anything." Quentin said. "He said he would
put a frog in her desk and she wouldn't dare to whip
him."
"Oh." Father said. "She. And then what."
"Yes, sir." Quentin said, "And then I kind of hit him.'*
We could hear the roof and the fire, and a snuffling
outside the door*
THE SOTJHD AND THE FUBY $?
was lie going to get a frog in November."*
Father said.
"I dont know, sir." Quentin said.
We could hear them.
"Jason." Father said. We could hear Jason,
"Jason." Father said. "Come in here and stop that*
We could hear the roof and the fire and Jason.
"Stop that, now." Father said. "Do you want me to
whip you again/' Father lifted Jason up into the chaii
by him. Jason snuffled. We could hear the fire and Jiw
roof. Jason snuffled a little louder.
"One more time." Father said. We could hear the fire
and the roof.
Dilsey said, All right. Jou all can come on to supper,
Versh smelled like rain. He smelled like a dog, too.
We could hear the fire and the roof.
We could hear Caddy walking fast. Father and Mother
looked at the door. Caddy passed it, walking fast. Sh&
didn't look. She walked fast.
"Candace." Mother said. Caddy stopped walking.
"Yes, Mother." she said.
"Hush, Caroline." Father said.
"Come here/' Mother said.
"Hush, Caroline." Father said. "Let her alone/*
Caddy came to the door and stood there, looking ar
Father and Mother. Her eyes flew at me, and away. 1
began to cry. It went loud and I got up. Caddy came in
and stood with her back to the wall, looking at me. I
went toward her, crying, and she shrank against the wall
and I saw her eyes and I cried louder and pulled at her
dress. She put her hands out but I pulled at her dress.
Her eyes ran.
Versh mid, Jour name Benjamin now. YAU know how
88 THE SOUND AND THE FTTRY
come your name Benjamin now. They making a bluegum
out of you. Mammy say in old time your granpa changed
niggers name, and he turn preacher, and when they look
at him, he bluegum too. Didn't use to be bluegum,
neither. And when family woman look him in the eye in
the full of the moon, chile born bluegum. And one eve-
ning, when they was about a dozen them bluegum chillen
running round the place, he never come home. Possum
hunters found him in the woods, et clean. And you
know who et him. Them bluegum chillen did.
We were in the hall. Caddy was still looking at me.
Her hand was against her mouth and I saw her eyes
and I cried. We went up the stairs. She stopped again,
against the wall, looking at me and I cried and she
went on and I came on, crying, and she shrank against
the wall, looking at me. She opened the door to her
room, but I pulled at her dress and we went to the bath-
room and she stood against the door, looking at me.
Then she put her arm across her face and I pushed at
her, crying.
What are you doing to him, Jason said. Why cant you
let him alone.
I aint touching him, Luster said. He been doing this
way all day long. He needs whipping.
He needs to be sent to Jackson, Quentin said. How
can anybody live in a house like this.
If you dont like it, young lady, youd better get out,
Jason said.
I'm going to, Quentin said. Dont you worry.
Versh said, "You move back some, so I can dry my
legs off." He shoved me back a little. "Dont you start
bellering, now. You can still see it. That's all you have to
do. You aint had to be ou in the rain like 1 is. You's born
THE SOTTED AKD^THE FURY $9
lucky and dont know it." He lay on his back before the
fire.
"You know how come your name Benjamin now/'
Versh said. 'Tour mamma too proud for you. What
mammy say/'
""You be still there and let me dry my legs off." Versh
said. "Or you know what 111 do. I'll skin your rinktiim/*
We could hear the fire and the roof and Versh.
Versh go*" up quick and jerked his legs back. Fathef-
said, "All right, Versh."
"Ill feed him tonight." Caddy said. "Sometimes he
cries when Versh feeds him."
"Take this tray up," Dilsey said. "And hurry back and
feed Benjy,"
"Dont you want Caddy to feed you." Caddy said.
Has he got to keep that old dirty slipper on the table,
Quentin said. Why dont you feed him in the kitchen.
It's like eating with a pig.
If you dont like the way we eat, you'd better not come
to the table, Jason said.
Steam came off of Roskus. He was sitting in front of
the stove. The oven door was open and Roskus had his
feet in it. Steam came off the bowl. Caddy put the spoon
into my mouth easy. There was a black spot on the inside
of the bowl.
Now, now, Dilsey said. He aint going to bother you
no more.
It got down below the mark. Then the bowl was
empty. It went away. "He's hungry tonight/' Caddy said.
The bowl came back. I couldn't see the spot. Then I
could. "He's starved, tonight." Caddy said. "Look how
much he's eaten."
Yes he will, Quentin said. "You all send him out to spy
on me. I hate this house. Tm going to run away.
9*0 THE SOXJND AKD THE FURY
Roskus said, "It going to rain all night."
Youve been running a long time, not to *ve got any
further off than mealtime, Jason said.
See if I dont, Quentin said.
'Then I dont know what I going to do." Dilsey said,
"It caught me in the hip so bad now I cant scarcely move.
Climbing them stairs all evening/'
Ofc, I wouldn't be surprised, Jason said. I wouldn't
fte surprised at anything you'd do.
Quentin threw her napkin on the table.
Hush your mouth, Jason, Dilsey said. She went and
put her arm around Quentin. Sit down, honey, Dilsey
said. He ought to be shamed of hisself, throwing what
aint your -fault up to you.
"She sulling again, is she." Roskus said.
"Hush your mouth/' Dilsey said.
Quentin pushed Dils^y away. She looked at Jason. Her
mouth was red. She picked up her glass of water and
strung her arm back, looking at Jason. Dilsey caught her
arm. They fought. The glass broke on the table, and the
water ran into the table. Quentin was running.
''Mother's sick again." Caddy said.
"Sho she is." Dilsey said. "Weather like this make
anybody sick. When you going to get done eating, boy.'*
Goddamn you, Quentin said. Goddamn you. We could
hear her running on the stairs. We went to the library.
Caddy gave me the cushion, and I could look at the
cushion and the mirror and the fire.
"We must be quiet while Quentin's studying," Father
said. "What are you doing, Jason."
"Nothing/ 7 Jason said.
"Suppose you corne over here to do it, then.'* Fathe
said.
Jason came out of the corner.
SOUKB AKB THE T TJBY 9\
<c What are you chewing.** Father said*
"Nothing." Jason said.
"He's chewing paper again." Caddy said.
"Come here, Jason." Father said.
Jason threw into the fire. It hissed, uncurled, turning
black. Then it was gray. Then it was gone. Caddy and
Father and Jason were in Mother's chair. Jason's eyes
were puffed shut and his mouth moved, like tasting.
Caddy's head was on Father's shoulder. Her hair was
like fire, and little points o fire were in her eyes, and I
went and Father lifted me into the chair too, and Caddy
held me. She smelled like trees,
She smelled like trees. In the corner it was dark, but
1 could see the window. I squatted there,, holding the
slipper. I couldn't see it, but my hands saw it, and I could
hear it getting night,, and my hands saw the slipper but
1 couldnt see myself, but my hands could see the slipper,
and I squatted there, hearing it getting dark.
Here you is, Luster said. Look what I got. He showed
it to me. You know where I got it. Miss Quentin gave it
to me. 1 knowed they couldnt keep me out. What
you doing, off in here. I thought you don& slipped "back
out doors. Aint you done enough moaning and slobbering
today, without hiding off in this here empty room,
mumbling and taking on. Come on here to bed, so I can
get up there before it starts. I cant fool with you all
night tonight. Just let them horns toot the first toot and 1
done gone.
We didn't go to our room.
'This is where we have the measles." Caddy said.
**Why do we have to sleep in here tonight."
"What you care where you sleep/* Dilsey said. She
shut the door and sat down and begian to undress me
Jason began to cry. "Hush." Dilsey said.
$2 THE SOUND AND THE FUBT
T want to sleep with Damuddy." Jason said.
"She's sick." Caddy said. "You can sleep with her when
she gets well. Cant he, Dilsey."
"Hush, now." Dilsey said. Jason hushed.
"Our nighties are here, and everything." Caddy said.
"It's like moving."
"And you better get into them/' Dilsey said. "You be
unbuttoning Jason."
Caddy unbuttoned Jason. He began to cry.
<c You want to get whipped." Dilsey said. Jason hushed.
Quentin, Mother said in the hall.
What, Quentin said beyond the wall, We heard Mother
lock the door. She looked in our door and came in and
stooped over the bed and kissed me on the forehead.
When you get him to bed, go and ask Dilsey if she
objects to my having a hot water bottle, Mother said.
Tell her that if she does, I'll try to get along without it*
Tell her I just want to know.
Yessum y Luster said. Come on. Get your pants off.
Quentin and Versh came in. Quentin had his face
turned away. "What are you crying for." Caddy said.
"Hush." Dilsey said. "You all get undressed, now. You
can go on home, Versh."
I got undressed and I looked at myself, and I began
to cry. Hush, Luster said. Looking for them aint going
to do no good. They're gone. You keep on like this, and
we aint going have you no more birthday. He put my
gown on. I hu-shed, and then Luster stopped, his head
toward the window. Then he went to the window and
looked out. He came back and took my arm. Here she
come, he said. Be quiet, now. We went to the window
and looked out. It came out of Quentins window and
climbed across into the tree. We watched the tree
THE SOUND xiKB THE FURY 93
shaking. The shaking went down the tree, then it came
out and we watched it go away across the grass. Then
we couldn't see it. Come on, Luster said. There now.
Hear them horns. Itou get in that bed while my foots
behaves.
There were two beds. Quentin got in the other one.
He turned his face to the wall. Dilsey put Jason in with
him. Caddy took her dress off.
"Just look at your drawers." Dilsey said. <fi You better
be glad your rna aint seen you."
"I already told on her." Jason said.
"I bound you would." Dilsey said.
"And see what you got by it* Caddy said. "Tattletale.' 1
"What did I get by it." Jason said.
"Whyn't you get your nightie on." Dilsey said. She
went and helped Caddy take off her bodice and drawers.
"Just look at you." Dilsey said. She wadded the drawers
and scrubbed Caddy behind with them. "It done soaked
clean through onto you." she said. "But you wont get no
bath this night. Here." She put Caddy's nightie on her
and Caddy climbed into the bed and Dilsey went to the
door and stood with her hand on the light. "You all be
quiet now, you hear." she said.
"All right." Caddy said. "Mother's not coming in to-
night." she said. "So we still have to mind me."
"Yes." Dilsey said. "Go to sleep, now."
"Mother's sick." Caddy said. "She and Damuddy are
both sick."
"Hush." Dilsey said. "You go to sleep."
The room went black, except the door. Then the door
went black. Caddy said, "Hush, Maury ," putting her
hand on me. So I stayed hushed. We could hear us. We
could hear the dark.
94 THE SOUND AND THE PURY
It went away, and Father looked at us. He looked at
Quentin and Jason, then he came and kissed Caddy and
put his hand on my head.
"Is Mother very sick/* Caddy said.
"No." Father said. "Are you going to take good care of
Maury."
"Yes." Caddy said.
Father went to the door and looked at us again. Then
the dark came back, and he stood black in the door, and
then the door turned black again. Caddy held me and I
could hear us all, and the darkness, and something I
could smell. And then I could see the windows, where
the trees were buzzing. Then the dark began to go in
smooth, bright shapes, like it always does, even when
Caddy says that I have been asleep.
JUNE
2
1910
WHEN THE SHADOW OF THE SASH APPEALED ON TJblifi
curtains it was between seven and eight oclock
and then I was in time again, hearing the watch. It was
Grandfather's and when Father gave it to me he said,
Quentin, I give you the mausoleum of all hope and de-
sire; it's rather excrutiating-ly apt that you will use it
to gain the reducto absurdum of all human experience
which can fit your individual needs no better than it
fitted his or his father's, I give it to you not that you may
remember time, but that you might forget it now and
then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying
to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said.
They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man
his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of
philosophers and fools.
It was propped against the collar box and I lay listen-
ing to it. Hearing it, that is. I dont suppose anybody ever
deliberately listens to a watch or a clock. You dont have
to. You can be oblivious to the sound for a long while,
then in a second of ticking it can create in the mind un-
broken the long diminishing parade of time you didn't
95
96 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
hear. Like Father said down the long and lonely light-
rays you might see Jesus walking, like. And the good
Saint Francis that said Little Sister Death, that never
had a sister.
Through the wall I heard Shreve's bed-springs and
then his slippers on the floor hishing. I got up and went
to the dresser and slid my hand along it and touched
the watch and turned it face-down and went back to
bed. But the shadow of the sash was still there and I
had learned to tell almost "to the minute, so I'd have to
turn my back to it, feeling the eyes animals used to have
in the back of their heads when it was on top, itching.
It's always the idle habits you acquire which you will
regret Father said that. That Christ was not crucified:
he was worn away by a minute clicking of little wheels.
That had no sister.
And so as soon as I knew I couldn't see it, I began to
wonder what time it was. Father said that constant
speculation regarding the position of mechanical hands
on an arbitrary dial which is a symptom of mind-func-
tion. Excrement Father said like sweating. And I saying
All right. Wonder. Go on and wonder.
If it had been cloudy I could have looked at the win-
dow, thinking what he said about idle habits. Thinking
it would be nice for them down at New London if the
weather held up like this. Why shouldn't it? The month
of brides, the voice that breathed She ran right out of
the mirror., out of the banked scent. Roses. Roses. Mr
and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson announce the mar-
riage of. Roses. Not virgins like dogwood, milkweed. I
said I have committed incest, Father I said. Roses.
Cunning and serene. If you attend Harvard one year,
but dont see the boat-race, there should be a refund. Let
Jason have it. Give Jason a year at Harvard.
THE SOUISTD AND THE FtJBY 97
Shreve stood in the door, putting Ms collar on, Ms
glasses glinting rosily, as though he had washed them
with his face. "You taking a cut this morning?"
"Is it that late?"
He looked at his watch. "Bell in two minutes."
"I didn't know it was that late." He was still looking
at the watch, his mouth shaping. Til have to hustle* I
cant stand another cut. The dean told me last week "
He put the watch back into his pocket. Then I quit
talking.
"You'd better slip on your pants and run," he said.
He went out.
I got up and moved about, listening to him through
the wall. He entered the sitting-room, toward the door.
"Aren't you ready yet?"
"Not yet. Run along. Ill make it."
He went out. The door closed. His feet went down the
corridor. Then I could hear the watch again. I quit
moving around and went to the window and drew the
curtains aside and watched them running for chapel,
the same ones fighting the same heaving coat-sleeves, the
same books and flapping collars flushing past like debris
on a flood, and Spoade. Calling Shreve my husband. Ah
let him alone, Shreve said, if he's got better sense than,
to chase after the little dirty sluts, whose business. In
the South you are ashamed of being a virgin. Boys. Men.
They lie about it. Because it means less to women,
Father said. He said it was men invented virginity not
women. Father said it's like death: only a state in which
the others are left and I said, But to believe it doesn't
matter and he said, That's what's so sad about anything:
not only virginity, and I said, Why couldn't it have been
me and not her who is unvirgin and he said, That's why
that's sad too; nothing is even worth the changing of it
? THE SOITXIJ AND THE FTTBY
and Shreve said if he's got better sense than to chase after
the little dirty sluts and I said Did you ever have a sis-
ter? Did you? Did you?
Spoade was in the middle of them like a terrapin in a
street full of scuttering dead leaves, his collar about his
ears, moving at his customary unhurried walk. He was
from South Carolina, a senior. It was his club's boast that
he never ran for chapel and had never got there on time
and had never been absent in four years and had never
made either chapel or first lecture with a shirt on his
back and socks on his feet. About ten oclock he'd come
in Thompson's, get two cups of coffee, sit down and take
his socks out of his pocket and remove his shoes and put
them on while the coffee cooled. About noon you'd see
him with a shirt and collar on, Hke anybody else. The
others passed him running, but he never increased his
pace at all. After a while the quad was empty.
A sparrow slanted across the sunlight, onto the window
ledge, and cocked his head at me. His eye was round
and bright. First he'd watch me with one eye, then flick!
and it would be the other one, his throat pumping faster
than any pulse. The hour began to strike. The sparrow
quit swapping eyes and watched me steadily Math the
same one until the chimes ceased, as if he were listening
too. Then he flicked off the ledge and was gone.
It was a while before the last stroke ceased vibrating.
It stayed in the air, more felt than heard, for a long time.
Like all the bells that ever rang still ringing in the long
dying light-rays and Jesus and Saint Francis talking
about his sister. Because if it were just to hell; if that
were all of it. Finished. If things just finished themselves.
Nobody else there but her and me. If we could just have
done something so dreadful that they would have fled
hell except us. I haw committed incest I said Father it
tfO XT 38-33 AND MrrsCE FTJItV ?J
was I it was not Dalton Ames And when lie put Dalton
Ames. Dalton Ames. Dalton Ames. When lie put the
pistol in my hand I didn't. That's why I didn't. He would
be there and she would and I would. Dalton Ames. Dal-
ton Ames. Dalton Ames. If we could have just done some-
tiling so dreadful and Father said That's sad too, people
cannot do anything that dreadful they cannot do any-
thing very dreadful at all they cannot even remember to-
morrow what seemed dreadful today and I said, You can
shirk all things and he said, Ah can you. And I will look
down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water
like wind, like a roof of wind, and after a long time they
cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and invio-
late sand. Until on the Day when He says Rise only the
flatiron would come floating up. It's not when you realise
that nothing can help you religion, pride, anything
it's when you realise that you dont need any aid. Dalton
Ames. Dalton Ames, Dalton Ames. If I could have been
his mother lying with open body lifted laughing, holding
his father with my hand refraining, seeing, watching him
die before he lived. One minute she was standing in the
door
I went to the dresser and took up the watch, with the
face still down. I tapped the crystal on the corner of the
dresser and caught the fragments of glass in my hand
and put them into the ashtray and twisted the hands off
and put them in the tray. The watch ticked on. I turned
the face up, the blank dial with little wheels clicking and
clicking behind it, not knowing any better. Jesus walking
on Galilee and Washington not telling lies. Father
brought back a watch-charm from the Saint Louis Fair
to Jason: a tiny opera glass into which you squinted with
one eye and saw a skyscraper, a ferris wheel all spideiy,
Niagara Falls on a pinhead. There was a red smear on
100 THE SOUKD AND TB.E
the dial. When I saw it my thumb began to smart. I put
the watch down and went into Shreve's room ? ad got the
iodine and painted the cut. I cleaned the rest of the glass
out of the rim with the towel.
I laid out two suits of underwear, with socks, shirts,
collars and ties, and packed my trunk. I put in every-
thing except my new suit and an old one and two pairs
of shoes and two hats, and my books. I carried the books
into the sitting-room and stacked them on the table, the
ones I had brought from home and the ones Father said
it used to be a gentleman was "known by his books; now-
adays he is known by the ones he has not returned and
locked the trunk and addressed it. The quarter hour
sounded. I stopped and listened to it until the chimes
ceased.
I bathed and shaved. The water made my finger smart
a little, so I painted it again. I put on my new suit and
put my watch on and packed the other suit and the ac-
cessories and my razor and brushes in my hand bag, and
wrapped the trunk key into a sheet of paper and put it
in an envelope and addressed it to Father, and wrote the
two notes and sealed them.
The shadow hadn't quite cleared the stoop. I stopped
inside the door, watching the shadow move. It moved al-
most perceptibly, creeping back inside the door, driving
the shadow back into the door. Only she was running al-
ready when I heard it. In the mirror she was running be-
fore I knew what it was, That quick, her train caught up
over her arm she ran out of the mirror like a cloud, her
veil swirling in long glints her heels brittle and fast
clutching her dress onto her shoulder with the other
hand 3 running out of the mirror the smells roses roses the
voice that breathed o'er Eden. Then she was across the
porch I couldn't hear her heels then in the moonlight
THE SOUXB AND THE FURY IO1
like a cloud, the floating shadow of the veil running
across th&^rass, into the bellowing. She ran out of her
dress, clutching her bridal, running into the bellowing
where T. P. in the dew Whooey Sassprilluh Benjy under
the box bellowing. Father had a V-shaped silver cuirass
on his running chest
Shreve said, 'Well, you didn't. . * . Is it a wedding or
a wake?"
"I couldn't make it/' I said.
"Not with all that primping. What's the matter? You
think this was Sunday?"
"I reckon the police wont get me for wearing my new
suit one time/' I said.
"I was thinking about the Square students. Have you
got too proud to attend classes too?"
c Tm going to eat first." The shadow on the stoop was
gone. I stepped into sunlight, finding my shadow again.
I walked down the steps just ahead of it. The half hour
went. Then the chimes ceased and died away.
Deacon wasn't at the postoffice either. I stamped the
two envelopes and mailed the one to Father and put
Shreve's in my inside pocket, and then I remembered
where I had last seen the Deacon. It was on Decoration
Day, in a G. A. R. uniform, in the middle of the parade.
If you waited long enough on any corner you would
see him in whatever parade came along. The one before
was on Columbus' or Garibaldi's or somebody's birthday.
He was in the Street Sweeper's section, in a stovepipe
hat, carrying a two inch Italian flag, smoking a cigar
among the brooms and scoops. But the last time was the
G. A. R. one, because Shreve said;
"There now. Just look at what your grandpa did to
that poor old nigger."
"Yes," I said, "Now he can spend day after day march-
10-2 THJE SOUND AND THE FUB1T
ing in parades. If it hadn't been for my grandfather, he'd
have to work like whitefolks."
1 didn't see him anywhere. But I never knew even a
working nigger that you could find when you wanted
him, let alone one that lived off the fat of the land. A car
came along. I went over to town and went to Parker's
and had a good breakfast. While I was eating I heard a
clock strike the hour. But then I suppose it takes at least
ane hour to lose time in, who has been longer than his-
tory getting into the mechanical progression of it.
When I finished breakfast I bought a cigar. The girl
b-aid a fifty cent one was the best, so I took one and lit it
and went out to the street. I stood there and took a cou-
ple of puffs, then I held it in my hand and went on to-
ward the corner. I passed a jeweller's window, but I
looked away in time. At the corner two bootblacks
taught me, one on either side, shrill and raucous, like
blackbirds. I gave the cigar to one of them, and the other
erne a nickel. Then they let me alone. The one with the
cigar was trying to sell it to the other for the nickel.
There was a clock, high up in the sun, and I thought
about how, when you dont want to do a thing, your
body will try to trick you into doing it, sort of unawares.
I could feel the muscles in the back of my neck, and
then I could hear my watch ticking away in my pocket
and after a while I had all the other sounds shut away,
leaving only the watch in my pocket. I turned back up
the street, to the window. He was working at the table
behind the window. He was going bald. There was a
glass in his eye a metal tube screwed into his face. I
went in.
The place was full of ticking, like crickets in September
grass, and I could hear a big clock on the wall above his
head. He looked ap, his eye big and blurred and rushing
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY 103
beyond the glass. I took mine out and handed ft to him.
"I broke my watch."
He flipped it over in his hand. "I should say you have
You must have stepped on it/'
"Yes, sir. I knocked it off the dresser and stepped on it
in the dark. It's still running though."
He pried the back open and squinted into it. "Seems
to be all right. I cant tell until I go over it, though. I'll
go into it this afternoon."
'Til bring it back later," I said. "Would you mind tell-
ing me if any of those watches in the window are right?**
He held niy watch on his palm and looked up at me
with his blurred rushing eye.
"I made a bet with a f ellow," I said, "And I forgot my
glasses this morning/'
'Why, all right," he said. He laid the watch down and
half rose on his stool and looked over the barrier. Then
he glanced up at the wall. "It's twen "
"Dont tell me," I said, "please sir. Just tell me if any oi
them are right."
He looked at me again. He sat back on the stool and
pushed the glass up onto his forehead. It left a red circle
around his eye and when it was gone his whole face
looked naked. "What're you celebrating today?" he said*
"That boat race aint until next week, is it?"
"No, sir. This is just a private celebration. Birthday.
Are any of them right?"
"No. But they haven't been regulated and set yet. H
you're thinking of buying one of them **
"No, sir. I dont need a watch. We have a clock in our
sitting room. I'll have this one fixed when I do/* I
reached my hand.
"Better leave it now/'
"111 bring it back later." He gave me the watch. I put
104 THE SOUSTD AND THE FURY
it in my pocket I couldn't hear it now, above all the
others. "I'm much obliged to you. I hope I haven't taken
up your time."
"That's all right. Bring it in when you are ready. And
you better put off this celebration until after we win that
boat race."
<c Yes, sir. I reckon I had."
I went out, shutting the door upon the ticking. I looked
back into the window. He was watching me across the
barrier. There were about a dozen watches in the win-
dow, a dozen different hours and each with the same as-
sertive and contradictory assurance that mine had, with-
out any hands at all. Contradicting one another. 1 could
hear mine, ticking away inside my pocket, even though
nobody could see it, even though it could tell nothing if
anyone could.
And so I told myself to take that one. Because Father
said clocks slay time. He said time is dead as long as it is
being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock
stops does time come to life. The hands were extended,
slightly off the horizontal at a faint angle, like a gull
tilting into the wind. Holding all I used to be sorry about
like the new moon holding water, niggers say. The jew-
eller was working again, bent over his bench, the tube
tunnelled into his face. His hair was parted in the center.
The part ran up into the bald spot, like a drained marsh
in December.
I saw the hardware store from across the street. I didn't
know you bought flat-irons by the pound.
The clerk said, "These weigh ten pounds." Only they
were bigger than I thought. So I got two six-pound little
ones, because they would look like a pair of shoes
wrapped up. They felt heavy enough together, but I
THE SOUND AND THE PtJEY IOJ
thought again how Father had said about the reducto ab-
surdum of human experience, thinking how the only op-
portunity I seemed to have for the application of Har-
vard. Maybe by next year; thinking maybe it takes two
years in school to learn to do that properly,
But they felt heavy enough in the air. A street car
came. I got on. I didn't see the placard on the front It
was full, mostly prosperous looking people reading news-
papers. The only vacant seat was beside a nigger. He
wore a derby and shined shoes and he was holding a
dead cigar stub. I used to think that a Southerner had to
be always conscious of niggers. I thought that Northern-
ers would expect him to. When I first came East I kept
thinking YouVe got to remember to think of them as col-
oured people not niggers, and if it hadn*t happened
that I wasn't thrown with many of them, I'd have wasted
a lot of time and trouble before I learned that the best
way to take all people, black or white, is to take them for
what they think they are, then leave them alone. That
was when I realised that a nigger is not a person so much
as a form of behaviour; a sort of obverse reflection of the
white people he lives among. But I thought at first that
I ought to miss having a lot of them around me because
i thought that Northerners thought I did, but I didn't
know that I really had missed Roslcus and Dilsey and
them until that morning in Virginia. The train was
"topped when I waked and I raised the shade and looked
out. The car was blocking a *oad crossing > where two
white fences came down a hill and then sprayed outward
and downward like part of the skeleton of a horn, and
there was a nigger on a mule in the middle of the stifi
ruts, waiting for the train to move. How long he had
been there I didn't know, but ke sat straddle of the rmile*
106 THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
his head wrapped in a piece of blanket, as if they had
been built there with the fence and the road, or with the
hill, carved out of the hill itself, like a sign put there say-
ing You are home again. He didn't have a saddle and his
feet dangled almost to the ground. The mule looked like
a rabbit. I raised the window.
"Hey, Uncle/' 1 said, "Is this the way?"
"Suh?" He looked at me, then he loosened the blanket
and lifted it away from his ear.
"Christmas gift!" I said.
"Sho comin, boss. You done caught me, aint you?"
"I'll let you off this time." I dragged my pants out of
the little hammock and got a quarter out. "But look out
next time. Ill be coming back through here two days
after New Year, and look out then." I threw the quarter
out the window. "Buy yourself some Santy Glaus."
"Yes, suh," he said. He got down and picked up the
quarter and rubbed it on his leg. "Thanky, young mar-
ster. Thanky." Then the train began to move. I leaned
out the window, into the cold air, looking back. He stood
there beside the gaunt rabbit of a mule, the two of them
shabby and motionless and unimpatient. The train
swung around the curve, the engine puffing with short,
heavy blasts, and they passed smoothly from sight that
way, with tha*: quality about them of shabby and time-
less patience, of static serenity: that blending of childlike
and ready incompetence and paradoxical reliability that
tends and protects them it loves out of all reason and
robs them steadily and evades responsibility and obliga-
tions by means too barefaced to be called subterfuge
even and is taken in theft or evasion with only that frank
and spontaneous admiration for the victor which a gentle-
man feels for anyone who beats him in a fair contest,
THE SOUKB A1STD THE "
and withal a fond and unflagging tolerance for white-
folks' vagaries like that of a grandparent for unpredict-
able and troublesome children, which I had forgotten.
And all that day, while the train wound through rushing
gaps and along ledges where movement was only a la-
bouring sound of the exhaust and groaning wheels and
the eternal mountains stood fading into the thick sky,
I thought of home, of the bleak station and the mud and
the niggers and country folks thronging slowly about the
square, with toy monkeys and wagons and candy in sacks
and roman candles sticking out, and my insides would
move like they used to do in school when the bell rang.
I wouldn't begin counting until the clock struck three.
Then I would begin, counting to sixty and folding down
one finger and thinking of the other fourteen fingers wait*
ing to be folded down, or thirteen or twelve or eight or
seven, until all of a sudden I'd realise silence and the
unwinking minds, and I'd say "Ma'ain?" "Your name is
Quentin, isn't it?" Miss Laura said. Then more silence and
the cruel unwinking minds and hands jerking into the
silence. "Tell Quentin who discovered the Mississippi
River, Henry." "DeSoto." Then the minds would go
away, and after a while I'd be afraid I had gotten be-
hind and I'd count fast and fold down another finger a
then I'd be afraid I was going too fast and I'd slow up,
then I'd get afraid and count fast again. So I never could
come out even with the bell, and the released surging oi
feet moving already, feeling earth in the scuffed floor,
and the day like a pane of glass struck a light, sharp
blow, and my insides would move, sitting still. Moving
sitting still. One minute she was standing in the door.
Benjy. Bellowing. Benjamin the child of mine old age
bellowing. Caddy! Caddy!
108 THE SOUND AND THE PCTBY
Tm going to run away. He began to cry she went
touched him. Hush. Tm not going to. Hush. He hushed.
Dilsetj.
He smell what you tell him when he want to. Dont
have to listen nor talk.
Can he smell that new name they give him? Can he
smell bad luck?
What he want to worry about luck for? Luck cant do
him no hurt.
What they change his name for then if aint trying to
help his luck?
The street car stopped, started, stopped again. Below
the window I watched the crowns of people's heads pass-
ing beneath new straw hats not yet unbleached. There
were women in the car now, with market baskets, and
men in work-clothes were beginning to outnumber the
shined shoes and collars.
The nigger touched my knee. "Pardon me/* he said. I
swung my legs out and let him pass. We were going be-
side a blank wall, the sound clattering back into the car,
at the women with market baskets on their knees and a
man in a stained hat with a pipe stuck in the band. I
could smell water, and in a break in the wall I saw a
glint of water and two masts, and a gull motionless in
midair, like on an invisible wire between the masts, and
I raised my hand and through my coat touched the letters
I had written. When the car stopped I got off.
The bridge was open to let a schooner through. She
was in tow, the tug nudging along under her quarter,
trailing smoke, but the ship herself was like she was mov-
ing without visible means. A man naked to the waist was
coiling down a line on the fo'c's'le head. His body was
burned the colour of leaf tobacco. Another man in a
straw hat without any crown was at the wheel. The ship
THE SOUND AKB THE IFUBT
went through the bridge, moving under bare poles like a
ghost in broad day, with three gulls hovering above the
stern like toys on invisible wires.
When it closed I crossed to the other side and leaned
on the rail above the boathouses. The float was empty
and the doors were closed. The crew just pulled in the
late afternoon now, resting up before. The shadow
of the bridge, the tiers of railing, my shadow leaning flat
upon the water, so easily had I tricked it that it would not
quit me. At least fifty feet it was, and if I only had some-
tiling to blot it into the water, holding it until it was
drowned, the shadow of the package like two shoes
wrapped up lying on the water. Niggers say a drowned
man's shadow was watching for him in the water all the
time. It twinkled and glinted, like breathing, the float
slow like breathing too, and debris half submerged, heal-
ing out to the sea and the caverns and the grottoes of
the sea. The displacement of water is equal to the some-
thing of something. Reducto absurdum of all human ex-
perience, and two six-pound flat-irons weigh more than
one tailor's goose. What a sinful waste Dilsey would say.
Benjy knew it when Damuddy died. He cried. He smell
hit. He smell hit.
The tug came back downstream, the water shearing in
long rolling cylinders, rocking the float at last with the
echo of passage, the float lurching onto the rolling cylin-
der with a plopping sound and a long jarring noise as the
door rolled back and two men emerged, carrying a shell.
They set it in the water and a moment later Bland came
out, with the sculls. He wore flannels, a grey jacket and a
stiff straw hat. Either he or his mother had read some-
where that Oxford students pulled in flannels and stiff
hats, so early one March they bought Gerald a one pair
shell and in his flannels and stiff hat he went on the river.
110 THE SOUND AND THE FXJH.Y
The folks at the boathouses threatened to call a police-
man, but he went anyway. His mother came down in a
hired auto, in a fur suit like an arctic explorer's, and saw
him off in a twenty-five mile wind and a steady drove of
ice floes like dirty sheep. Ever since then I have be-
lieved that God is not only a gentleman and a sport; He
is a Kentuckian too. When he sailed away she made a
detour and came down to the river again and drove
along parallel with him, the car in low gear. They said
you couldn't have told they'd ever seen one another be-
fore, like a King and Queen, not even looking at one an-
other, just moving side by side across Massachusetts on
parahel courses like a couple of planets.
He got in and pulled away. He pulled pretty well now.
He ought to. They said his mother tried to make him
give rowing up and do something else the rest of his class
couldn't or wouldn't do, but for once he was stubborn.
If you could call it stubbornness, sitting in his attitudes
of princely boredom, with his curly yellow hair and his
violet eyes and his eyelashes and his New Fork clothes,
while his mamma was telling us about Gerald's horses
and Gerald's niggers and Gerald's women. Husbands and
fathers in Kentucky must have been awful glad when she
carried Gerald off to Cambridge. She had an apartment
over in town, and Gerald had one there too, besides his
rooms in college. She approved of Gerald associating
with me because I at least revealed a blundering sense of
noblesse oblige by getting myself born below Mason anA
Dixon, and a few others whose geography met the re-
quirements (minimum) Forgave, at least Or condoned.
But since she met Spoade coming out of chapel one lie
said she couldn't be a lady no lady would be out at that
hour of the night she never had been able to forgive him
for having five names, including that of a present Eng-
THE SCUKO AND THE FTTBY III
itsh ducal house. I'm sure site solaced herself by being
Convinced that some misfit Maingault or Mortemar had
>ot mixed up with the lodge-keeper's daughter. WhicL
r/as quite probable, whether she invented it or not
Spoade was the world's champion sitter-a-round, no
holds barred and gouging discretionary.
The shell was a speck now, the oars catching the SUQ
in spaced glints, as if the hull were winking itself along,
Did you ever have a sister? No but they're all bitches.
Did you ever have a sister? One minute she was. Bitches.
Not bitch one minute she stood in the door Dalton Ames.
Dalton Ames. Dalton Shirts. I thought all the time they
were khaki, army issue khaki, until I saw they were of
heavy Chinese silk or finest flannel because they made his
face so brown his eyes so blue. Dalton Ames. It just
missed gentility. Theatrical fixture. Just papier-mache,
then touch. Oh. Asbestos. Not quite bronze. But wont see
him at the house.
Caddy's a woman too, remember. She must do things
for women\s reasons, too.
Why wont you bring him to the house., Caddy? Why
must you do like nigger women do in the pasture the
ditches the dark woods hot hidden furious in -the dark
'.voods.
And after a while I had been hearing my watch for
some time and I could feel the letters crackle through my
coat, against the railing, and I leaned on the railing,
watching my shadow, how I had tricked it. I moved
along the rail, but my suit was dark too and I could
wipe my hands, watching my shadow, how I had tricked
it. I walked it into the shadow of the quaL Then I went
east.
Harvard my Harvard boy Harvard harvard That pim-
ple-faced infant she met at the field-meet with coloured
112 THE SOUND AHB THE FURY
ribbons. Skulking along the fence trying to whistle her
But like a puppy. Because they couldn't cajole him into
the diningroom Mother believed he had some sort of spell
he was going to cast on her when he got her alone. Yet
any blackguard He was lying beside the box under the
window bellowing that could drive up in a limousine
With a flower in his buttonhole. Harvard. Quentin this
is Herbert. My Harvard boy. Herbert will be a big
brother has already promised Jason a position in the
bank.
Hearty, celluloid like a drummer. Face full of teeth
white but not smiling. Tve heard of him up there. All
teeth but not smiling. You going to drive?
Get in Quentin.
"You going to drive.
Ifs her car arent you proud of your little sister owns
first auto in town Herbert his present. Louis has been
giving her lessons every morning didrit you get my let-
ter Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson announce the
marriage of their daughter Candace to Mr Sydney Her-
bert Head on the twenty-fifth of April one thousand nine
hundred and ten at Jefferson Mississippi. At home after
the first of August number Something Something Avenue
South Bend Indiana. Shreve said Aren't you even going
to open it? Three days. Times. Mr and Mrs Jason Rich-
mond Compson Young Lochinvar rode out of the west a
little too soon, didn't he?
I'm from the south. You're funny, aren't you,
yes I knew it was somewhere in the country.
You're funny, aren't you. You ought to join the circus*
1 did. That's how I ruined my eyes watering the ele-
phant's fleas. Three times These country girls. You cant
even tell about them, can you. Well, anyway Byron never
THK SOUND AND THE FURY
had his wish, thank God. But not hit a man in glasses.
Aren't you even going to open it? It lay on the table a
candle burning at each comer upon the envelope tied in
a soiled pink garter two artificial flowers. Not hit a man
in glasses.
Country people poor things they never saw an auto be-
fore lots of them honk the horn Candace so She wouldni
look at me they'll get out of the way wouldn't look at me
your father wouldn't like it if you were to injure one of
them I'll declare your father will simply have to get au
auto now I'm almost sorry you brought it down Herbert
I've enjoyed it so much of course there's the carriage but
so often when I'd like to go out Mr Compson has the
darkies doing something it would be worth my head to
interrupt he insists that Roskus is at my call all the time
but I know what that means I know how often people
make promises just to satisfy their consciences are you
going to treat my little baby girl that way Herbert but I
know you wont Herbert has spoiled us all to death Quen-
tin did I write you that he is going to take Jason into his
bank when Jason finishes high school Jason wilt make a
splendid banker he is the only one of my children with
any practical sense you can thank me for that he takes
after my people the others are all Compson Jason fur~
nished the flour. They made kites on the back porch and
sold them -for a nickel a piece., he and the Patterson boy.
Jason was treasurer.
There was no nigger in this street car, and the hats
unbleached as yet flowing past under the window. Going
to Harvard. We have sold Benjy's He lay on the ground
under the window, bellowing. We have sold Benjys pas*
ture so that Quentin may go to Harvard a brother to you*
Your little brother.
THE SOUKB AND THE FUBT
You should have a car it's done you no end of good
dont you think so Quentin I call him Quentin at once you
see I have heard so much about him from Candace.
Why shouldn't you I want nay boys to be more than
friends yes Candace and Quentin more than friends
Father I have committed what a pity you had no brother
or sister No sister no sister had no sister Dont ask Quen-
tin he and Mr Compson both feel a little insulted when
I am strong enough to come down to the table I am going
on nerve now 111 pay for it after it's all over and you
have taken my little daughter away from me My little
sister had no. If I could say Mother. Mother
Unless I do what I am tempted to and take you in-
stead I dont think Mr Compson could overtake the car.
Ah Herbert Candace do you hear that She wouldn't
look at me soft stubborn jaw-angle not back-looking
You needn't be jealous though it's just an old woman he's
flattering a grown married daughter I cant believe it.
Nonsense you look like a girl you are lots younger than
Candace colour in your cheeks like a girl A fare reproach-
ful tearful an odour of camphor and of tears a voice
weeping steadily and softly beyond the twilit door the
twilight-coloured smell of honeysuckle. Bringing empty
trunks down the attic stairs they sounded like coffins
French Lick. Found not death at the salt lick
Hats not unbleached and not hats. In three years I can
not wear a hat. I could not. Was. Will there be hats then
since I was not and not Harvard then. Where the best of
thought Father said clings like dead ivy vines upon old
dead brick. Not Harvard then. Not to me, anyway. Again.
Sadder than was. Again. Saddest of all. Again.
Spoade had a shirt on; then it must be. When I can see
my shadow again if not careful that I tricked into the
Water shall tread again upon my impervious shadow. But
THE SOU2STD AND THE FTJBY HJ
no sister, I wouldn't have done it. I wont have my daugh-
ter spied on I wouldn't have.
How can I control any of them when you have always
taught them to have no respect for me and my wishes I
know you look down on my people but is that any rea-
son for teaching my children my own children I suf-
fered for to have no respect Trampling my shadow's
bones into the concrete with hard heels and then I was
hearing the watch, and I touched the letters through my
coat.
I will not have my daughter spied on by you or Quen-
Zin or anybody no matter what you think she has done
At least you agree there is reason for having her
toatched
I wouldn't have I wouldn't have. I know you wouldnt
I didn't mean to speak so sharply but women have no
respect for each other for themselves
But why did she The chimes began as I stepped on my
shadow, but it was the quarter hour. The Deacon wasn't
in sight anywhere, think I would have could have
She didnt mean that that's the way women do things
its because she loves Caddy
The street lamps would go down the hill then rise to*
ward town I walked upon the belly of my shadow. I
could extend my hand beyond it. feeling Father behind
me beyond the rasping darkness of summer and August
the street lamps Father and I protect women from one
another from themselves our women Women are like that
they dont acquire knowledge of people we are for that
they are just born with a practical fertility of suspicion
that makes a crop every so often and usually right they
have an affinity for evil for supplying whatever the evil
lacks in itself for drawing it about them instinctively as
you do bedclothing in slumber fertilising the mind for it
THE SOXJJNTB AND THE FURY
until the evil has served its purpose whether it ever ex~
isted or no He was coming along between a couple of
freshman. He hadn't quite recovered from the parade, for
he gave me a salute, a very superior-officerish land.
**I want to see you a minute/' I said, stopping.
"See me? All right* See you again, fellows," he said,
Stopping and turning back; ""glad to have chatted with
you." That was the Deacon, all over. Talk about your nat-
ural psychologists. They said he hadn't missed a train at
the beginning of school in forty years, and that he could
pick out a Southerner with one glance. He never missed,
and once he had heard you speak, he could name your
state. He had a regular uniform he met trains in, a sort of
Uncle Tom's cabin outfit, patches and all.
Tes, suh. Right dis way, young rnarster, hyer we is,"
taking you* bags. "Hyer, boy, come hyer and git dese
grips." Whereupon a moving mountain of luggage would
edge up, revealing a white boy of about fifteen, and the
Deacon would hang another bag on him somehow and
drive him off. "Now, den, dont you drap hit. Yes, suh,
young marster, jes give de old nigger yo room number,
and hit'll be done got cold dar when you arrives."
From then on until he had you completely subjugated
he was always in or out of your room, ubiquitous and gar-
rulous, though his manner gradually moved northward
as his raiment improved, until at last when he had bled
you until you began to learn better he was calling you
Quentin or whatever, and when you saw him next he'd be
Wearing a cast-off Brooks suit and a hat with a Princeton
club I forget which band that someone had given him
and which he was pleasantly and unshakably convinced
was a part of Abe Lincoln's military sash. Someone
spread the story years ago, when he first appeared around
college from wherever he came from, that he was a grad-
THE SOUND AXD THE FTJBT * */
uate of the divinity school. And when he came to under-
stand what it meant he was so taken with it that lie be-
gan to retail the story himself, until at last he must come
to believe he really had. Anyway he related long point-
less anecdotes of his undergraduate days 7 speaking famil-
iarly of dead and departed professors by their first names,
usually incorrect ones. But he had been guide mentor
and friend to unnumbered crops of innocent and lonely
freshmen, and I suppose that with all his petty chicanery
and hypocrisy he stank no higher in heaven's nostrils thao
any other.
"Haven't seen you in three-four days/' he said, staring
at me from his still military aura. "You been sick?"
"No. I've been all right. Working, I reckon. IVe seen
you, though/'
"Yes?"
'In the parade the other day."
"Oh, that. Yes, I was there. I dont care nothing about
that sort of thing, you understand, but the boys likes to
have me with them, the vet'runs does. Ladies wants all
the old vet'runs to turn out, you know. So I has to oblige
them."
"And on that Wop holiday too," I said. "You were ob-
liging the W. C. T. U. then, I reckon."
"That? I was doing that for my son-in-law. He aims to
get a job on the city forces. Street cleaner. I tells him
all he wants is a broom to sleep on. You saw me, did
you?"
"Both times. Yes."
"I mean, in uniform. How'd I look?"
"You looked fine. You looked better than any of them.
They ought to make you a general, Deacon."
He touched my arm, lightly, his hand that worn, gentle
quality of niggers' hands. "Listen. This aint for outside
118 THE SOUoSTD AND THE
talking. I dont mind telling you because you and me's
the same folks, come long and short." He leaned a little
to me, speaking rapidly, his eyes not looking at me. "I've
got strings out, right now. Wait till next year. Just wait.
Then see where I'm marching. I wont need to tell you
how I'm fixing it; I say, just wait and see, my boy." He
looked at me now and clapped me lightly on the shoul-
der and rocked back on his heels, nodding at me. "Yes,
sir. I didnt turn Democrat three years ago for nothing.
My son-in-law on the city; me Yes, sir. If just turning
Demccratll make that son of a bitch go to work. . . .
And me: just you stand on that corner yonder a year
from two days ago, and see."
"I hope so. You deserve it, Deacon. And while I think
about it " I took the letter from my pocket. "'Take this
around to rny room tomorrow and give it to Shreve. He'll
have something for you. But not till tomorrow, mind."
He took the letter and examined it. "It's sealed up/"
"Yes. And it's written inside, Not good until to-
morrow."
"H'm," he said. He looked at the envelope, his month
pursed. "Something for me, you say?"
"Yes. A present I'm making you/*
He was looking at me now, the envelope white in his
black hand, in the sun. His eyes were soft and irisless and
brown, and suddenly I saw Roskus watching me from
behind all his whitefolks* claptrap of uniforms and poli-
tics and Harvard manner, diffident, secret, inarticulate
and sad. "You aint playing a joke on the old nigger, is
you?"
"You know I'm not. Did any Southerner ever play a
joke on you?"
"You're right. They're fine folks. But you cant live with
them."
THE SOUND AND THE FTJBY
"Did you ever try?" I said. But Roskus was gone. Once
more he was that self he had long since taught himself
to wear in the world's eye, pompous, spurious, not quit
gross.
'I'll confer to your wishes, my boy."
"Not until tomorrow, remember."
"Sure/' he said; "understood, my boy. Well "
"I hope " I said. He looked down at me, benignant,
profound. Suddenly I held out my hand and we shook,
he gravely, from the pompous height of his municipal
and military dream. "You're a good fellow, Deacon. I
hope. . . . You've helped a lot of young fellows, here and
there/'
"I've tried to treat all folks right," he said. "I draw no
petty social lines. A man to me is a man, wherever I find
him."
"I hope you'll always find as many friends as youV
made/'
"Young fellows. I get along with them. They dont for-
get me, neither," he said, waving the envelope. He put it
into his pocket and buttoned his coat. "Yes, sir," he said,
"I've had good friends."
The chimes began again, the half hour. I stood in the
belly of my shadow and listened to the strokes spaced
and tranquil along the sunlight, among the thin, still little
leaves. Spaced and peaceful and serene, with that quality
of autumn always in bells even in the month of brides*
Lying on the ground winder \ the window bellowing He
took one look at her and knew. Out of the mouths of
babes. The street lamps The chimes ceased. I went back
to the postoffice, treading my shadow into pavement, go
down the hill then they rise toward town like lanterns
hung one above another on a wall. Father said because
she loves Caddy she loves people through their short*
THE SOUN'B AND THE FURY
comings. Uncle Maury straddling his legs before the fire
must remove one hand long enough to drink Christmas.
Jason ran on, his hands in his pockets fell down and lay
there like a trussed fowl until Versh set him up. Whynt
you keep them hands outen your pockets when you run-
ning you could stand up then Rolling his head in the
cradle rolling it flat across the back. Caddy told Jason
Versh said that the reason Uncle Maury didn't work was
that he used to roll his head in the cradle when he was
little.
Shreve was coming up the walk, shambling, fatly ear-
nest, his glasses glinting beneath the running leaves like
little pools.
"I gave Deacon a note for some things. I may not be
in this afternoon, so dont you let him have anything until
tomorrow, will you?"
"All right/' He looked at me. "Say, what're you doing
today, anyhow? All dressed up and mooning around like
the prologue to a suttee. Did you go to Psychology this
morning?"
"I'm not doing anything. Not until tomorrow, now."
"What's that you got there?"
"Nothing. Pair of shoes I had half -soled. Not until to-
morrow, you hear?"
"Sure. All right. Oh, by the way, did you get a letter
off the table this morning?"
"No."
"It's there. From Semiramis. Chauffeur brought it be-
fore ten o'clock."
"All right. I'll get it Wonder what she wants now."
"Another band recital, I guess. Tumpty ta ta Gerald
blah. *A little louder on the drum, Quentin.' God, I'm glad
I'm not a gentleman." He went on, nursing a book, a little
shapeless, fatly intent The street lamps do you think so
THE SOUND AND THE IFURY
because one of our forefathers was a governor and three
were generals and Mother's weren't
any live man is better than any dead man but no live
or dead man is very much better than any other live or
dead man Done in Mather's mind though. Finished. Fin-
ished. Then we were all poisoned you are confusing sin
and morality women dont do that your Mother is think-
ing of morality whether it be sin or not has not occurred
to her
Jason I must go away you keep the others 111 take Ja-
son and go where nobody knows us so he'll have a chance
to grow up and forget all this the others dont love me
they have never loved anything with that streak of
Compson selfishness and false pride Jason was the only
one my heart went out to without dread
nonsense Jason is all right I was thinking that as soon
as you feel better you and Caddy might go up to French
Lick
and leave Jason here with nobody but you and the
darkies
she will forget him then all the talk will die away
-found not deatti at the salt licks
maybe I could find a husband for her not death at the
salt licks
The car came up and stopped. The bells were still ring-
ing the half hour. I got on and it went on again, blotting
the half hour. No: the three quarters. Then it would be
ten minutes anyway. To leave Harvard your Mothers
dream for sold Benfy's pasture for
what have I done to have been given children like
these Benjamin was punishment enough and now for her
to have no more regard for me her own mother I've suf-
fered for her dreamed and planned and sacrificed I went
down into the valley yet never since she opened her eyes
122, THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
has she given me one unselfish thought at times I look at
her I wonder if she can be my child except Jason he has
never given me one moments sorrow since I first held
him in my arms I knew then that he was to be my joy
and my salvation I thought that Benjamin was punish-
ment enough for any sins I have committed I thought he
was rny punishment for putting aside my pride and mar-
rying a man who held himself above me I dont complain
I loved him above all of them because of it because my
duty though Jason pulling at my heart all the while but
I see now that I have not suffered enough I see now that
I must pay for your sins as well as mine what have you
done what sins have your high and mighty people visited
upon me but youll take up for them you always have
found excuses for your own blood only Jason can do
wrong because he is more Bascomb than Compson while
your own daughter my little daughter my baby girl she
Is she is no better than that when I was a girl I was un-
fortunate I was only a Bascomb I was taught that there
is no halfway ground that a woman is either a lady or
tiot but I never dreamed when I held her in my arms
that any daughter of mine could let herself dont you
know I can look at her eyes and tell you may think she'd
tell you but she doesn't tell things she is secretive you
dont know her I know things she's done that I'd die be-
fore I'd have you know that's it go on criticise Jason ac-
cuse me of setting him to ^atch her as if it were a crime
while yoov own daughter can I know you dont love him
that yvu wish to believe faults against him you never
have yes ridicule him as you always have Maury you
cannot hurt me any more than your children already
have and then 111 be gone and Jason with no one to love
him shield him from this I look at him every day dread-
lag to see this Compson blood beginning to show in him
TiiE SOUND AXD THE FURY 123
at last with his sister slipping out to see what do you call
it then have you ever laid eyes on him will you even let
me try to find out who he Is it's not for myself I couldn't
bear to see him it's for your sake to protect you but who
can fight against bad blood you wont let me try we are
to sit back with our hands folded while she not only
drags your name in the dirt but corrupts the very air your
children breathe Jason you must let me go away I cannot
stand it let me have Jason and you keep the others they're
not my flesh and blood like he is strangers nothing of
mine and I am afraid of them I can take Jason and go
where we are not known 111 go down on my knees and
pray for the absolution of my sins that he may escape
this curse try to forget that the others ever were
If that was the three quarters, not over ten minutes
now. One car had just left, and people were already wait-
ing for the next one. I asked, but he didn't know whethei
another one would leave before noon or not because
you'd think that interurbans. So the first one was anothel
trolley. I got on. You can feel noon. I wonder if even
miners in the bowels of the earth. That's why whistles:
because people that sweat, and if just far enough from
sweat you wont hear whistles and in eight minutes you
should be that far from sweat in Boston. Father said a
man is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you'd think
misfortune would get tired, but then time is your misfor-
tune Father said. A gull on an invisible wire attached
through space dragged. You carry the symbol of your
frustration into eternity. Then the wings are biggei
Father said only who can play a harp.
I could hear my watch whenever the car stopped, but
not often they were already eating Who would play a
Eating the business of eating inside of you space to
space and time confused Stomach saying noon brain, say-
124 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
ing eat oclock All right I wonder what time it is what of
it People were getting out The trolley didn't stop so
often now, emptied by eating.
Then it was past, I got off and stood in my shadow
and after a while a car came along and I got on and
went back to the interurban station. There was a car
ready to leave, and I found a seat next the window and
it started and I watched it sort of frazzle out into slack
tide flats, and then trees. Now and then I saw the river
and I thought how nice it would be for them down at
New London if the weather and Gerald's shell going sol-
emnly up the glinting forenoon and I wondered what
the old woman would be wanting now, sending me a
note before ten oclock in the morning. What picture of
Gerald I to be one of the Dalton Ames oh asbestos Quen-
tin lias shot background. Something with girls in it
Women do have always his voice above the gabble voice
that breathed an affinity for evil, for believing that no
to^oman is to be trusted, but that some men are too inno-
cent to protect themselves. Plain girls. Remote cousins
and family friends whom mere acquaintanceship invested
with a sort of blood obligation noblesse oblige. And she
sitting there telling us before their faces what a shame it
was that Gerald should have all the family looks be-
eause a man didn't need it, was better off without it but
without it a girl was simply lost Telling us about Ger-
ald's women in a Quentin has shot Herbert he shot his
voice through the floor of Caddy's room tone of smug ap-
probation. 'When he was seventeen I said to him one
iay 'What a shame that you should have a mouth like
that it should be on a girls face' and can you imagine the
curtains leaning in on the twilight upon the odour of the
apple tree her h@ad against the twilight her arms behind
her head kimono-winged the voice that breathed
THE SQTJKD AKB THE FURY
eden clothes upon the bed by the nose seen above the
apple what he said? just seventeen, mind. 'Mother* he
said 'it often is.' " And him sitting there in attitudes regaf
watching two or three of them through his eyelashes,
They gushed like swallows swooping his eyelashes.
Shreve said he always had Are you going to look after
Eenjy and Father
The less you say about Benjy and Father the better
when have you ever considered them Caddy
Promise
Jou neednt worry about them you're getting out in
good shape
Promise Fm sick you II have to promise wondered who
invented that joke but then he always had considered
Mrs Bland a remarkably preserved woman he said she
was grooming Gerald to seduce a duchess sometime. She
called Shreve that fat Canadian youth twice she ar-
ranged a new room-mate for me without consulting me
at all, once for me to move out, once for
He opened the door in the twilight. His face looked
like a pumpkin pie,
"Well, I'll sa y a fond farewell. Cruel fate may part us,
but I will never love another. Never."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about cruel fate in eight yards of apricot
silk and more metal pound for pound that a galley slave
and the sole owner and proprietor of the unchallenged
peripatetic John of the late Confederacy " Then he told
me how she had gone to the proctor to have him moved
out and how the proctor had revealed enough low stub-
bornness to insist on consulting Shreve first. Then she
suggested that he send for Shreve right off and do it, and
lie wouldnt do that, so after that she was hardly civil to
Shreve. "1 make it a point never to speak harshly of fe-
12.6 THE SOUND AND THE
males/' Shreve said, "but that woman has got more ways
like a bitch than any lady in these sovereign states and
dominions." and now Letter on the table by hand, com-
mand orchid scented coloured If she knew I had passed
almost beneath the window knowing it there without My
dear Madam I have not yet had an opportunity of receiv-
ing your communication but I beg in advance to be ex-
cused today or yesterday and tomorrow or when As I re-
member that the next one is to be how Gerald throws his
nigger downstairs and how the nigger plead to be al-
lowed to matriculate in the divinity school to be near
marster marse gerald and How he ran all the way to the
station beside the carriage with tears in his eyes when
marse gerald rid away I will wait until the day for the
one about the sawmill husband came to the kitchen door
with a shotgun Gerald went down and bit the gun in two
and handed it back and wiped his hands on a silk hand-
kerchief threw the handkerchief in the stove I've only
heard that one twice
shot him through the I saw you come in here so I
Watched my chance and came along thought we might
get acquainted have a cigar
Thanks I dont smoke
No things must have changed up there since my day
mind if I light up
Help yourself
Thanks I've heard a lot I guess your mother wont mind
if I put the match behind the screen will she a lot about
you Candace talked about you all the time up there at
the Licks I got pretty jealous I says to -myself who is this
Quentin anyway I must see what this animal looks like
because I was hit pretty hard see soon as I saw the little
girl I dont mind telling you it never occurred to me it was
her brother she kept talking about she couldnt have
THE SOUND AND THJ5S FUBY
talked about you any more if you'd been the only man
in the world husband wouldnt have been in it you wont
change your mind and have a smoke
I dont smoke
In that case I wont insist even though it is a pretty fail
weed cost me twenty-five bucks a hundred wholesale
friend in Havana yes I guess there are lots of changes up
there I keep promising myself a visit but I never get
around to it been hitting the ball now for ten years I cant
get away from the bank during school fellow's habits
change things that seem important to an undergraduate
you know tell me about things up there
I'm not going to tell Father and Mother if that's what
you are getting at
Not going to tell not going to oh that that's what you
are talking about is it you understand that I dont give a
damn whether you tell or not understand that a thing
like that unfortunate but no police crime I wasn't the first
or the last I was just unlucky you might have been luck-
ier
You lie
Keep your shirt on I'm not trying to make you tell any-
thing you dont want to meant no offense of course a
young fellow like you would consider a thing of that sort
a lot more serious than you will in five years
I dont know but one way to consider cheating I dont
think I'm likely to learn different at Harvard
We're better than a play you must have made the
Dramat well you're right no need to tell them well let
bygones be bygones eh no reason why you and I should
let a little thing like that come between us I like you
Quentin I like your appearance you dont look like these
other hicks I'm glad we're going to hit off like this IVe
promised your mother to do something for Jason but I
12* THE SOUND AND THE FURY
would like to give you a hand too Jason would be just as
well off here but there's no future in a hole like this for a
young fellow like you
Thanks you'd better stick to Jason he'd suit you better
than I would
I'm sorry about that business but a kid like I was then
I never had a mother like yours to teach me the finer
points it would just hurt her unnecessarily to know it yes
you're right no need to that includes Candace of course
I said Mother and Father
Look here take a look at me how long do you think
you'd last with me
I wont have to last long if you learned to fight up at
school too try and see how long L would
You damned little what do you think you're getting at
Try and see
My God the cigar what would your mother say if she
found a blister on her mantel just in time too look here
Quentin we're about to do something we'll both regret I
like you liked you as soon as I saw you I says he must be
a damned good fellow whoever he is or Candace wouldnt
be so keen on him listen I've been out in the world now
for ten years things dont matter so much then you'll find
that out let's you and I get together on this thing sons of
old Harvard and all I guess I wouldnt know the place
now best place for a young fellow in the world I'm going
to send my sons there give them a better chance than I
had wait dont go yet let's discuss this thing a young man
gets these ideas and I'm all for them does him good while
he's in school forms his character good for tradition the
school but when he gets out into the world he'll have to
get his the best way he can because he'll find that every-
body else is doing the same thing and be damned to here
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 129
let's shake hands and let bygones be bygones for your
mother's sake remember her health come on give me your
hand here look at it it's just out of convent look not a
blemish not even been creased yet see here
To hell with your money
No no come on I belong to the family now see I know
how it is with a young fellow he has lots of private af-
fairs it's always pretty hard to get the old man to stump
up for I know havent I been there and not so long ago
either but now I'm getting married and all specially up
there come on dont be a fool listen when we get a chance
for a real talk I want to tell you about a little widow
over in town
I've heard that too keep your damned money
Call it a loan then just shut your eyes a minute and
you'll be fifty
Keep your hands off of me you'd better get that cigar
off the mantel
Tell and be damned then see what it gets you if you
were not a damned fool you'd have seen that I've got
them too tight for any half-baked Galahad of a brother
your mother's told me about your sort with your head
swelled up come in oh come in dear Quentin and I were
just getting acquainted talking about Harvard did you
want me cant stay away from the old man can she
Go out a minute Herbert I want to talk to Quentin
Come in come in let's all have a gabfest and get ac-
quainted I was just telling Quentin
Go on Herbert go out a while
Well all right then I suppose you and bubber do want
to see one another once more eli
You'd better take that cigar off the mantel
Right as usual my bov then Til toddle along let them
130 THE SOUKD AND THE PUBT
order you around while they can Quentin after day aftet
tomorrow itll be pretty please to the old man wont it
dear give us a kiss honey
Oh stop that save that for day after tomorrow
A ll want interest then dont let Quentin do anything he
cant finish oh by the way did I tell Quentin the story
about the man's parrot and what happened to it a sad
story remind me of that think of it yourself ta-ta see you
in the funnypaper
Well
Well
What are you up to now
Nothing
You're meddling in my business again didn't you get
*aaough of that last summer
Caddy you've got fever You're sick how are you sick
I'm just sick. I cant ash
Shot his voice through the
Not that blackguard Caddy
Now and then the river glinted beyond things in sort
of swooping glints, across noon and after. Well after now,
though we had passed where he was still pulling up*
stream majestical in the face of god gods. Better. Gods,
God would be canaille too in Boston Massachusetts.
Or maybe just not a husband. The wet oars winking
him along in bright winks and female palms. Adulant
Adulant if not a husband he'd ignore God. That black-
guard, Caddy The river glinted away beyond a swoop-
ing curve.
I'm sick you'll have to promise
Sick how are you sick
I'm fust sick I cant ask anybody yet promise you will
If they need any looking after it's because of you how
are you sick Under the window we could hear the car
THE SOUND AND THE FTJET
leaving for the station, the 8:10 train. To bring back cons*
ins. Heads, Increasing himself head by head but not bar-
bers. Manicure girls. We had a blood horse once. In the
stable yes, but under leather a cur. Quentin lias shot att
of their voices through the floor of Caddy's room
The car stopped. I got off, into the middle of my
shadow. A road crossed the track. There was a wooden
marquee with an old man eating something out of a
paper bag, and then the car was out of hearing too. The
road went into the trees, where it would be shady, but
June foliage in New England not much thicker than April
at home in Mississippi. I could see a smoke stack. I
turned my back to it, tramping my shadow into the dust,
There was something terrible in me sometimes at night
I could see it grinning at me I could see it through them
grinning at me through their faces it's gone now and Fm
sick
Caddy
Dont touch me just promise
If you re sick you cant
Jes I can after that it'll be all right it wont matter dont
let them send him to Jackson promise
I promise Caddy Caddy
Dont touch me dont touch me
What does it look like Caddy
What
That that grins at you that thing through them
I could still see the smoke stack. That's where the watetf
would be, heading out to the sea and the peaceful grot-
toes. Tumbling peacefully they would, and when He said
Rise only the flat irons. When Versh and I hunted all day
we wouldn't take any lunch, and at twelve oclock I'd get
hungry. I'd stay hungry until about one, then all of a sud'
den I'd even forget that I wasn't hungry anymore.
THE SOUND AND THE
street lamps go down the hill then heard the car go down
the hill. The chair-arm -flat cool smooth under my fore-
head shaping the chair the apple tree leaning on my
hair above the eden clothes by the nose seen You've got
fever I felt it yesterday it's like being near a stove.
Dont touch me.
Caddy you cant do it if you are sick. That blackguard.
I've got to marry somebody, Then they told me the
bone would have to be broken again
At last I couldn't see the smoke stack. The road went
beside a wall. Trees leaned over the wall, sprayed with
sunlight. The stone was cool. Walking near it you could
feel the coolness. Only- our country was not like this coun-
try. There was something about just walking through it.
A kind of still and violent fecundity that satisfied ever
bread-hunger like. Flowing around you, not brooding
and nursing every niggard stone. Like it were put to
makeshift for enough green to go around among the trees
and even the blue of distance not that rich chiinaera. t old
me the bone would have to be broken again and inside
me it began to say Ah Ah Ah and I began to sweat. What
do I care I know what a broken leg is all it is it wont be
anything Til just have to stay in the house a little longer
that's all and my jaw-muscles getting numb and my
mouth saying Wait Wait just a minute through the sweat
ah ah ah behind my teeth and Father damn that horse
damn that horse. Wait it's my fault. He came along the
fence every morning with a basket toward the kitchen
dragging a stick along the fence every morning I dragged
myself to the window cast and all and laid for him with a
piece of coal Dilsey said you goin to ruin yoself aint you
got no mo sense than that not fo days since you bruck
hit. Wait Til get used to it in a minute wait just a minute
FUget
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 133
Even sound seemed to fail in this air, like the air was
worn out with carrying sounds so long. A dog's voice car-
ries further than a train, in the darkness anyway. And
some people's. Niggers. Louis Hatcher never even used his
horn carrying it and that old lantern. I said, "Louis, when
was the last time you cleaned that lantern?"
"I cleant hit a little while back. You member when
all dat flood-watter wash dem folks away up yonder? I
cleant hit dat ve'y day. Old woman and me settin fore
de fire dat night and she say 'Louis, whut you gwine do ef
dat flood git out dis fur?' and I say 'Dat's a fack. I reckon
I had better clean dat lantun up.' So I cleant hit dat
night."
"That flood was way up in Pennsylvania/* I said. "It
couldn't even have got down this far."
"Dat's whut you says/' Louis said. **Watter kin git des
ez high en wet in Jefferson ez hit kin in Pennsylvaney, I
reckon. Hit's de folks dat says de high watter cant git
dis fur dat comes floatin out on de ridge-pole, too."
"Did you and Martha get out that night?"
"We done jest that. I cleant dat lantun and me and he*
sot de balance of de uight on top o dat knoll back de
graveyard. En ef I'd a knowed of aihy one higher, we'd a
been on hit instead,"
*And you haven't cleaned that lantern since then/'
'Whut I want to clean hit when dey aint no need?"
"You mean, until another flood comes along?"
"Hit kep us outen dat un."
"Oh, come on, Uncle Louis/' I said,
"Yes, suh. You do you way en I do mine. Ef all I got t$
do to keep outen de high watter is to clean dis yer
lantun, I wont quoil wid no man."
"Unc' Louis wouldn't ketch nothin wid a light he cou!4
see by/* Versh said.
TECE SOUND AND THE FURY
"I wuz huntin possums in dis country when dey was
still drowndin nits in yo pappy's liead wid coal oil, boy,**
Louis said. "Ketchin urn, too/'
"Dat's de troof," Versii said. "I reckon Unc' Louis done
caught mo possums than aihy man in dis country/ 7
"Yes, suh," Louis said, "I got plenty light f er possums to
see, all right. 1 aint heard non o dem complainin. Hush,
now. Dar he. Whooey. Hum awn, dawg/' And we'd sit
in the dry leaves that whispered a little with the slow res-
piration of our waiting and with the slow breathing of
the earth and the windless October, the rank smell of
the lantern fouling the brittle air, listening to the dogs
and to the echo of Louis' voice dying away. He never
raised it, yet on a still night we have heard it from our
front porch. When he called the dogs in he sounded just
like the horn he carried slung on his shoulder and never
used, but clearer, mellower, as though his voice were a
part of darkness and silence, coiling out of it, coiling into
it again. WhoOoooo. WhoOoooo. WhoOoooooooooo-
ooooo. Got to marry somebody
Have there been very many Caddy
I dont "know too many will you look after Benjy and
Father
You dont know whose it is then does he know
Dont touch me will you look after Benjy and Father
I began to feel the water before I came to the bridge.
The bridge was of grey stone, lichened, dappled with
slow moisture where the fungus crept. Beneath it the
water was clear and still in the shadow, whispering and
clucking about the stone in fading swirls of spinning sky.
Caddy that
Fve got to marry somebody Versh told me about a man
mutilated himself. He went into the woods and did it
With a razor, sitting in a ditch. A broken razor, flingina
SOUISTD AND THE FUKIT 135
them backward over his shoulder tne same motion com-
plete the jerked skein of blood backward not looping.
But that's not it. It's not not having them. It's never to
have had them then I could say O That That's Chinese
I dont know Chinese. And Fatter said it's because you
are a virgin: dont you see? Women are never virgins. Pu-
rity is a negative state and therefore contrary to nature,
It's nature is hurting you not Caddy and I said That's just
words and he said So is virginity and I said you dont
tnow. You cant know and he said Yes. On the instant
\vhen we come to realise that tragedy is second-hand.
Where the shadow of the bridge fell I could see
down for a long way, but not as far as the bottom. When
you leave a leaf in water a long time after awhile the
tissue will be gone and the delicate fibers waving slow as
the motion of sleep. They dont touch one another, no
matter how knotted up they once were, no matter how
close they lay once to the bones. And maybe when He
says Rise the eyes will come floating up too, out of the
deep quiet and the sleep, to look on glory. And after
awhile the flat irons would come floating up. I hid them
under the end of the bridge and went back and leaned
on the rail.
I could not see the bottom, but I could see a long way
into the motion of the water before the eye gave out, and
then I saw a shadow hanging like a fat arrow stemming
into the current. Mayflies skimmed in and out of the
shadow of the bridge just above the surface. If it could
just be a hell beyond tliat: the clean -flame the two of us
more tlian dead. Then you will have only me then only
me then the two of us amid the pointing and the horror
beyond the clean flame The arrow increased without mo-
tion, then in a quick swirl the trout lipped a fly beneath
the surface with that sort of gigantic delicacy of an ele-
l$6 THE SOUND AND THE- FURY
pliant picking up a peanut. The fading vortex drifted
away down stream and then I saw the arrow again, nose
into the current, wavering delicately to the motion of the
water above which the Mayflies slanted and poised. Only
you and me then amid the pointing and the horror watted
by the clean -flame
The trout hung ? delicate and motionless among the
Wavering shadows. Three boys with fishing poles came
onto the bridge and we leaned on the rail and looked
down at the trout. They knew the fish. He was a neigh-
bourhood character.
"They've been trying to catch that trout for twenty-five
years. There's a store in Boston offers a twenty-five dollar
fishing rod to anybody that can catch him."
"Why dont you all catch him, then? Wouldnt you like
to have a twenty-five dollar fishing rod?"
**Yes," they said* They leaned on the rail, looking
down at the trout. "I sure would/' one said.
*1 wouldnt take the rod/' the second said. *Td take the
money instead."
"Maybe they wouldnt do that," the first said. "I bet
lie'd make you take the rod."
'Then I'd sell it."
'Ton couldnt get twenty-five dollars for it*
'I'd take what I could get, then. I can catch just as
Biany fish with this pole as I could with a twenty-five dol-
lar one." Then they talked about what they would do
with twenty-five dollars. They all talked at once, their
voices insistent and contradictory and impatient, making
of unreality a possibility, then a probability, then an in-
controvertible fact, as people will when their desires be-
come words.
'I'd buy a horse and wagon," the second said.
*TTes you would," the others said.
THE SOU3STB AND THE FUB1T *37
"I would. I know where I can buy one for twenty-five
dollars. I know the man."
Who Is it?"
"That's all right who it is, I can buy it for twenty-five
dollars/*
"Yah," the others said, "He dont know any such thing.
He's just talking."
"Do you think so?" the boy said. They continued to
jeer at him, but he said nothing more. He leaned on the
rail, looking down at the trout which he had already
spent, and suddenly the acrimony, the conflict, was gone
from their voices, as if to them too it was as though he
had captured the fish and bought his horse and wagon,
they too partaking of that adult trait of being convinced
of anything by an assumption of silent superiority. I sup'
pose that people, using themselves and each other so
much by words, are at least consistent in attributing wis-
dom to a still tongue, and for a while I could feel the
other two seeking swiftly for some means by which to
cope with him, to rob him of his horse and wagon.
"You couldnt get twenty-five dollars for that pole,'* the
first said. "I bet anything you couldnt."
"He hasnt caught that trout yet," the third said sud*
denly, then they both cried:
"Yah, wha'd I tell you? What's the man's name? I dare 1
you to tell. There aint any such man."
"Ah, shut up," the second said- "Look, Here he come,*
again." They leaned on the rail, motionless, identical,
their poles slanting slenderly in the sunlight, also identi'
cal. The trout rose without haste, a shadow in faint wav*
ering increase; again the little vortex faded slowly down*
stream. "Gee," the first one murmured.
"We dont try to catch him anymore," he said. "'We
just watch Boston folks that come out and try."
THE SOUND AHB THE FUUY
'Is he the only fish in this pool?"
"Yes. He ran all the others out. The best place to fish
around here is down at the Eddy."
"No it aint," the second said. "It's better at Bigelow's
Mill two to one." Then they argued for a while about
which was the best fishing and then left off all of a sud-
den to watch the trout rise again and the broken swirl
of water suck down a little of the sky. I asked how far it
Was to the nearest town. They told me.
"But the closest car line is that way," the second said,
pointing back down the road. "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere. Just walking."
"You from the college?"
"Yes. Are there any factories in that town?"
"Factories?" They looked at me.
"No," the second said. "Not there/' They looked at my
clothes. "You looking for work?"
"How about Bigelow's Mill?" the third said. "That's a
factory."
"Factory my eye. He means a sure enough factory."
*X)ne with a whistle," I said. "I havent heard any one
oclock whistles yet."
"Oh/* the second said. "There's a clock in the Unitarian
steeple. You can find out the time from that. Havent you
got a watch on that chain?"
"I broke it this morning." I showed them my watch.
They examined it gravely.
"It's still running," the second said. "What does a watch
like that cost?"
"It was a present," I said. "My father gave it to me
when I graduated from high school."
"Are you a Canadian?" the third said. He had red hair.
"Canadian?"
THE SOTJKD AND THE FTJKY 139
"He dont talk like them," the second said. "I've heard
thein talk. He talks like they do in minstrel shows."
"Say/' the third said, "aint you afraid hell hit you?"
"Hit me?"
"You said he talks like a coloured man/'
"Ah, dry up, ?> the second said. "You can see the steeple
when you get over that hill there."
I thanked them. "I hope you have good luck. Only
dont catch that old fellow down there. He deserves to be
let alone.**
"Cant anybody catch that fish/' the first said. They
leaned on the rail, looking down into the water, the three
poles like three slanting threads of yellow fire in the sun.
I walked upon my shadow, tramping it into the dap-
pled shade of trees again. The road curved, mounting
away from the water. It crossed the hill, then descended
winding, carrying the eye, the mind on ahead beneath a
still green tunnel, and the square cupola above the trees
and the round eye of the clock but far enough. I sat
down at the roadside. The grass was ankle deep, myriad.
The shadows on the road were as still as if they had been
put there with a stencil, with slanting pencils of sunlight
But it was only a train, and after a while it died away be-
yond the trees, the long sound, and then I could hear my
watch and the train dying away, as though it were run-
ning through another month or another summer some-
where, rushing away under the poised gull and all things
rushing. Except Gerald. He would be sort of grand too,
pulling in lonely state across the noon, rowing himself
right out of noon, up the long bright air like an apoth-
eosis, mounting into a drowsing infinity where only he
and the gull, the one terrifically motionless, the other in a
steady and measured pull and recover that partook of
14 THE SOUN33 AKB THE FURY
inertia itself, the world ptinily beneath their shadows on
the sun. Caddy that blackguard that blackguard Caddy
Their voices came over the hill, and the three slender
poles like balanced threads of running fire. They looked
at me passing, not slowing.
"Well," I said, "I dont see him."
"We didnt try to catch him," the first said. '"You cant
catch that fish/'
'There's the clock/* the second said, pointing. "You can
tell the time when you get a little closer/*
"Yes/* I said, "AU right." I got up. "You all going to
town?"
"We're going to the Eddy for chub," the first said.
Tou ca*it catch anything at the Eddy," the second
said.
**l guess you want to go to the mill, with a lot of fel-
lows splashing and scaring all the fish away/*
"You cant catch any fish at the Eddy."
"We wont c^tch none nowhere if we dont go on/* the
third said,
"I dont see why you keep on talking about the Eddy/*
the second said. "You cant catch anything there/*
"You dont have t* go/' the first said. "You're not tied to
me/'
"Let's go to the mill and go swimming/* the third said.
"I'm going to the Eddy and fish/* the first said. "You
can do as you please/'
"Say, how long has it been since you heard of any-
body catching a fish at tb-e Eddy?" the second said to the
third.
"Let's go to the mill and go swimming/* the third said.
The cupola sank slowly beyond the trees, with the round
face of the clock far enough yet. We went on in the dap-
THE SOUND A^TD THE :FURY 141
pled shade. We came to an orchard, pink and white. It
was full of bees; already we could "hear them.
"Let's go to the mill and go swimming/' the third said.
A lane turned off beside the orchard. The third boy
slowed and halted. The first went on, flecks of sunlight
slipping along the pole across his shoulder and down the
back of his shirt. "Come on/' the third said. The second
boy stopped too. Why must you marry somebody Caddy
Do you want me to say it do you think that if I say it
it wont be
"Let's go up to the mill," he said. "Come on/*
The first boy went on. His bare feet made no sound,
falling softer than leaves in the thin dust. In the orchard
the bees sounded like a wind getting up, a sound caught
by a spell just under crescendo and sustained. The lane
went along the wall, arched over, shattered with bloom,
dissolving into trees. Sunlight slanted into it, sparse and
eager. Yellow butterflies flickered along the shade like
flecks of sun.
"What do you want to go to the Eddy for?" the second
boy said. "You can fish at the mill if you want to."
"Ah, let him go," the third said. They looked after the
first boy. Sunlight slid patchily across his walking shoul-
ders, glinting along the pole like yellow ants.
"Kenny," the second said. Say it to Father will you 1
will am my fathers Progenitive I invented him created I
him Say it to him it will not be for he will say I was not
and then you and I since philoprogenitive
"Ah, come on/' the boy said, "They're already in." They
looked after the first boy. "Yah," they said suddenly, "go
on then, mamma's boy. If he goes swimming he'll get his
head wet and then hell get a licking." They turned into
the lane and went on, the yellow butterflies slanting about
them along the shade.
*4 2 THE SOUND A3STD THE FUBY
II is because there is nothing else I believe there is
something else but there may not be and then I You toill
find that even injustice is scarcely worthy of what you be-
lieve yourself to be He paid me no attention, his jaw set
In profile, his face turned a little away beneath his broken
hat.
"Why dont you go swimming with them?" I said, that
blackguard Caddy
Were yon trying to pick a fight with him were you
A liar and a scoundrel Caddy was dropped from his
club for cheating at cards got sent to Coventry caught
cheating at midterm exams and expelled
Well what about it I'm not going to play cards with
"Do you like fishing better than swimming?" I said.
The sound of the bees diminished, sustained yet, as
though instead of sinking into silence, silence merely in-
creased between us, as water rises. The road curved again
and became a street between shady lawns with white
houses. Caddy that blackguard can you think of Benjy
and Father and do it not of me
What else can I think about what else have I thought
about The boy turned from the street. He climbed a
picket fence without looking back and crossed the lawn
to a tree and laid the pole down and climbed into the
fork of the tree and sat there, his back to the road and
the dappled sun motionless at last upon his white shirt
Else have I thought about I cant even cry I died last year
I told you I had but I didnt know then wJiat I meant I
didnt know what I was saying Some days in late August
at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this,
with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar. Man
the sum of his climatic experiences Father said, Man the
sum of what have you. A problem in impure properties
THE SOUND AltfD THE FURY 143
carried tediously to an unvarying nil: stalemate of dust
and desire. But now I know fm dead I tett you
Then why must you listen we can go away you and
Benjy and me where nobody knows us where The buggy
was drawn by a white horse, his feet clopping in the thin
dust; spidery wheels chattering thin and dry, moving up-
hill beneath a rippling shawl of leaves. Elm. No: eUum.
Ellum.
On what on your school money the money they sold
the pasture for so you could go to Harvard dont you see
you've got to -finish now if you dont finish he'll have noth-
ing
Sold the pasture His white shirt was motionless in. the
fork, in the flickering shade. The wheels were spidery,
Beneath the sag of the buggy the hooves neatly rapid
like the motions of a lady doing embroidery, diminishing
without progress like a figure on a treadmill being drawn
rapidly offstage. The street turned again. I could see the
white cupola, the round stupid assertion of the clock
Sold the pasture
Father will be dead in a year they say if he doemt stop
drinking and he wont stop he cant stop xince I since last
summer and then they'll send Benjy to Jackson I cant cry
I cant even cry one minute she was standing in the door
the next minute he was pulling at her dress and bellowing
his voice hammered back and forth between the walls in
waves and she shrinking against the wall getting smaller
and smaller with her white face her eyes like thumbs dug
into it until he pushed her out of the room his voice ham-
mering back and forth as though its own momentum
would not let it stop as though there were no place for it
hi silence bellowing
When you opened the door a bell tinkled, but just once*
f44 THE SCIZJND AND THE FUEY
high and clear and small in the neat obscurity above the
door, as though it were gauged and tempered to make
that single clear small sound so as not to wear the bell
out nor to require the expenditure of too much silence in
restoring it when the door opened upon the recent warn?
scent of baking; a little dirty child with eyes like a toy
bear's and two patent-leather pig-tails.
"Hello, sister." Her face was like a cup of milk dashed
with coffee in the sweet warm emptiness. "Anybody
here?"
But she merely watched me until a door opened and
the lady came. Above the counter where the ranks of
crisp shapes behind the glass her neat grey face her
hair tight and sparse from her neat grey skull, spectacles
in neat grey rims riding approaching like something on a
wire, like a cash box in a store. She looked like a librarian.
Something among dusty shelves of ordered certitudes
long divorced from reality, desiccating peacefully, as if
a breath of that air which sees injustice done
"Two of these, please, ma'am."
From under the counter she produced a square cut
from a newspaper and laid it on the counter and lifted
the two buns out The little girl watched them with still
and unwinking eyes like two currants floating motionless
in a cup of weak coffee Land of the kike home of the
wop. Watching the bread, the neat grey hands, a broad
gold band on the left forefinger, knuckled there by a blue
knuckle.
"Do you do your own baking, ma'am?"
"Sir?" she said. Like that. Sir? Like on the stage Sir?
**Five cents. Was there anything else?"
"No, ma'am. Not for me. This lady wants something,"
She was not tall enough to see over the case, so she went
THE SOUXD AND THE FURY 145
to the end of the counter and looked at the little girl
"Did you bring her in here?"
"No, ma'am. She was here when I came."
"You little wretch," she said. She came out around
the counter, but she didnt touch the little girl. "Have jot
got anything in your pockets?"
"She hasnt got any pockets," I said, "She wasnt doing
anything. She was standing here, waiting for you."
"Why didnt the bell ring, then?" She gkred at me. She
just needed a bunch of switches, a blackboard behind
her 2 x 2 e 5. "Shell hide it under her dress and a
body'd never know it. You, child. How'd you get in here?"
The little girl said nothing. She looked at the woman,
then she gave me a flying black glance and looked at
the woman again, "Them foreigners," the woman said.
"How'd she get in without the bell ringing?"
"She came in when I opened the door," I said. "It rang
once for both of us. She couldnt reach anything from
here, anyway. Besides, I dont think she would. Would
you, sister?" The little girl looked at me, secretive, con-
templative. "What do you want? bread?"
She extended her fist. It uncurled upon a nickel, moist
and dirty, moist dirt ridged into her flesh. The coin was
damp and warm. I could smell it, faintly metallic.
"Have you got a five cent loaf, please, ma'am?"
From beneath the counter she produced a square cut
from a newspaper sheet and laid it on the counter and
wrapped a loaf into it. I laid the coin and another one
on the counter. "And another one of those buns, please,
ma'am."
She took another bun from the case- "Give me that
parcel," she said. I gave it to her and she unwrapped it
and put the third bun in and wrapped it and took the
THE SOUND AXD THE FURY
coins and found two coppers in her apron and gave them
to me. I handed them to the little girl. Her fingers closed
about them, damp and hot, like worms.
"You going to give her that bun?" the woman said.
'Tfessum/' I said. "I expect your cooking smells as good
to her as it does to me/*
I took up the two packages and gave the bread to the
little girl, the woman all iron-grey behind the counter,
watching us with cold certitude. "You wait a minute,"
she said. She went to the rear. The door opened again
and closed. The little girl watched me, holding the bread
against her dirty-dress.
^What's your name?" I said. She quit looking at me,
but she was still motionless. She didnt even seem to
breathe. The woman returned. She had a funny looking
thing in her hand. She carried it sort of like it might
have been a dead pet rat
"Here," she said. The child looked at her. Take it"
the woman said, jabbing it at the little girl. "It just looks
peculiar. I calculate you wont know the difference when
you eat it. Here. I cant stand here all day." The child
took it, still watching her. The woman rubbed her hands
on her apron. "I got to have that bell fixed," she said.
She went to the door and jerked it open. The little bell
tinkled once, faint and clear and invisible. We moved
toward the door and the woman's peering back.
"Thank you for the cake," I said.
"Them foreigners," she said, staring up into the obscu-
rity where the bell tinkled. "Take my advice and stay
clear of them, young man."
"Yessum," I said. "Come on, sister." We went out
"Thank you, ma'am."
She swung the door to, then jerked it open again, mak-
THE SOUKD AKB THE FUHY 14?
ing the bell give forth its single small note. "Foreigners,"
she said, peering up at the bell.
We went on. 'Well/' I said, "How about some ic$
cream?" She was eating the gnarled cake. "Do you like
ice cream?" She gave me a black still look, chewing.
"Come on."
We came to the drugstore and had some ice cream.
She wouldn't put the loaf down. "Why not put it down
so you can eat better?" I said, offering to take it. But she
held to it, chewing the ice cream like it was taffy. The
bitten cake lay on the table. She ate the ice cream stead-
ily, then she fell to on the cake again, looking about at
the showcases. I finished mine and we went out.
"Which way do you live?" I said.
A buggy, the one with the horse it was. Only Doc Pea-
body is fat. Three hundred pounds. You ride with him on
the uphill side, holding on. Children. Walking easier than
holding uphill. Seen the doctor yet have you seen Caddy
I dont have to I cant ask now afterward it will be
all right it wont matter
Because women so delicate so mysterious Father said.
Delicate equilibrium of periodical filth between two
moons balanced. Moons he said full and yellow as har-
vest moons her hips thighs. Outside outside of them al-
ways but. Yellow. Feetsoles with walking like. Then
know that some man that all those mysterious and im-
perious concealed. With all that inside of them shapes an
outward suavity waiting for a touch to. Liquid putre-
faction like drowned things floating like pale rubber
flabbily filled getting the odour of honeysuckle all mixed
up.
"You'd better take your bread on home, hadnt you?"
She looked at me. She chewed quietly and steadily; at
I4& THE SOTJHD AND THE
regular Intervals a small distension passed smoothly down
"her throat. I opened my package and gave her one of
the buns. "Goodbye/* I said.
I went on. Then I looked back. She was behind me,
<s Do you live down this way?" She said nothing. She
Walked beside me, under my elbow sort of, eating. We
Went on. It was quiet, hardly anyone about getting the
odour of "honeysuckle all mixed She would have told me
not to let me sit there on the steps heating her door ttoi-
light slamming hearing Benjy still crying Supper she
would have to come down then getting honeysuckle alt
mixed up in it We reached the corner.
"Well, IVe got to go down this way," I said, "Good-
bye." She stopped too. She swallowed the last of the cake,
then she began on the bun, watching me across it. "Good*
bye/' I said. I turned into the street and went on, but I
Went to the next comer before I stopped.
*Which way do you live?" I said. "This way?" I pointed
down the street She just looked at me. "Do you live over
that way? I bet you live close to the station, where the
trains are. Dont you?" She just looked at me, serene and
secret and chewing. The street was empty both ways,
with quiet lawns and houses neat among the trees, but
no one at all except back there. We turned and went
back. Two men sat in chairs in front of a store.
TDo you all know this little girl? She sort of took up
with me and I cant find where she lives."
They quit looking at me and looked at her,
"Must be one of them new Italian families," one said,
He wore a rusty frock coat "IVe seen her before. Whaf s
your name, little girl?" She looked at them blackly for
awhile, her jaws moving steadily. She swallowed without
ceasing to chew.
"Maybe she cant speak English," the other said.
THE SOU3STD AHD THE FURY 149
"They sent her after bread," I said. "She must be abla
to speak something."
"What's your pa s name?" the first said. "Pete? Joe?
name John huh?" She took another bite from the bun.
"What must I do with her?" I said. "She just follow*
me. I've got to get back to Boston."
"You from the college?"
"Yes, sir. And IVe got to get on back"
"You might go up the street and turn her over to Anse.
Hell be up at the livery stable. The marshal!/'
"I reckon that's what 111 have to do/' 1 said. "IVe got
to do something with her. Much obliged. Come on, sister."
We went up the street, on the shady side, where the
shadow of the broken facade blotted slowly across the
road. We came to the livery stable. The marshall wasni
there. A man sitting in a chair tilted in the broad low
door, where a dark cool breeze smelling of ammonia
blew among the ranked stalls, said to look at the post-
office. He didn't know her either.
"Them furriners. I cant tell one from another. You
might take her across the tracks where they live, and
maybe somebodyTl claim her."
We went to the postoffice. It was back down the street
The man in the frock coat was opening a newspaper.
"Anse just drove out of town," he said. "I guess you'd
better go down past the station and walk past them
houses by the river. Somebody there'll know her."
"I guess III have to," I said. "Come on, sister." She
pushed the last piece of the bun into her mouth and swal-
lowed it. "Want another?" I said. She looked at me, chew*
ing, her eyes black and unwinking and friendly. I took
the other two buns out and gave her one and bit into the
other. I asked a man where the station was and he
showed me. "Come on, sister/'
I JO THE SOUND AND THE FURY
We reached the station and crossed the tracks, where
the river was. A bridge crossed it, and a street of jum-
bled frame houses followed the river, backed onto it. A
shabby street, but with an air heterogeneous and vivid
too. In the center of an untrimmed plot enclosed by a
fence of gaping and broken pickets stood an ancient lop-
sided surrey and a weathered house from an upper win-
dow of which hung a garment of vivid pink.
"Does that look like your house?" I said. She looked
at me over the bun. "This one?" I said, pointing. She just
chewed, but it seemed to me that I discerned something
affirmative, acquiescent even if it wasn't eager, in her air.
'This one?" I said. "Come on, then." I entered the broken
gate. I looked back at her. "Here?" I said. "This look like
your house?'*
She nodded her head rapidly, looking at me, gnawing
into the damp halfmoon of the bread. We went on. A
walk of broken random flags, speared by fresh coarse
blades of grass, led to the broken stoop. There was no
movement about the house at all, and the pink garment
hanging in no wind from the upper window. There was
a bell pull with a porcelain knob, attached to about six
feet of wire when I stopped pulling and knocked. The
little girl had the crust edgeways in her chewing -mouth.
A woman opened the door. She looked at me, then she
spoke rapidly to the little girl in Italian, with a rising in-
flection, then a pause, interrogatory. She spoke to her
again, the little girl looking at her across the end of the
crust, pushing it into her mouth with a dirty hand.
"She says she lives here," I said. "I met her down town.
Is this your bread?"
"No spika," the woman said. She spoke to the little girl
again. The Httle girl just looked at her.
THE SOUND AXB TH& FURY
"No live here?" I said. I pointed to the girl, then at hei;
then at the door. The woman shook her head. She spok&
rapidly. She came to the edge of the porch and pointed
down the road, speaking.
I nodded violently too. "You come show?" I said. I took
her arm, waving my other hand toward the road. She
spoke swiftly, pointing. **You come show/' I said, trying
to lead her down the steps.
"Si, si," she said, holding back, showing me whatever
it was. I nodded again.
'Thanks. Thanks. Thanks/' I went down the steps and
walked toward the gate, not running, but pretty fast. I
.reached the gate and stopped and looked at her for a
while. The crust was gone now, and she looked at me
with her black, friendly stare. The woman stood on the
stoop, watching us.
"Come on, then/' I said. "Well have to find the right
one sooner or later/*
She moved along just under my elbow. We went on.
The houses all seemed empty. Not a soul in sight A sort
of breathlessness that empty houses have. Yet they
couldnt all be empty. All the different rooms, if you
could just slice the walls away all of a sudden Madam,
your daughter, if you please. No. Madam, for God's **ke.
your daughter. She moved along just under my elbow,
her shiny tight pigtails, and then the last house played out
and the road curved out of sight beyond a wall, following
the river. The woman was emerging from the broken
gate, with a shawl over her head and clutched under her
chin. The road curved on, empty. I found a coin and
gave it to the little girl. A quarter. "Goodbye, sister," I
said. Then I ran.
I ran fast, not looking back. Just before the road curved
THK SOUND AND THE FIIEY
away I looked back. She stood In the road, a small figure
clasping the loaf of bread to her filthy little dress, her
eyes still and bkck and unwinking* I ran on-
A lane turned from the road. I entered it and after a
while I slowed to a fast wale. The lane went between
back premises unpainted houses with more of those gay
snd startling coloured garments on lines, a barn broken-
backed, decaying quietly among rank orchard trees,
unpraned and weedchoked, pink and white and murmur-
ous with sunlight and with bees. I looked back. The en-
trance to the lane was empty. I slowed still more, my
shadow pacing me, dragging its head through the weeds
that hid the fence.
The lane went back to a barred gate, became defunc-
tive in grass, a mere path scarred quietly into new grass.
I climbed the gate into a woodlot and crossed it and
came to another wall and followed that one, my shadow
behind me now. There were vines and creepers where
at home would be honeysuckle. Coming and coming es-
pecially in the dusk when it rained, getting honeysuckle
all mixed up in it as though it were not enough without
that, not unbearable enough. What did you let him for
kiss kiss
I didnt let him I made him watching me getting mad
What do you think of that? Red print of my hand coming
up through her face like turning a light on under your
hand her eyes going bright
It's not for kissing I slapped you. GirEs elbows at fif~
feen Father said you swallow like you had a -fishbone in
your throat what's the matter with you and Caddy across
the table not to look at me. It's for letting it be some darn
town squirt I slapped you you will will you now I guess
you say calf rope. My red hand coming up out of her
face. What do you think of that scouring her head into
THE SOU3STB A1STD THE FIT-BY 153
the. Grass sticks crisscrossed into the flesh tingling scoui^
mg her head. Say calf rope say it
1 didnt kiss a dirty girl like Natalie anyway The wall
went into shadow, and then my shadow, I had tricked it
again. I had forgot about the river curving along the
road. I climbed the wall. And then she watched me jump
down, holding the loaf against her dress.
I stood in the weeds and we looked at one another for
a while.
"Why didnt you tell me you lived out this way, sister?**
Ihe loaf was wearing slowly out of the paper; already it
needed a new one. "Well, come on then and show me the
house/* not a dirty girl like Natalie. It was raining we
could hear it on the roof, sighing through the high sweet
emptiness of the barn.
There? touching her
Not there
There? not raining hard but we couldnt hear anything
Tint tine roof and as if it was my blood or her blood
She pushed me down the ladder and ran off and lefi
me Caddy did
Was it there it hurt you when Caddy did ran of was U
there
Oh She walked just under my elbow, the top of hex
patent leather head, the loaf fraying out of the news*
paper.
"If you dont get home pretty soon you're going to wear
that loaf out. And then what* 11 your mamma say?" I bet
I can lift you up
You cant I'm too heavy
Did Caddy go away did she go to the house you can*
see the barn from our house did you ever try to see th0
barn from
It was her fault she pushed me she ran away
154 THE SOTflSFB A1STB THE FT7BY
I can // t/ow up see how I can
oh her blood or my blood Oh We went on in the thin
dust, our feet silent as rubber in the thin dust where pen-
cils of sun slanted in the trees. And I could feel water
again running swift and peaceful in the secret shade.
"You live a long way, dont you. You're mighty smart to
go this far to town by yourself ." It's like dancing sitting
down did you ever dance sitting down? We could hear
the rain, a rat in the crib, the empty barn vacant with
horses. Haw do you hold to dance do you hold tike this
Oh
I used to hold like this you thought I wasnt strong
Enough didnt you
Oh Oh Oh Oh
I hold to use like this I mean did you hear what I said
I said
oh oh oh oh
The road went on, still and empty, the sun slanting
more and more. Her stiff little pigtails were bound at the
tips with bits of crimson cloth. A corner of the wrapping
flapped a little as she walked, the nose of the loaf naked.
I stopped.
TLook here. Do you live down this road? We havent
passed a house in a mile, almost/'
She looked at me, black and secret and friendly.
'Where do you live, sister? Dont you live back there in
town?"
There was a bird somewhere in the woods, beyond the
broken and infrequent slanting of sunlight
"Your papa's going to be worried about you. Dont you
reckon you'll get a whipping for not coming straight home
with that bread?"
The bird whistled again, invisible, a sound meaning-
less and profound, inflexionless, ceasing as though cut off
THE SOUHD AND THE FtTAT
with the blow of a knife, and again, and that sense of
water sv^ift and peaceful above secret places, felt, not
seen not heard.
"Oh, hell, sister." About half the paper hung limp.
'That's not doing any good now." I tore it off and
dropped it beside the road. * fc Come on. Well have to go
back to town. We'll go back along the river.'*
We left the road. Among the moss little pale flowers
grew, and the sense of water mute and unseen. I hold to
use like this I mean I use to hold She stood in the door
looking at us her hands on her hips
You pushed me it was your fault it hurt me too
We were dancing sitting down I bet Caddy cant dance
sitting down
Stop tliat stop that
i was just brushing the trash of the back of your dress
You keep your nasty old hands off of me it was youi
fault you pushed me down I'm mad at you
I dont care she looked at us stay -mad she went away
We began to hear the shouts, the splashings; I saw a
brown body gleam for an instant.
Stay mad. My shirt was getting wet and my Jwir<
Across the roof hearing the roof loud now I could see
Natalie going through the garden among the rain. Get
wet I hope you catch pneumonia go on home Gowface. I
jumped hard as I could into the hogwallow and mud yel-
lowed up to my waist stinking I kept on plunging until 1
fell down and rolled over in it "Hear them in swimming,
sister? I wouldn't mind doing that myself." If I had time.
When I have time. I could near my watch, mud was
warmer than the rain it smeUed awful. She had her hack
turned I went around in front of her. You know what 1
was doing? She turned her back I went around in front'
of her the rain creeping into the mud -flatting her
THE SOUND AND THE F U ft X"
through her dress it smelled horrible. I was hugging her
tkafs what I was doing. She turned her back 1 went
around in front of her. I was hugging her I tell you.
1 dont give a damn what you were doing
You dont you dont Til make you Til make you give a
damn. She hit my hands away I smeared mud on her with
the other hand I couldn't feel the wet smacking of her
hand I wiped mud from my legs smeared it on her wet
hard turning body hearing her fingers going into my face
but I couldnt feel it even when the rain began to taste
sweet on my lips
They saw us from the water first, heads and shoulders.
They yelled and one rose squatting and sprang among
them. They looked like beavers, the water lipping about
their chins, yelling.
"Take that girl away! What did you want to bring a
girl here for? Go on away!"
"She wont hurt you. We just want to watch you for a
while."
They squatted in the water. Their heads drew into a
clump, watching us, then they broke and rushed toward
us, hurling water with their hands. We moved quick.
"Look out, boys; she wont hurt you."
"Go on away, Harvard!'" It was the second boy, the one
that thought the horse and wagon back there at the
bridge. "Splash them, fellows!"
"Let's get out and throw them in," another said. *T aint
afraid of any girl."
"Splash them! Splash them!" They rushed toward us
hurling water. We moved back. "Go on away!" they
yelled. "Go on away!"
We went away. They huddled just under the bank,
their slick heads in a row against the bright water. We
Went on. "That's not for us, is it." The sun slanted through
THE SOUND AHB THE FURY 1 57
to tike moss here and there, leveller. "Poor kid, you're just
a girl." Little flowers grew among the moss, littler than I
had ever seen. *Tou*re just a girl. Poor kid." There was a
path, curving along beside the water. Then the water was
still again, dark and still and swift. "Nothing but a girL
Poor sister." We lay in the wet grass panting the rain like
cold shot on my back. Do you care now do you do you
My Lord we sure are in a mess get up. Where the rain
touched my forehead it began to smart my hand came
red away streaking off pink in the rain. Does it hurt
Of course it does what do you reckon
I tried to scratch your eyes out my Lord we sure do
stink we better try to wash it off in the branch "There's
town again, sister. You'll have to go home now. I've got
to get back to school. Look how late it's getting. You'll
go home now, wont you?" But she just looked at me with
her black, secret, friendly gaze, the half-naked loaf
clutched to her breast. "It's wet. I thought we jumped
back in time." I took my handkerchief and tried to wipe
the loaf, but the crust began to come off, so I stopped*
"We'll just have to let it dry itself. Hold it like this." She
held it like that. It looked land of like rats had been eat-
ing it now. and the water building and building up the
squatting back the sloughed mud stinking surfaceward
pocking the pattering surface like grease on a hot stove. 1
told you Td make you
I dont give a goddam what you do
Then we heard the running and we stopped and looked
back and saw him coming up the path running, the level
shadows flicking upon his legs.
"He's in a hurry. We'd " then I saw another man, an
oldish man running heavily, clutching a stick, and a boy
naked from the waist up, clutching his pants as he ran.
'There's Julio,** the little girl said* and then I saw his
i S S THE SOUND AND THE FTJXY
Italian face and his eyes as lie sprang upon me. We went
down. His hands were jabbing at my face and he was
saying something and trying to bite me, I reckon, and
then they hauled him off and held him heaving and
thrashing and yelling and they held his arms and he tried
to kick me until they dragged him back. The little girl
was howling, holding the loaf in both arms. The half-
naked boy was darting and jumping up and down, clutch-
ing his trousers and someone pulled me up in time to
see another stark naked figure come around the tranquil
bend in the path running and change direction in mid-
stride and leap into the woods, a couple of garments
rigid as boards behind it. Julio still struggled. The man
who had pulled me up said, "Whoa, now. We got you."
He wore a vest but no coat Upon it was a metal shield.
In his other hand he clutched a knotted, polished stick.
**You*re Anse, aren't you?" I said. "I was looking for you.
What's the matter?"
*'I warn you that anything you say will be used against
you, * he said, 'Tou're under arrest."
*! killa heem," Julio said. He struggled. Two men held
him. The little girl howled steadily, holding the bread,
"You steala my seester," Julio said. "Let go, meesters."
"Steal his sister?" I said. "Why, I've been "
<c Sliet up," Anse said. "You can tell that to Squire.**
"'Steal his sister?" I said. Julio broke from the men and
sprang at me again, but the marshall met him and they
struggled until the other two pinioned his arms again.
Anse released him, panting.
Tou dum furriner," he said, Tve got a good mind to
take you up too, for assault and battery." He turned to me
again. 'Will you come peaceable, or do I handcuff youT*
Til come peaceable," I said. "Anything, just so I caa
THE SOUNB A3SFD THE FXJBY
find someone do something with Stole Ms sister/' I
said. "Stole his "
*Tve warned you," Anse said, "He aims to charge you
with meditated criminal assault Here, you, make that
gal shut up that noise."
"Oh/' I said. Then I began to laugh. Two more boys
with plastered heads and round eyes came out of the
bushes, buttoning shirts that had already dampened onto
their shoulders and arms, and I tried to stop the laughter,
but I couldnt.
"Watch him, Anse, he's crazy, I believe/'
Til h-have to qu-quit/* I said, "It'll stop in a mu-min-
ute. The other time it said ah ah ah/* I said, laughing*
"Let me sit down a while/' I sat down, they watching me,
and the little girl with her streaked face and the gnawed
looking loaf, and the water swift and peaceful below the
path. After a while the laughter ran out. But my throat
wouldnt quit trying to laugh, like retching after your
stomach is empty.
"Whoa, now/' Anse said. "Get a grip on yourself/'
"Yes," I said, tightening my throat. There was another
yellow butterfly, like one of the sunflecks had come loose-
After a while I didnt have to hold my throat so tight 1
got up. "I'm ready. Which way?"
We followed the path, the two others watching Julio
and the little girl and the boys somewhere in the rear.
The path went along the river to the bridge. We crossed
it and tibe tracks, people coming to the doory <o look at
us and more boys materializing from somewhere until
when we turned into the main street we had quite a pro-
cession. Before the drugstore stood an auto, a big one.
but I didn't recognise them until Mrs Bland said,
"Why, Quentin! Quentin Compson!" Then I saw Ger-
l6o THE SOTTXD AND THE FtJEY
aid, and Spoade in the back seat, sitting on the back oi
his neck. And Shreve. I didnt know the two girls.
"Quentin Compson!'* Mrs Bland said.
"Good afternoon," I said, raising my hat, "I'm under
arrest I'm sorry I didnt get your note. Did Shreve tell
you?"
"Under arrest?" Shreve said. "Excuse me/' he said. He
heaved himself up and climbed over their feet and got
out. He had on a pair of my flannel pants, like a glove. I
didnt remember forgetting them. I didnt remember how
many chins Mrs Bland had, either. The prettiest girl was
with Gerald in front, too. They watched me through
veils, with a kind of delicate horror. ""Who's under arrest?"
Shreve said. "Whafs this, mister?"
"Gerald," Mrs Bland said, "Send these people away.
You get in this car, Quentin."
Gerald got out Spoade hadnt moved.
'What's he done, Cap?" he said. "Robbed a hen house?"
"I warn you," Anse said. <: Do you know the prisoner?"
**Know him," Shreve said. "Look here yj
"Then you can come along to the squire's. You're ob-
structing justice. Come along." He shook my arm.
<c Well, good afternoon," I said. "I'm glad to have seen
you all. Sorry I couldnt be with you."
"You, Gerald," Mrs Bland said.
"Look here, constable," Gerald said.
"I warn you you're interfering with an officer of the
law," Anse said. "If you've anything to say, you can come
to the squire's and make cognizance of the prisoner." Wei
went on. Quite a procession now, Anse and I leading. I
could hear them telling them what it was, and Spoade
asking questions, and then Julio said something violently
in Italian and I looked back and saw the little girl stand-
THE SOXJNB AND THE FURY l6l
ing at the curb looking at me with her friendly, inscrut-
able regard.
"Git on home/' Julio shouted at her, "I beat hell outa
you."
We went down the street and turned into a bit of lawn
in which, set back from the street, stood a one storey
building of brick trimmed with white. We went up the
rock path to the door, where Anse halted everyone
except us and made them remain outside. We entered a
bare room smelling of stale tobacco. There was a sheel
iron stove in the center of a wooden frame filled with
sand, and a faded map on the wall and the dingy plat of
a township. Behind a scarred littered table a man with a
fierce roach of iron grey hair peered at us over steel spec-
tacles.
"Got him, did ye, Anse?" he said.
"Got him, Squire."
He opened a huge dusty book and drew it to him and
dipped a foul pen into an inkwell filled with what looked
like coal dust.
"Look here, mister/' Shreve said.
"The prisoner's name/' the squire said. I told him. He
wrote it slowly into the book, the pen scratching with ex-
cruciating deliberation.
"Look here, mister," Shreve said, 'We know this fellow:
We"
"Order in the court," Anse said.
"Shut up, bud," Spoade said. "Let him do it his way,
He's going to anyhow."
"Age," the squire said. I told him. He wrote that, hi&
mouth moving as he wrote. "Occupation." I told him,
"Harvard student, hey?" he said. He looked up at me,
bowing his neck a little to see over the spectacles. His
THE SOXJXD AND THE FURY
eyes were clear and cold, like a goat's. ""What are you
up to, coming out here kidnapping children?"
"They're crazy, Squire/' Shreve said. 'Whoever says
this boy's kidnapping "
Julio moved violently. "Crazy?" he said. "Dont I catcha
heem, eh? Dont I see weetha my own eyes "
"You're a liar, 3 * Shreve said. "You never "
"Order, order/* Anse said, raising his voice.
"You fellers shet up/* the squire said. "If they dont stay
quiet, turn *em out, Anse." They got quiet The squire
looked at Shreve, then at Spoade, then at Gerald. "You
know this young man?'* h said to Spoade.
"Yes, your honour/* Spoade said. "He's just a country
boy in school up there. He dont mean any harm. I think
the marshallTl find it's a mistake. His father's a congrega-
tional minister/'
"H'm," the squire said. **What was you doing, exactly?"
I told him, he watching me with his cold, pale eyes. "How
about it, Anse?"
"Might have been," Anse said. "Them durn furriners.''
"I American," Julio said. *T gotta da papeY*
"Where's the gal?"
"He sent her home," Anse said.
"Was she scared or anything?"
"Not till Julio there jumped on the prisoner. They were
just walking along the river path, towards town. Some
boys swimming told us which way they went."
"It's a mistake, Squire/' Spoade said. "Children and
dogs are always taking up with him like that. He cant
help it."
^H'm," the squire said. He looked out of the window
for a while. We watched him. I could hear Julio scratch-
ing himself. The squire looked back.
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 163
"Air you satisfied the gal aint took any hurt, you,
there?"
"No hurt now," Julio said sullenly.
"You quit work to hunt for her?' 9
"Sure I quit. I run. I run like hell Looka hare, looka
there, then man tella me he seen him giva her she eat.
She go weetha."
TEfm," the squire said. "Well, son, I calculate you owe
Julio something for taking him away from his work/*
"Yes, sir," I said. "How much?"
"Dollar, I calculate."
I gave Julio a dollar.
"Well," Spoade said, "If that's all I reckon he's dis-
charged, your honour?"
The squire didn't look at him. "How far'd you run him,
Anse?"
"Two miles, at least. It was about two hours before we
caught him."
"H'm," the squire said. He mused a while. We watched
him, his stiff crest, the spectacles riding low on his nose.
The yellow shape of the window grew slowly across the
fioor, reached the wall, climbing. Dust motes whirled ancl
slanted. "Six dollars."
"Six dollars?" Shreve said. "What's that for?"
"Six dollars," the squire said. He looked at Shreve a
moment, then at me again.
"Look here/* Shreve said.
"Shut up," Spoade said. "Give it to him, bud, and let's
get out of here. The ladies are waiting for us. You got
six dollars?"
"Yes," I said. I gave him six dollars.
"Case dismissed," he said,
'You get a receipt/* Shreve said. "You get a signed re-
ceipt for that monev."
THE SOUND A::D x .E FUKY
The squire looked at Slireve mildly. "Case dismissed,
he said without raising lr,.. voice.
Til be damned " Shreve said.
"Come on here/' Spoade said, taking his arm. "Good
afternoon, Judge. Much obliged/' As we passed out the
door Julio's voice rose again, violent, then ceased. Spoade
was looking at me, his brown eyes quizzical, a littl
cold. "Well, bud, I reckon you'll do your girl chasing in
Boston after this."
"You damned fool," Shreve said, 'What the hell do you
mean anyway, straggling off here, fooling with these
damn wops?"
"Come on," Spoade said, "They must be getting impa-
, . yy
tient.
Mrs Bland was talking to them. They were Miss
Holmes and Miss Daingerfield and they quit listening to
her and looked at me again with that delicate and curi-
ous horror, their veils turned back upon their little white
noses and their eyes fleeing and mysterious beneath the
veils.
"Quentin Compson/* Mrs Bland said, "What would your
mother say? A young man naturally gets into scrapes,
but to be arrested on foot by a country policeman. What
did they think he'd done, Gerald?"
"Nothing/* Gerald said.
"Nonsense. What was it, you, Spoade?"
"He was trying to kidnap that little dirty girl, but they
caught him In time," Spoade said.
"Nonsense," Mrs Bland said, but her voice sort of died
away and she stared at me for a moment, and the girls
drew their breaths in with a soft concerted sound. "Fid-
dlesticks," Mrs Bland said briskly, "If that isn't just like
tibese ignorant lowclass Yankees, Get in, Quentin/*
THE SOU . AND THE FUEY 165
Slireve and I sa': on two small collapsible seats. Gerald
cranked the car and got in and we started.
"Now, Queniin, you tell me what all this foolishness
is abouj, Mrs Bland said. I told them, Shreve hunched
aac furious on his little seat and Spoade sitting again
on the back of his neck beside Miss Daingerfield.
*'And the joke is, all the time Quentin had us all fooled/ 3
Spoade said. "All the time we thought he was the model
youth that anybody could trust a daughter with, until
the police showed him up at his nefarious work/*
"Hush up, Spoade,'" Mrs Bland said. We drove down
the street and crossed the bridge and passed the house
where the pink garment hung in the window. 'That's
what you get for not reading my note. Why didnt you
come and get it? Mr MacKenzie says he told you it was
there."
**Yessum. I intended to, but I never went back to the
room/'
"You'd have let us sit there waiting I dont know how
long, if it hadnt been for Mr MacKenzie. When lie said
you hadnt come back, that left an extra place* so we
asked him to come. We're very glad to have you anyway,
Mr MacKenzie." Shreve said nothing. His amis were
folded and he glared straight ahead past Gerald's cap. It
was a cap for motoring in England. Mrs Bland said so.
We passed that house, and three others, and another yard
where the little girl stood by the gate. She didnt have the
bread now, and her face looked like it had been streaked
with coaldust. I waved my hand, but she made no reply.,
only her head turned slowly as the car passed, following
us with her unwinking gaze. Then we ran beside the
wall, our shadows running along the wall, and after a
while we passed a piece of torn newspaper lying besid
t66 THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
the road and I began to laugh again. I could feel it in my
throat and I looked off into the trees where the afternoon
slanted, thinking of afternoon and of the bird and the
boys in swimming. But still I couldnt stop it and then I
knew that if I tried too hard to stop it I'd be crying and
I thought about how I'd thought about I could not be a
virgin, with so many o them walking along in the shad-
ows and whispering with their soft girlvoices lingering im
the shadowy places and the words coming out and per-
fume and eyes you could /eel not see, but if it was that
simple to do it wouldnt be anything and if it wasnt any-
thing, what was I and then Mrs Bland said, "Quentin? Is
he sick, Mr MacKenzie?" and then Shreve's fat hand
touched my knee and Spoade began talking and I quit
trying to stop it.
"If that hamper is in his way, Mr MacKenzie, move it
over on your side. I brought a hamper of wine because
I think young gentlemen should drink wine, although my
father, Gerald's grandfather 5 * ever do that Have you ever
done that In the grey darkness a little light her hands
locked about
'They do, when they can get it," Spoade said. "Hey,
Shreve?" her knees her face looking at the sky the smell
of honeysuckle upon her face and throat
TBeer, too," Shreve said. His hand touched my knee
again. I moved rny knee again, like a thin wash of WMC
coloured paint talking about him bringing
"You're not a gentleman," Spoade said, him between u$
until the shape of her blurred not with dark
"No. I'm Canadian/* Shreve said, talking about him the
oar blades winking him along winking the Cap made for
motoring m England and all time rushing beneath and
they two blurred within the other forever more he had
been m the army had killed men
THE SOUND A3SFD THE FZJBY
"I adore Canada," Miss Daingerfield said. "I think it's
marvellous."
"Did you ever drink perfume?" Spoade said, with one
hand he could lift her to his shoulder and run with her
running Running
"No/* Shreve said, running the beast with two backs
and she blurred in the winking oars running the swine of
Euboeleus running coupled within how many Caddy
"Neither did I," Spoade said. I dont know too many
there was something terrible in me terrible in me Father
1 have committed Have you ever done that We didnt we
didnt do that did we do that
"and Gerald's grandfather always picked his own mint
before breakfast, while the dew was still on it. He
wouldnt even let old Wilkie touch it do you remember
Gerald but always gathered it himself and made his own
julep. He was as crochety about his julep as an old maid,
measuring everything by a recipe in his h@ad. There was
only one man he ever gave that recipe to; that was" we
did how can y&u not know it if youll fuM w&it TU tell you
how it was it was a crime we did & terrible crime it can-
not be hid you think it can but wmb Poor Quentin
youve never done that have you and TU tell yon how it
was Til tell Father then itll have to be becmtse you love
Father then weU have to go away amid the pointing and
the horror the clean -flame Til make you my we did Tm
stronger than you Til make you know we did y&u thought
it was them but it was me listen I foled yu &ll the time
it was me you thought I was in the h@use where that
damn honeysuckle trying not to think the swing the ce-
dars the secret surges the breathing locked drinking the
wild breath the yes Yes Jes yes "never be got to drink
wine himself, but he always said that a hamper what
book did you read that in the one where Geralds rowing
168 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
rait of wine was a necessary part of any gentlemen's pic-
Mc basket" did you love them Caddtj did you love them
When they touched me I died
one minute she was standing there the next he was yell-
ing and pulling at her dress they went into the hall and
up the stairs yelling and shoving at her up the stairs to
the bathroom door and stopped her back against the dooi
and her arm across her face yelling and trying to shove
her Into the bathroom when she came in to supper T. P
was feeding him he started again just whimpering at
first until she touched Mm then he yelled she stood thero
her eyes like cornered rats then I was running in the gre).
darkness it smelled of rain and all flower scents the damp
Warm air released and crickets sawing away in the grass
pacing me with a small travelling island of silence Fancy
watched me across the fence blotchy like a quilt on a
line I thought damn that nigger he forgot to feed her
-again I ran down the hill in that vacuum of crickets like
a breath travelling across a mirror she was lying in the
water her head on the sand spit the water flowing about
her hips there was a little more light in the water hei
skirt half saturated flopped along ber flanks to the waters
tootion in heavy ripples going nowhere renewed them-
selves of their own movement I stood on the bank I could
smell the honeysuckle on the water gap the air seemed to
drizzle with honeysuckle and with the rasping of crick-
ets a substance you could feel on the flesh
is Benjy still crying
I dont know yes I dont know
poor Benjy
I sat down on the bank the grass was damp a littlt
then I found my shoes wet
get out of that water are you crazy
THE SOUND AND THE FUEY
dut she didnt move her face was a white blur framed
out of the blur of the sand by her hair
get out now
she sat up then she rose her skirt flopped against her
draining she climbed the bank her clothes flopping sat
down
why dont you wring it out do you want to catch cold
yes
the water sucked and gurgled across the sand spit and
on in the dark among the willows across the shallow the
water rippled like a piece of cloth holding still a little
light as water does
he's crossed all the oceans all around the world
then she talked about him clasping her wet knees her
face tilted back in the grey light the smell of honeysuckle
there was a light in mothers room and in Benjys where
T. P. was putting him to bed
do you love him
her hand came out I didnt move it fumbled down my
arm and she held my hand flat against her chest her heart
thudding
no no
did he make you then he made you do it let him he
was stronger than you and he tomorrow 111 kill him I
swear I will father neednt know until afterward and
then you and I nobody need ever know we can take my
school money we can cancel my matriculation Caddy you
hate him dont you dont you
she held my hand against her chest her heart thudding
I turned and caught her arm
Caddy you hate him dont you
she moved my hand up against her throat her heart
was hammering there
THE SOUND A3SFD THE FURY
poor Quentin
her face looked at the sky it was low so low that all
smells and sounds of night seemed to have been crowded
down like under a slack tent especially the honeysuckle it
had got into my breathing it was on her face and throat
Eke paint her blood pounded against my hand I was lean-
ing on my other arm it began to jerk and jump and I had
to pant to get any air at all out o that thick grey honey-
suckle
yes I hate him I would die for him I've already died
for him I die for him over and over again everytime this
goes
when I lifted my hand I could still feel crisscrossed
twigs and grass burning into the palm
poor Queniin
she leaned back on her arms her hands locked about
her knees
youve never done that have you
what done what
that what I have what I did
yes yes lots of tiroes with lots of girls
then 7. was crying her hand touched me again and I
was crying against her damp blouse then she lying on her
back looking past my head into the sky I could see a rim
of white under her irises I opened my knife
do you remember the day damuddy died when you sat
down in the water in your drawers
yes
I held the point of the knife at her throat
it wont take but a second just a second then I can do
*mne I can do mine then
all right can you do yours by yourself
yes the blades long enough Benjys in bed by now
yes
THE fcOXJNB AHB THE
it wont take but a second 111 try not to hurt
all right
will you close your eyes
no like this youll have to push it harder
touch your hand to it
but she didnt move her eyes were wide open looking
past my head at the sky
Caddy do you remember how Dilsey fussed at you be-
cause your drawers were muddy
dont cry
Im not crying Caddy
push it are you going to
do you want me to
yes push it
touch your hand to it
dont cry poor Quentin
but I couldnt stop she held my head against her damp
hard breast I could hear her heart going firm and slow
now not hammering and the water gurgling among the
willows in the dark and waves of honeysuckle coming up
the air my arm and shoulder were twisted under me
what is it what are you doing
her muscles gathered I sat up
its my knife I dropped it
she sat up
what time is it
I dont know
she rose to her feet I fumbled along the ground
Im going let it go
I could feel her standing there I could smell her damp
clothes feeling her there
its right here somewhere
let it go you can find it tomorrow come on
wait a minute I'll find it
THE SOUND AND THE FXJBY
are you afraid to
here it is It was right here all the time
was it come on
I got up and followed we went up the hill the crickets
hushing before us
its funny how you. can sit down and drop something
and have to hunt all around for it
the grey it was grey with dew slanting up into the grey
sky then the trees beyond
damn that honeysuckle I wish it would stop
you used to like it
we crossed the crest and went on toward the trees she
walked into me she gave over a little the ditch was a
black scar on the grey grass she walked into me again
Ae looked at me and gave over we reached the ditch
lets go this way
what for
lets see if you can still see Nancys bones I havent
thought to look in a long time have you
it was matted with vines and briers dark
they were right here you cant tell whether you see
them or not can you
stop Quentin
come on
the ditch narrowed closed she turned toward the trees
stop Quentin
Caddy
I got in front of her again
Caddy
stop it
I held her
Im stronger than you.
she was motionless hard unyielding but stil]
I wont fight stop youd better stop
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY 173
Caddy dont Caddy
it wont do any good dont you know It wont let me go
the honeysuckle drizzled and drizzled I could hear the
crickets watching us in a circle she moved back went
around me on toward the trees
you go on back to the house you neednt come
I went on
why dont you go on back to the house
damn that honeysuckle
we reached the fence she crawled through I crawled
through when I rose from stooping he was coming out of
the trees into the grey toward us coming toward us tall
and flat and still even moving like he was still she went
to him
this is Quentin Im wet Im wet all over you dont
have to if you dont want to
their shadows one shadow her head rose it was above
his on the sky higher their two heads
you dont have to if you dont want to
then not two heads the darkness smelled of rain of
damp grass and leaves the grey light drizzling like rain
the honeysuckle coming up in damp waves I could see
her face a blur against his shoulder he held her in one
arm like she was no bigger than a child he extended his
hand
glad to know you
we shook hands then we stood there her shadow high
against his shadow one shadow
whatre you going to do Quentin
walk a while I think 111 go through the woods to the
road and come back through town
I turned away going
goodnight
Quentin
*74 THE SOUND AHB THE FURY
I stopped
what do you want
in the woods the tree frogs were going smelling rain in
the air they sounded like toy music boxes that were hard
to turn and the honeysuckle
come here
what do you want
come here Quentin
1 went back she touched my shoulder leaning down
her shadow the blur of her face leaning down from his
high shadow I drew back
look out
you go on home
Im not sleepy Im going to take a walk
wait for me at the branch
Im going for a walk
111 be there soon wait for me you wait
no Im going through the woods
I didnt look back the tree frogs didnt pay me any mind
the grey light like moss in the trees drizzling but still it
wouldnt rain after a while I turned went back to the edge
of the woods as soon as I got there I began to smell hon-
eysuckle again I could see the lights on the courthouse
clock and the glare of town the square on the sky and
the dark willows along the branch and the light in
mothers windows the light still on in Benjys room and I
stooped through the fence and went across the pasture
running I ran in the grey grass among the crickets the
honeysuckle getting stronger and stronger and the smell
of water then I could see the water the colour of grey
honeysuckle I lay down on the bank with my face close
to the ground so I couldnt smell the honeysuckle I
couldnt smell it then and I lay there feeling the earth go-
ing through my clothes listening to the water and after a
THE SOUND AND OCHE FITEY
while I wasnt breathing so hard and I lay there thinking
that if I didnt move my face I wouldnt have to breathe
hard and smell it and then I wasnt thinking about any-
thing at all she came along the bank and stopped I diditf
move
its late you go on home
what
you go on home its late
all right
her clothes rustled I didnt move they stopped rastiMg
are you going in like I told you
I didnt hear anything
Caddy
yes I will if you want me to I will
I sat up she was sitting on the ground her hands
clasped about her knee
go on to the house like I told you
yes 111 do anything you want me to anything yes
she didnt even look at me I caught her shoulder and
shook her hard
you shut up
I shook her
you shut up you shut up
yes
she lifted her face then I saw she wasnt even looking
at me at all I could see that white rim
get up
I pulled her she was limp I lifted her to her feet
go on now
was Benjy still crying when you left
go on
we crossed the branch the roof came in sight then the
window upstairs
hes asleep now
THE SOUND AND THE TUEY
I had to stop and fasten the gate she went on in the
grey light the smell of rain and still it wouldnt rain and
honeysuckle beginning to come from the garden fence be-
ginning she went into the shadow I could hear her feet-
Caddy
I stopped at the steps I couldnt hear her feet
Caddy
I heard her feet then my hand touched her not warm
not cool just still her clothes a little damp still
do you love him now
not breathing except slow like far away breathing
Caddy do you love him now
I dont know
outside the grey light the shadows of things like dead
things in stagnant water
I wish you were dead
do you you coining in now
are you thinking about him now
I dont know
tell me what youre thinking about tell me
stop stop Quentin
you shut up you shut up you hear me you shut up are
you going to shut up
all right I will stop well make too much noise
III kill you do you hear
lets go out to the swing theyll hear you here
Im not crying do you say Im crying
no hush now well wake Benjy up
you go on into the house go on now
I am dont cry Im bad anyway you cant help it
theres a curse on us its not our fault is it our fault
tush come on and go to bed now
you cant make me theres a curse on us
THE SOUND AIN"D THE FURY *7/
finally I saw him he was just going into the barbershop
he looked out I went on and waited
Ive been looking for you two or three days
you wanted to see me
Im going to see you
he rolled the cigarette quickly with about two motions
he struck the match with his thumb
we cant talk here suppose I meet you somewhere
111 come to your room are you at the hotel
no thats not so good you know that bridge over the
creek in there back of
yes all right
at one oclock right
yes
I turned away
Im obliged to you
look
I stopped looked back
she all right
he looked like he was made out of bronze his
shirt
she need me for anything now
I'll be there at one
she heard me tell T. P. to saddle Prince at one oclocfc
she kept watching me not eating much she came too
what are you going to do
nothing cant I go for a ride if I want to
/oure going to do something what is it
none of your business whore whore
T. P. had Prince at the side door
I wont want him Im going to walk
I went down the drive and out the gate I turned into
the lane then I ran before I reached the bridge I saw him
leaning on the rail the horse was hitched in the woods he
THE SOUKD AND THE FUBY
lacked over his shoulder then he turned his back he didnt
look np until I came onto the bridge and stopped he had
a piece of bark in his hands breaking pieces from it and
dropping them over the rail into the water
I came to tell you to leave town
he broke a piece of bark deliberately dropped it care-
fully into the water watched it float away
I said you must leave town
he looked at me
did she send you to me
I say you must go not my father not anybody I say it
listen save this for a while I want to know if shes all
right have they been bothering her up there
thats something you dont need to trouble yourself
about
then I heard myself saying 111 give you until sundown
to leave town
he broke a piece of bark and dropped it into the water
then he laid the bark on the rail and rolled a cigarette
with those two swift motions spun the match over the
rail
what will you do if I dont leave
111 kill you dont think that just because I look like a
kid to you
the smoke flowed in two jets from his nostrils across his
face
how old are you
I began to shake my hands were on the rail I thought if
I hid them hed know why
111 give you until tonight
listen buddy whats your name Benjys the natural isnt
lie you are
Quentin
my mouth said it I didnt say it at all
THE SOUND AHD THE FURY 1 7?
Ill give you till sundown
Quentin
lie raked the cigarette ash carefully off against the rail
he did it slowly and carefully like sharpening a pencil my
hands had quit shaking
listen no good taking it so hard its not your fault lad
it would have been some other fellow
did you ever have a sister did you
no but theyre all bitches
I hit him my open hand beat the impulse to shut it to
his face his hand moved as fast as mine the cigarette went
over the rail I swung with the other hand he caught it too,
before the cigarette reached the water he held both my
wrists in the same hand his other hand flicked to his arm-
pit under his coat behind him the sun slanted and a bird
singing somewhere beyond the sun we looked at one an-
other while the bird singing he turned my hands loose
look here
he took the bark from the rail and dropped it into the
water it bobbed up the current took it floated away his
hand lay on the rail holding the pistol loosely we waited
you cant hit it now
no
it floated on it was quite still in the woods I heard the
bird again and the water afterward the pistol came up he
didnt aim at all the bark disappeared then pieces of it
floated up spreading he hit two more of them pieces of
bark no bigger than silver dollars
thats enough I guess
he swung the cylinder out and blew into he barrel a
thin wisp of smoke dissolved he reloaded the three
chambers shut the cylinder he handed it to me butt first
what for I wont try to beat that
i8o THE SOUND AND THE FURY
youll need it from what you said Im giving you this
one because youve seen what itll do
to hell with your gun
I hit him I was still trying to hit him long after he was
holding my wrists but I still tried then it was like I was
looking at him through a piece of coloured glass I could
bear my blood and then 1 could see the sky again and
branches against it and the sun slanting through them
and he holding me on my feet
did you hit me
I couldnt hear
what
yes how do you feel
al right let go
he let me go I leaned against the rail
do you feel all right
let me alone Im all right
can you make it home all right
go on let me alone
youd better not try to walk take iny horse
no you go on
you can hang the reins on the pommel and turn him
loose he'll go back to the stable
let me alone you go on and let me alone
I leaned on the rail looking at the water I heard him
untie the horse and ride off and after a while I couldnt
hear anything but the water and then the bird again I
left the bridge and sat down with my back against a tree
and leaned my head against the tree and shut my eyes a
patch of sun came through and fell across my eyes and I
moved a little further around the tree I heard the bird
again and the water and then everything sort of rolled
away and I didnt feel anything at all I felt almost good
THE SOUND ANB THE PITHY l8l
after all those days and the nights with honeysucHe com-
ing up out of the darkness into my room where I was
trying to sleep even when after a while I knew that he
hadnt hit me that he had lied about that for her sake too
and that I had just passed out like a girl but even that
didnt matter anymore and I sat there against the tree
with little flecks of sunlight brushing across my face like
yellow leaves on a twig listening to the water and not
thinking about anything at all even when I heard the
horse coining fast I sat there with my eyes closed and
heard its feet bunch scattering the hissing sand and feet
running and her hard running hands
fool fool are you hurt
I opened my eyes her hands running on my face
I didnt know which way until I heard the pistol I didnt
know where I didnt think he and you running off slip-
ping I didnt think he would have
she held my face between her hands bumping my
head against the tree
stop stop that
I caught her wrists
quit that quit it
I knew he wouldnt I knew he wouldnt
she tried to bump my head against the tree
I told him never to speak to me again I told him
she tried to break her wrists free
let me go
stop it I'm stronger than you stop it now
let me go Ive got to catch him and ask his let me go
Quentin please let me go let me go
all at once she quit her wrists went lax
yes I can tell him I can make him believe anytime I can
make him
THE SOUXD AZSTB THE FURY
Caddy
she faadnt hitched Prince he was liable to strike out foi
home if the notion took him
anytime he will believe me
do you love him Caddy
do I what
she looked at me then everything emptied out of her
eyes and they looked like the eyes in the statues blank
and unseeing and serene
put your hand against my throat
she took my hand and held it fiat against her throat
now say his namo
Dalton Ames
I felt the first surge of blood there it surged in strong
accelerating beats
say it again
her face looked off into the trees where the sun slanted
and where the bird
say it again
Dalton Ames
her blood surged steadily beating and beating against
my hand
It kept on running for a long time, but my face felt
cold and sort of dead, and my eye, and the cut place on
my finger was smarting again. I could hear Shreve work-
ing the puxnp ? then he came back with the basin and a
round blob of twilight wobbling in it, with a yellow edge
like a fading balloon., then my reflection. I tried to see
my face in it.
"Has it stopped?" Shreve said. "Give me the rag." He
tried to take it from my hand.
"Look out," I said, "I can do it Yes, it's about stopped
now." I dipped the rag again, breaking the balloon. The
rag stained the water* "I wish I had a clean one/'
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
"You need a piece of beefsteak for that eye/' Shreve
said. "Damn if you wont have a sMner tomorrow. The
son of a bitch/' he said.
"Did I hurt him any?" I wrung out the handkerchief
and tried to clean the blood off of my vest
"You cant get that off/' Shreve said. "You'll have to
send it to the cleaner's. Come on, hold it on your eye^
why dont you."
*1 can get some of it off/* I said. But I wasn't doing
much good. "What sort of shape is my collar in?"
"I dont know/* Shreve said, "Hold it against your eye.
Here."
"Look out/' I said. "I can do it. Did I hurt him any?*'
"You may have hit him. I may have looked away just
then or blinked or something. He boxed the hell out of
you. He boxed you all over the place. What did you want
to fight him with your fists for? You goddamn fool. How
do you feel?"
"I feel fine/' I said. "I wonder if I can get something
to clean my vest."
"Oh, forget your damn clothes. Does your eye hurt? 9 *
"I feel fine/' I said. Everything was sort of violet and
still, the sky green paling into gold beyond the gable of
the house and a plume of smoke rising from the chimney
without any wind. I heard the pump again. A man was
filling a pail, watching us across his pumping shoulder. A
woman crossed the door, but she didnt look out. I could,
hear a cow lowing somewhere.
"Come on/' Shreve said, "Let your clothes alone and
put that rag on your eye. I'll send your suit out first thing
tomorrow."
"All right. I'm sorry I didn't bleed on him a little, at
least."
"Son of a bitch/' Shreve said, Spoade came out of
1*4 THE SOUND AKB THE FUBY
house, talking to the woman I reckon, and crossed the
yard. He looked at me with his cold, quizzical eyes.
'Well, bud/' he said, looking at me, "I'll be damned if
you dont go to a lot of trouble to have your fun. Kid-
napping, then fighting. What do you do on your holi-
days? burn houses?"
Tm all right,' 7 I said. "What did Mrs Bland say?"
"She's giving Gerald hell for bloodying you up. She'll
give you heH for letting him, when she sees you. She dont
object to the fighting, it's the blood that annoys her. I
think you lost caste with her a little by not holding your
blood better. How do you feel?"
"Sure," Shreve said, "If you cant be a Bland, the next
best thing is to commit adultery with one or get drunk
and fight him, as the case may be."
"Quite right," Spoade said. "But I didnt know Quentin
Was drunk"
"He wasnt/' Shreve said. "Do you have to be drunk to
want to hit that son of a bitch?"
"Well, I think I'd have to be pretty drank to try it,
after seeing how Quentin came out. Where'd he learn to
box?"
"He's been going to Mike's every day, over in town,"
I said.
"He has?" Spoade said. "Did you know that when you
hit him?"
1 dont know," I said. *T guess so. Yes."
*Wet it again," Shreve said. "Want some fresh water?"
"This is all right," I said, I dipped the cloth again and
teld it to my eye. "Wish I had something to clear* my
vest" Spoade was still watching me.
"Say," he said, 'What did you hit him for? What was
It he said?"
*I do* know T dont know why I did."
THE SOUND AND THE FZIXY
"The first I knew was when you jumped up all of a
Sudden and said, TMd you ever have a sister? did you?*
and when he said No, you hit him. I noticed yon kept
on looking at him, but you didnt seem to be paying
attention to what anybody was saying until you jumped
up and asked him if he had any sisters/*
"Ah, he was blowing off as usual/' Shreve said, "about
his women. You know: like he does, before girls, so they
dont know exactly what he's saying. All his damn innu-
endo and lying and a lot of stuff that dont make sense
even. Telling us about some wench that he made a date
with to meet at a dance hall in Atlantic City and stood
her up and went to the hotel and went to bed and how
he lay there being sorry for her waiting on the pier for
him, without him there to give her what she wanted,
Talking about the body's beauty and the sorry ends
thereof and how tough women have it, without anything
else they can do except lie on their backs. Leda lurking
in the bushes, whimpering and moaning for the swan 5
see. The son of a bitch. I'd hit him myself. Only Td
grabbed up her damn hamper of wine and done it if ft
had been me/'
"Oh," Spoade said, "the champion of dames. Bud, yoi2
excite not only admiration, but horror/' He looked at me^
cold and quizzical. "Good God/' he said.
"I'm sorry I hit him/' I said. "Do I look too bad to go
back and get it over with?"
"Apologies., hell/* Shreve said, "Let them go to hell
We're going to town."
"He ought to go back so they'll know he fights like a
gentleman/' Spoade said. "Gets licked like one ? I mean. 53
"Like tBis?" Shreve said, "With his clothes all oveS
blood?"
"Why, all right/' Spoade said, "You know best/*
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"He cant go around in his undershirt,'* Shreve said,
**He*s not a senior yet Come on, let* s go to town."
"You neednt come/* I said. "You go on back to the pic-
nic."
"Hell with them/* Shreve said. "Come on here."
<c Whatll I tell them?" Spoade said. "Tell them you and
Quentin had a fight too?"
'Tell them nothing/' Shreve said. 'Tell her her option
expired at sunset. Come on, Quentin. Ill ask that woman
where the nearest interurban "
"No," I said, "I'm not going back to town."
Shreve stopped, looking at me. Turning, his glasses
looked like small yellow moons.
'What are you going to do?"
Tm not going back to town yet. You go on back to
the picnic. Tell them I wouldnt come back because my
clothes were spoiled."
"Look here/' he said, 'What are you up to?"
"Nothing, I'm all right You and Spoade go on back.
fll see you tomorrow." I went on across the yard, to-
ward the road.
"Do you know where the station is?" Shreve said.
Til find it 111 see you all tomorrow. Tell Mrs Bland
Fin sorry I spoiled her party." They stood watching me.
I went around the house. A rock path went down to the
joad. Roses grew on both sides of the path. I went
through the gate, onto the road. It dropped downhill, to-
ward the woods, and I could make out the auto beside
the road. I went up the Ml. The light increased as I
mounted, and before I reached the top I heard a car. It
Bounded far away across the twilight and I stopped and
listened to it I couldnt make out the auto any longer,
but Shreve was standing in the road before the house,
looking up the hill. Behind him th^ yellow light lay like
THE SOUKD AND THE FITEY I7
a wash of paint on the roof of the house. I lifted my
hand and went on over the hill, listening to the car. 1 hen
the house was gone and I stopped in the green and yel-
low light and heard the car growing louder and louder,
until just as it began to die away it ceased all together. I
waited until I heard it start again. Then I went on.
As I descended the light dwindled slowly, yet at the
same time without altering its quality, as if I and not
light were changing, decreasing, though even when the
road ran into trees you could have read a newspaper.
Pretty soon I came to a lane. I turned into it. It was
^Joser and darker than the road, but when it came out al
Jae trolley stop another wooden marquee the light
was still unchanged. After the lane it seemed brighter, as
though I had walked through night in the lane and come
out into morning again. Pretty soon the car came. I got
on it, they turning to look at my eye, and found a seat on
the left side.
The lights were on in the car, so while we ran between
trees I couldnt see anything except my own face and a
woman acros-s the aisle with a hat sitting right on top of
her head, with a broken feather in it, but when we ran
ut of the trees I could see the twilight again, that qual-
ity of light as if time really had stopped for a while, with
the sun hanging just under the horizon, and then we
passed the marquee where the old man had been eating
out of the sack, and the road going on under the twilight,
into twilight and the sense of water peaceful and swift
beyond. Then the car went on, the draught building
steadily up in the open door until it was drawing steadily
through the car with the odour of summer and darkness
except honeysuckle. Honeysuckle was the saddest odour
of all, I think. I remember lots of them. Wistaria was one.
On the rainy days when Mother wasnt feeling quite bad
THE SOUKB ANB THE FUBY
-enough, to stay away from die windows we used to play
tinder It When Mother stayed in bed Dllsey would put
old clothes on us and let us go out in the rain because
she said rain never hui-t young folks. But if Mother was
lip we always began by playing on the porch until she
said we were making too much noise, then we went out
and played under the wistaria frame.
This was where I saw the river for the last time this
morning, about here* I could feel water beyond the twi-
light, smell. When it bloomed in the spring and it rained
the smell was everywhere you didnt notice it so much at
other times but when it rained the smell began to come
Into the house at twilight either it would rain more at
twilight or there was something in the light itself but it
always smelled strongest then until I would lie in bed
thinking when will it stop when will it stop. The draft
in the door smelled of water, a damp steady breath.
Sometimes I could put myself to sleep saying that over
and over until after the honeysuckle got all mixed up in
it the whole thing came to symbolise night and unrest
1 seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking
down a long corridor of grey halflight where all stable
things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done
sliadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic
and perverse mocking without relevance inherent them.4
selves with the denial of the significance they should have
affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not
who.
I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk
and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tide-
flats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them
lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like
butterflies hovering a long way off. Benjamin the child
of. How he used to sit before that mirror. Refuge un'
THE SOUND AHB THE FURY 185
failing in which conflict tempered silenced reconciled
Benjamin the child of mine old age held hostage into
Egypt. O Benjamin. Dilsey said it was because Mother
was too proud for him. They come into white people's
lives like that in sudden sharp black trickles that isolate
white facts for an instant in unarguable truth like undei
a microscope; the rest of the time just voices that laugh
when you see nothing to laugh at, tears when no reason
for tears. They will bet on the odd or even number of
mourners at a funeral. A brothel full of them in Memphis
went into a religious trance ran naked into the street. It
took three policemen to subdue one of them. Yes Jesus
good man Jesus O that good man.
The car stopped, I got out, with them looking at my
eye. When the trolley came it was full. I stopped on the
back platform.
"Seats up front/' the conductor said. I looked into the
car. There were no seats on the left side. ,
"I'm not going far/* I said. "Ill just stand here."
We crossed the river. The bridge, that is, arching slow
and high into space, between silence and nothingness
where lights yellow and red and green trembled in
the clear air, repeating themselves.
"Better go up front and get a seat/' the conductor said.
"I get off pretty soon/' I said. "A couple of blocks/*
I got off before we reached the postoffice. They'd all
be sitting around somewhere by now though, and then
1 was hearing my watch and I began to listen for the
chimes and I touched Shreve's letter through my coat,
the bitten shadows of the elms flowing upon my hand.
And then as I turned into the quad the chimes did begin
and I went on while the notes came up like ripples on a
pool and passed me and went on, saying Q uarter to
what? All right. Quarter to what
19 THE 8OUK"B AND THE FTJUY
Our windows were dark. The entrance was empty. I
walked close to the left wall when I entered, but it was
empty; just the stairs curving up into shadows echoes of
feet in lie sad generations like light dust upon the shad-
ows, my feet waking them like dust, lightly to settle
again.
I could see the letter before I turned the light on,
propped against a book on the table so I would see it
Calling him my husband. And then Spoade said they
were going somewhere, would not be back until late,
and Mrs Bland would need another cavalier. But I would
have seen him and he cannot get another car for an hour
because after six oclock. I took out my watch and lis-
tened to it clicking away, not knowing it couldnt even
lie. Then I laid it face up on the table and took Mrs
Eland's letter and tore it acioss and dropped the pieces
into the waste basket and took off my coat, vest, collar.
tie and shirt. The tie was spoiled too, but then niggers
Maybe a pattern of blood he could call that the one
Christ was wearing. I found the gasoline in Shreve's room
and spread the vest on the table, where it would be flat,
and opened the gasoline.
the first car in town a girl Girl thafs what Jason
couldnt bear smett of gasoline making him sick then g$
madder than ever because a girl Girl had no sister but
Benjamin Benjamin the child of my sorrowful if I'd ju$t
had a mother so I could say Mother Mother It took a lot
of gasoline, and then I couldnt tell if it was still the stain
or just the gasoline. It had started the cut to smarting
again so when I went to wash I hung the vest on a chair
and lowered the light cord so that the bulb would be
drying the splotch. I washed my face and hands, but
even then I could smell it within the soap stinging, con-
stricting the nostrils a little. Then I opened the bag and
THE SOTTED A1STB THE FCJBY 19 1
took the shirt and collar and tie out and put the bloody
ones in and closed the bag, and dressed. WMle I was
brushing my hair the half hour went But there was until
the three quarters anyway, except suppose seeing oil the
pushing darkness only his own face no broken feather tm~
less two of them but not two like that going to Bottom
the same night then my face his face for an instant across
the crashing when out of darkness two lighted windows
in rigid fleeing crash gone his face and mine just I sm
saw did I see not goodbye the marqt^ee empty of eatmg
the road empty in darkness in sdence the bridge arching
mto silence darkness sleep the water peaceful and swift
not goodbye
I turned out the light and went into my bedroom, out
of the gasoline but I could still smell it. I stood at the
window the curtains moved slow out of the darkness
touching my face like someone breathing asleep, breath-
ing slow into the darkness again, leaving the touch. Aftef
they had gone up stairs Mother lay back in her chaw, the
camphor handkerchief to her mouth. Father hadnt
moved he still sat beside her holding her hand the bei*
lowing hammering away like no place far U in silence
When I was little there was a picture in one of our books,
a dark place into which a single weak ray of light came
slanting upon two faces lifted out of the shadow. You
know what Fd do if 1 were King? she never was a queea
or a fairy she was always a king or a giant or a general
rd break that place open and drag them out and Fd
whip them good It was torn out, Jagged out. I was glad.
Fd have to turn back to it until the dungeon was
Mother herself she and Father upward into weak light
holding hands and us lost somewhere below even them
without even a ray of light Then the honeysuckle got
into it As soon as I turned off the light and tried to go to
THE SOITHD A2STB THE FUKY
sleep It would begin to come into the room in waves
building and building up until I would have to pant to
get any air at all out of it until I would have to get up
and feel my way like when I was a little boy hands can
see touching in the mind shaping unseen door Door now
nothing hands can see My nose could see gasoline, the
vest on the table, the door. The corridor was still empty
of all the feet in sad generations seeking water, yet the
eyes unseeing clenched like teeth not disbelieving doubt-
ing even the absence of pain shin ankle knee the long in-
visible flowing of the stair-railing where a misstep in th$
darkness filled with sleeping Mother Father Caddy Jason
Maury door I am not afraid only Mother Father Caddy
Jason Maury getting so far ahead sleeping I will sleep
fast when I door Door door It was empty too, the pipes,
the porcelain, the stained quiet walls, the throne of con-
templation, I had forgotten the glass, but I could hands
can see cooling fingers invisible swan-throat where less
than Moses rod the glass touch tentative not to drum-
ming lean cool throat drumming cooling the metal the
glass fuE overfutt cooling the glass the fingers flushing
deep leaving the taste of dampened sleep in the long si-
lence of the throat I returned up the corridor, waking the
lost feet in whispering battalions in the silence, into the
gasoline, the watch telling its furious lie on the dark
table. Then the curtains breathing out of the dark upon
my face, leaving the breathing upon my face. A quarter
hour yet. And then I'll not be. The peacefulest words.
Peacefulest words. Non fuL Sum. Fui. Non sum. Some-
where I heard bells once. Mississippi or Massachusetts. I
was. I am not. Massachusetts or Mississippi. Shreve has a
bottle in his trunk, Arent you even going to open it Mr
and Mrs Jason Richmond Gompson announce the Three
times. Days. Arent you even gatnp to open it marriage of
THE SOUISTD AND THE FURY
their daughter Candace that liquor teaches you to con*
fuse the means with the end, I am. Drink. I was not Let
us seU Benjy's pasture so that Quentin may go to Har-
vard and I may knock my bones together and togetner. I
will be dead in. Was it one year Caddy said. Shrev, ~ lias a
bottle in his trunk. Sir I will not need Shreve's I have sold
Benjy's pasture and I can be dead in Harvard Caddy
said in the caverns and the grottoes of the sea tumbling
peacefully to the wavering tides because Harvard is such
a fine sound forty acres is no high price for a fine sound,
A fine dead sound we will swap Benjy's pasture for a fine
dead sound. It will last him a long time because he can-
not hear it unless he can smell it as soon as she came in
the door he began to cry I thought all the time it was
just one of those town squirts that Father was always
teasing her about until. I didnt notice him any more than
any other stranger drummer or what thought they were
army shirts until all of a sudden I knew he wasn't think-
ing of me at all as a potential source of harm, but was
thinking of her when he looked at me was looking at me
through her like through a piece of coloured glass why
must you meddle with me dont you know it wont do any
good I thought youd have left that for Mother and
Jason
did Mother set Jason to spy on you I wouldnt have.
Women only use other people's codes of honour it's be-
cause she loves Caddy staying downstairs even when she
was sick so Father couldnt kid Uncle Maury before Ja-
son Father said Uncle Maury was too poor a classicist
to risk the blind immortal boy in person he should have
chosen Jason because Jason would have made only the
same kind of blunder Uncle Maury himself would have
made not one to get Him a black eye the Patterson boy
was smaller than Jason too they sold the kites for a nickel
194 THE SOUXD AND THE FURY
apiece until the trouble over finances Jason got a new
partner still smaller one small enough anyway because
T. P. said Jason still treasurer but Father said why should
Uncle Maury work if he father could support five or six
niggers that did nothing at all but sit with their feet in
the oven he certainly could board and lodge Uncle
Maury now and then and lend him a little money who
kept his Father's belief in the celestial derivation of his
own species at such a fine heat then Mother would cry
and say that Father believed his people were better than
hers that he was ridiculing Uncle Maury to teach us the
same thing she couldnt see that Father was teaching us
that all men are just accumulations dolls stuffed with
sawdust swept up from th^ trash heaps where all pre-
vious dolls had been thrown away the sawdust flowing
from what wound in what side that not for me died not,
It used to be I thought of death as a man something like
Grandfather a friend of his a kind of private and par-
ticular friend like we used to think of Grandfather's desk
not to touch it not even to talk loud in the room where it
was I always thought of them as being together some-
where all th time waiting for old Colonel Sartoris to
come down and sit with them waiting on a high nlace be-
yond cedar trees Colonel Sartoris was on a still higher
place looking out across at something and they were
waiting for him to get done looking at it and come down
Grandfather wore his uniform and we could hear the
murmur of their voices from beyond the cedars they were
always talking and Grandfather was always right.
The three quarters began. The first note sounded,
measured and tranquil, serenely peremptory, emptying
the unhurried silence for the next one and that's it if peo-
ple could only change one another forever that way
merge like a flame swirling up for an instant then blown
THE SOUISrD AKB THE FURY
cleanly out along the cool eternal dark instead of lying
there trying not to think of the swing until all cedars
came to have that vivid dead smell of perfume that
Benjy hated so. Just by imagining the clump It seemed to
me that I could hear whispers secret surges smell the
beating of hot blood under wild unsecret flesh watching
against red eyelids the swine un tethered in pairs rushing
coupled into the sea and lie we must just stay awake
and see evil done for a little while its not always and i it
doesnt have to be even that long for a man of courage
and he do you consider that courage and i yes sir dont
you and lie every man is the arbiter of his own virtues
whether or not you consider it courageous is of more im-
portance than tie act itself than any act otherwise you
could not be in earnest and i you dont believe i am seri-
ous and he i think you are too serious to give me any
cause for alarm you wouldnt have felt driven to the ex-
pedient of telling me you have committed incest other-
wise and i i wasnt lying i wasnt lying and he you wanted
to sublimate a piece of natural human folly into a horror
and then exorcise it with truth and i it was to isolate her
out of the loud world so that it would have to flee us of
necessity and then the sound of it would be as though it
had never been and he did you try to make her do it and
i i was afraid to i was afraid she might and then it
wouldnt have done any good but if i could tell you we
did it would have been so and then the others wouldnt
be so and then the world would roar away and he and
now this other you are not lying now either but you are
still blind to what is in yourself to that part of general
truth the sequence of natural events and their causes
which shadows every mans brow even benjys you are not
thinking of finitude you are contemplating an apotheosis
in which a temporary state of mind will become
THE SOUND A^"D THE FURY
symmetrical above the flesh, and aware both of itself and
of the flesh it will not quite discard you will not even be
dead and i temporary and he you cannot bear to think
that someday it will no longer hurt you like this now
were getting at it you seem to regard it merely as an ex-
perience that will whiten your hair overnight so to speak
without altering your appearance at all you wont do it
under these conditions it will be a gamble and tibe
strange thing is that man who is conceived by accident
and whose every breath is a fresh cast with dice already
loaded against him will not face that final main which he
knows before hand he has assuredly to face without es-
saying expedients ranging all the way from violence to
petty chicanery that would not deceive a child until
someday in very disgust he risks everything on a single
blind turn of a card no man ever does that under the first
fury of despair or remorse or bereavement he does it
only when he has realised that even the despair or re-
morse or bereavement is not particularly important to the
dark diceman and i temporary and he it is hard believing
to think that a love or a sorrow is a bond purchased with-
out design and which matures willynilly and is recalled
without warning to be replaced by whatever issue the
gods happen to be floating at the time no you will not
do that until you come to believe that even she was not
quite worth despair perhaps and i i will never do that
nobody knows what i know and he i think youd better
go on up to Cambridge right away you might go up into
maine for a month you can afford it if you are careful it
might be a good thing watching pennies has healed more
scars than jesus and i suppose i realise what you believe i
will realise up there next week or next month and he
then you will remember that for you to go to harvard
has been your mothers dream since you were born and
THE SOUND AND THE FUEY 197
no compson lias ever disappointed a lady and i tempo-
rary it will be better for me for all of us and he every
man is the arbiter of his own virtues but let no man pre-
scribe for another mans wellbeing and i temporary and
he was the saddest word of all there is nothing else in the
world its not despair until time its not even time until
it was
The last note sounded. At last it stopped vibrating and
the darkness was still again. I entered the sitting room
and turned on the light. I put my vest on. The gasoline
was faint now, barely noticeable, and in the mirror the
stain didnt show. Not like my eye did, anyway. I put on
my coat. Shreve's letter crackled through the cloth and I
took it out and examined the address, and put it in my
side pocket. Then I carried the watch into Shreve's room
and put it in his drawer and went to my room and got
a fresh handkerchief and went to the door and put my
hand on the light switch. Then I remembered I hadnt
brushed my teeth, so I had to open the bag again. I
found my toothbrush and got some of Shreve's paste and
went out and brushed my teeth, I squeezed the brush as
dry as I could and put it back in the bag and shut it,
and went to the door again. Before I snapped the
light out I looked around to see if there was anything
else, then I saw that I had forgotten my hat. I'd have to
go by the postoffice and I'd be sure to meet some of them,
and they'd think I was a Harvard Square student making
like he was a senior. I had forgotten to brush it too, but
Shreve had a brush, so I didnt have to open the bag any
more.
APRIL
6
1928
ONCE A BITCH ALWAYS A BITCH, WHAT I SAY. I SAYS
you're lucky if her playing out of school is all that
worries you. I says she ought to be down there in that
kitchen right now, instead of up there in her room, gob-
bing paint on her face and waiting for six niggers that
cant even stand up out of a chair unless they've got a
pan full of bread and meat to balance them, to fix break-
fast for her. And Mother says,
"But to have the school authorities tihink that I have
no control over her, that I cant "
<c Well," I says, **You cant, can you? You never have
tried to do anything with her," I says, "How do you ex-
pect to begin this late, when she's seventeen years old?* 9
She thought about that for a while.
"But to have them think that ... I didn't even know
she had a report card. She told me last fall that they had
quit using them this year. And now for Professor Junkin
to call me on the telephone and tell me if she's absent
one more time, she will have to leave school. How does
she do it? Where does she go? You're down town all day;
you ought to see her if she stays on the streets.*"
198
THE SOUND AND THE FURT
"Yes," I says, "If she stayed on the streets. I dont reckon
she'd be playing out of school just to do something she
could do in public/' I says.
"What do you mean?" she says.
"I dont mean anything," I says. "I Just answered your
question." Then she begun to cry again, talking about
how her own flesh and blood rose up to curse her
"You asked me/' I says.
"I dont mean you/* she says. "You are the only one of
them that isn't a reproach to me/'
"Sure/* I says, "I never had tune to be. I never had
time to go to Harvard like Quentin or drink myself into
the ground like Father. I had to work. But of course if
you want me to follow her around and see what she does,
I can quit the store and get a job where I can work at
night. Then I can watch her during the day and you can
use Ben for the night shift."
**I know I'm just a trouble and a burden to you/' ske
says, crying on the pillow.
"I ought to know it," I says. "You've been telling me
that for thirty years. Even Ben ought to know it now. Do
you want me to say anything to her about it?"
"Do you think it will do any good?'' she says.
"Not if you come down there interfering just when I
get started/* I says. "If you want me to control her ? just
say so and keep your hands off. Everytime I try to, you
come butting in and then she gives both of us the laugh.**
"Remember she's your own flesh and blood/* she says.
"Sure/* I says, "that's just what I'm thinking of flesh.
And a little blood too, if I had my way. When people act
like niggers, no matter who they are the only thing to
do is treat them like a nigger."
"I'm afraid you'll lose your temper with her," she says.
"Well," I says, "You haven't had much luck with your
200 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
system. You want me to do anything about it, or not?
Say one way or the other; I've got to get on to work/'
"I know you have to slave your life away for us," she
says. "You know if I had my way, you'd have an office of
your own to go to, and hours that became a Bascomb,
Because you are a Bascomb, despite your name. I know
that if your father could have foreseen "
'Well/ 7 I says, "I reckon he's entitled to guess wrong
now and then, like anybody else, even a Smith or a
Jones/* She begun to cry again.
To hear you speak bitterly of your dead father," she
says.
"All right/* I says, "all right. Have it your way. But as
I haven't got an office, I'll have to get on to what I have
got. Do you want me to say anything to her?"
"I'm afraid you'll lose your temper with her," she says.
"All right," I says, "I wont say anything, then."
"But something must be done," she says. "To have peo-
ple think I permit her to stay out of school and run about
the streets, or that I cant prevent her doing it. ... Jason,
Jason," she says, "How could you. How could you leave
me with these burdens."
"Now, now," I says, "You'll make yourself sick. Why
dont you either lock her up all day too, or turn her over
to me and quit worrying over her?"
"My own flesh and blood," she says, crying. So I says,
"All right, I'll tend to her. Quit crying, now."
"Dont lose your temper," she says. "She's just a child,
remember."
"No," I says, "I wont." I went out, closing the door.
"Jason," she says. I didn't answer. I went down the
hall. "Jason," she says beyond the door. I went on down
stairs. There wasn't anybody in the diningroom, then I
THE SOUND AHB THE FTJKY 201
heard her in the kitchen. She was trying to make Dilsej
let her have another cup of coffee. I went in.
"I reckon that's your school costume, is it?" I says. "Or
maybe today's a holiday?"
"Just a half a cup, Dilsey/' she says. "Please."
"No, suh," Dilsey says, "I aint gwine do it. You aint got
no business wid mo'n one cup, a seventeen year old gal,
let lone whut Miss Cahline say. You go on and git
dressed for school, so you kin. ride to town wid Jason.
You fixin to be late again/*
"No she's not," I says. "We're going to fix that right
now." She looked at me, the cup in her hand. She
brushed her hair back from her face, her kimono slipping
off her shoulder. "You put that cup down and come in
here a minute," I says.
"What for?" she says.
"Come on," I says. "Put that cup in the sink and come
in here."
"What you up to now, Jason?" Dilsey says.
"You may think you can run over me like you do your
grandmother and everybody else," I says, "But youll find
out different. I'll give you ten seconds to put that cup
down like I told you."
She quit looking at me. She looked at Dilsey. 'What
time is it, Dilsey?" she says. "When it's ten seconds, you
whistle. Just a half a cup, Dilsey, pi "
I grabbed her by the arm. She dropped the cup. It
broke on the floor and she jerked back, looking at me,
but I held her arm. Dilsey got up from her chair.
"You, Jason," she says,
"You turn me loose/' Quentin says, Til slap you."
"You will, will you?" I says, "You will will yoii?" She
slapped at me. I caught that hand too and held her like
102 THE SOUKD ANB TBCE FUBY
a wildcat 'You will, will yon?" I says. "You think you
will?"
Ton, Jason! 7 * Dilsey says. I dragged her into the din-
ingroom. Her kimono came unfastened,, flapping about
her; damn near naked. Dilsey came hobbling along. I
tamed and kicked the door shut in her face.
"You keep out of here," I says.
Quentin was leaning against the table, fastening her
kimono. I looked at her.
"Now," I says, "I want to know what you mean, play-
ing out of school and telling your grandmother lies and
forging her name on your report and worrying her sick.
What do you mean by it?"
She didn't say anything. She was fastening her kimono
up under her chin, pulling it tight around her, looking at
me. She hadn't got around to painting herself yet and
her face looked like she had polished it with a gun rag. I
went and grabbed her wrist. "What do you mean?" I
says.
"None of your damn business/* she says. "You turn me
loose.'*
Dilsey came in the door. "You, Jason/* she says.
"You get out of here, like I told you/' I says, not even
looking back. "I want to know where you go when you
play out of school," I says. "You keep off the streets, or
I'd see you. Who do you play out with? Are you hiding
out in the woods with one of those damn slick-headed
jellybeans? Is that where you go?"
*You you. old goddamn!" she says. She fought, but I
held her. "You damn old goddamn!'" she says.
"Til show you/* I says. "You may cai* scare an old
woman off, but I'll show you who's got hold of you now/'
I held her with one hand, then she quit fighting and
watched me, her eyes getting wide and black.
THE SOTJ^D AND THE FIJBY 203
**What are you going to do?" she says.
**You wait until I get this belt out and 111 show you/'
I says, pulling my belt out. Then Dilsey grabbed my arm.
"Jason," she says, "You, Jasonl Aint you shamed of
yourself."
"Dilsey," Quentin says, "Dilsey."
"I aint gwine let him," Dilsey says, "Dont you worry,
honey." She held to iny aim. Then the belt came out
and I jerked loose and flung her away. She stumbled into
the table. She was so old she couldn't do any more than
move hardly. But that's all right: we need somebody in
the kitchen to eat up the grub the young ones cant tote
off. She came hobbling between us, trying to hold me
again. "Hit me, den," she says, "e nothin else but hittin
somebody wont do you. Hit me," she says.
"Yon think I wont?" I says.
"I dont put no devilment beyond you," she says. Then
I heard Mother on the stairs. I might have known she
wasn't going to keep out of it. I let go. She stumbled
back against the wall, holding her kimono shut.
"All right," I says, "Well just put this off a while. But
dont think you can run it over me. I'm not an old woman,
nor an old half dead nigger, either. You damn little slut,**
I says.
"Dilsey," she says, "Dilsey, I want my mother."
Dilsey went to her. "Now, now," she says, "He aint
gwine so much as lay his hand on you while Ise here.*"
Mother came on down the stairs.
"Jason," she says, "Dilsey."
"Now, now," Dilsey says, "I aint gwine let him tech
you." She put her hand on Quentin. She knocked it
down.
"You damn old nigger," she says. She ran toward
door.
204 THE SOUISTB AND THE
"Dilsey/' Mother says on the stairs. Quentin ran up the
stairs, passing her. "Quentin," Mother says, "You, Quen-
tin/' Quentin ran on. 1 could hear her when she reached
the top, then in the hall. Then the door slammed.
Mother had stopped. Then she came on. "Dilsey/* she
says.
"All right/' Dilsey says, *lse comin. You go on and git
dat car and wait now," she says, "so you kin cahy her to
school."
"Dont you worry," I says. Til take her to school and
Tm going to see that she stays there. I've started this
thing, and I'm going through with it."
"Jason," Mother says on the stairs.
"Go on, now," Dilsey says, going toward the door. "You
want to git her started too? Ise comin, Miss Cahline."
I went on out. I could hear them on the steps. "You go
on back to bed now," Dilsey was saying, "Dont you
know you aint feeling well enough to git up yet? Go on
back, now. Fm gwine to see she gits to school in time."
I went on out the back to back the car out, then I
had to go all the way round to the front before I found
them.
"I thought I told you to put that tire on the back of
the car/' I says.
"I aint had time," Luster says. "Aint nobody to watch
him till mammy git done in de kitchen."
"Yes," I says, "I feed a whole damn kitchen full of nig-
gers to follow around after him, but if I want an automo-
bile tire changed, I have to do it myself."
"I aint had nobody to leave him wid," he says. Then
he begun moaning and slobbering.
"Take him on round to the back," I says. "What the
hell makes you want to keep him around here where peo-
ple can see him?" I made them go on, before he got
SOUND AXD THE FUKY
started bellowing good. It's bad enough on Sundays, with
that damn field full of people that haven't got a side
show and six niggers to feed, knocking a damn oversize
mothball around. He's going to keep on running up and
down that fence and bellowing every time they come in
sight until first thing I know they're going to begin
charging me golf dues, then Mother and Dilseyll have t<T
get a couple of china door knobs and a walking stick
and work It out, unless I play at night with a lantern.
Then they'd send us all to Jackson, maybe. God knows,
they'd hold Old Home week when that happened.
I went on back to the garage. There was the tire, lean-
ing against the wall, but be damned if I was going to put
it on. I backed out and turned around. She was standing
by the drive. I says,
"I know you haven't got any books: I just want to ask
you what you did with them, if it's any of my business.
Of course I haven't got any right to ask," I says, "I'm just
the one that paid $11.65 for them last September."
"Mother buys my books," she says. 'There's not a cent
of your money on me. I'd starve first."
"Yes?" I says. <4 You tell your grandmother that and see
what she says. You dont look all the way naked," I says s
"even if that stuff on your face does hide more of you
than anything else you've got on/*
"Do you think your money or hers either paid for a
cent of this?" she says.
"Ask your grandmother/' I says. "Ask her what became
of those checks. You saw her bum one of them, as I re-
member." She wasn't even listening, with her face all
gummed up with paint and her eyes hard as a fice dog's.
"Do you know what I'd do if I thought your money
or hers either bought one cent of this?'* she says, putting
her hand on her dress.
06 THE SOUND AND THE FUEY
"What would you do?' I says, 'Wear a barrel?"
*Td tear it right off and throw it into the street, ** she
says. "Dont you believe me?"
"Sure you would/* I says. "You do It every time/'
"See if I wouldn't/* She says. She grabbed the neck of
her dress In both hands and made like she would tear it
"You tear that dress/* 1 says, "And I'll give you a whip-
ping right here that you'll remember all your life/*
"See if I dont/' she says. Then I saw that she really
was trying to tear it, to tear it right off of her. By the
time I got the car stopped and grabbed her hands there
Was about a dozen people looking. It made me so mad
for a minute It kind of blinded me.
**You do a thing like that again and I'll make you sorry
you ever drew breath/* I says.
"I'm sorry now/* she says. She quit, then her eyes
turned kind of funny and I says to myself if you cry here
in this car, on the street, I'll whip you. I'll wear you out
Lucky for her she didn't, so I turned her wrists loose and
drove on. Luckily we were near an alley, where I could
turn into the back street and dodge the square. They
were already putting the tent up In Beard's lot. Earl had
already given me the two passes for our show windows.
She sat there with her face turned away, chewing her
lip. *Tm sorry now/* she says. "I dont see why I was ever
born."
"And I know of at least one other person that dont un-
derstand all he knows about that/' I says. I stopped in
front of the school house. The bell had rung, and the last
of them were just going in. "You're on time for once, any-
way," I says. "Are you going in there and stay there, or
am I coming with you and make you?" She got out and
banged the door. "Remember what I say/* I says ? "I mean
it Let me hear one more time that you are slipping up
THE SOTJXD AND THE FURY
and down back alleys with, one of those damn squirts.""
She turned back at that. "I dont slip around," she says,
"I dare anybody to know everything I do.'*
"And they all know it, too/' I says. "Everybody in this
town knows what you are. But I wont have it anymore,
you hear? I dont care what you do, myself/' I says, "But
I've got a position in this town, and I'm not going to
have any member of my family going on like a nigger
wench. You hear me?"
"I dont care," she says, "I'm bad and I'm going to hell,
and I dont care. I'd rather be in hell than anywhere
where you are."
"If I hear one more time that you haven't been to
school, you'll wish you were in hell," I says. She turned
and ran on across the yard. "One more time, remember/'
I says. She didn't look back.
I went to the postoffice and got the mail and drove on
to the store and parked. Earl looked at me when I came
in. I gave him a chance to say something about my being
late, but he just said,
"Those cultivators have come. You'd better help Uncle
Job put them up."
I went on to the back, where old Job was uncrating
them, at the rate of about three bolts to the hour.
"You ought to be working for me/ ? I says. "Every othei
no -count nigger in town eats in my kitchen. w
"I works to suit de man whut pays me Sat'dy night/'
he says. "When I does dat, it dont leave me a whole lot
of time to please other folks." He screwed up a nut. "Aint
nobody works much in dis country cep de boll-weevil,
noways," he says.
**You'd better be glad you're not a boll- weevil waiting
on those cultivators," I says. "You'd work yourself to
death before they'd be ready to prevent you."
THE SOUXB AND THE FURY
TDat's de troof," he says, "Boll-weevil got tough time.
Work ev'y day in de week out in de hot sun, rain er
shine. Aint got no front porch to set on en watch de wat-
termilyuns growin and Safdy dont mean nothin a-tall to
him."
"Saturday wouldn't mean nothing to you, either,"
I says, "if it depended on me to pay you wages. Get those
things out of the crates now and drag them inside."
1 opened her letter first and took the check out. Just
like a woman. Six days late. Yet they try to make men be-
lieve that they're capable of conducting a business,
How long would a man that thought the first of the
month came on the sixth last in business. And like as
not, when they sent the bank statement out, she would
want to know why I never deposited my salary until the
sixth. Things like that never occur to a woman.
"I had no answer to my letter about Quentin's easter
dress. Did it arrive all right? IVe had no answer to the
last two letters I wrote her, though the check in the
second one was cashed with the other check. Is she
sick? Let me know at once or I'll come there and see
for myself. You promised you would let me know
when she needed things. I will expect to hear from you
before the 10th. No you'd better wire me at once. You
are opening my letters to her. I know that as well as if
I were looking at you. You'd better wire me at once
about her to this address."
About that time Earl started yelling at Job, so I put
them away and went over to try to put some Hfe into
him. What this country needs is white labour. Let these
damn trifling niggers starve for a couple of years, then
they'd see what a soft thing they have.
A1STB TBtE
Along toward ten oclock I went up front There was a
drummer there. It was a couple of minutes to ten, and I
invited him up the street to get a coca-cola. We got to
talking about crops.
"There's nothing to it," I says, "Cotton is a speculator's
crop. They fill the fanner full of hot air and get him to
raise a big crop for them to whipsaw on the market, to
trim the suckers with. Do you think the farmer gets any-
thing out of it except a red neck and a hump in his back?
You think the man that sweats to put it into the ground
gets a red cent more than a bare living," I says. "Let him
make a big crop and it wont be worth picking; let him
make a small crop and he wont have enough to gin. And
what for? so a bunch of damn eastern jews, I'm not talk-
ing about men of the Jewish religion," I says, "Tva
known some jews that were fine citizens. You might be
one yourself/' I says.
"No," he says, "I'm an American."
"No offense," I says. "I give every man his due, regard-
less of religion or anything else. I have nothing against
jews as an individual," I says. "It's just the race. You'll ad-*
mit that they produce nothing. They follow the pioneer?
into a new country and sell them clothes."
"You're thinking of Armenians/' he says, "aren't you. A
pioneer wouldn't have any use for new clothes.'*
"No offense," I says. "I dont hold a man's religion
against him."
"Sure," he says, "I'm an American. My folks have some
French blood, why I have a nose like this. I'm an Amer-
ican, all right."
"So am I," I says. "Not many of us left. What I'm talk-
ing about is the fellows that sit up there in New York
and trim the sucker gamblers."
210 THE SOUND A!N"D THE FURY
'"That's right," he says. "Nothing to gambling, for a
poor man. There ought to be a law against it."
"Den-*, you think I'm right?" I says.
<er es/' he says, "I guess you're right. The farmer catches
it coming and going/'
"I know I'm right/* I says. "It's a sucker game, unless a
man gets inside information from somebody that knows
what's going on. I happen to be associated with some
people who're right there on the ground. They have one
of the biggest manipulators in New York for an adviser.
Way I do it/' I says, "I never risk much at a time. It's the
fellow that thinks he knows it all and is trying to make a
killing with three dollars that they're laying for. That's
why they are in the business."
Then it struck ten. I went up to the telegraph office. It
opened up a little, just like they said. I went into the
comer and took out the telegram again, just to be sure.
While I was looking at it a report came in. It was up two
points. They were all buying. I could tell that from what
they were saying. Getting aboard. Like they didn't know
it could go but one way. Like there was a law or some-
thing against doing anything but buying. Well, I reckon
those eastern jews have got to live too. But I'll be
damned if it hasn't come to a pretty pass when any damn
foreigner that cant make a living in the country where
God put him, can come to this one and take money
right out of an American's pockets. It was up two points
more. Four points. But hell, they were right there and
.knew what was going on. And 5f I wasn't going to take
the advice, what was I paying them ten dollars a month
for. I went out, then I remembered and came back and
sent the wire. "All well. Q writing today."
"Q?" the operator says.
"Yes," I says, "Q. Cant you spell Q?"
THB SOUND AND THE FURY
6 I just asked to be sure/' he says.
"You send it like I wrote it and 111 guarantee you to be
sure/* I says. "Send it collect"
**What you sending, Jason?" Doc Wright says, looking
over my shoulder. "Is that a code message to buy?"
"That's all right about that," I says. "You boys use
your own judgment You know more about it than those
New York folks do."
'Well, I ought to/' Doc says, "I'd a saved money this
year raising it at two cents a pound."
Another report came in. It was down a point.
"Jason's selling/' Hopkins says. "Look at his face/*
"That's all right about what I'm doing/' I says. *Yom
boys follow your own judgment. Those rich New Yoric
jews have got to live like everybody eke/* I says.
I went on back to the store. Earl was busy up front
I went on back to the desk and read Lorraine's letter,
"Dear daddy wish you were here* No good parties when
daddys out of town I miss my sweet daddy." I reckon
she does. Last time I gave her forty dollars. Gave it to
her. I never promise a woman anything nor let her know
what I'm going to give her. That's the only way to man-
age them. Always keep them guessing. If you cant think
of any other way to surprise them, give them a bust in
the jaw.
I tore it up and burned it over the spittoon. I make
it a rule never to keep a scrap of paper bearing a
woman's hand, and I never write them at aU. Lorraine is
always after me to write to her but I says anything I for-
got to tell you will save till I get to Memphis again but
I says I dont mind you writing me now and then in a
plain envelope, but if you ever try to call me up on the
telephone, Memphis wont hold you I says. I says when
Fm up there I'm one of the boys, but I m not going to
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
ha/e any woman calling me on the telephone. Here I
says, giving her the forty dollars. If you ever get drunk
and take a notion to call me on the phone, just remember
this and count ten before you do it.
"When 1 that be?" she says.
"What?" I says.
"When you're coming back," Llie says.
Til let you know/' I says. Then she tried to buy a beer,
but I wouldn't let her. "Keep your mo-iey,'" I says. "Buy
yourself a dress with it." I gave the m id a five, too. After
all, like I say money has no value; it's just the way you
spend it. It dont belong to anybody, so why tiy to hoard
it It just belongs to the man that can gv; ic and keep it
There's a man right here in Jefferson znc.cis a lot of money
selling rotten goods to niggers, lived in a loom over the
store about the size of a pigpen 3 and did ids own cook-
ing. About four or five years sgo he was taken sick.
Scared the hell out of him so that when he was up again
he joined the church and bought himself a Chinese mis-
sionary, five thousand dollars a year. 1 often think how
mad hell be if he was to die and find cut there's not any
heaven, when he thinks about that five thousand a year.
Like I say, he'd better go on and die now and save
money.
When it was burned good I was just about to shove
the others into my coat when all of a sudden something
told me to open Quentin's before I went home, but about
that time Earl started yelling for me up front, so I put
them away and went and waited on the damn red-
neck while he spent fifteen minutes deciding whether
he wanted a twenty cent hame string or a thirty-five cent
one.
"You'd better take that good one," I says. "How do you
THE SOTJXD AND THE FURY
fellows ever expect to get ahead, trying to work with
cheap equipment?"
"If this one aint any good," he says, ^why have you
got it on sale?"
"I didn't say it wasn't any good/ 7 1 says, *1 said it's not
as good as that other one."
"How do you know it's not," he says. "You ever use airy
one of them?"
"Because they dont ask thirty-five cents for it," I says.
That's ho\v I know it's not as good."
He held the twenty cent one in his hands, drawing if
through his fingers. "I reckon 111 take this hyer one/' he
says. I offered to take it and wrap it, but he rolled it up
and put it in his overalls. Then he took out a tobacco
sack and finally got it untied and shook some coins out
He handed me a quarter. "That fifteen cents wiU buy me
a snack of dinner/' he says.
"All right," I says, "You're the doctor. But dont come
complaining to me next year when you have to buy a
new outfit."
"I aint makin next year's crop yit," he says. Finally I
got rid of him, but every time I took that letter out some-
tiling would come up. They were all in town for the
show, coming in in droves to give their money to some-
thing that brought nothing to the town and wouldn't
leave anything except what those grafters in the Mayor's
office will split among themselves, and Earl chasing back
and forth like a hen in a coop, saying "Yes, ma'am, Mr
Compson will wait on you. Jason, show this lady a
chum or a nickel's worth of screen hooks/'
Well, Jason likes work. I says no I never had university
advantages because at Harvard they teach you how to
go for a swim at night without knowing how to swim
THE SOUXD AND THE FURY
and at Sewanee they dont even teach you what water is.
I says you might send me to the state University; maybe
1*11 learn how to stop my clock with a nose spray and
then you can send Ben to the Navy I says or to the
cavalry anyway, they use geldings in the cavalry. Then
when she sent Quentin home for me to feed too I says I
guess that's right too, instead of me having to go way up
north for a job they sent the job down here to me and
then Mother begun to cry and I says it's not that I have
any objection to having it here; if it's any satisfaction to
you I'll quit work and nurse it myself and let you and
Dilsey keep the flour barrel full, or Ben. Rent him out to
a sideshow; there must be folks somewhere that would
pay a dime to see him, then she cried more and kept say-
ing my poor afflicted baby and I says yes hell be quite
a help to you when he gets his growth not being more
than one and a half times as high as me now and she says
she'd be dead soon and then we'd all be better off and so
I says all right, all right, have it your way. It's your
grandchild, which is more than any other grandparents
.it's got can say for certain. Only I says it's only a question
of time. If you believe shell do what she says and not try
to see it, you fool yourself because the first time that was
that Mother kept on saying thank God you are not a
Coznpson except in name, because you are all I have left
now, you and Maury, and I says well I could spare Uncle
Maury myself and then they came and said they were
ready to start Mother stopped crying then. She pulled
her veil down and we went down stairs. Uncle Maury
was coming out of the diningroom, his handkerchief to
his mouth. They kind of made a lane and we went out
the door just in time to see Dilsey driving Ben and T. P.
back around the corner. We went down the steps and got
in. Uncle Maury kept saying Poor little sister, poor little
TECB SOUXD AA T B TEE FU&Y 21 J
sister, talking around his mouth and patting Mother's
hand. Talking around whatever it was.
"Have you got your band on?" she says. **Why dont
they go on, before Benjamin comes out and makes a
spectacle. Poor little boy. He doesn't know. He cant even
realise/*
'There, there/* TJnele Maury says, patting her hand,
talking around his mouth. "It's better so. Let him be un-
aware o bereavement until he has to/ 7
"Other women have their children to support them in
times like this,** Mother says.
**You have Jason and me," he says.
"It's so terrible to me/' she says, "Having the two of
them like this, in less than two years."
'There, there," he says. After a while he kind of
sneaked his hand to his mouth and dropped them out
the window. Then I knew what I had ben smelling.
Clove stems. I reckon he thought that the Imst he could
do at Father's funeral or maybe the sideboard thought it
was still Father and tripped him up when he passed
Like I say, if he had to sell something to send Quentin to
Harvard we'd all been a damn sight better off if he'd
sold that sideboard and bought himself a one-armed
strait jacket with part of the money. I reckon the reason
all the Compson gave out before it got to me like Mother
says, is that he drank it up. At least I never heard of
him offering to sell anything to send me to Harvard.
So he kept on patting her hand and saying TPoor little
sister," patting her hand with one of the black gloves that
we got the bill for four days later because it was the
twenty-sixth because it was tie same day one month that
Father went up there and got it and brought it home
and wouldn't tell anything about where she was or any-
thing and Mother crying and saying "And you didn't
it6 THE SOUND AKB THE FUBY
even see him? You didn't even try to get him to make any
provision for it?" and Father says "No she shall not touch
Ms money not one cent of it" and Mother says "He can
be forced to by law. He can prove nothing, unless Ja-
son Compson," she says, "Were you fool enough to tell *
"Hush, Caroline/' Father says, then he sent me to help
Dilsey get that old cradle out of the attic and I says,
"Well, they brought my job home tonight" because all
the time we kept hoping they'd get things straightened
out and he'd keep her because Mother kept saying she
would at least have enough regard for the family not to
jeopardize my chance after she and Quentin had had
theirs.
"And whar else do she belong?" Dilsey says, "Who
else gwine raise her 'cep me? Aint I raised eve'y one of
y'all?"
"And a damn fine job you made of it," I says. "Anyway
itll give her something to sure enough worry over now.~
So we carried the cradle down and Dilsey started to set
it up in her old room. Then Mother started sure enough.
"Hush, Miss Cahline," Dilsey says, "You gwine wake
her up."
"In there?" Mother says, "To be contaminated by that
atmosphere? It'll be hard enough as it is, with the herit-
age she already has."
"Hush," Father says, "Dont be silly."
"Why aint she gwine sleep in here," Dilsey says, "In
the same room whar I put her ma to bed ev'y night of
her life since she was big enough to sleep by herself. 5 "
"You dont know," Mother says, "To have my own
daughter cast off by her husband. Poor little innocent
baby," she says, looking at Quentin. "You will never
know the suffering you've caused."
"Hush. Caroline," Father says.
THE SOUXD ANB THE FTJBY
"What you want to go on like that fo Jason fer?"
sey says.
"I've tried to protect him,** Mother says. *Tve always
tried to protect him from it At least I can do my best to
shield her."
"How sleepin in dis room gwine hurt her, I like to
know," Dilsey says.
*1 cant help it/' Mother says. "I know I'm just a trou-
blesome old woman. But I know that people cannot flout
God's laws with impunity."
"Nonsense," Father said. "Fix it in Miss Caroline's
room then, Dilsey ."
"You can say nonsense/' Mother says. "But she must
never know. She must never even learn that name. Dil-
sey, I forbid you ever to speak that name in her hearing.
If she could grow up never to know that she had a
mother, I would thank God."
"Done be a fool/' Father says.
"I have never interfered with the way you brought
them up/' Mother says, "But now I cannot stand any-
more. We must decide this now, tonight. Either that
name is never to be spoken in her hearing, or she must
go, or I will go. Take your choice."
"Hush/' Father says, "You're just upset Fix it in here,
Dilsey."
"En you's about sick too," Dilsey says. "You looks like
a hant. You git in bed and I'll fix you a toddy and see
kin you sleep. I bet you aint had a full night's sleep since
you lef."
"No/* Mother says, "Dont you know what the doctor
says? Why must you encourage him to drink? That's
what's the matter with him now. Look at rne, I suffer
too, but I'm not so weak that I must kill myself with
whiskey."
<*lS THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"Fiddlesticks/" Father says, 'What do doctors know?
They make their livings advising people to do whatever
they are not doing at the time, which is the extent of any-
one's knowledge of the degenerate ape. You'll have a min-
ister in to hold my hand next." Then Mother cried, and
he went out. Went down stairs, and then I heard the
sideboard. I woke up and heard him going down again.
Mother had gone to sleep or something, because the
house was quiet at last. He was trying to be quiet too, be-
cause I couldn't hear him, only the bottom of his night-
shirt and his bare legs in front of the sideboard.
Dilsey fixed the cradle and undressed her and put her
in it She never had waked up since he brought her in
the house.
"She pretty near too big f er hit," Dilsey says. "Dar now.
I gwine spread me a pallet right acrost de hall, so you
wont need to git up in de night."
*1 wont sleep/ 7 Mother says. ""You go on home. I wont
mind. Til be happy to give the rest of my lif e to her, if I
can just prevent "
"Hush, now," Dilsey says. "We gwine take keer of her.
jfin you go on to bed too," she says to me, "You got to go
to school tomorrow."
So I went out, then Mother called me back and cried
on me awhile.
"You are my only hope," she says. "Every night I thank
God for you." While we were waiting there for them
to start she says Thank God if he had to be taken too, it
is you left me and not Quentin. Thank God you are not
a Compson, because all I have left now is you and Maury
and I says, Well I could spare Uncle Maury myself. Well,
he kept on patting her hand with his black glove, talking
away from her. He took them off when his turn with the
shovel came. He got up near the first, where they were
THE SOtJHB AND THE FURY
holding the umbrellas over them, stamping every now
and then and trying to kick the mud off their feet and
sticking to the shovels so they'd have to knock it off,
making a hollow sound when it fell on it, and when I
stepped back around the hack I could see him behind a
tombstone, taking another one out of a bottle. I thought
he never was going to stop because I had on my new suit
too, but it happened that there wasn't much mud on the
wheels yet, only Mother saw it and says I dont know
when you'll ever have another one and Uncle Maury
says, "Now, now. Dont you worry at all. You have me to
depend on, always/*
And we have. Always. The fourth letter was from him
But there wasn't any need to open it. I could have writ-
ten it myself, or recited it to her from memory, adding
ten dollars just to be safe. But I had a hunch about that
other letter. I just felt that it was about time she was up
to some of her tricks again. She got pretty wise after that
first time. She found out pretty quick that I was a differ-
ent breed of cat from Father. When they begun to get it
filled up toward the top Mother started crying sure
enough, so Uncle Maury got in with her and drove off.
He says You can come in with somebody; they'll be glad
to give you a lift. I'll have to take your mother on and
I thought about saying, Yes you ought to brought two
bottles instead of just one only I thought about where
we were, so I let them go on. Little they cared how wet
I got, because then Mother could have a whale of a time
being afraid I was taking pneumonia.
Well, I got to thinking about that and watching them
throwing dirt into it, slapping it on anyway like they
were making mortar or something or building a fence*,
and 1 began to feel sort of funny and so I decided to
walk around a while. I thought that if I went toward
220 TUB SOUKB AND THE E'TJRY
town they'd catch up and be trying to mafce me get in
one of them, so I went on back toward the nigger grave-
yard. I got under some cedars, where the rain didn't
come much, only dripping now and then, where I could
see when they got through and went away. After a while
they were all gone and I waited a minute and came out.
I had to follow the path to keep out of the wet grass so
I didn't see her until I was pretty near there, standing
there in a black cloak, looking at the flowers. I knew who
it was right off, before she turned and looked at me and
lifted up her veil.
"Hello, Jason/' she says, holding out her hand. We
shook hands.
'What are you doing here?" I says. "I thought you
promised her you wouldn't come back here. I thought
you had more sense than that."
"Yes?" she says. She looked at the flowers again. There
must have been fifty dollars* worth. Somebody had put
one bunch on Quentin's. 'Ton did?" she says.
*Tm not surprised though," I says. "I wouldn't put any-
thing past you. You dont mind anybody. You dont give
a damn about anybody."
"Oh," she says, "that job." She looked at the grave. *Tm
sorry about that, Jason."
"I bet you are," I says. "You'll talk mighty meek now.
But you needn't have come back. There's not anything
left. Ask Uncle Maury, if you dont believe me."
"I dont want anything," she says. She looked at the
grave, "Why didn't they let me know?" she says. "I just
happened to see it in the paper. On the back page. Just
happened to."
I didn't say anything. We stood there, looking at the
grave, and then I got to thinking about when we were
Bttle and one thing and another and I got to feeling
THE SOUKB AKD THE FtTBY 221
funny again, kind of mad or something, dunking about
now we'd have Uncle Maury around the house all the
time, running things like the way he left me to come
home in the rain by myself. I says,
"A fine lot you care, sneaking in here soon as he's dead,
But it wont do you any good. Dont think that you can
take advantage of this to come sneaking back If you
cant stay on the horse you've got, youll have to walk/' I
says, "We dont even know your name at that house," I
says. "Do you know that? We don't even know you with
him and Quentin," I says. "Do you know that?"
"I know it/' she says, "Jason," s ^- e says, looking at the
grave, "if you'll fix it so I can see her a minute I'll give
you fifty dollars."
"You haven't got fifty dollars," I says.
<c Will you?" she says, not looking at me.
'"Let's see it," I says. "I dont believe you've got fifty
dollars"
I could see where her hands were moving under hec
cloak, then she held her hand out. Damn if it wasn't full
of money. I could see two or three yellow ones.
"Does he still give you money?" I says. "How much
does he send you?"
"Ill give you a hundred," she says. "Will you?"
"Just a minute," I says, "And just like I say. I wouldn't
have her know it for a thousand dollars."
"Yes," she says. "Just like you say do it. Just so I see her
a minute. I wont beg or do anything. I'll go right OB
away."
"Give- me the money," I says.
"Ill give it to you afterward," she says.
"Dont you trust me? ? ' I says.
"No," she says. "I know you. I grew up with you."
a fine one to talk about trusting people/ 7 1 says.
222 THE SOXJXD A'ND THE PITHY
"Well/* 1 says, 1 got to get on out of the rain. Goodbye. 1
1 made to go away.
"Jason," she says. I stopped.
"Yes?" I says. "Hurry up. I'm getting wet"
"All right/' she says. "Here." There wasn't anybody in
sight. I went back and took the money. She still held to
It "You'll do it?" she says, looking at me from under the
veil, "You promise?"
"Let go," I says, *Tou want somebody to come along
and see us?"
She let go. I put the money in my pocket. <tf Youll do it,
[ason?** she says. "I wouldn't ask you, if there was any
other way."
"You're damn right there's no other way/' I says. "Sure
111 do it. I said I would, didn't I? Only you'll have to do
just like I say, now."
"Yes/* she says, *1 will." So I told her where to be, and
went to the livery stable. I hurried and got there just as
they were unhitching the hack. I asked if they had paid,
for it yet and he said No and I said Mrs Compson forgot
something and wanted it again, so they let me take it.
Mink was driving. I bought him a cigar, so we drove
around until it begun to get dark on the back streets
where they wouldn't see him. Then Mink said he'd have
to take the team on back and so I said I'd buy him an-
other cigar and so we drove into the lane and I went
across the yard to the house. I stopped in the hall until I
could hear Mother and Uncle Maury upstairs, then I
went on back to the kitchen. She and Ben were there with
Dilsey. I said Mother wanted her and I took her into the
house. I found Uncle Maury's raincoat and put it around
her and picked her up and went back to the lane and got
\u the hack. I told Mink to drive to the depot. He was
afraid to pass the stable, so we had to go the back way
SOUKD AND THE FUKY 223
and I saw her standing on the corner under the light and
I told Mink to drive close to the walk and when I said
Go on, to give the team a bat. Then I took the raincoat
off of her and held her to the window and Caddy saw
her and sort of jumped forward.
"Hit 'em, Mink!" I says, and Mink gave them a cut and
we went past her like a fire engine. "Now get on that
traiii like you promised," I says. I could see her running
after us through the back window. "Hit 'em again," 1
says, "Let's get on home." When we turned the comer
she was still running.
And so I counted the money again that night and put
it away, and I didn't feel so bad. I says I reckon that'll
show you. I reckon you'll know now that you cant beat
me out of a job and get away with it It never occurred
to me she wouldn't keep her promise and take that train.
But I didn't know much about them then; I didn't have
any more sense than to believe what they said, because
the next morning damn if she didn't walk right into the
store, only she had sense enough to wear the veil and not
speak to anybody. It was Saturday morning, because I
was at the store, and she came right on back to the desk
where I was, walking fast.
"Liar," she says, "Liar."
"Are you crazy?" I says. "What do you mean? coming
in here like this?" She started in, but I shut her off. I says,
"You already cost me one job; do you want rne to lose
this one too? If you've got anything to say to me, I'll
meet you somewhere after dark. What have you got to
say to me?" I says, "Didn't I do everything I said? I said
see her a minute, didn't I? Well, didn't you?" She just
stood there looking at me, shaking like an ague-fit, her
hands clenched and kind of jerking. "I did just what I
said I would/' I says, "You're the one that lied. You prom*
224 THE SOUXD AND THE
ised to take that train. Didn't you Didn't you promise?
If vou think yon can get that money back, just try it," I
says. "If it'd been a thousand dollars, you'd still owe me
after the risk I took. And if I see or hear you're still in
town after number 17 runs," I says, "111 tell Mother and
Uncle Maury. Then hold your breath until you see her
again/' She just stood there, looking at me, twisting her
hands together.
"Damn you," she says, "Damn you/*
"Sure/* I says, "That's all right too. Mind what I say,
now. After number 17, and I tell them/'
After she was gone I felt better. I says I reckon you'll
think twice before you deprive me of a job that was
promised me. I was a kid then. I believed folks when
they said they'd do things. I've learned better since. Be-
sides, like I say I guess I dont need any man's help to get
alono" I can stand on my own feet like I always have.
Then all of a sudden I thought of Dilsey and Uncle
Maury. I thought how she'd get around Dilsey and that
Uncle Maury would do anything for ten dollars. And
there I was, couldn't even get away from the store to pro-
tect my own Mother. Like she says, if one of you had to
be taken, thank God it was you left me I can depend on
you and I says well I dont reckon 111 ever get far enough
from the store to get out of your reach. Somebody's got
to hold on to what little we have left, I reckon.
So as soon as I got home I fixed Dilsey. I told Dilsey
she had leprosy and I got the bible and read where a
man's flesh rotted off and I told her that if she ever
looked at her or Ben or Quentin they'd catch it too. So I
thought I had everything all fixed until that day when I
carne home and found Ben bellowing. Raising hell and
nobody could quiet him. Mother said, Well, get him the
slipper then. Dilsey made out she didn't hear. Mother
THE SOc-Nl) AND THE FURY
said It again and 1 says I'd go I couldn't stand that damn
noise. Like I say I can stand lots of things I dont expect
much from them but if I have to work all day long in a
damn store damn if I dont think I deserve a little peace
and quiet to eat dinner in. So I says I'd go and Dilsey
says quick, "J ason *"
Well, like a flash I knew what was up, but just to
make sure I went and got the slipper and brought it back,
and just like I thought, when he saw it you'd thought we
were killing him. So I made Dilsey own up, then I told
Mother. We had to take her up to bed then, and after
things got quieted down a little I put the fear of God into
Dilsey. As much as you can into a nigger, that is. That's
the trouble with nigger servants, when they've been with
you for a long time they get so full of self importance
that they're not worth a damn. Think they run the whole
family.
"I like to know whut's de hurt in lettin dat po chile
see her own baby/' Dilsey says. "If Mr Jason was still
here hit ud be different."
"Only Mr Jason's not here/' I says. "I know you wont
pay me any mind, but I reckon you'll do what Mother
says. You keep on worrying her like this until you get her
into the graveyard too, then you can fill the whole house
full of ragtag and bobtail. But what did you want to let
that damn idiot see her for?"
"You's a cold man, Jason, if man you is," she says. "I
thank de Lawd I got mo heart dan dat, even ef hit is
black."
"At least I'm man enough to keep that flour barrel full/*
I says. "And if you do that again, you wont be eating out
of it either/'
So the next time I told her that if she tried Dilsey
again, Mother was going to fire Dilsey and send Ben to
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
Jackson and take Quentin and go away. She looked at
me for a while. There wasn't any street light close and 1
couldn't see her face much. But I could feel her looking
at me. When we were little when she'd get mad and
couldn't do anything about it her upper lip would begin
to jump. Everytime it jumped it would leave a little more
of her teeth showing, and all the time she'd be as still as
a post, not a muscle moving except her lip jerking
higher and higher up her teeth. But she didn't say any-
thing. She just said,
"All right How much?"
*WeIl, if one look through a hack window was "worth
a hundred," I says. So after that she behaved pretty well,
only one time she asked to see a statement of the bank
account.
"I know they have Mother's indorsement on them," she
says, "But I want to see the bank statement. I want to see
myself where those checks go."
"That's in Mother's private business," I says. "If you
think you have any right to pry into her private affairs
111 tell her you believe those checks are being misappro-
priated and you want an audit because you dont trust
her."
She didn't say anything or move. I could hear her
whispering Damn you oh damn you oh damn you.
"Say it out," I says, "I dont reckon it's any secret what
you and I think of one another. Maybe you want the
money back," I says.
"Listen, Jason/' she says, "Dont lie to me now. About
her. I wont ask to see anything. If that isn't enough, I'll
send more each month. Just promise that she'll that
she You can do that. Things for her. Be kind to her.
Little things that I cant, they wont let. . . . But you
wont You never had a drop of warm blood in you. Lis~
THE SOUXD AND THE FURY 227
ten," she says, "If you'll get Mother to let me have her
back, I'll give you a thousand dollars.**
"You haven't got a thousand dollars/' I says, "I know
you're lying now."
"Yes I have. I will have. I can get it"
"And I know how you'll get it/' I says, "You'll get it
the same way you got her. And when she gets big
enough '"' Then I thought she really was going to hit at
me, and then I didn't know what she was going to do.
She acted for a minute like some kind of a toy that's
wound up too tight and about to burst all to pieces.
"Oh, I'm crazy/' she says, "I'm insane. I can't take her.
Keep her. What am I thinking of. Jason/* she says, grab-
bing my arm. Her hands were hot as fever. "You'll have
to promise to take care of her, to She's kin to you; your
own flesh and blood. Promise, Jason. You have Father's
name: do you think I'd have to ask him twice? once,
even?"
"That's so/* I says, "He did leave me something. What
do you want me to do," I says, "Buy an apron and a go-
cart? I never got you into this/' I says. "I run more risk
than you do, because you haven't got anything at stake.
So if you expect **
"No/' she says, then she begun to laugh and to try to
hold it back all at the same time. "No. I have nothing at
stake/' she says, making that noise, putting her hands to
her mouth, "Nuh-nuh-nothing/' she says.
"Here," I says, "Stop that!"
"I'm trying to/' she says, holding her hands over her
mouth. "Oh God, oh God."
"I'm going away from here/' I says, "I cant be seen
here. You get on out of town now, you hear?"
"Wait/' she says, catching my arm. Tve stopped. I
wont again. You promise, Jason?" she says, and me feel-
228 THE SOXJND AND THE FTJBT
ing her eyes almost like they were touching my face,
"You promise? Mother that money If sometimes she
needs things If I send checks for her to you, other ones
besides those, you'll give them to her? You wont tell?
You'll see that she has things like other girls?"
"Sure," I says, "As long as you behave and do like I tell
you/-
And so when Earl came up front with his hat on he
says, *Tm going to step up to Rogers' and get a snack.
We wont have time to go home to dinner, I reckon."
"What's the matter we wont have time?" I says.
"With this show in town and all/' he says. "They're go-
ing to give an afternoon performance too, and they'll all
want to get done trading in time to go to it. So we'd
better just run up to Rogers."
^All right," I says, "It's your stomach. If you want to
make a slave of yourself to your business, It's all right
with me."
"I reckon you'll never be a slave to any business," he
says.
"Not unless it's Jason Compson's business," I says.
So when I went bacK and opened it the only thing that
surprised me was it was a money order not a check. Yes,
sir. You cant trust a one of them. After all the risk I'd
taken, risking Mother finding out about her coming down
here once or twice a year sometimes, and me having to
tell Mother lies about it. That's gratitude for you. And I
wouldn't put it past her to try to notify the postoffice not
to let anyone except her cash it. Giving a kid like that
fifty dollars. Why I never saw fifty dollars until I was
twenty-one years old, with all the other boys with the
afternoon off and all day Saturday and me working in a
store. Like I say, how can they expect anybody to control
her, with her giving her money behind our backs. She
TKE SOUND AND THE FITKY
has the same home you had I says, and the same raising.
1 reckon Mother is a better judge of what she needs than
you are, that haven't even got a home. *lf you want to
give her money/* I says, "You send it to Mother, dont be
giving it to her. If Fve got to run this risk every few
months, you'll have to do like I say, or it's out."
And just about the time I got ready to begin on it b^
cause if Earl thought I was going to dash up the street
and gobble two bits worth of indigestion on his account
he was bad fooled. I may not be sitting with my feet on a
mahogany desk but I am being paid for what I do inside
this building and if I can manage to live a civilised life
outside of it I'll go where I can. I can stand on my own
feet; I dont need any man's mahogany desk to prop me
up. So just about the time I got ready to start I'd have
to drop everything and run to sell some redneck a dime's
worth of nails or something, and Earl up there gobbling
a sandwich and half way back already, like as not, arid
then I found that all the blanks were gone. I remembered
then that I had aimed to get some more, but it was too
late now, and then I looked up and there Quentin came.
In the back door. I heard her asking old Job if I was
there. I just had time to stick them in the drawer and!
close it.
She came around to the desk. I looked at my watch.
"You been to dinner already?" I says. "It's just twelve;
I just heard it strike. You must have flown home and
back"
*Tm not going home to dinner/' she says. "Did I get a
letter today?"
''Were you expecting one?" I says. "Have you got a
sweetie that can write?"
"From Mother/* she says. "Did I get a letter from
Mother?" she says, looking at me.
230 THE SOUND AISTB THE FURY
"Mother got one from her/* I says. "I haven't opened
it. You'll have to wait until she opens it. Shell let you see
it, I imagine/*
"Please, Jason/* she says, not paying any attention^
"Did I get oner
"What's the matter?" I says. "I never knew you to be
this anxious about anybody. You must expect some
money from her/'
"She said she " she says. "Please, Jason/* she says,
"Did ir
"You must have been to school today, after all/* I says,
"Somewhere where they taught you to say please. Wait
a minute, while I wait on that customer/'
I went and waited on him. When I turned to come
back she was out of sight behind the desk. I ran. I ran
around the desk and caught her as she jerked her hand
out of the drawer. I took the letter away from her, beat-
ing her knuckles on the desk until she let go.
"You would, would you?" I says.
"Give it to me/' she says, "You've already opened it.
Give it to me. Please, Jason. It's mine. I saw the name.**
Til take a harne string to you," I says, "That's what 111
give you. Going into my papers."
"Is there some money in it?" she says, reaching for it.
"She said she would send me some money. She promised
she would. Give it to me/'
"What do you want with money?" I says.
"She said she would/' she says, "Give it to me. Please,
Jason. I wont ever ask you anything again, if you'll give
it to me this time."
"I'm going to, if you'll give me time/' I says. I took the
letter and the money order out and gave her the letter.
She reached for the money order, not hardly glancing at
the letter. "You'll have to sign it first," I says.
THE SOUND AND THE FUKY
"How much is it?" she says.
'Head the letter/' I says. "I reckon it'll say."
She read it fast, in about two looks.
"It dont say/* she says, looking up. She dropped the
letter to the floor. "How much is it?"
"It's ten dollars/* I says.
'Ten dollars?** she says, staring at me.
"And you ought to be damn glad to get that,** I says,
"A kid like you. What are you in such a rush for money-
all of a sudden for?"
"Ten dollars?** she says, like she was talking in her
sleep, "Just ten dollars?" She made a grab at the money
order. "You're lying," she says. "Thief!" she says, Thief r
"You would, would you?" I says, holding her off.
"Give it to me!** she says, "It's mine. She sent it to me. I
will see it. I will."
"You will?" I says, holding her, "How're you going to
do it?"
"Just let me see it, Jason/* she says, "Please. I wont ask
you for anything again.*'
"Think I'm lying, do you?" I says. "Just for that you
wont see it."
"But just ten dollars/' she says, "She told me she she
told me Jason, please please please. I've got to have
some money. IVe just got to. Give it to me, Jason. I'D
do anything if you will."
"Tell me what you've got to have money for," I says.
"I've got to have it," she says. She was looking at me.
Then all of a sudden she quit looking at me without
moving her eyes at all. I knew she was going to lie. "It's
some money I owe/* she says. "I've got to pay it. I've got
to pay it today/*
"Who to?" I says. Her hands were sort of twisting. I
could watch her trying to think of a lie to tell. "Have you
THE SOUND A^D THE FURY
been charging things at stores again?'* I says. "You
needn't bother to tell me that. If you can find anybody
in this town that!! charge anything to you after what I
told them, 111 eat it"
"It's a girl," she says, "It's a girl. I borrowed some
money from a girl. I've got to pay it back. Jason, give it
to me. Please. I'll do anything. I've got to have it. Mother
will pay you. Ill write to her to pay you and that I vont
ever ask her for anything again. You can see the letter.
Please, Jason. IVe got to have it."
'Tell me what you want with it, and 111 see about it,"
I says. "Tell me." She just stood there, with her hands
working against her dress. "All right," I says, "If ten dol-
lars is too little for you, 111 just take it home to Mother,
and yon know whatll happen to it then. Of course, if
you're so rich you dont need ten dollars 9>
She stood there, looking at the floor, kind of mumbling
to herself. "She said she would send me some money.
She said she sends money here and you say she dont send
any. She said she's sent a lot of money here. She says it's
for rne. That it's for me to have some of it. And you say
we haven't got any monej ."
"You know as much about that as I do," I says. "You've
seen what happens to those checks."
"Yes," she says, looking at the floor. "Ten dollars/' she
says, "Ten dollars."
"And you'd better thank your stars it's ten dollars," I
says. "Here," I says. I put the money order face down on
the desk, holding my hand on it, "Sign it."
'Will you let me see it?" she says. "I just want to look
at it. Whatever it says, I wont ask for but ten dollars. You
can have the rest. I just want to see it"
"Not after the way youVe acted," I says, "You've got to
learn one thing, and that is that when I tell you to do
THE SOUND AISTB THE :FTJRY 233
something, you've got it to do. You sign your name on
that line."
She took the pen, but instead of signing it she just
stood there with her head bent and the pen shaking In
her hand. Just like her mother. "Oh, God," she says, "oil,
God."
"Yes," I says, That's one thing you'll have to learn if
you never learn anything else. Sign it now, and get on
out of here."
She signed it. "Where's the money?" she says. I took
the order and blotted it and put it in my pocket Then I
gave her the ten dollars.
"Now you go on back to school this afternoon, you
hear?" I says. She didn't answer. She crumpled the bill
up in her hand like it was a rag or something and went
on out the front door just as Earl came in. A customer
came in with him and they stopped up front. I gathered
up the things and put on my hat and went up front.
"Been much busy?" Earl says.
"Not much," I says. He looked out the door,
"That your car over yonder?" he says. "Better not try te
go out home to dinner. We'll likely have another rush
just before the show opens. Get you a lunch at Rogers*
and put a ticket in the drawer."
"Much obliged," I says. "I can still manage to feed my-
self, I reckon."
And right there he'd stay, watching that door like a
hawk until I came through it again. Well, he'd just have
to watch it for a while; I was doing the best I could. The
time before I says that's the last one now; you'll have to
remember to get some more right away. But who can re-
member anything in all this hurrah. And now this damn
show had to come here the one day Yd have to hunt all
over town for a blank check, besides all the other tilings
234 THE ^OTXN"U A1STB THE
I had to do to keep the house running, and EaxI
watching the door Like a hawk.
I went to the printing shop and told him I wanted to
play a joke on a fellow, but he didn't have anything.
Then he told me to have a look in the old opera house,
where somebody had stored a lot of papers and junk out
of the old Merchants* and Farmers' Bank when it failed,
so I dodged up a few more alleys so Earl couldn't see me
and finally found old man Simmons and got the key from
him and went up there and dug around. At last I found
a pad on a Saint Louis bank. And of course she'd pick
this one time to look at it close. Well, it would have to
do. I couldn't waste any more time now.
I went back to the store. "Forgot some papers Mother
wants to go to the bank," I says. I went back to the desk
and fixed the check. Trying to hurry and all. I says to
myself it's a good thing her eyes are giving out, with that
little whore in the house, a Christian forbearing woman
like Mother. I says you know just as well as I do what
she's going to grow up into but I says that's your busi-
ness, if you want to keep her and raise her in your house
just because of Father. Then she would begin to cry and
say it was her own flesh and blood so I just says All
right. Have it your way. I can stand it if you can.
I fixed the letter up again and glued it back and went
out.
"Try not to be gone any longer than you can help,"
Earl says.
"All right/' I says. I went to the telegraph office. The
smart boys were all there.
"Any of you boys made your million yet?" I says.
**Who can do anything, with a market like that?" Doc
says.
"What's it doing?" I says. I went in and looked. It was
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY 235
three points under the opening. **You boys are not going
to let a little thing like the cotton market beat you, "are
you?" I says. TL thought you were too smart for that.**
"Smart, hell/' Doc says. "It was down twelve points at
twelve o'clock. Cleaned me out."
"Twelve points?" I says. "Why the hell didn't some-
body let me know? Why didn't you let me know?" I
says to the operator.
"I take it as it comes in/* he says. *Tm not running a
bucket shop/'
"You're smart, aren't you?" I says. "Seems to me, with
the money I spend with you, you could take time to call
me up. Or maybe your damn company's in a conspiracy
with those damn eastern sharks."
He didn't say anything. He made like he was busy.
"You're getting a little too big for your pants," I says.
"First thing you know you'll be working for a living."
"What's the matter with you?" Doc says. "You're still
three points to the good."
"Yes/' I says, "If I happened to be selling. I haven't
mentioned that yet, I think. You boys all cleaned out?"
"I got caught twice/' Doc says. "I switched just in
time."
"Well," I. O. Snopes says, "I've picked hit; I reckon
taint no more than fair fer hit to pick me once in a
while."
So I left them buying and selling among themselves at
a nickel a point. I found a nigger and sent him for my
car and stood on the corner and waited. I couldn't see
Earl looking up and down the street, with one eye on
the clock, because I couldn't see the door from here. Af *
ter about a week he got back with it.
"Where the hell have you been?" I says, "Riding
around where the wenches could see you?"
236' THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"I come straight as I could/' he says, "I had to drive
clean around the square, wid all dem wagons."
I never found a nigger yet that didn't have an airtight
alibi for whatever he did. But just turn one loose in a car
and he's bound to show off. I got in and went on around
the square. I caught a glimpse of Earl in the door across
the square.
I went straight to the kitchen and told Dilsey to hurry
up with dinner.
"Quentin aint come yit," she says.
"What of that?" I says. "You'll be telling me next that
Luster's not quite ready to eat yet. Quentin knows when
meals aae served in this house. Hurry up with it, now."
Mother was in her room. I gave her the letter. She
opened it and took the check out and sat holding it in
her hand. I went and got the shovel from the corner and
gave her a match. "Come on/' I says, "Get it over with.
You'll be crying in a minute."
She took the match, but she didn't strike it. She sat
there, looking at the check. Just like I said it would be.
"I hate to do it," she says, "To increase your burden by
adding Quentin. , . ,"
"I guess we'll get along," I says. "Come on. Get it over
with."
But she just sat there, holding the check.
"This one is on a different bank," she says. "They have
been on an Indianapolis bank."
'Yes,'* I says. 'Women are allowed to do that too."
"Do what?" she says.
"Keep money in two different banks," I says.
"Oh," she says. She looked at the check a while. *Tm
glad to know she's so , , , she has so much . . . God
sees that I am doing right," she says.
"Come on," 1 says, "Finish it. Get the fun over/*
THE SOTJXD AXB THE PTTBT
she says, "When I think *
"I thought you were burning this two hundred dollars
a month for fun," I says. "Come on, now. Want me to
strike the match?"
"I could bring myself to accept them/' she says, "For
my children's sake. I have no pride."
"You'd never "be satisfied,** I says, "You know you
wouldn't. You've settled that once, let it stay settled. We
can get along."
"I leave everything to you/* she says. "But sometimes 1
become afraid that in doing this I am depriving you all
of what is rightfully yours. Perhaps I shall be punished
for it. If you want me to, I wiH smother my pride and
accept them."
"What would be the good in beginning now, when
you've been destroying them for fifteen years?*' I says.
"If you keep on doing it, you have lost nothing, but if
you'd begin to take them now, you'll have lost fifty thou-
sand dollars. We've got along so far, haven't we?" I says.
"I haven't seen you in the poorhouse yet"'
"Yes/ 7 she says, "We Bascornbs need nobody's charity.
Certainly not that of a fallen woman."
She struck the match and lit the check and put it in
the shovel, and then the envelope, and watched them
burn.
"You dont know what it is," she says, "Thank God you
will never know what a mother feels,"
There are lots of women in this world no better than
her," I says.
"But they are not my daughters," she says. "It's not my-
self," she says, *Td gladly take her back, sins, and all, be-
cause she Js my flesh and blood. It's: for Quentin's sake."
Well, I could have said it wasn't much chance of any-
body hurting Quentin much, but like I say I dont expect
23$ THE SOUND AND THE FUSY
much but I do want to eat and sleep without a couple of
women squabbling and crying in the house.
"And yours/* she says. "I know how you feel toward
her/'
"Let her come back/* I says, "far as I'm concerned."
"No/' she says, "I owe that to your father's memory/*
"When he was trying all the time to persuade you to
let her come home when Herbert threw her out?" I says.
"You dont understand/' she says. "I know you dont
intend to make it more difficult for me. But it's my place
to suffer for my children," she says. "I can bear it*
"Seems to me you go to a lot of unnecessary trouble
doing it/' I says. The paper burned out. I carried it to the
grate and put it in. "It just seems a shame to me to burn
up good money/' I says.
"Let me never see the day when my children will have
to accept that, the wages of sin/ 7 she says. "I'd rather see
even you dead in your coffin first/"
"Have it your way/' I says, "Are we going to have din-
aer soon?" I says, "Because if we're not. 111 have to go on
back. We're pretty busy today. 3 * She got up. "I've told
her once/* I says. "It seems she's waiting on Quentin or
Luster or somebody. Here, I'll call her. Wait." But she
went to the head of the stairs and called.
"Quentin aint come yit/' Dilsey says.
"Well, 111 have to get on back/' I says. "I can get a
sandwich downtown. I dont want to interfere with Dil-
sey's arrangements," I says. Well, that got her started
again, with Dilsey hobbling and mumbling back and
forth, saying,
"All right, all right, Ise puttin hit on fast as I kin."
"I try to please you all," Mother says, "I try to make
things as easy for you as I can."
THE SOUND ANB THE FUXY
Tm not complaining, am I?" I says. THave I said a
word except I had to go back to work?"
*1 know," she says, "I know you haven't had the chance
the others had, that you've had to bury yourself in a
little country store. I wanted you to get ahead. I knew
your father would never realise that you were the only
one who had any business sense, and then when every-
thing else failed I believed that when she married, and
Herbert . . . after his promise . . /*
'Well, he was probably lying too," I says. TBe may not
have even had a bank. And if he had, I dont reckon he'd
have to come all the way to Mississippi to get a man for
5>
it
We ate awhile. I could hear Ben in the kitchen, where
Luster was feeding him. Like I say, if we've got to feed
another mouth and she wont take that money, why not
send him down to Jackson. Hell be happier there, with
people like him. I says God knows there's little enough
room for pride in this family, but it dont take much pride
to not like to see a thirty year old man playing around
the yard with a nigger boy, running up and down the
fence and lowing like a cow whenever they play golf
over there. I says if they'd sent him to Jackson at first
we'd all be better off today. I says, you've done youi
duty by him; youVe done all anybody can expect of you
and more than most folks would do, so why not send him
there and get that much benefit out of the tares we pay.
Then she says, 'Til be gone soon. I know I'm just a bur-
den to you" and I says "You've been saying that so long
that I'm beginning to believe you" only I says you'd bet-
ter be sure and not let me know you're gone because
I'll sure have him on number seventeen that night and
I says I think I know a place where they'll take her too
24 THE SOUND AND THE FUKT
and the name of it's not Milk street and Honey avenue
either. Then she begun to cry and I says All right all
right I have as much pride about my kinfolks as any-
body even if I dont always know where they come from.
We ate for awhile. Mother sent Dilsey to the front to
look for Quentin again.
"I keep telling you she's not coming to dinner/' I says.
"She knows better than that," Mother says, "She knows
I dont permit her to run about the streets and not come
borne at meal time. Did you look good, Dilsey?"
"Dont let her, then," I says.
"What can I do," she says. "You have all of you flouted
me. Always/'
"If you wouldn't come interfering, I'd make her mind,"
I says. "It wouldn't take me but about one day to
straighten her out."
"You'd be too brutal with her," she says. "You have
your Uncle Maury's temper."
That reminded me of the letter. I took it out
and handed it to her. "You wont have to open it," I says.
"The bank will let you know how much it is this time."
"It's addressed to you," she says.
"Go on and open it," I says. She opened it and read it
and handed it to me.
dear young nephew/ it says,
You will be glad to learn that I am now in a posi-
tion to avail myself of an opportunity regarding which,
for reasons which I will make obvious to you, I shall not
go into details until I have an opportunity to divulge it
to you in a more secure manner. My business experience
has taught me to be chary of committing anything of a
confidential nature to any more concrete medium than
speech, and my extreme precaution in this instance
THE SOUXD AND THE FUHY 241
should give you some inkling of its value. Needless to
say, I have just completed a most exhaustive examination
of all its phases, and I feel no hesitancy in telling you
that it is that sort of golden chance that comes but once
in a lifetime, and I now see clearly before me that goal
toward which I have long and unflaggingly striven: I.e.*
the ultimate solidification of my affairs by which I may
restore to its rightful position that family of which I have
the honour to be the sole remaining male descendant;
that family In which I have ever included your lady
mother and her children.
*As it so happens, I am not quite in a position to avail
myself of this opportunity to the uttermost which it war-
rants, but rather than go out of the family to do so, I am
today drawing upon your Mother's bank for the small
sum necessary to complement my own initial investment,
for which I herewith enclose, as a matter of formality, my
note of hand at eight percent per annum. Needless to
say, this is merely a formality, to secure your Mother in
the event of that circumstance of which man is ever the
plaything and sport. For naturally I shall employ this
sum as though it were my own and so permit your
Mother to avail herself of this opportunity which my ex-
haustive investigation has shown to be a bonanza if
you will permit the vulgarism of the first water and
purest ray serene.
This is in confidence, you will understand, from one
business man to another; we will harvest our own vine-
yards, eh? And knowing your Mother's delicate health
and that timorousness which such delicately nurtured
Southern ladies would naturally feel regarding matters of
busLisss, and their charming proneness to divulge unwit-
tingly such matters in conversation, I would suggest that
you do not mention it to her at all. On second thought, I
THE SOUSTD AND THE FUKY
advise you not to do so. It might be better to simply re-
store this sum to the bank at some future date, say, in a
lump sum with the other small sums for which I am in-
debted to her, and say nothing about it at all. It is our
duty to shield her from the crass material world as much
as possible*
*Your affectionate Uncle,
*Maury L. Bascomb/ "
"What do you want to do about it?" I says, flipping it
across the table.
"I know you grudge what I give him," she says.
"It's your money/' I says. *If you want to throw it to
the birds even, it's your business."
"He's my own brother/' Mother says. "He's the last Bas-
comb. When we are gone there wont be any more of
them."
'That'll be hard on somebody, I guess/* I says. "All
right, all right," I says, "It's your money. Do as you
please with it. You want me to tell the bank to pay it?"
T[ know you begrudge him/' she says. "I realise the
burden on your shoulders. When I'm gone it will be eas-
ier on you/*
"I could make it easier right now," I says. ""All right,
all right, I wont mention it again. Move all bedlam in
here if you want to."
"He's your own brother," she says, "Even if he is af-
flicted."
Til take your bank book/' I says. "I'll draw my
oheck today."
"He kept you waiting six days/* she says. "Are you
sure the business is sound? It seems strange to me that a
.solvent business cannot pay its employees promptly."
"He's all right/' I says, "Safe as a bank. I tell him not to
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
bother about mine until we get done collecting every
month. That's why it's late sometimes.**
"I just couldn't bear to have you lose the little I had to
invest for you," she says. "I've often thought that Earl is
not a good business man. T know he doesn't take you
into his confidence to the extent that your investment
in the business should warrant I'm going to speak to
him/*
"No, you let him alone/' I says. 'It's his business."
"You have a thousand dollars in it."
'Ton let him alone/' I says, 'Tm watching things. 1
iiave your power of attorney. It'll be all right."
"You dont know what a comfort you are to me," she
says. "You have always been my pride and joy, but when
you came to rne of your own accord and insisted on
banking your salary each month in my name, I thanked
God it was you left me if they had to be taken."
"They were all right," I says. "They did the best they
could, I reckon."
"When you talk that way I know you are thinking bit-
terly of your father's memory/* she says. "You have a
right to, I suppose. But it breaks rny heart to hear you."
I got up. "If you've got any crying to do," I says, "you'll
have to do it alone, because IVe got to get on back. Ill
get the bank book."
Til get it/' she says.
"Keep still/' I says, "I'll get it." I went upstairs and got
the bank book out of her desk and went back to town.
I went to the bank and deposited the check and the
money order and the other ten, and stopped at the tele-
graph office. It was one point above the opening. I had
already lost thirteen points, all because she had to come
helling in there at twelve, worrying me about that letter,
"What time did that report come in?" I says.
*44 THE SOUND AND THE
"About an hour ago/' hie says.
"An hour ago?" I says. "What are we paying you
I says, 'Weekly reports? How do you expect a man to do
anything? The whole damn top could blow off and we'd
not know it"
"I dont expect you to do anything/' he says. "They
changed that law making folks play die cotton market**
'They have/ 7 I says. "I hadn't heard. They must have
sent the news out over the Western Union/"
I went back to the store. Thirteen points. Damn if I
believe anybody knows anything about the damn thing
except the ones that sit back in those New York offices
and watch the country suckers come up and beg them to
take their money. Well, a man that just calls shows he
has no faith in himself* and like I say if you aren't going
to take the advice, what's the use in paying money for it
Besides, these people are right up there on the ground;
they know everything that's going on. I could feel the
telegram in rny pocket. I'd just have to prove that they
were using the telegraph company to defraud. That
would constitute a bucket shop. And I wouldn't hesitate
that long, either. Only be damned if it doesn't look like
a company as big and rich as the Western Union could
get a market report out on time. Half as quick as they'll
get a wire to you saying Your account closed out. But
what the hell do they care about the people. They're
hand in glove with that New York crowd. Anybody
could see that.
When I came in Earl looked at his watch. But he didn't
say anything until the customer was gone. Then he says,
"You go home to dinner?"
*1 had to go to the dentist/* I says because it's not any
of his business where I eat but I've got to be in the store
with him all the afternoon. And with his jaw running; 08
THE SOUND AND THE FUKY 245
after all I've stood. You take a little two by four country
storekeeper like I say it takes a man with just five hun-
dred dollars to worry about it fifty thousand dol-
lars* worth.
"You might have told me/' he says. "I expected you
back right away."
"I'll trade you this tooth and give you ten dollars to
boot, any time," I says. "Our agreement was an hour for
dinner/* I says, "and if you dont like the way I do, you
know what you can do about it."
"I've known that some time/* he says. "If it hadn't been
for your mother I'd have done it before now, too. She's a
lady I've got a lot of sympathy for, Jason. Too bad
some other folks I know cant say as much."
'Then you can keep it/' I says. "When we need any
sympathy 111 let you know in plenty of time/'
"I've protected you about that business a long time,
Jason/' he says.
"Yes?" I says, letting him go on. Listening to what h0
would say before I shut him up.
"I believe I know more about where that automobile
came from than she does."
"You think so, do you?" I says. "When are you going
to spread the news that I stole it from my mother?"
*1 dont say anything/' he says, "I know you have hex
power of attorney. And I know she still believes that
thousand dollars is in this business/'
"All right/' I says, "Since you know so much, 111 tell
you a little more: go to the bank and ask them whose ac-
count I've been depositing a hundred and sixty dollars
on the first of every month for twelve years."
"I dont say anything," he says, "I just ask you to be a
little more careful after this."
I never said anything more. It doesn't do any good.
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
I've found that when a man gets into a nit the best thing
yon can do is let him stay there. And when a man gets it
in his head that he's got to tell something on you for
your own good, good-night. I'm glad I haven't got the
sort of conscience I've got to nurse like a sick puppy all
the time. If I'd ever be as careful over anything as lie is
to keep his little shirt tail full of business from making
him more than eight percent. I reckon he thinks they'd
get him on the usury law if he netted more than eight
percent. What the hell chance has a man got, tied down
in a town like this and to a business like this. Why I
could take his business in one year and fix him so he'd
never have to work again, only he'd give it ail away to
the church or something. If there's one thing gets under
my skin, it's a damn hypocrite. A man that thinks any-
thing he dont understand all about must be crooked and
that first chance he gets he's morally bound to tell the
third party what's none of his business to tell. Like I say
if I thought every time a man did something I didn't
know all about he was bound to be a crook, I reckon I
Wouldn't have any trouble finding something back there
on those books that you wouldn't see any use for running
and telling somebody I thought ought to know about it,
when for all I knew they might know a damn sight more
about it now than I did, and if they didn't it was damn
little of my business anyway and he says, "My books are
open to anybody. Anybody that has any claim or be-
lieves she has any claim on this business can go back
there and welcome."
"Sure, you wont tell," I says, "You couldn't square your
conscience with that. You'll just take her back there and
let her find it. You wont tell, yourself. 9 *
Tm not trying to meddle in your business/' he says.
'1 know you i>Jssed out on some things like Quentin had.
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
But your mother has had a misfortunate life too, and if
she was to come in here and ask me why you quit, I'd
have to tell her. It aiiit that thousand dollars. You know
that It's because a man never gets anywhere if fact and
his ledgers dont square. And I'm not going to lie to any-
body., for myself or anybody else."
"Well, then/' I says, "I reckon that conscience of yours
is a more valuable clerk than I am; it dont have to gtf
home at noon to eat. Only dont let it interfere with my
appetite/' I says, because how the hell can I do anything
right, with that damn family and her not making any
effort to control her nor any of them, like that time when
she happened to see one of them kissing Caddy and all
next day she went around the house in a black dress and
a veil and even Father couldn't get her to say a word ex-
cept crying and saying her little daughter was dead and
Caddy about fifteen then only in three years she'd been
wearing haircloth or probably sandpaper at that rate. Do
you think I can afford to have her running about the
streets with every drummer that comes to town, I says,
and them telling the new ones up and down the road
where to pick up a hot one when they made Jefferson. I
haven't got much pride, I can't afford it with a kitchen
full of niggers to feed and robbing the state asylum of its
star freshman. Blood, I says, governors and generals. It's
a damn good thing we never had any kings and presi-
dents; we'd all be down there at Jackson chasing bu%
terflies. I say it'd be bad enough if it was mine; I'd at
least be sure it was a bastard to begin with, and now
even the Lord doesn't know that for certain probably.
So after awhile I heard the band start up, and then
they begun to clear out Headed for the show, every one
of them. Haggling over a twenty cent hame string to save
fifteen cents, so they can give it to a bunch of Yankees
THE SOUND AND THE
that come in and pay maybe ten dollars for the privilege.
I went on out to the back,
"Well" I says, "If you dont look out, that bolt will
grow into your hand. And then I'm going to take an axe
and chop it out. What do you reckon the boll-weeviisll
eat if you dont get those cultivators in shape to raise
them a crop?" I says, "sage grass?"
"Dem folks sho do play dem horns/* he says. "Tell me
man in dat show kin play a tune on a handsaw. Pick hit
like a banjo/*
"Listen," I says. "Do you know how much that showTl
spend in this town? About ten dollars/* I says. "The ten
dollars Buck Turpin has in his pocket right now/*
"Whut dey give Mr Buck ten dollars fer?" he says.
"For the privilege of showing here/* I says, "You can
put the balance of what they'll spend in your eye/*
"You mean dey pays ten dollars jest to give dey show
here?** he says.
"That's all/* I says. "And how much do you
reckon . . /*
"Gret day/* he says, "You mean to tell me dey chargin
tun to let urn show here? I'd pay ten dollars to see dat
man pick dat saw, ef I had to. I figures dat tomorrow
mawnin I be still owin urn nine dollars and six bits at
dat rate/*
And then a Yankee will talk your head off about nig-
gers getting ahead. Get them ahead, what I say. Get them
so far ahead you cant find one south of Louisville with a
blood hound. Because when I told him about how they'd
pick up Saturday night and carry off at least a thousand
dollars out of the county, he says,
"I dont begrudge um. I kin sho afford my two bits."
"Two bits hell/' I says. "That dont begin it. How about
the dime or fifteen cents you'll spend for a damn two cent
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 249
box of candy or something. How about the time you're
wasting right now, listening to that band."
TDat's de troof/' he says. "Well, ef I lives tweU night
hit's gwine to be two bits mo dey takin out of town, dat's
sho/'
"Then you're a fool/* I says,
"Well/' he says, "I dont spute dat neither. Ef dat uz
a crime, all chain-gangs wouldn't be black/ 7
Well, just about that time I happened to look up the
alley and saw her. When I stepped back and looked at
my watch I didn't notice at the time who he was because
I was looking at the watch. It was just two thirty, forty-
five minutes before anybody but me expected her to be
out. So when I looked around the door the first thing I
saw was the red tie he had on and I was thinking what
the hell kind of a man would wear a red tie. But she was
sneaking along the alley, watching the door, so I wasn't
thinking anything about him until they had gone past* I
was wondering if she'd have so little respect for me that
she'd not only play out of school when I told her not to.
but would walk right past the store, daring me not to see
her. Only she couldn't see into the door because the sun
fell straight into it and it was like trying to see through
an automobile searchlight, so I stood there and watched
her go on past, with her face painted up like a damn
clown's and her hair all gummed and twisted and a dress
that if a woman had come out doors even on Gayoso or
Beale street when I was a young fellow with no more
than that to cover her legs and behind, she'd been
thrown in jail. I'll be damned if they dont dress like they
were trying to make every man they passed on the street
want to reach out and clap his hand on it. And so I was
thinking what kind of a damn man would wear a red tie
when all of a sudden I knew he was one of those show
250 THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
folks well as if she'd told me. Well, I can stand a lot; if
I couldn't, damn if I wouldn't be in a hell of a fix, so
when they turned the corner I jumped down and fol-
lowed. Me, without any hat, in the middle of the after-
noon, having to chase up and down back alleys because
of my mother's good name. Like I say you cant do any-
thing with a woman like that, if she's got it in her. If it's
in her blood, you cant do anything with her. The only
thing you can do is to get rid of her, let her go on and
live with her own sort.
I went on to the street, but they were out of sight.
And there I was, without any hat, looking like I was
crazy too. Like a man would naturally think, one of
them, is crazy and another one drowned himself and the
other one was turned out into the street by her husband,
what's the reason the rest of them are not crazy too. All
the time I could see them watching me like a hawk, wait-
ing for a chance to say Well I'm not surprised I expected
it all the time the whole family's crazy. Selling land to
send him to Harvard and paying taxes to support a state
University all the time that I never saw except twice at a
baseball game and not letting her daughter's name be
spoken on the place until after a while Father wouldn't
even come down town anymore but just sat there all day
with the decanter I could see the bottom of his night-
shirt and his bare legs and hear the decanter clinking un-
til finally T. P. had to pour it for him and she says You
have no respect for your Father's memory and I says I
dont know why not it sure is preserved well enough to
last only if I'm crazy too God knows what 111 do
about it just to look at water makes me sick and I'd just
as soon swallow gasoline as a glass of whiskey and Lor-
raine telling them he may not drink but if you dont be-
lieve he's a man I can tell you how to find out she says If
THE SOUKB AND TH"E FURY Zfl
I catch you fooling with any of these whores you know
what 111 do she says 1*11 whip her grabbing at her 111
whip her as long as I can find her she says and I says if
I dont drink that's my business but have you ever found
me short I says I'll buy you enough beer to take a
bath in if you want it because I've got every respect for a
good honest whore because with Mother's health and the
position I try to uphold to have her with no more respect
for what I fay to do for her than to make her name and
my name and my Mother's name a byword in the town.
She had dodged out of sight somewhere. Saw me com-
ing and dodged into another alley, running up and down
the alleys with a damn show man in a red tie that every-
body would look at and think what kind of a damn man
would wear a red tie. Well, the boy kept speaking to me
and so I took the telegram without knowing I had taken
it. I didn't realise what it was until I was signing for it,
and I tore it open without even caring much what it was,
I knew all the time what it would be, I reckon. That was
the only thing else that could happen, especially holding
it up until I had already had the check entered on the
pass book.
I don't see how a city no bigger than New York can
hold enough people to take the money away from us
country suckers. Work like hell all day every day, send
them your money and get a little piece of paper back,
Your account closed at 20.62. Teasing you along, letting
you pile up a little paper profit, then bang! Your account
closed at 20.62. And if that wasn't enough, paying ten
dollars a month to somebody to tell you how to lose it
fast, 'that either dont know anything about it or is in ca-
hoots with the telegraph company. Well, I'm done with
them. They've sucked me in for the last time. Any fool
except a fellow that hasn't got any more sense than to
TEE SOUND AND THE FURY
take a Jew's word for anything could tell the market was
going up all the time, with the whole damn delta about
to be flooded again and the cotton washed right out of
the ground like it was last year. Let it wash a man's
crop out of the ground year after year, and them up there
in Washington spending fifty thousand dollars a day
keeping an army in Nicaragua or some place. Of course
ifli overflow again, and then cottonH be worth thirty
cents a pound. Well, I just want to hit them one time and
get my money back. I don't want a killing; only these
.small town gamblers are out for that, I just want my
money back that these damn jews have gotten with all
their guaranteed inside dope. Then I'm through; they can
kiss my foot for every other red cent of mine they get
I went back to the store. It was half past three almost.
Damn little time to do anything in, but then I am used
to that. I never had to go to Harvard to learn that. The
band had quit playing. Got them all inside now, and they
wouldn't have to waste any more wind. Earl says,
"He found you, did he? He was in here with it a while
ago. I thought you were out back somewhere."
"Yes/' I says, "I got it. They couldn't keep it away from
me all afternoon. The town's too small. I've got to go out
home a minute," I says. "You can dock me if it'll make
you feel any better."
"Go ahead," he says, "I can handle it now. No bad
news, I hope."
"You'll have to go to the telegraph office and find that
out/' I says. "They'll have time to tell you. I haven't/*
"I just asked," he says. "Your mother knows she can
depend on me/'
"She'll appreciate it/* I says, "I wont be gone any
longer than I have to,"
*HE SOtT^B AND
Take your time/' be says. "I can handle it now. You
go ahead."
I got the car and went home. Once this morning, twice
at noon, and now again, with her and having to chase all
over town and having to beg them to let me eat a little of
the food I am paying for. Sometimes I think what's the
use of anything. With the precedent I've been set I must
be crazy to keep on. And now I reckon I'll get home Just
in time to take a nice long drive after a basket of toma-
toes or something and then have to go back to town
smelling like a camphor factory so my head wont explode
right on my shoulders. I keep telling her there's not a
damn thing in that aspirin except flour and water for
imaginary invalids. I says you dont know what a head-
ache is. I says you think I'd fool with that damn car at
all if it depended on me. I says I can get along without
one IVe learned to get along without lots of things but
if you want to risk yourself in that old wornout surrey
with a halfgrown nigger boy all right because I says
God looks after Ben's kind, God knows He ought to do
something for him but if you think I'm going to trust a
thousand dollars' worth of delicate machinery to a half-
grown nigger or a grown one either, you'd better buy
him one yourself because I says you like to ride in the
car and you know you do.
Dilsey said Mother was in the house. I went on into
the hall and listened, but I didn't hear anything. I went
up stairs, but just as I passed her door she called me.
"I just wanted to know who it was, w she says. Tim
here alone so much that I hear every sound.'*
"You dont have to stay here/' I says. "You could spend
the whole day visiting like other women, if you wanted
to/ 9 She came to the door.
254 THE SOUND AND THE
"I thought maybe you were sick/' she says. "Having to
hurry through your dinner like you did."
"Better luck next time/' I says. "What do you want?**
"Is anything wrong?" she says.
"What could be?" I says. "Cant I come home in the
middle of the afternoon without upsetting the whole
house?"
'Have you seen Quentin?" she says.
"She's in school," I says.
'It's after three," she says. "I heard the clock strike at
least a half an hour ago. She ought to be home by now/*
"Ought she?" I says. '"When have you ever seen her
before dark?"
"She ought to be home," she says. ""When I was a
girl . . /'
**You had somebody to make you behave yourself/* I
says. "She hasn't/*
"I can't do anything with her/' she says. "I've tried and
IVe tried/'
"And you wont let me, for some reason/' I says, "Sc
you ought to be satisfied/' I went on to my room. I turned
the key easy and stood there until the knob turned. Then
she says,
"Jason."
"What," I says.
"1 just thought something was wrong/*
"Not in here/' I says. Tou've come to the wrong place/ 3
"I dont mean to worry you/* she says.
*Tra glad to hear that/* I says. "I wasn't sure. I thought
1 might have been mistaken. Do you want anything?"
After awhile she says, "No. Not any thing." Then she
went away. I took the box down and counted out the
money and hid the box again and unlocked the door and
went out. I thought about the camphor, but it would be
THE SOUND A3STB THTfi FURY 255
too late now, anyway. And I'd just have one more round
trip. She was at her door, waiting.
"You want anything from townF' I says.
"No/' she says. *I dont mean to meddle in your affairs*
But I dont know what I'd do if anything happened to
you, Jason."
"I'm all right," I says. "Just a headache."
*1 wish you'd take some aspirin,** she says. "I know
you're not going to stop using the car."
'What's the car got to do with it?" I says. "How can a
car give a man a headache?"
<tf You know gasoline always made you sick," she says.
"Ever since you. were a child. I wish you'd take some
aspirin."
"Keep on wishing it," I says. "It wont hurt you."
I got in the car and started back to town. I had just
turned onto the street when I saw a ford coming helling
toward me. All of a sudden it stopped. I could hear the
wheels sliding and it slewed around and backed and
whirled and just as I was thinking what the hell they
were up to, I saw that red tie. Then I recognised her face
looking back through the window. It whirled into the
alley. I saw it turn again, but when I got to the back
street it was just disappearing, running Hke hell.
I saw red. When I recognised that red tie, after all I
had told her, I forgot about everything. I never thought
about my head even until I came to the first forks and
had to stop. Yet we spend money and spend money on
roads and damn if it isn't like trying to drive over a
sheet of corrugated iron roofing. Id like to know how a
man could be expected to keep up with even a wheel-
barrow. I think too much of my car; I'm not going to
hammer it to pieces like it was a ford, Chances were they
had stolen it, anyway, so why should they give a damn
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
I say blood always tells. If you've got blood like
that in you, you'll do anything. I says whatever claim you
believe she has on you has already been discharged; I
says from now on you have only yourself to blame be-
cause you know what any sensible person would do. I
says if IVe got to spend half my time being a damn de-
tective, at least 111 go where I can get paid for it.
So 1 had to stop there at the forks. Then I remembered
it It felt like somebody was inside with a hammer, beat-
ing on it. I says IVe tried to keep you from being wor-
ried by her; I says far as I'm concerned, let her go to hell
as fast as she pleases and the sooner the better. I says
what else do you expect except every drummer and
cheap show that comes to town because even these town
jellybeans give her the go-by now. You dont know what
goes on I says, you dont hear the talk that I hear and you
can just bet I shut them up too. I says my people owned
slaves here when you all were running little shirt tail
country stores and farming land no nigger would look at
on shares.
If they ever fanned it. It's a good thing the Lord did
something for this country; the folks that Jive on it never
have. Friday afternoon, and from right here I could see
three miles of land that hadn't even been broken, and
every able bodied man in the county in town at that
show, I might have been a stranger starving to death,
and there wasn't a soul in sight to ask which way to town
even. And she trying to get me to take aspirin. I says
when I eat bread I'll do it at the table. I says you always
talking about how much you give up for us when yots
could buy ten new dresses a year on the money you
spend for those damn patent medicines. It's not some-'
thing to cure it I need it's just an even break not to have
to have them but as long as I have to work ten hours a
THE OUXD AND THE FURY
day to support a kitchen full of niggers in the style
they're accustomed to and send them to the stow with
every other nigger in the county, only he W93 late al-
ready. By the time he got there it would be over.
After awhile he got up to the car and when I final] 1 ?
got it through his head if two people in a ford had passed
him, he said yes. So I went on, and when I came to where
the wagon road turned off I could see the tire tracks. Ab
Russell was in his lot, but I didn't bother to ask him and
I hadn't got out of sight of his bam hardly when I saw
the ford. They had tried to hide it. Done about as well at
it as she did at everything else she did. Like I say it's not
that I object to so much; maybe she cant help that, it's
because she hasn't even got enough consideration for her
own family to have any discretion. I'm afraid all the time
I'll run into them right in the middle of the street or un-
der a wagon on the square, like a couple of dogs.
I parked and got out. And now I'd have to go way
around and cross a plowed field, the only one I had seen
since I left town, with every step like somebody wa?
walking along behind me, hitting me on the head with
a club. I kept thinking that when I got across the field at
least I'd have something level tc walk on, that wouldn't
jolt me every step, but when I got into the woods it was
full of underbrush and I had to twist around through it,
and then I came to a ditch full of briers. I went along it
for awhile, but it got thicker and thicker, and all the time
Earl probably telephoning home about where I was and
getting Mother all upset again.
When I finally got through I had had to wind around
so much that I had to stop and figure out just where the
car would be. I knew they wouldn't be far from it, just
under the closest bush, so I turned and worked back to-
ward the road. Then I couldn't tell just how far I was, so
THE SOtJtfD AND THE FUBY
I'd have to stop and listen, and then with my legs not us-
ing so much blood, it all would go into my head like it
would explode any minute, and the sun getting down
Just to where it could shine straight into my eyes and my
ears ringing so I couldn't hear anything. I went on, try-
ing to move quiet, then I heard a dog or something and
I knew that when he scented me he'd have to come hell-
ing up, then it would be all off.
I had gotten beggar lice and t^igs and stuff all over
me, inside my clothes and shoes and all, and then I hap-
pened to look around and I had my hand right on
a bunch of poison oak. The only thing I couldn't under-
stand was why it was just poison oak and not a snake or
something. So I didn't even bother to move it I just stood
there until the dog went away. Then I went on.
I didn't have any idea where the car was now. I
couldn't think about anything except my head, and I'd
just stand in one place and sort of wonder if I had really
seen a ford even, and I didn't even care much whether I
had or not. Like I say, let her lay out all day and all night
with everything in town that wears pants, what do I care.
I dont owe anything to anybody that has no more
consideration for me, that wouldn't be a damn bit above
planting that ford there and making me spend a whole
afternoon and Earl taking her back there and showing
her the books just because he's too damn virtuous for this
vorld. I says you'll have one hell of a time in heaven,
without anybody's business to meddle in only dont you
ever let me catch you at it I says, I close my eyes to it be-
cause of your grandmother, but just you let me catch you
doing it one time on this place, where my mother lives.
These damn little slick haired squirts, thinking they are
raising so much hell, I'll show them something about hell
I says, and you too. Ill make him think that damn red
THE SOUXD A"S7D THE PITHY
tie Is the latch string to hell, if he thinks lie can run the
woods with my niece.
With the sun and all in my eyes and my blood going
so I kept thinking every time my head would go on and
burst and get it over with, with briers and things grab-
bing at me, then I came onto the sand ditch where they
had been and I recognised the tree where the car was,
and just as I got out of the ditch and started running I
heard the car start. It went off fast, blowing the horn.
They kept on blowing it, like it was saying Yah. Yah.
Yaaahhiihhhhh, going out of sight. I got to the road just
in time to see it go out of sight.
By the time I got up to where my car was, they were
clean out of sight, the horn still blowing. Well, I never
thought anything about it except I was saying Run. Run
back to town. Run home and try to convince Mother
that I never saw you in that car. Try to make her believe
that I dont know who he was. Try to make her believe
that I didn't miss ten feet of catching you in that ditch.
Try to make her believe you were standing up, too.
It kept on saying Yahhhhh, Yahhhhh, Yaaahhhhhhhhh,
getting fainter and fainter. Then it quit, and I could hear
a cow lowing up at RusselTs bam. And still I never
thought. I went up to the door and opened it and raised
my foot. I kind of thought then that the car was leaning
a little more than the slant of the road would be, but I
never found it out until I got in and started off.
Weil, I just sat there. It was getting on toward sun-
down, and town was about five miles. They never even
had guts enough to puncture it, to jab a hole in it. They
just let the air out. I just stood there for a while, thinking
about that kitchen full of niggers and not one of them
had time to lift a tire onto the rack and screw up a
couple of bolts. It was kmd of funny because even she
SOUND AND THE FURY
couldn't ha* e seen far enough ahead to take the pump
out on purpose, unless she thought about it while he was
letting out the air maybe. But what it probably was, was
somebody took it out and gave it to Ben to play with
for a squirt gun because they'd take the whole car to
pieces if he wanted It and Dilsey says, Aint nobody
teched yo car. What we want to fool with hit fer? and 1
says You're a nigger. You're lucky, do you know it? I says
I'll swap with you any day because it takes a white man
not to have anymore sense than to worry about what a
little slut of a girl does.
I walked up to Russell's. He had a pump. That was
just an oversight on their part, I reckon. Only I still
couldn't believe she'd have had the nerve to. I kept
thinking that. I dont know why it is I cant seem to learn
that a woman'll do anything. I kept thinking, Let's forget
for awhile how I feel toward you and how you feel to-
ward me: I just wouldn't do you this way. I wouldn't do
you this way no matter what you had done to me. Be-
cause like I say blood is blood and you cant get around
it. It's not playing a joke that any eight year old boy
could have thought of, it's letting your own 'ancle be
laughed at by a man that would wear a red tie. They
come into town and call us all a bunch of hicks and think
it's too small to hold them. Well he doesn't know just
how right he is. And her too. If that's the way she feels
about it, she'd better keep right on going and a damn
good riddance.
I stopped and returned Russell's pump and drove on
to town. I went to the drugstore and got a coca-cola and
then I went to the telegraph office. It had closed at
12.21, forty points down. Forty times five dollars; buy
something with that if you can, and shell say, I've got to
have it I've just got to and I'll say that's too bad you'll
THE SOUND AXD THE FUBY 261
have to try somebody else, I haven't got any money; IVe
been too busy to make any.
I just looked at him.
Til tell you some news/' I says, "You'll be astonished
to learn that I am interested in the cotton market/* I says*
*That never occurred to you, did it?"
"I did my best to deliver it/* he says. "I tried the store
twice and called up your house, but they didn't know
where you were/' he says, digging in the drawer.
"Deliver what?" I says. He handed me a telegram,
"What time did this come?" I says.
"About half past three/' he says.
"And now it's ten minutes past five/* I says.
"I tried to deliver it/' he says. "I couldn't End you."
"That's not my fault, is it?" I says. I opened it, just to
see what kind of a lie they'd tell me this time. They must
be in one hell of a shape if they've got to come all the
way to Mississippi to steal ten dollars a month. Sell, it
says. The market will be unstable, with a general down-
ward tendency. Do not be alarmed following govern-
ment report.
"How much would a message like this cost?" I says. He
told me.
"They paid it," he says.
"Then I owe them that much," I says. "I already kne 11 *
this. Send this collect/' I says, taking a blank. Buy, :
wrote, Market just on point of blowing its head off. Oc-
casional flurries for purpose of hooking a few more coun-
try suckers who haven't got in to the telegraph office yet.
Do not be alarmed. "Send that collect," I says.
He looked at the message, then he looked at the el;
"Market closed an hour ago," he says.
"Well," I says, "That's not ray fr-V -. J^i :. dKii t in*
vent it; I just bought a little of it vrMie unuei the impres'
THE SOXJXD AND THE
sion that the telegraph company would keep me in-
formed as to what it was doing."
"A report is posted whenever it comes in/' he says.
"Yes" I says, "And in Memphis they have it on a black-
board every ten seconds," I says. "I was within sixty-
seven miles of there once this afternoon/'
He looked at the message. "You want to send this?" he
says.
"I still haven't changed my mind," I says. I wrote the
other one out and counted the money. "And this one too,
if you're sure you can spell b-u-y."
I went back to the store. I could hear the band from
down the street Prohibition's a fine thing. Used to be
they'd come in Saturday with just one pair of shoes in
the family and him wearing them, and they'd go down
to the express office and get his package; now they all go
to the show barefooted, with the merchants in the door
like a row of tigers or something in a cage, watching
them pass. Earl says,
"I hope it wasn't anything serious."
"What?" I says. He looked at his watch. Then he went
to the door and looked at the courthouse clock. "You
ought to have a dollar watch," I says. "It wont cost you
so much to believe it's lying each time.**
"What?" he says.
"Nothing," I says. "Hope I haven't inconvenienced
you."
"We were not busy much," he says. 'They all went to
the show. It's all right."
"If it's not all right," I says, "You know what you can
do about it."
"I said it was all right," he says.
"I heard you/' I says. "And if it's not all right, you
know what you can do about it."
THE SOUND AND THE FUEY
"Do you want to quit?" he says,
"It's not my business/* I says. "My wishes dont matter,
But dont get the idea that you are protecting me by
keeping me."
"You'd be a good business man if you'd let yourself,
Jason,'* he says.
"At least I can tend to my own business and let other
peoples' alone/' I says.
"I dont know why you are trying to make me fire you,"
he says. "You know you could quit anytime and there
wouldn't be any hard feelings between us."
"Maybe that's why I dont quit," I says. "As long as I
tend to my job, that's what you are paying me for/ 7 I
went on to the back and got a drink of water and went
on out to the back door. Job had the cultivators all set
up at last. It was quiet there, and pretty soon my head
got a little easier. I could hear them singing now, and
then the band played again. Well, let them get every
quarter and dime in the county; it was no skin off my
back. I've done what I could; a man that can live as long
as I have and not know when to quit is a fool. Especially
as it's no business of mine. If it was my own daughter
now it would be different, because she wouldn't have
time to; she'd have to work some to feed a few invalids
and idiots and niggers, because how could I have the
face to bring anybody there. I've too much respect for
anybody to do that. I'm a man, I can stand it, it's my
own flesh and blood and I'd like to see the colour of the
man's eyes that would speak disrespectful of any woman
that was my friend it's these damn good women that do
it I'd like to see the good, church-going woman that's
half as square as Lorraine, whore or no whore. Like I
say if I was to get married you'd go up like a balloon and
you know it and she says I want you to be happy to have
264 THE SOUND AND THE
a family of your own not to slave your life away for us.
But 111 be gone soon and then you can take a wife but
you'll never find a woman who is worthy of you and I
says yes I could. You'd get right up out of your grave
you know you would. I says no thank you I have all the
women I can take care of now if I married a wife she'd
probably turn out to be a hophead or something. That's
all we lack in this family, I says.
The sun was down beyond the Methodist church now,
and the pigeons were flying back and forth around the
steeple, and when the band stopped I could hear them
cooing. It hadn't been four months since Christmas, and
yet they were almost as thick as ever. I reckon Parson
Walthall was getting a belly full of them now. You'd
have thought we were shooting people, with him making
speeches and even holding onto a man's gun when they
came over. Talking about peace on earth good will to-
ward all and not a sparrow can fall to earth. But what
does he care how thick they get, he hasn't got anything
to do; what does he care what time it is. He pays no
taxes, he doesn't have to see his money going every year
to have the courthouse clock cleaned to where it'll run.
They had to pay a man forty-five dollars to clean it. I
counted over a hundred half-hatched pigeons on the
ground. You'd think they'd have sense enough to leave
town. It's a good thing I dont have any more ties than a
pigeon, I'll say that.
The band was playing again, a loud fast tune, like they
were breaking up. I reckon they'd be satisfied now.
Maybe they'd have enough music to entertain them while
they drove fourteen or fifteen miles home and unhar-
nessed in the dark and fed the stock and milked. All
they'd have to do would be to whistle the music and tell
SOUND AND THE FURY 2.65
the jokes to the live stock in the bam, and then they
coulci count up how much they'd made by not taking
the stock to the show too. They could figure that if a
man had five children and seven mules, he cleared a
quarter by taking his family to the show. Just like that.
Earl came back with a couple of packages.
"Here's some more stuff going out/' he says. "Where's
Uncle Job?"
"Gone to the show, I imagine," I says. "Unless yon
watched him."
"He doesn't slip off/* he says. "I can depend on him.""
"Meaning me by that/' I says.
He went to the door and looked out, listening.
"That's a good band/' he says. "It's about time they
were breaking up, I'd say."
"Unless they're going to spend the night there,'" I says.
The swallows had begun, and I could hear the sparrows
beginning to swarm in the trees in the courthouse yard.
Every once in a while a bunch of them would come
swirling around in sight above the roof, then go away.
They are as big a nuisance as the pigeons, to my notion.
You cant even sit in the courthouse yard for them. First
thing you know, bing. Bight on your hat. But it would
take a millionaire to afford to shoot them at five cents a
shot. If they'd just put a little poison out there in the
square, they'd get rid of them in a day, because if a mer-
chant cant keep his stock from running around the
square, he'd better try to deal in something besides
chickens, something that dont eat, like plows or onions.
And if a man dont keep his dogs up, he either dont want
it or he hasn't any business with one. Like I say if all the
businesses in a town are run like country businesses,
youYe going to have a country town.
266 THE SOU2CD ANB THE FURY
TEt wont do you any good if they have broke up/* I
says. 'They'll have to hitch up and take out to get home
by midnight as it is."
"Well/' he says, "They enjoy it. Let them spend a little
money on a show now and then. A hill farmer works
pretty hard and gets mighty little for it."
"There's no law making them farm in the hills/" I says,
"Or anywhere else."
'Where would you and me be, if it wasn't for the fann-
ers?" he says.
'Td be home right now/' I says, "Lying down, with an
ice pack on my head. 7 *
"You have these headaches too often,'' he says. "Why
dont you have your teeth examined good? Did he go
over diem all this morning?"
"Did who?" I says.
**You said you went to the dentist this morning."
*Do you object to my having the headache on your
time?" I says. "Is that it?" They were crossing the alley
now, coming up from the show.
"There they come/' he says. "I reckon I better get up
front." He went on. It's a curious thing how no matter
what's wrong with you, a man'll tell you to have your
teeth examined and a womanll tell you to get married,
It always takes a man that never made much at any
thing to tell you how to run your business, though. Like
these college professors without a whole pair of socks to
their name, telling you how to make a million in ten
years, and a woman that couldn't even get a husband can
always tell you how to raise a family,
Old man Job came up with the wagon. After a while
he got through wrapping the lines around the whip
socket.
'Well/' I says, 'Was it a good show?"
THE SOUND AND THE FUKY 267
"I aint been yit/* he says. "But I kin be arrested In dat
tent tonight, dough."
"Like hell you haven't," I says. "YouVe been away from
here since three oclock. Mr Earl was just back here look-
ing for you/'
"I been tendin to my business/* lie says. "Mr Earl
knows whar I been/'
"You may can fool him/ 3 1 says. "I wont tell on you.**
"Den he's de onliest man here I'd try to fool/' he says.
"Whut I want to waste my time f oolin a man whut I dont
keer whether I sees him Sat'dy night er not? I wont try to
fool you/' he says. "You too smart fer me. Yes, suit/' he
says, looking busy as hell, putting five or six little pack-
ages into the wagon, "You's too smart fer me. Aint a man
in dis town kin keep up wid you fer smartness. You fools
a man whut so smart he cant even keep up wid hisself/*
he says, getting in the wagon and unwrapping the reins.
"Who's that?" I says.
"Dat's Mr Jason Compson/' he says. "Git up dar, Dan!"
One of the wheels was Just about to come off* I
watched to see if he'd get out of the alley before it did.
Just turn any vehicle over to a nigger, though. I says
that old rattletrap's just an eyesore, yet youll keep it
standing there in the carriage house a hundred years just
so that boy can ride to the cemetery once a week. I says
he's not the first fellow that'll have to do things he doesn't
want to. I'd make him ride in that car like a civilised man
or stay at home. What does he know about where he goes
or what he goes in, and us keeping a carriage and a horse
so he can take a ride on Sunday afternoon.
A lot Job cared whether the wheel came off or not, long
as he wouldn't have too far to walk back. Like I say the
only place for them is in the field, where they'd have to
work from sunup to sundown. They cant stand prosper'
268 THE SOUND AND THE FIT BY
ity or an easy job. Let one stay around white people for
a while and he's not worth killing. They get so they can
outguess you about work before your very eyes, like Ros-
kus the only mistake he ever made was he got careless
one day and died. Shirking and stealing and giving you a
little more Kp and a little more lip until some day you
have to lay them out with a scantling or something. Well,
it's Earl's business. But I'd hate to have my business ad-
vertised over this town by an old doddering nigger and
a wagon that you thought every time it turned a corner
it would come all to pieces.
The sun was all high up in the air now, and inside it
was beginning to get dark. I went up front The square
was empty. Earl was back closing the safe, and then the
clock begun to strike.
**You lock the back door," he says* I went back and
locked it and came back. "I suppose you're going to the
show tonight/' he says. "I gave you those passes yester-
day, didn't W
"Yes," I said. "You want them back?"
"No, BO," lie says, "I just forgot whether I gave them to
fou or not. No sense in wasting them."
He locked the door and said Goodnight and went on.
fhe sparrows were still rattling away in the trees, but the
square was empty except for a few cars. There was a ford
in front of the drugstore, but I didn't even look at it. I
know when I've had enough of anything. I dont mind
trying to help her, but I know when I've had enough. I
guess I could teach Luster to drive it, then they could
chase her all day long if they wanted to, and I could stay
home and play with Ben.
I went in and got a couple of cigars. Then I thought
I'd have another headache shot for luck, and I stood and
talked with them awhile.
THE SOU3STB AND THE FURY
"Well,** Mac says, "I reckon yotiVe got your money on
the Yankees this year/ 9
"What for?" I says.
"The Pennant,* 5 he says. "Not anything in the League
can beat them/*
*Uke hell there's not," I says, They're shot," I says.
"You think a team can be that lucky forever?"
1 dant call it luck/* Mac says.
"I wouldn't bet on any team that fellow Ruth played
on/* I says, "Even if I knew it was going to win.**
"Yes?" Mac says.
"I can name you a dozen men in either League who're
more valuable than he is/* I says.
"What have you got against Ruth?" Mac says.
"Nothing/* I says. "I haven't got any thing against him,
I dont even like to look at his picture." I went on out.
The lights were coming on, and people going along the
streets toward home. Sometimes the sparrows never got
still until full dark. The night they turned on the new
lights around the courthouse it waked them up and
they were flying around and blundering into the lights all
night long. They kept it up two or three nights, then
one morning they were all gone. Then after about two
months they all came back again.
I drove on home. There were no lights in the house yet,
but they'd all be looking out the windows, and Dilsey
jawing away in the kitchen like it was her own food
she was having to keep hot until I got there. You'd think
to hear her that there wasn't but one supper in the world,
and that was the one she had to keep back a few min-
utes on my account. Well at least I could come home one
time without finding Ben and that nigger hanging on
the gate like a bear and a monkey in the same cage. Just
let it come toward sundown and he'd head for the gate
270 THE SOUHD AND THE FURY
like a cow for tlie barn, hanging onto it and bobbing his
head and sort of moaning to himself. That's a hog for
punishment for you. If what had happened to him for
fooling with open gates had happened to me, I never
would want to see another one. I often wondered what
he'd be thinking about, down there at the gate, watching
the girls going home from school, trying to want some-
thing he couldn't even remember he didn't and couldn't
want any longer. And what he'd think when they'd be
undressing him and he'd happen to take a look at himself
and begin to cry like he'd do. But like I say they never
did enough of that. I says I know what you need, you
need what they did to Ben then you'd behave. And if
you dont know what that was I says, ask Dilsey t<? teP
you.
There was a light in Mother's room. I put the car up
and went on into the kitchen. Luster and Ben were there.
^Where's Dilsey?" I says. TPutting supper on?"
"She upstairs wid Miss Cahline," Luster says. "Dey
been goin hit. Ever since Miss Quentin come home.
Mammy up there keepin um fom fightin. Is dat show
ome, Mr Jason?"
"Yes" I says.
"I thought I heard de band," he says. 'Wish I could
go," he says. "I could ef I jes had a quarter."
Dilsey came in. *You come, is you?" she says. "Whut
you been up to dis evenin? You knows how much work I
got to do; whyn't you git here on time?"
"Maybe I went to the show," 1 says. "Is supper ready?"
"Wish I could go," Luster said. "I could ef I jes had a
quarter/'
"You aint got no business at no show," Dilsey says.
"You go on in de house and set down," she says. "Dont
you go up stairs and get um started again, now."
THE SOUISTB A1STB THE FURY
'What's the matter?" I says.
"Qucntin come in a while ago and says you been fol-
lerin her around all evenin and den Miss CahUne jumped
on her. Whyn't you let her alone? Cant you live in do
same house wid you own blood niece widout quoiiinf *
TL cant quarrel with her/' I says, "because I haven't seen
iier since this morning. What does she say I*ve done now?
made her go to school? That's pretty bad/' I says,
"Well, you tend to yo business and let her alone/* Dil-
sey says, "I'll take keer of her e you'n Miss Cahline'll let
me. Go on in dar now and behave yoself twell I git sup-
per on/*
"E I jes had a quarter/* Luster says, "I could go to dat
show."
"En e you had wings you could fly to heaven," Dilsey
says. "I dont want to hear another word about dat show.* 9
"That reminds me/* I says, "I've got a couple of ticket?
they gave me/* I took them out of my coat.
"You fixin to use um?" Luster says,
"Not me/' I says. "I wouldn't go to it for ten dollars.'*
"Gimme one of urn, Mr Jason/* he says.
"Til sell you one/' I says. "How about it?"
"I aint got no money/' he says.
"That's too bad/' I says. I made to go out,
"Gimme one of urn, Mr Jason/* he says. 'You aim
gwine need um bofe."
"Hush yo mouf," Dilsey says, "Dont you know he aa
gwine give nothing away?'*
"How much you want f er hit?** he says.
"Five cents/' I says.
"I aint got dat much/* he says.
**How much you got?'* I says.
"1 aint got nothing," he says.
"All right," I says. I went on.
THE SOIJKB AND THE FUB-Y
"Mr Jason/' he says.
"Whyn't you hush up?" Dilsey says. "He jes teasin
you. He fixin to use dem tickets hisself . Go on, Jason, and
let him lone."
"I dont want them/* I says. I came back to the stove.
"I came in here to burn them up. But if you want to
buy one for a nickel?" I says, looking at him and open-
ing the stove lid.
*'l aint got dat much/' he says.
"All right/' I says. I dropped one of them in the stove.
"You, Jason," Dilsey says, "Aint you shamed?"
"Mr Jason, 5 ' he says, "Please, suh. Ill fix dem tires ev'ry
day fer a montV
"I need the cash/' I says. '"You can have it for a nickel."
"Hush, Luster," Dilsey says. She jerked him back. "Go
tm," she says, "Drop hit in. Go on. Git hit over with."
"You can have it for a nickel," I says.
"Go on," Dilsey says. "He aint got no nickel. Go on.
Drop hit in."
"All right/' I says. I dropped it in and Dilsey shut the
stove.
"A big growed man like you," she says. "Git on outen
my kitchen. Hush/' she says to Luster. "Dont you git
Benjy started. I'll git you a quarter from Frony tonight
and you kin go tomorrcv/ night. Hush up, now."
I Y/enc on into the living room. I couldn't hear any-
thing from upstairs. I opened the paper. After awhile
Ben and Luster came in. Ben went to the dark place on
the wall where the mirror used to be, rubbing his hands
on it ana slobbering and moaning. Luster begun punch-
ing at the fire,
"What're you doing?" I says. "We dont need any fire to-
night."
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 273
*! trying to keep him quiet/* lie says. "Hit always cold
Easter/* he says.
"Only this is not Easter," I says. "Let it alone/'
He put the poker back and got the cushion out of
Mother's chair and gave it to Ben, and he hunkered down
in front of the fireplace and got quiet.
I read the paper. There hadn't been a sound from up-
stairs when Dilsey came in and sent Ben and Luster on to
the kitchen and said supper was ready.
"All right," I says. She went out. I sat there, reading the
paper. After a while I heard Dilsey looking in at the door.
"Whyn't you come on and eat?" she says.
"I m waiting for supper," I says.
"Hit's on the table," she says. "I done told you."
"Is it?" I says. "Excuse me. I didn't hear anybody
come down."
"They aint comin," she says. "You come on and eat, so
I can take something up to them."
"Are they sick?" I says. ""What did the doctor say if
was? Not Smallpox, I hope."
"Come on here, Jason," she says, "So I kin git done.**
"All right," I says, raising the paper again. "I'm waiting
for supper now."
I could feel her watching me at the door. I read the
paper.
"Whut you want to ask like this f er?" she says. "When
you knows how much bother I has anyway."
"If Mother is any sicker than she was when she came
down to dinner, all right," I says. "But as long as I am
buying food for people younger than I am, they'll have to
come down to the table to eat it. Let me know when
supper's ready," I says, reading the paper again. I heard
her climbing the stairs, dragging her feet and grunting
and groaning like they were straight up and three fe@f:
74 THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
*part I heard her at Mother's door, then I heard her call-
tog Quentin, like the door was locked, then she went back
to Mother's room and then Mother went and talked to
Quentin. Then they came down stairs. I read the paper.
Dilsey came back to the door. "Come on/* she says, "o
you Mn think up some mo devilment. You just tryin yo-
self tonight"
I went to the diningroom. Quentin was sitting with her
head bent. She had painted her face again. Her nose
looked like a porcelain insulator.
*Tm glad you feel well enough to come down," I says
to Mother.
"It's little enough I can do for you, to come to the
lable," she says. "No matter how I feel. I realise that
when a man works all day he likes to be surrounded by
his family at the supper table. I want to please yoiL I
only wish you and Quentin got along better. It would be
easier for me."
**We get along all right," I says. 1 dont mind her stay-
ing locked up in her room all day if she wants to. But I
cant have all this whoop-de-do and sulking at mealtimes.
I know that's a lot to ask her, but I'm that way in my own
house. Your house, I meant to say."
"It's yours," Mother says, "You are the head of it now."
Quentin hadn't looked up. I helped the plates and she
begun to eat.
"Did you get a good piece of meat?" I says. Tf you
didn't, I'll try to find you a better one."
She didn't say anything.
<e l say, did you get a good piece of meat?" I says.
"What?" she says. "Yes. It's all right "
"Will you have some more rice?" I says.
"No," she says.
"Better let me give you some more/" I says.
THE SOUND AND THE PUBY
rc l dont want any more," she says.
"Not at all," I says, "You're welcomed
"Is your headache gone?'* Mother says.
"Headache?" I says.
TL was afraid you were developing one/' she says.
< When you came in this afternoon."
"Oh," I says. ""No, it didn't show up. We stayed so busy
this afternoon I forgot about it."
"Was that why you were late?" Mother says. I could
see Quentin listening. I looked at her. Her knife and fork
were still going, but I caught her looking at me, then she
looked at her plate again. I says,
"No. I loaned my car to a fellow about three o'clock
and I had to wait until he got back with it" I ate for a
while.
"Who was it?" Mother says.
"It was one of those show men," I says. "It seems h&*
sister's husband was out riding with some town woman.
and he was chasing them."
Quentin sat perfectly still, chewing.
"You ought not to lend your car to people like that/ 1
Mother says. "You are too generous with it. That's why I
never call on you for it if I can help it."
"I was beginning to think that myself, for awhile," I
says. "But he got back, all right. He says he found what
he was looking for."
"Who was the woman?" Mother says.
"I'll tell you later," I says. "I dont like to talk about
such things before Quentin."
Quentin had quit eating. Every once in a while she'd
take a drink of water, then she'd sit there crumbling a
biscuit up, her face bent over her plate.
"Yes," Mother says, "I suppose women who stay shut
HJ> like I do have no idea what goes on in this town."
THE SOUKD AND THE FXJUY
"Yes," I says, "They dent."
"My life lias been so different from that," Mother says.
*Thank God I dont know about such wickedness. I dont
even want to know about it. Fm not like most people."
I didn't say any more. Quentin sat there, crumbling the
biscuit until I quit eating, then she says,
"Can I go now?** without looking at anybody.
**What?^ I says. "Sure, you can go. Were you waiting
on usF*
She looked at me. She had crumbled all the biscuit,
but her hands still went on like they were crumbling it
yet and her eyes looked like they were cornered or some-
thing and then she started biting her mouth like it ought
to have poisoned her, with all that red lead.
"Grandmother/* she says, "Grandmother "
"Did you want something else to eat?" I says,
"Why does he treat me like this, Grandmother? 3 '" she
says. "I never hurt him/*
"I want you all to get along with one another," Mother
aays, "You are all that's left now, and I do want you all
to get along better/'
It's his fault," she says, *He wont let me alone, and I
have to. If he doesn't want me here, why wont he let
me go back to"
"That's enough," I says, "Not another word,"
"Then why wont he let me alone?" she says. "He he
just "
"He is the nearest thing to a father you've ever had/*
Mother says. "It's his bread you and I eat. It's only right
that he should expect obedience from you."
Tt's his fault,** she says. She jumped up. "He makes me
do it If he would just" she looked at us, her eyes cor*
nered, kind of jerking her arms against her sides.
*Tf I would just what?" I says.
THE SOUXB AND THE PtTRY
'Whatever I do, if s your fault," she says. "If I'm bad,
it's because I had to be. You made me. I wish I was dead.
I wish we were all dead/* Then she ran. We heard her
run up the stairs. Then a door slammed.
'That's the first sensible thing she ever said," I says,
"She didn't go to school today/' Mother says.
"How do you know?" I says. "Were you down town?**
"I just know/" she says. "I wish you could be kinder to
her/'
"If I did that I'd have to arrange to see her more than
once a day/' I says. "Youll have to make her come to the
table every meal. Then I could give her an extra piece of
meat every time/'
There are little things you could do," she says.
"Like not paying any attention when you ask me to see
that she goes to school?" I says.
"She didn't go to school today/* she says. "I just know
she didn't. She says she went for a car ride with one of
the boys this afternoon and you followed her/*
"How could I/* I says, "When somebody had my cat
all afternoon? Whether or not she was in school today Is
already past/' I says, "If you've got to worry about it,
worry about next Monday."
"I wanted you and she to get along with one another,* 5
she says. "But she has inherited all of the headstrong
traits. Quentin's too. I thought at the time, with the herit-
age she would already have, to give her that name, too.
Sometimes I think she is the judgment of Caddy and
Quentin upon me/*
"Good Lord/* I says, "You've got a fine mind. No
wonder you kept yourself sick all the time/*
"What?" she says. "I dont understand/'
"I hope not/' I says. "A good woman misses a lot she's
better ofE without knowing.**
V* THE SOXJXD AND THE FURY
"They were both that way/* she says, "They would
make interest with, your father against me when I tried
to correct them. He was always saying they didn't need
controlling, that they already knew what cleanliness and
honesty were, which was all that anyone could hope to
be taught. And now I hope he's satisfied.' 7
"You've got Ben to depend on," I says, "Cheer up *
They deliberately shut me out of their lives/* she
says, "It was always her and Quentin. They were always
conspiring against me. Against you too, though you
were too young to realise it. They always looked on you
and me as outsiders, Hke they did your Uncle Maury. I
always told your father that they were allowed too much
freedom, to be together too much. When Quentin started
to school we had to let her go the next year, so she could
be with him. She couldn't bear for any of you to do any-
thing she couldn't- It was vanity in her, vanity and false
pride. And then when her troubles began I knew that
Quentin would feel that he had to do something just as
bad. But I didn't believe that he would have been so self-
ish as to I didn't dream that he **
""Maybe he knew it was going to be a girl/* I says,
"And that one more of them would be more than 'he
could stand."
"He could have controlled her/* she says. "He seemed
to be the only person she had any consideration for. But
that is a part of the judgment too, I suppose/'
*Yes/ ? I says, "Too bad it wasn't me instead of him.
You'd be a lot better off/*
'Ton say things like that to hurt me/* she says. "I de-
serve it though. When they began to sell the land to send
Quentin to Harvard I told your father that he must make
an equal provision for you. Then when Herbert offered
to take you into the bank I said, Jason is provided for
THE SOUND AXD THE TUBY
now, and when all the expense began to pile up and I
was forced to sell our furniture and the rest of the pas-
ture, I wrote her at once because I said she will realise
that she and Quentin have had their share and part of
Jason's too and that it depends on her now to compensate
him. I said she will do that out of respect f or her father.
I believed that, then. But I'm just a poor old woman; I
was raised to believe that people would deny themselves
for their own flesh and blood. It's my fault You were
right to reproach me. 3 *
"Do you think I need any man's help to stand oa my
feet?" I says, "Let alone a woman that cant name the
father of her own child."
"Jason/* she says.
"All right, 3 * I says. "I didn't mean that. Of course not/ 1
"If I believed that were possible, after all my suffering."
"Of course it's not," I says. "I didn't mean it."
"I hope that at least is spared me," she says.
"Sure it is/' I says, "She's too much like both of them
to doubt that."
"I couldn't bear that/' she says.
"Then quit thinking about it," I says. "Has she been
worrying you any more about getting out at night?"
"No. I made her realise that it was for her own good
and that she'd thank me for it some day. She takes her
books with her and studies after I lock the door. I see
the light on as late as eleven oclock some nights."
"How do you know she's studying?** I says.
"I don't know what else she'd do in there alone/' she
says. "She never did read any."
"No," I says, "You wouldn't know. And you can thank
your stars for that/' I says. Only what would be the use
in saying it aloud. It would just have her crying on m@
again.
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
I heard her go up stairs. Then she called Quentin and
Quentin says What? through the door. "Goodnight/ 9
Mother says. Then I heard the key in the lock, and
Mother went back to her room.
When I finished my cigar and went up, the light was
ftill on. I could see the empty keyhole, but I couldn't
hear a sound. She studied quiet. Maybe she learned that
in school. I told Mother goodnight and went on to my
room and got the box out and counted it again. I could
hear the Great American Gelding snoring away like a
planing mill. I read somewhere they'd fix men that way
to give them women's voices. But maybe he didn't know
what they'd done to him. I dont reckon he even knew
what he had been trying to do, or why Mr Burgess
knocked him out with the fence picket. And if they'd
Just sent him on to Jackson while he was under the ether,
he'd never have known the difference. But that would
have been too simple for a Compson to think of. Not
half complex enough. Having to wait to do it at all
until he broke out and tried to run a little girl down on
the street with her own father looking at him. Well, like
1 say they never started soon enough with their cutting,
and they quit too quick. I know at least two more that
needed something like that, and one of them not over a
mile away, either. But then I dont reckon even that
would do any good. Like I say once a bitch always a
bitch. And just let me have twenty-four hours without
any damn New York jew to advise me what it's going to
do. i dont want to make a killing; save that to suck in
the smart gamblers with. I just want an even chance to
get my money back. And once I've done that they can
bring all Beale Street and all bedlam in here and two of
them can sleep in my bed and another one can have my
place at the table too.
APRIL
8
1928
THE BAY DAWKED BLEAK AND CHHJU A MOVING WAI&
of grey light out of the northeast which, instead of
dissolving into moisture, seemed to disintegrate into mi*
nute and venomous particles, like dust that, when Dilsey
opened the door of the cabin and emerged, needled lat*
erally into her flesh, precipitating not so much a moisture
as a substance partaking of the quality of thin, not quite
congealed oil. She wore a stiff black straw hat perched
upon her turban, and a maroon velvet cape with a bor-
der of mangy and anonymous fur above a dress of
purple silk, and she stood in the door for awhile with her
myriad and sunken face lifted to the weather, and one
gaunt hand flac-soled as the belly of a fish, then she
moved the cape aside and examined the bosom of her
gown.
The gown fell gauntly from her shoulders, across her
fallen breasts, then tightened upon her paunch and fell
again, ballooning a little above the nether garments
which she would remove layer by layer as the spring ac*
complisheri and the warm days, in colour regal and mon*
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
bund. She had been a big woman once but now her
skeleton rose, draped loosely in unpadded skin that tight-
ened again upon a paunch almost dropsical, as though
muscle and tissue had been courage or fortitude which
the days or the years had consumed until only the in-
domitable skeleton was left rising like a ruin or a land-
mark above the somnolent and impervious guts, and
above that the collapsed face that gave the impression of
the bones themselves being outside the flesh, lifted into
the driving day with an expression at once fatalistic and
of a child's astonished disappointment, until she turned
and entered the house again and closed the door.
The earth immediately about the door was bare. It had
a patina, as though from the soles of bare feet in genera-
tions, like old silver or the walls of Mexican houses which
have been plastered by hand. Beside the house, shading
it in summer, stood three mulberry trees, the fledged
leaves that would later be broad and placid as the palms
of hands streaming flatly undulant upon the driving air.
A pair of jaybirds came up from nowhere, whirled up on
the blast like gaudy scraps of cloth or paper and lodged
in the mulberries, where they swung in raucous tilt and
recover, screaming into the wind that ripped their harsh
cries onward and away like scraps of paper or of cloth in
turn. Then three more joined them and they swung and
tilted in the wrung branches for a time, screaming. The
door of the cabin opened and Dilsey emerged once more,
this time in a man's felt hat and an army overcoat, be-
aeath the frayed skirts of which her blue gingham dress
fell in uneven balloonings, streaming too about her as she
crossed the yard and mounted the steps to the kitchen
door.
A moment later she emerged, carrying an open um-
brella now, which she slanted ahead into the wind, and
TH:E SOUND AND THE FURY
crossed to the woodpile and laid the umbrella down,
still open. Immediately she caught at it and arrested it
and held to it for a while, looking about her. Then she
closed it and laid it down and stacked stovewood into
her crooked arm, against her breast, and picked up the
umbrella and got it open at last and returned to the steps
and held the wood precariously balanced while she con-
trived to close the umbrella, which she propped in the
corner just within the door. She dumped the wood into
the box behind the stove. Then she removed the overcoat
and hat and took a soiled apron down from the wall
and put it on and built a fire in the stove* While she was
doing so, rattling the grate bars and clattering the lids,
Mrs Compson began to call her from the head of the
stairs.
She wore a dressing gown of quilted black satin, hold'
ing it close under her chin. In the other hand she held a
red rubber hot water bottle and she stood at the head oi
the back stairway, calling "Dilsey" at steady and inflec-
tionless intervals into the quiet stairwell that descended
into complete darkness, then opened again where a grey
window fell across it. TDilsey," she called, without inflec-
tion or emphasis or haste, as though she were not listen
ing for a reply at all. "Dilsey."
Dilsey answered and ceased clattering the stove, but
before she could cross the kitchen Mrs Compson called
her again, and before she crossed the diningroom and
brought her head into relief against the grey splash of
the window, still again.
"All right," Dilsey said, "All right, here I is. IT] fill hit
soon ez I git some hot water." She gathered up her skirts
and mounted the stairs, wholly blotting the grey light.
"Put hit dbwn dar en g'awn back to bed."
"I couldn't understand what was the matter,**
284 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
Compson said. *Tve been lying awake for an hour at
least, without hearing a sound from the kitchen/*
"You put hit down and g'awn back to bed/' Dilsey
said. She toiled painfully up the steps, shapeless, breath-
ing heavily. Til have de fire gwiae in a minute, en de
water hot in two mo."*
"I've been lying there for an hour y at least/* Mrs Comp-
son said. *1 thought maybe you were waiting for me to
come down and start the fire.**
Dilsey reached the top of the stairs and took the water
bottle. 'Til fix hit in a minute/* she said. "Luster overslep
dis mawnin, up half de night at dat show. I gwine build
Je fire myself. Go on now, so you wont wake de others
twell I ready."
"If you permit Luster to do things that interfere with
Ms work, youH have to suffer for it yourself/' Mrs Comp-
son said. "Jason wont like this if he hears about it. You
know he wont/*
Twusn't none of Jason's money he went on/* Dilsey
said. "Dafs one thing sho/* She went on down the stairs.
Mrs Compson returned to her room. As she got into bed
again she could hear Dilsey yet descending the stairs
with a sort of painful and terrific slowness that would
have become maddening had it not presently ceased be-
yond the flapping diminishment of the pantry door.
She entered the kitchen and built up the fire and be-
gan to prepare breakfast. In the midst of this she ceased
and went to the window and looked out toward her
cabin, then she went to the door and opened it and
shouted into the driving weather.
"Luster!" she shouted, standing to listen, tilting her face
from the wind, "You, Luster?'* She listened* then as she
prepared to shout again Luster appeared around the
comer of the kitchen.
THE SOUND AND THE FIT BY
"Ma'am?" lie said innocently, so innocently that Dilsey
looked down at him, for a moment motionless with some-
thing more than mere surprise.
"Whar you at?" she said.
"Nowhere," he said. **J es ^ de cellar/'
"Whut you doin in de cellar?'' she said. TDont stand
dar in de rain, fool," she said.
"Aint doin nothing he said. He came up the steps.
"Dont you dare come in dis do widout a armful of
wood/" she said. "Here I done had to tote yo wood en
build yo fire bofe. Didn't I tole you not to leave dis
place last night befo dat woodbox wus full to de top? 8 *
TL did," Luster said, "I filled hit."
"Whar hit gone to, den?"
"I dont know'm. I aint teched hit."
'Well, you git hit full up now," she said. "And git OB
up den en see bout Benjy/*
She shut the door. Luster went to the woodpile. The
five jaybirds whirled over the house, screaming, and
into the mulberries again. He watched them. He picked
up a rock and threw it "Whoo," he said, "Git on back
to hell, whar you belong at. 'Taint Monday jit/*
He loaded himself mountainously with stove wood*
He could not see over it, and he staggered to the steps
and up them and blundered crashing against the door,
shedding billets. Then Dilsey came and opened the door
for him and he blundered across the kitchen. "You, Lus-
ter!" she shouted, but he had already hurled the wood
into the box with a thunderous crash. TThr he said.
"Is you tryin to wake up de whole house?" Dilsey said.
She hit him on the back of his head with the flat of hel
hand. "Go on up dar and git Benjy dressed, now/'
"Yessum," he said. He went toward the outer door.
**Whar you gwine?" Dilsey said.
2$6 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"*! thought I better go round de house en in by de
front, so I wont wake up Miss Cahline en dem"
"Ton go on up dem backstairs like I tole you en git
Benjy's clothes on him/* Dilsey said. "Go on, now."
"Yessum," Luster said. He returned and left by the
diningrooni door* After awhile it ceased to flap. Dilsey
prepared to make biscuit. As she ground the sifter
.steadily above the bread board, she sang, to herself at
first, something without particular tune or words, repeti-
tive, mournful and plaintive, austere, as she ground a
faint, steady snowing of flour onto the breadboard. The
stove had begun to heat the room and to fill it with mur-
murous minors of the fire, and presently she was singing
louder, as if her voice too had been thawed out by the
growing warmth, and then Mrs Compson called her
name again from within the house. Dilsey raised her face
as if her eyes could and did penetrate the walls and ceil-
ing and saw the old woman in her quilted dressing gown
at the head of the stairs, calling her name with machine-
like regularity.
"'Oh, Lawd," Dilsey said. She set the sifter down and
swept up the hem of her apron and wiped her hands
and caught up the bottle from the chair on which she
had laid it and gathered her apron about the handle of
the kettle which was now jetting faintly. "Jes a minute,"
she called, "De water jes dis minute got hot."
It was not the bottle which Mrs Compson wanted,
however, and clutching it by the neck like a dead hen
Dilsey went to the foot of the stairs and looked upward.
"Aint Luster up dar wid him?" she said.
"Luster hasn't been in the house. IVe been lying here
listening for him. I knew he would be late, but I did hope
jbe'd come in time to keep Benjamin from disturbing Ja-
THE SOUND AND THE FtTSY 287
son on Jason's one day in the week to sleep in the mom*
'ng-
"I dont see how you expect anybody to sleep, wid you
standin in de hall, hoIFin at folks fum de crack of
dawn," Dilsey said. She began to mount the stairs, toiling
heavily. "I sont dat boy up dar half hour ago.**
Mrs Compson watched her, holding the dressing gown
under her chin. "What are you going to doF* she said.
^Gwine git Benjy dressed en bring him down to de
kitchen, whar he wont wake Jason en Quentin/* Dilsey
said.
"Haven't you started breakfast yet?"
"Ill tend to dat too/' Dilsey said. "You better git back
in bed twell Luster make yo fire. Hit cold dis mawnin.**
<; I know it/* Mrs Compson said. "My feet are like ice.
They were so cold they waked me up." She watched Dil-
sey mount the stairs. It took her a long while. "You know
how it frets Jason when breakfast is late," Mrs Compson
said.
"I cant do but one thing at a time/' Dilsey said. '"You
git on back to bed, fo I has you on my hands dis mawnin
too."
"If you're going to drop everything to dress Benjamin,
I'd better come down and get breakfast. You know as
well as I do how Jason acts when it's late."
"En who gwine eat yo messin?" Dilsey said. "Tell me
dat. Go on now/' she said, toiling upward. Mrs Comp-
son stood watching her as she mounted, steadying herself
against the wall with one hand, holding her skirts up
with the other.
"Are you going to wake him up just to dress him?" she
said.
Dilsey stopped. With her fot Mfted to the next step
288 THE SOUND AND THE FUEY
she stood there, her hand against the wall and the
splash of the window behind her, motionless and shape-
less she loomed.
"He aint awake den?" she said.
"He wasn't when I looked in/* Mrs Compson said. "But
it's past his time. He never does sleep after naif past
seven. You know he doesn't/'
Dilsey said nothing. She made no further move, but
though she could not see her save as a blobby shape
without depth, Mrs Compson knew that she had lowered
her face a little and that she stood now like a cow in the
tain, as she held the empty water bottle by its neck.
"You're not the one who has to bear it/* Mrs Compson
said. "It's not your responsibility. You can go away. You
dont have to bear the brunt of it day in and day out.
You owe nothing to them, to Mr Compson's memory. I
know you have never had any tenderness for Jason.
You've never tried to conceal it."
Dilsey said nothing. She turned slowly and descended,
lowering her body from Jtep to step, as a small child
does, her hand against the wall. "You go on and let him
alone/' she said. "Dont go in dar no mo, now. I'll send
Luster up soon as I find him. Let him alone, now."
She returned to the kitchen. She looked into the stove,
then she drew her apron over her head and donned the
overcoat and opened the outer door and looked up and
down the yard. The weather drove upon her flesh, harsh
and minute, but the scene was empty of all else that
moved. She descended the steps, gingerly, as if for si-
lence, and went around the corner of the kitchen. As she
did so Luster emerged quickly and innocently from the
cellar door,
Dilsey stopped. "Whut you up to?* she said,
THE SOUND AND THE FUEY 289
"No-thin," Luster said, "Mr Jason say f er me to find out
what dat water leak in de cellar fum."
"En when wus hit he say fer you to do dat?* Dilsey
said, "last New Year's day, wasn't hit?"
"I thought I jes be lookin whiles dey sleep," Luster
said. Dilsey went to the cellar door. He stood aside and
she peered down into the obscurity odorous of dank
earth and mould and rubber,
"Huh/* Dilsey said. She looked at Luster again. He met
her gaze blandly, innocent and open. "I dont know whut
you up to, but you aint got no business doin hit. You jes
tryin me too dis mawnin cause de others is, aint you?
You git on up dar en see to Benjy, you hear?**
"Yessuin," Luster said. He went on toward the kitchen
steps, swiftly.
"Here, 3 * Dilsey said s "You git me another armful of
wood while I got you."
"Yessum," he said. He passed her on the steps and
went to the woodpile. When he blundered again at the
door a moment later, again invisible and blind within
and beyond his wooden avatar, Dilsey opened the dool
and guided him across the kitchen with a firm hand.
"Jes thow hit at dat box again," she said, "Jes thow
hit"
"I got to," Luster said, panting, "I cant put hit down no
other way/"
"Den you stand dar en hold hit a while/' Dilsey said*
She unloaded him a stick at a time. "Whut got into you
dis mawnin? Here I sont you fer wood en you aint never
brought mo'n six sticks at a time to save yo life twell to*
day. Whut you Bxin to ax me kin you do now? Aint dal
show lef town yit?"
^Tessum. Hit done gone, 5 *
290 THE SOUND AND THE FTJBT
She put the last stick into the box, "Now you go on up
dar wid Benjy, like I tola you bef o/* she said. "And I dont
want nobody else yellin down dem stairs at me twefl I
rings de bell, You hear me/*
'Tessum/' Luster said. He vanished through the swing
door. Dilsey put some more wood in the stove and re-
turned to the bread board. Presently she began to sing
again.
The room grew warmer. Soon Dilsey's skin had taken
on a rich, lustrous quality as compared with that as of a
faint dusting of wood ashes which both it and Luster's
had worn, as she moved about the kitchen, gathering
about her the raw materials of food, coordinating the
meal. On the wall above a cupboard, invisible save at
night, by lamp light and even then evincing an enigmatic
profundity because it had but one hand, a cabinet clock
ticked, then with a preliminary sound as if it had cleared
its throat, struck five times.
"Eight oclock," Dilsey said. She ceased and tilted her
head upward, listening. But there was no sound save the
clock and the fire. She opened the oven and looked at the
pan of bread, then stooping she paused while someone
descended the stairs. She heard the feet cross the dining-
room, then the swing door opened and Luster entered,
followed by a big man who appeared to have been
shaped of some substance whose particles would not or
did not cohere to one another or to the frame which sup-
ported it His skin was dead looking and hairless; dropsi-
cal too, he moved with a shambling gait like a trained
bear. His hair was pale and fine. It had been brushed
smoothly down upon his brow like that of children in
daguerrotypes. His eyes were clear, of the pale sweet blue
of cornflowers, his thick mouth hung open, drooling a
little.
THE SOUND AXB THE FURY
"Is he cold?" Dilsey said. She wiped her hands on her
apron and touched his hand.
"Ef he aint, I is Luster said. "Always cold Easter. Aint
never seen hit fail. Miss Caliline say ef you aint got time
to fix her hot water bottle to never mind about hit."
"Oh, lawd," Dilsey said. She drew a chair into the cor-
ner between the woodbox and the stove. The man went
obediently and sat in it. "Look in de dinin room and see
whar I laid dat bottle down/ 7 Dilsey said. Luster fetched
the bottle from the diningroom and Dilsey filled it and
gave it to him. "Hurry up, now/* she said. ""See ef Jason
wake now. Tell em hit's all ready."
Luster went out. Ben sat beside the stove. He sat
loosely, utterly motionless save for his head, which made
a continual bobbing sort of movement as he watched
Dilsey with his sweet vague gaze as she moved about.
Luster returned.
"He up/* he said, "Miss CahUne say put hit on de
table." He came to the stove and spread his hands palm
down above the firebox. "He up, too/' He said, **Gwine
hit wid bofe feet dis ma wain/"
"Whut's de matter now?" Dilsey said. "Git away fum
dar. How kin I do anything wid you standin over de
stove?"
"I cold/' Luster said.
"You ought to thought about dat whiles you wus down
dar in dat cellar/' Dilsey said. "Whut de matter wid
Jason?"
"Sayin me en Benjy broke dat winder in his room/'
"Is dey one broke?' ? Dilsey said.
"Dat's whut he savin," Luster said. "Say I broke hit."
"How could you, when he keep hit locked all day en
night?"
"Say I broke hit chunkin rocks at hit/' Luster said.
THE SOUXB AXB T -J B FURY
"En did you?"
"Nome/' Luster said.
**Dont lie to me, boy," Dilsey said.
*I never done kit/' Luster said. "Ask Benjy ef I did. I
aint stud'in dat winder/*
"Who could a broke hit, den?" Dilsey said. "He jes tryin
hisself, to wake Quentin up/* she said, taking the pan of
biscuits out of the stove.
"Reckin so/' Luster said. TDese is funny folks. Glad I
aint none of em."
"Aint none of who?** Dilsey said. "Lezmne tell you
somethin, nigger boy, you got jes es much Compson dev-
ilment in you es any of em. Is you right sho you never
broke dat window?"
*Whut I want to break hit fur?"
"Whut you do any of you devilment fur?" Dilsey said.
"Watch him now, so he cant burn his hand again twell I
git de table set."
She went to the diningroom, where they heard her
moving about, then she returned and set a plate at the
kitchen table and set food there. Ben watched her, slob-
bering, making a faint, eager sound.
"All right, honey/* she said, "Here yo breakfast. Bring
his chair, Luster/' Luster moved the chair up and Ben
sat down, whimpering and slobbering. Dilsey tied a cloth
about his neck and wiped his mouth with the end of it
"And see kin you kep fum messin up his clothes one
time/' she said, handing Luster a spoon.
Ben ceased whimpering. He watched the spoon as it
rose to his mouth. It was as if even eagerness were mus-
cle-bound in him too, and hunger itself inarticulate, not
knowing it is hunger. Luster fed him with skill and de-
tachment. Now and then his attention would return long
enough to enable him to feint the spoon and cause Ben
THE sOUXD AXB THE FURY
to close his mouth upon the empty alr 5 but it was appar-
ent that Luster's mind was elsewhere. His other hand
lay on the back of the chair and upon that dead surface
It moved tentatively., delicately, as if he were picking an
inaudible tune out of the dead void, and once he even
forgot to tease Ben with the spoon while his
teased out of the slain wood a soundless and involved
arpeggio until Ben recalled Mm by whimpering again.
In the diningroom Dilsey moved back and forth. Pres-
ently she rang a small clear bell, then in the kitchen Lus-
ter heard Mrs Compson and Jason descending, and Ja-
son's voice, and he rolled his eyes wMtely with listening.
"Sure, I know they didn't break it," Jason said. "Sure a
I know that. Maybe the change of weather broke it/*
<e l dont see how it could have/' Mrs Compson said,
**Your room stays locked all day long, just as you leave it
when you go to town. None of us ever go in there except
Sunday, to clean it, I dont want you to think that I would
go where I'm not wanted, or that I would permit anyone
else to."
"I never said you broke it, did I?" Jason said.
"I dont want to go in your room/' Mrs Compson said*
T respect anybody's private affairs. I wouldn't put my
foot over the threshold, even if I had a key/'
"Yes," Jason said, "I know your keys wont fit. That's
why I had the lock changed. What I want to know is,
how that window got broken."
TLuster say he didn't do hit/' Dilsey said.
"I knew that without asking him/' Jason said. "Where's
Quentin?" he said.
'Where she is ev'y Sunday mawnin/' Dilsey said*
**Whut got into you de last few days, anyhow?"
"Well, we're going to change all that/' Jason said. "Ga
up and tell her breakfast is ready/'
THE SOITHD AND THE FURY
"You leave her alone now, Jason, 9 * Dilsey said. "She
gits up fer breakfast ev'y week mawnin, en Cahline lets
her stay in bed ev'y Sunday. You knows dat."
"I cant keep a kitchen full of niggers to wait on her
pleasure, much as I'd like to," Jason said. "Go and tell
her to come down to breakfast/'
"Aint nobody have to wait on her," Dilsey said, "I
puts her breakfast in de warmer en she "
"Did you hear me?" Jason said.
"I hears you," Dilsey said. "All I been hearin, when you
in de house. Ef hit aint Quentin er yo maw, hit's Luster
en Benjy. Whut you let him go on dat way fer, Miss
Cahline?"
"You'd better do as he says/' Mrs Compson said, "He's
head of the house now. It's his right to require us to re-
spect his wishes. I try to do it, and if I can, you can too."
Taint no sense in him bein so bad tempered he got
to make Quentin git up jes to suit him," Dilsey said.
**Maybe you think she broke dat window."
"She would, if she happened to think of it," Jason said.
**You go and do what I told you."
**En I wouldn't blame her none ef she did," Dilsey
said, going toward the stairs. "Wid you naggin at her all
de blessed time yo in de house."
"Hush, Dilsey," Mrs Compson said, "It's neither your
place nor mine to tell Jason what to do. Sometimes I
think he is wrong, but I try to obey his wishes for you
alls' sakes. If I'm strong enough to come to the table,
Quentin can too."
Dilsey went out They heard her mounting the stairs.
They heard her a long while on the stairs.
"YouVe got a prize set of servants," Jason said. He
helped his mother and himself to food. "Did you ever
have one that was worth killing? You must have had
some before I was big enough to remember."
THE SOUXD AXD THE FTJBY
"I have to humour them,** Mrs Compson said. **I have
to depend on them so completely. It's not as if I were
strong. I wish I were. I wish I could do all the house
work myself. I could at least take that much off youi
shoulders."
"And a fine pigsty we'd live in, too/* Jason, said. "Hurry
up, Dilsey ," he shouted.
"I know you blame me/* Mrs Compson said, "for let-
ting them off to go to church today/'
"Go where?" Jason said. "Hasn't that damn show left
yet?"
"To church/' Mrs Compson said. "The darkies are hav-
ing a special Easter service. I promised Dilsey two weeks
ago that they could get off/*
"'Which means well eat cold dinner/* Jason said, "of
none at all."
"I know it's my fault/* Mrs Compson said. "I know you
blame me/'
"For what?" Jason said. 'You never resurrected Christ,
did you?"
They heard Dilsey mount the final stair, then her slo^
feet overhead.
"Quentin/* she said. When she called the first time Ja-
son laid his knife and fork down and he and his mother
appeared to wait across the table from one another, in
identical attitudes; the one cold and shrewd, with close-
thatched brown hair curled into two stubborn hooks, one
on either side of his forehead like a bartender in carica-
ture, and hazel eyes with black-ringed irises like marbles^
the other cold and querulous, with perfectly white hair
and eyes pouched and baffled and so dark as to appear
to be aE pupil or all iris.
"Quentin," Dilsey saw 7 , "Git up, honey. Dey waitin
breakfast on you."
"I cant understand how thai window got broken/' Mrs
THE SOTJXD AND THE FURY
Compson said, "Are you sure it was done yesterday? it
could have been like that a long time, with the warm
weather. The upper sash, behind the shade like that. 5 *
*Tve told you for the last time that it happened yester-
day/* Jason said. TDont you reckon I know the room I
live in? Do you reckon I could have lived in it a week
with a hole in the window you could stick your hand **
Ms voice ceased, ebbed., left him staring at his mother
with eyes that for an instant were quite empty of any-
thing. It was as though his eyes were holding their breath,
wMle his mother looked at him, her face flaccid and quer-
ulous, interminable, clairvoyant yet obtuse. As they sat so
Dilsey said,
"Quentin. Dont play wid me, honey. Come on to
breakfast, honey. Dey waitin fer you."
"I cant understand it," Mrs Compson said, "It's just as
if somebody had tried to break into the house " Jason
sprang up. His chair crashed over backward. "What "
Mrs Compson said, staring at him as he ran past her and
went jumping up the stairs, where he met Dilsey. His
face was now in shadow, and Dilsey said,
"She sulHn. Yo ma aint unlocked " But Jason ran on
past her and along the corridor to a door. He didn't call
He grasped the knob and tried it, then he stood with the
knob in his hand and his head bent a little, as if he were
listening to something much further away than the di-
mensioned room beyond the door, and which he already
heard. His attitude was that of one who goes through
the motions of listening in order to deceive himself as to
what he already hears. Behind him Mrs Compson
mounted the stairs, calling his name. Then she saw Dil-
sey and she quit calling him and began to call Dilsey in-
stead.
*1 told you she aint unlocked dat do* yit/* Dilsey said
THE SOXJVD AND "THE FUliI
When she spoke he turned and ran toward her, but his
voice was quiet, matter of fact. "She cany the key with
her?" he said. "Has she got it now, I mean, or will dhe
have"
"Diisey," Mrs Compson said on the stairs.
"Is which?" Dilsey said. *Whyn*t you let "
"The key/* Jason said, "To that room. Does she cany jt
with her all the time. Mother." Then he saw Mrs Comp-
son and he went down the stairs and met her. "Give me
the key/* he said. He fell to pawing at the pockets of the
rusty black dressing sacque she wore. She resisted.
"Jason," she said, "Jason! Are you and Dilsey trying to
put me to bed again?" she said, trying to fend him off,
"Cant you even let me have Sunday in peace?"
"The key/' Jason said, pawing at hei, "Give it here/*
He looked back at the door, as if he expected it to fly-
open before he could get back to it with the key he did
not have.
"You, Dilsey!" Mrs Compson said, clutching her sacque
about her.
"Give me the key, you old fool!" Jason cried suddenly.
From her pocket he tugged a huge bunch of rusted keys
on an iron ring like a mediaeval jailer's and ran back up
the hall with the two women behind him,
"You, Jason!" Mrs Compson said. "He will never find
the right one/' she said, "You know I never let anyone
take my keys, Dilsey/' she said. She began to wail.
"Hush," Dilsey said, "He aint gwine do nothin to her.
I aint gwine let him."
"But on Sunday morning, in my own house," Mrs
Compson said, "When I've tried so hard to raise them
Christians. Let me find the right key, Jason," she said.
She put her hand on his arm. Then she began to struggle
with him, but he flung her aside with a motion of his el-
298 THE SOUHB AND THE FXJXY
bow and looked around at her for a moment, his eyes
cold and harried, then he turned to the door again and
the unwieldy keys.
"Hush," Dilsey said, 'Tfou, Jason!"
"Something terrible has happened/' Mrs Compson said,
wailing again, TL know it has. You, Jason," she said, grasp-
ing at him again. "He wont even let me find the key to a
room in my own house!'*
"Now, now/' Dilsey said, "Whut kin happen? I right
here. I aint gwine let him hurt her. Quentin,** she said,
raising her voice, "Dont you be skeered, honey, I'se right
here."
The door opened, swung inward. He stood in it for a
moment, hiding the room, then he stepped aside. "Go in/"
he said in a thick, light voice. They went in. It was not a
girl's room. It was not anybody's room, and the faint
scent of cheap cosmetics and the few feminine objects
and other evidences of crude and hopeless efforts to fem-
inize it but added to its anonymity, giving it that dead
and stereotyped transience of rooms in assignation
houses. The bed had not been disturbed. On the floor lay
a soiled undergarment of cheap silk a little too pink;
from a half open bureau drawer dangled a single stock-
ing. The window was open. A pear tree grew there, close
against the house. It was in bloom and the branches
scraped and rasped against the house and the myriad air,
driving in the window, brought into the room the forlorn
scent of the blossoms.
"Dar now," Dilsey said, "Didn't 1 told you she all
right?"
"All right?'* Mrs Compson said. Dilsey followed her
into the room and touched her.
"You come on and lay down, now," she said, **I find her
In ten minutes.**
SOTTKD A2^B THE
Mrs Compson shook lier off. "Find the note/"" she said*
"Quentin left a note when he did it."
"All right/' Dilsey said, TH find hit You come on to yo
room, now."
*1 knew the minute they named her Quentin this
would happen/' Mrs Compson said. She went to the bu-
reau and began to turn over the scattered objects there
scent bottles, a box o powder, a chewed pencil, a pair
of scissors with one broken blade lying upon a darned
scarf dusted with powder and stained with rouge. "Find
the note/' she said.
"I is/' Dilsey &aid. **You come on, now. Me and JascraTl
find hit You come on to yo room.**
"Jason,** Mrs Compson said, "Where is he? n She went to
the door. Dilsey followed her on down the hall, to an-
other door. It was closed. "Jason," she called through the
door. There was no answer. She tried the knob, then she
called him again. But there was still no answer, for he
was hurling tilings backward out of the closet: garments,
shoes, a suitcase. Then he emerged carrying a sawn sec-
tion of tongue-and-groove planking and laid it down and
entered the closet again and emerged with a metal box,
He set it on the bed and stood looking at the broken
lock while he dug a key ring from his pocket and
selected a key, and for a time longer he stood with the
selected key in his hand, looking at the broken lock, then
he put the keys back in his pocket and carefully tilteci
the contents of the box out upon the bed. Still carefully
he sorted the papers, taking diem up one at a time and
shaking them. Then he upended the box and shook it too
and slowly replaced the papers and stood again, looking
at the broken lock, with the box in his hands and his
head bent. Outside the window he heard some jaybirds
swirl shrieking past, and away, their cries whipping away
300 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
along the wind, and an automobile passed somewhere
and died away also. His mother spoke his name again
beyond the door, but he didn't move. He heard Dilsey
lead her away up the hall, and then a door closed. Then
he replaced the box in the closet and flung the garments
back into it and went down stairs to the telephone. While
he stood there with the receiver to Ms ear, waiting,, Dil-
sey came down the stairs. She looked at him, without
stopping, and went on.
The wire opened. 'This is Jason Compson," he said,
bis voice so harsh and thick that he had to repeat him-
self. "Jason Compson/ 7 he said, controlling his voice.
"Have a car ready, with a deputy, if you cant go, in ten
minutes. Ill be there What? Robbery. My house. I
know who it Robbery, I say. Have a car ready What?
Aren't you a paid law enforcement Yes, I'll be there in
five minutes. Have that car ready to leave at once. If you
dont. 111 report it to the governor."
He clapped the receiver back and crossed the dining-
room, where the scarce-broken meal now lay cold on
the table, and entered the kitchen. Dilsey was filling the
hot water bottle. Ben sat, tranquil and empty. Beside
him Luster looked like a fice dog, brightly watchful. He
Was eating something. Jason went on across the kitchen.
"Aint you going to eat no breakfast?" Dilsey said. He
paid her no attention. "Go and eat yo breakfast, Jason."
He went on. The outer door banged behind him. Luster
rose and went to the window and looked out.
"Whoo," he said, "Whut happenin up dar? He been
beatin' Miss Quentin?"
"You hush yo mouf," Dilsey said. "You git Benjy
started now en I beat yo head off. You keep him quiet es
you kin twell I get back, now." She screwed the cap on
the bottle and went out. They heard her go up the stairs.
THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
then they heard Jason pass the house in his car. Then
there was no sound in the kitchen save the simmering
murmur of the kettle and the clock.
"You know whut I bet?" Luster said. "I bet he beat her.
I bet he knock her in de head en now he gone far de
doctor. Dat's whut I bet" The clock tick-tocked, solemn
and profound. It might have been tibe dry pulse ot the
decaying house itself; after a while it whirred and cleared
its throat and struck six times. Ben looked up at it, then
he looked at the bullet-like silhouette of Luster's head in
the window and he begun to bob his head again, drool-
ing. He whimpered.
"Hush up, loony/ 5 Luster said without turning. "Look
like we aint gwine git to. go to no church today." But
Ben sat in the chair, his big soft hands dangling between
his knees, moaning faintly. Suddenly he wept, a slow bel-
lowing sound, meaningless and sustained. "Hush/' Lus-
ter said. He turned and lifted his hand. "You want me to
whup you?" But Ben looked at him, bellowing slowly
with each expiration. Luster came and shook him. "You
hush dis minute!" he shouted. "Here," he said. He hauled
Ben out of the chair and dragged the chair around facing
the stove and opened the door to the firebox and shoved!
Ben into the chair. They looked like a tug nudging at a
clumsy tanker in a narrow dock. Ben sat down again
facing the rosy door. He hushed. Then they heard the
clock again, and Dilsey slow on the stairs. When she en-
tered he began to whimper again. Then he lifted his
voice,
"Whut you done to him?" Dilsey said. "Why cant you
let him lone dis mawnin, of all times?"
"I aint doin nothin to him," Luster said. "Mr Jason
skeered him, dat's whut hit is. He aint kilt Miss
is he?"
3* THE SOTJHD AND THE
THush, Benjy , w Dilsey said. He hushed. She went to the
window and looked out. "Is it quit rainin?" she said.
"Yesstun/ 9 Luster said. "Quit long time ago."
"Den ya'll go out do's a while," she said. "I jes got Miss
Cahline quiet now/ 7
"Is we gwine to church?" Luster said.
T[ let you know bout dat when de time come. You
keep him away fura de house tweU I calls you."
"Kin we go to de pastuh?" Luster said.
*AU right. Only you keep him away fum de house. I
done stood all I kin."
*Yessum," Luster said. "Whar Mr Jason gone, mammy?*"
TDat's some mo of yo business, aint it?" Dilsey said. She
began to clear the table. "Hush, Benjy. Luster gwine take
you out to play.**
*Whut he done to Miss Quentin, mammy?" Luster said.
"Aint done nothin to her. You all git on outen here.**
*1 bet she aint here/* Luster said.
Dilsey looked at him. "How you know she aint here?**
**Me and Benjy seed her clamb out de window last
night Didn't us, Benjy?"
"You did?" Dilsey said, looking at him.
*We sees her doin hit ev'y night/' Luster said, "Clamb
light down dat pear tree/'
TDont you lie to me, nigger boy/* Dilsey said.
T aint lyin. Ask Benjy ef I is."
*Whyn't you say somethin about it, den?"
**'Twam't none o my business, 7 * Luster said. "I aiBt
gwine git mixed up in white folks' business. Come on
here, Benjy, las go out do's/'
They went out. Dilsey stood for awhile at the table,
then she went and cleared the breakfast things from the
diningroom and ate her breakfast and cleaned up tibe
kitchen. Then she removed her apron and hung it up
THE SOUND A^"B THE FUBY 33
and went to the foot of the stairs and listened for a mo-
ment. There was no sound. She donned the overcoat and
the hat and went across to her cabin.
The rain had stopped. The air now drove out of the
southeast, broken overhead into blue patches. Upon fee
crest of a hill beyond the trees and roofs and spires of
iown sunlight lay like a pale scrap of cloth, was blotted
away. Upon the air a bell came, then as if at a signal*.
other bells took up the sound and repeated it.
The cabin door opened and Dilsey emerged, again in
the maroon cape and the purple gown, and wearing
soiled white elbow-length gloves and minus her head-
cloth now. She came into the yard and called Luster. She
waited awhile, then she went to the house and around It
to the cellar door, moving close to the wall, and looked
into the door. Ben sat on the steps. Before him Luster
squatted on the damp floor. He held a saw in his left
hand, the blade sprung a little by pressure of his hand,
and he was in the act of striking the blade with the worn
wooden mallet with which she had been making beaten
biscuit for more than thirty years. The saw gave forth a
single sluggish twang that ceased with lifeless alacrity,
leaving the blade in a thin clean curve between Luster 9 *
hand and the floor. Still, inscrutable, it bellied.
TDat's de way he done hit," Luster said. "I jes aint f ouaa
de right thing to hit it wid."
"Dat's whut you doin, is it?' 3 Dilsey said. "Bring me dat
mallet," she said.
"I aint hurt hit," Luster said.
"Bring hit here/* Dilsey said. 'Tut dat saw whar you
got hit first."
He put the saw away and brought the mallet to her.
Then Ben wailed again, hopeless and prolonged. It
nothing. Just sound. It might have been all time and
THE SOTTED AXB THE FURY
Justice and sorrow become vocal for an instant by a con-
fttnction of planets.
"Listen at him/' Luster said, "He been gwine on dat
way ev'y since you sont us outen de house. I dont know
whut got in to him dis mawnin."
TBiing him here/' Dilsey said.
**Come on ? Benjy/* Luster said. He went back down
the steps tod took Ben's arm. He came obediently, wail-
ing, that slow hoarse sound that ships make, that seems
to begin before the sound itself has started, seems to
cease before the sound itself has stopped.
"Run and git his cap,** Dilsey said. "Dont make no
noise Miss Cahline kin hear. Hurry, now. We already
late."
**She gwine hear him anyhow, ef you dont stop him."
Luster said.
"He stop when we git off de place/* Dilsey said. "He
smellin hit. Dat's whut hit is."
"Smell whut, mammy?" Luster said.
*TTou go git dat cap/* Dilsey said. Luster went on. They
stood in the cellar door, Ben one step below her. The sky
was broken now into scudding patches that dragged their
swift shadows up out of the shabby garden, over the
broken fence and across the yard. Dilsey stroked Ben's
head, slowly and steadily, smoothing the bang upon his
brow. He wailed quietly, unhurriedly. "Hush," Dilsey
said, "Hush, now. We be gone in a minute. Hush, now."
He wailed quietly and steadily.
Luster returned, wearing a stiff new straw hat with a
coloured band and carrying a cloth cap. The hat seemed
to isolate Luster's skull, in the beholder's eye as a spot* 1
fight would, in all its individual planes and angles. So
peculiarly individual was its shape that at first glance the
TKB SOUND AXi) THE i 1 U K V 3l
hat appeared to be on the head of someone standing im-
mediately behind Luster. Dilsey looked at the hat.
"Whyn't you wear yo old hat?" she said.
""'Couldn't find hit/' Luster said.
"I bet you couldn't. I bet you fixed hit last night so you
couldn't find hit. You fixin to ruin dat im."
"Aw, mammy/ 7 Luster said, **Hit aiiit gwine rain/ 5 *
"How you know? You go git dat old hat en put dat
new un away."
"Aw, mammy."
"Den you go git de umbreller."
"Aw, mammy."
'Take yo choice/' Dilsey said. "Git yo old hat, er da
umbreller. I dont keer which."
Luster went to the cabin. Ben wailed quietly.
"Come on/' Dilsey said, "Day kin ketch up wid us. We
gwine to hear de singin." They went around the house^
toward the gate. "Hush/' Dilsey said from time to time as
they went down the drive. They reached the gate. Dil-
sey opened it. Luster was coming down the drive behind
them, carrying the umbrella. A woman was with him*
"Here dey come/' Dilsey said. They passed out the gate*
"Now, den/' she said. Ben ceased. Luster and his mcthei
overtook them. Frony wore a dress of bright blue silk
and a flowered hat. She was a thin woman, with a flat*
pleasant face.
"You got six weeks' work right dar on yo back,* 7 Dilsey
said. "Whut you gwine do ef hit rain?"
"Git wet, I reckon/' Frony said. "I aint never stopped
no rain yit."
"Mammy always talkin bout hit gwine rain/' Lustef
said.
"Ef I dont worry bout /all, I dont know who is/ 7 Dilsejf
said. "Come on, we already late."
$06 THE SOUND AND THE FURY
"Rev'un Shegog gwine preach today " Frony said.
"Is? w Dilsey said. "Who him?"
*He fum Saint Looey/' Frony said. TDat big
preacher.**
"Huh," Dilsey said, "Whut dey needs is a man Inn put
de fear of God into dese here triflin young niggers."
*Rev*un Shegog gwine preach today," Frony said. "So
dey tells."
They went on along the street. Along its quiet length
white people in bright clumps moved churchward, under
the windy bells, walking now and then in the random
and tentative sun. The wind was gust) 7 , out of the south-
east, chill and raw after the warm days.
*I wish you wouldn't keep on bringin him to church,
mammy," Frony said. "Folks talkiri."
"Whut folks?" Dilsey said.
"I hears em," Frony said.
"And I knows whut kind of folks," Dilsey said, "Trash
white folks. Dat's who it is. Thinks he aint good enough
fer white church, but nigger church aint good enough
fer him."
"Dey talks, jes de same," Frony said.
"Den you send um to me," Dilsey said. "Tell um de
good Lawd dont keer whether he smart er not. Dont no-
body but white trash keer dat"
A street turned off at right angles, descending, and be-
came a dirt road. On either hand the land dropped more
sharply; a broad flat dotted with small cabins whose
Weathered roofs were on a level with the crown of the
road. They were set in small grassless plots littered with
broken things, bricks, planks, crockery, things of a once
utilitarian value. What growth there was consisted of
rank weeds and the trees were mulberries and locusts
and sycamores trees that partook also of the foul desic-
THB SOTJXD AND THE FUFY
cation which surrounded the houses; trees whose very
burgeoning seemed to be the sad and stubborn remnant
of September, as if even spring had passed them by*
leaving them to feed upon the rich and unmistakable
smell of negroes in which they grew.
From the doors negroes spoke to them as they passed*
to Dilsey usually:
"Sis* Gibson! How you dis raawnin?**
*Tm well. Is you well?"
*Tm right well, I thank you."*
They emerged from the cabins and struggled up the
shading levee to the road men in staid, hard brown or
black, with gold watch chains and now and then a stick;
young men in cheap violent blues or stripes and swagger-
ing hats; women a little stiffly sibilant, and children in
garments bought second hand of white people, who
looked at Ben with the covertness of nocturnal animals:
"I bet you wont go up en tech him."
"How come I wont?"
"I bet you wont. I bet you skeered to."
"He wont hurt folks. He des a loony."
"How come a loony wont hurt folks?"
"Dat un wont. I teclied him/*
<e l bet you wont now."
"Case Miss Dilsey lookin."
"You wont no ways."
"He dont hurt folks. He des a loony."
And steadily the older people speaking to Dilsey,
though, unless they were quite old, Dilsey permitted
Frony to respond.
"Mammy aint feelin well dis mawnin."
TDat's too bad. But Rev'un Shegogll cure dat. Hel
give her de comfort en de unburdening
The road rose again, to a scene like a painted backr
308 THE SOUXD AND THE FURY
drop. Notched into a cut of red clay crowned with oaks
lie road appeared to stop short off, like a cut ribbon.
jBeside it a weathered church lifted its crazy steeple like
a painted church, and the whole scene was as flat and
without perspective as a painted cardboard set upon the
ultimate edge of the flat earth, against the windy sunlight
of space and April and a midmorning filled with bells.
Toward the church they thronged with slow sabbath de-
liberation. The women and children went on in, the men
stopped outside and talked in quiet groups until the bell
ceased ringing. Then they too entered.
The church had been decorated, with sparse flowers
from kitchen gardens and hedgerows, and with streamers
of coloured crepe paper. Above the pulpit hung a bat-
tered Christmas bell, the accordion sort that collapses.
The pulpit was empty, though the choir was already in
pkce, fanning themselves although it was not warm.
Most of the women were gathered on one side of the
room. They were talking. Then the bell struck one time
and they dispersed to their seats and the congregation sat
for an instant, expectant. The bell struck again one time.
The choir rose and began to sing and the congregation
turned its head as one, as six small children four girls
with tight pigtails bound with small scraps of cloth like
butterflies, and two boys with close napped heads, en-
tered and marched up the aisle, strung together in a har-
ness of white ribbons and flowers, and followed by two
men in single file. The second man was huge, of a light
coffee colour, imposing in a frock coat and white tie. His
head was magisterial and profound, his neck rolled above '
his collar in rich folds. But he was familiar to them, and
so the heads were still reverted when he had passed, and
it was not until the choir ceased singing that they real-
ised that the visiting clergyman had already entered^
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 39
and when they saw the man who had preceded
minister enter the pulpit still ahead of him an indescrfb^
able sound went up, a sigh, a sound of astonishment
disappointment.
The visitor was undersized, in a shabby alpaca coat*
He had a wizened black face like a small, aged monkey.
And aH the while that the choir sang again and while
six children rose and sang in thin, frightened, time-
less whispers, they watched the insignificant looking man
sitting dwarfed and countrified by the minister's imposing
bulk, with something like consternation. They were still
looking at him with consternation and unbelief when the
minister rose and introduced him in rich, rolling tones
whose very unction served to increase the visitor's insig-
nificance.
"En dey brung dat all de way fum Saint Looey/* Fxony
whispered.
*Tve knowed de Lawd to use cuiser tools dan dat,**
Dilsey said. "Hush, now/* she said to Ben, "Dey fixin to
sing again in a minute."
When the visitor rose to speak he sounded like a white
man. His voice was level and cold. It sounded too big to
have come from him and they listened at first through
curiosity, as they would have to a monkey talking. They
began to watch him as they would a man on a tight rope.
They even forgot his insignificant appearance in the vir-
tuosity with which he ran and poised and swooped upon
the cold inflectionless wire of his voice, so that at last,,
when with a sort of swooping glide he came to rest again
beside the reading desk with one arm resting upon it at
shoulder height and his monkey body as reft of all mo-
tion as a mummy or an emptied vessel, the congregation
sighed as if it waked from a collective dream and moved
a little IB its seats. Behind the pulpit the choir fanned
JIO THE S0IIXP AXD THE FURY
Steadily, Dilsey whispered, "Hush, now. Dey fixin to sing
in a minute/'
Then a voice said, "Brethren."
The preacher had not moved. His arm lay yet across
the desk, and he still held that pose while the voice died
in sonorous echoes between the walls. It was as different
as day and dark from his former tone, with a sad, tim-
brous quality like an alto horn, sinking into their hearts
and speaking there again when it had ceased in fading
and cumulate echoes.
"Brethren and sisteren/" it said again. The preacher re-
moved his arm and he began to walk back and forth be-
fore the desk, his hands clasped behind him, a meagre
figure, hunched over upon itself like that of one long im-
mured in striving with the implacable earth, "I got the
recollection and the blood of the Lamb!" He tramped
5teadily back and forth beneath the twisted paper and
the Christmas bell, hunched, his hands clasped behind
him. He was like a worn small rock whelmed by the suc-
cessive waves of his voice. With his body he seemed to
feed the voice that, succubus like, had fleshed its teeth in
turn. And the congregation seemed to watch with its
own eyes while the voice consumed him, until he was
nothing and they were nothing and there was not even a
voice but instead their hearts were speaking to one an-
other in chanting measures beyond the need for words,
so that when he came to rest against the reading desk,
his monkey face lifted and his whole attitude that of a
serene, tortured crucifix that transcended its shabbiness
and insignificance and made it of no moment, a long
moaning expulsion of breath rose from them, and a
woman's single soprano: "Yes, Jesus!"
As the scudding day passed overhead the dingy win-
dows glowed and faded in ghostly retrograde. A car
THE SOUND AXD THE FXJEY 3 1 *
passed along the road outside, labouring in the sand r
died away, Dilsey sat bolt upright, her hand on Ben's
knee. Two tears slid down her fallen cheeks, in and out
of the myriad coruscations of immolation and abnegation
and time.
"Brethren/' the minister said in a harsh whisper, with-
out moving.
'"Yes, Jesus!" The woman's voice said, hushed yet
"Breddren en sistuhn!" His voice rang again, with tibe
horns. He removed his arm and stood erect and raised
his hands. "I got de ricklickshun en de blood of de
Lamb!" They did not mark just when his intonation, his
pronunciation, became negroid, they just sat swaying a
little in their seats as the voice took them into itself.
"When de long, cold Oh, I tells you, breddren, when
de long, cold I sees de light en I sees de word, po sin-
ner! Dey passed away in Egypt, de swingin. chariots; de
generations passed away. Wus a rich man: whar lie now,
breddren? Was a po man: whar he now, O sistuhn? Oh
1 tells you, ef you aint got de milk en de dew of de old
salvation when de long, cold years rolls away!"
"Yes, Jesus!"
"I tells you, breddren, en I tells you, sistuhn, deyll
come a time. Po sinner saying Let me lay down wid de
Lawd, lemme lay down my load. Den whut Jesus gwine
say, O breddren? O sistuhn? Is you got de ricklickshun
en de Blood of de Lamb? Case I aint gwine load down
heaven!' 1
He fumbled in his coat and took out a handkerchief
and mopped his face. A low concerted sound rose
from the congregation: "Mmmmmmmmmmnimrnr The
woman's voice said, "Yes, Jesus! Jesus!"
"Breddren! Look at dem little chillen settin dar. Jesus
wus like dat once. He mammy suffered de glory en do
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
pangs. Sometime maybe she belt him at de nightfall,
whilst de angels singin him to sleep; maybe she look out
de do' en see de Roman po-lice passing He tramped back
and forth, mopping his face. "Listen, breddren! I sees de
day. Ma'y settin in de do" wid Jesus on her lap, de little
Jesus. Like dem chillen dar, de little Jesus. I hears de
fmgels singin de peaceful songs en de glory; 1 sees de
closin eyes; sees Mary jump up, sees de sojer face: We
gwine to kill! We gwine to kill! We gwine to kill yo little
Jesus! I hears de weepin en de lamentation of de po
mammy widout de salvation en de word of God!"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Jesus! Little JesusT
and another voice, rising:
"I sees, O Jesus! Oh I sees!" and still another, without
words, like bubbles rising in water.
"I sees hit, breddren! I sees hit! Sees de blastin, blindin
sight! I sees Calvary, wid de sacred trees, sees de thief ea
de murderer en de least of dese; I hears de boasting en de
braggin: Ef you be Jesus, lif up yo tree en walk! I hears
de wailin of women en de evenin lamentations; I hears
de weepin en de cryin en de turnt-away face of God:
dey done kilt Jesus; dey done kilt my Son!"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Jesus! I sees, O Jesus!"
"O blind sinner! Breddren, I tells you; sistuhn, I says to
you, when de Lawd did turn His mighty face, say, Aint
gwine overload heaven! I can see de widowed God shet
His do'; I sees de whelmin flood roll between; I sees de
darkness en de death everlastin upon de generations.
Den, lo! Breddren! Yes, breddren! Whut I see? Whut I
see, O sinner? I sees de resurrection en de light; sees de
meek Jesus sayin Dey kilt Me dat ye shall live again; 1
died dat dem whut sees en believes shall never die. Bred-
O breddren! I sees de doom crack en hears de
THE SOUND AND THE FXJBY 3 I 3
golden horns shoutin down de glory, en de arisen dead
whut got de blood en de ricklickshun of de Lamb!"
In the midst of the voices and the hands Ben sat, rapt
in his sweet blue gaze. Dilsey sat bolt upright beside, cry-
ing rigidly and quietly in the annealment and the blooc?
of the remembered Lamb,
As they walked through the bright noon, up the sandy
road with the dispersing congregation talking easily
again group to group, she continued to weep, unmindful
of the talk,
"He sho a preacher, mon! He didn't look like much at
first, but hush!"
"He seed de power en de glory.'*
"Yes, suh. He seed hit. Face to face he seed hit/'
Dilsey made no sound, her face did not quiver as the
tears took their sunken and devious courses, walking with
her head up, making no effort to dry them away even.
"Whyn't you quit dat, mammy?" Frony said. "Wid all
dese people lookin. We be passin white folks soon."
"I've seed de first en de last," Dilsey said. "Never you
mind me."
"First en last whut?" Frony said.
"Never you mind," Dilsey said. "I seed de beginnin^
en now I sees de endin."
Before they reached the street, though, she stopped
and lifted her skirt and dried her eyes on the hem of
her topmost underskirt. Then they went on. Ben sham-
bled along beside Dilsey, watching Luster who anticked
along ahead, the umbrella in his hand and his new straw
hat slanted viciously in the sunlight, like a big foolish
dog watching a small clever one. They reached the gate
and entered. Immediately Ben began to whimper agairij
and for a while all of them looked up the drive at th
square, paintless house with its rotting portico.
THTE SO0JNTD A2STD THE
**Whut ? s gwine on up dar today?'* Frony said. "Some-
thing is/*
"Nothin," Dilsey said. *Tou tend to yo business en let
de white folks tend to deir'n."
"Somethin is/* Frony said. "I heard him first tiling dis
mawnin. Taint none of my business, dough."
"En I knows whut, too/* Luster said.
"You knows mo dan you got any use fer/* Dilsey said.
**Aint you Jes heard Frony say hit aint none of yo busi-
ness? You take Benjy on to de back and keep him quiet
twell I put dinner on."
"I knows whar Miss Quentin is," Luster said.
TDen jes keep hit/' Dilsey said. "Soon es Quentin need
any of yo egvice, I'll let you know. Y'all g'awn en play in
de back, now."
"You know whut gwine happen soon es dey start playin
dat ball over yonder/' Luster said.
*T)ey wont start fer awhile yit. By dat time T. P. be
here to take him ridin. Here, you gimme dat new hat**
Luster gave her the hat and he and Ben went on
across the back yard. Ben was still whimpering, though
not loud. Dilsey and Frony went to the cabin. After a
while Dilsey emerged, again in the faded calico dress, and
went to the kitchen. The fire had died down. There was
no sound in the house. She put on the apron and went up
stairs. There was no sound anywhere. Quentin's room was
as they had left it. She entered and picked up the under-
garment and put the stocking back in the drawer and
closed it. Mrs Compson's door was closed. Dilsey stood
beside it for a moment, listening. Then she opened it
and entered, entered a pervading reek of camphor. The
shades were drawn, the room in halflight, and the bed,
so that at first she thought Mrs Compson was asleep and
Was about to close the door when the other spoke.
SOUND ANB THE FUBT
"Well?" she said, "What is it?"
"Hit's me/* Dilsey said. "You want anything?*
Mrs Compson didn't answer. After awhile, without
moving her head at all, she said: c< Where*s Jason?**
"He aint come back yit," Dilsey said. "Whut y0a
want?"
Mrs Compson said nothing. Like so many cold, weak
people, when faced at last by the incontrovertible disas-
ter she exhumed from somewhere a sort of fortitude,
strength. In her case it was an unshakable conviction re-
garding the yet unplumbed event. "Well," she said pres-
ently, "Did yon find it?"
"Find whut? Whut you talkin about?"
"The note. At least she would have enough considera*
tion to leave a note. Even Quentin did that."
'Whut you talkin about?" Dilsey said, ""Dent you know
she all right? I bet she be wallcin right in dis do* befo
dark."
"Fiddlesticks," Mrs Compson said, "It's in the blood.
Like uncle, like niece. Or mother. I dont know which
would be worse. I dont seem to care."
"Whut you keep on talkin that way fur?" Dilsey said*
"Whut she want to do anything like that fur?"
"I dont know. What reason did Quentin have? Under
God's heaven what reason did he have? It cant be simply
to flout and hurt me. Whoever God is, He would not per-
mit that. I'm a lady. You might not believe that from my
offspring, but I am/'
"You des wait en see," Dilsey said. "She be here by
night, right dar in her bed." Mrs Compson said nothing*
The camphor-soaked cloth lay upon her brow. The black
robe lay across the foot of the bed. Dilsey stood with her
hand on the door knob.
"Well," Mrs Compson said. '"What do you want? Ar@
3" THE SOUKD ANB THE
you going to fix some dinner for Jason and Benjamin or
not?"
^Jason aint come yit/' Dilsey said. "I gwine fix some-
thin. You sho you dont want nothin? Yo bottle still hot
enough?"
"You might hand me my Bible."
*1 give hit to you dis mawnln, befo I left/*
"You laid it on the edge of the bed. How long did you
expect it to stay there?"
Dilsey crossed to the bed and groped among the
shadows beneath the edge of it and found the Bible, face
down. She smoothed the bent pages and laid the book on
the bed again. Mrs Compson didn't open her eyes. Her
Jiair and the pillow were the same color, beneath the
wimple of the medicated cloth she looked Like an old ram
praying. "Dont put it there again/' she said, without
pening her eyes. 'That's where you put it before. Do
you want me to have to get out of bed to pick it up?"
Dilsey reached the book across her and laid it on the
Inroad side of the bed. "You cant see to read, noways/*
she said. "You want me to raise de shade a little?"
"No. Let them alone. Go on and fix Jason something to
eat"
Dilsey went out. She closed the door and returned to
the kitchen. The stove was almost cold. While she stood
there the clock above the cupboard struck ten times.
**One oclock/' she said aloud, "Jason aint comin home. Ise
seed de first en de last/* she said, looking at the cold
stove, T seed de first en de last." She set out some cold
food on a table. As she moved back and forth she sang a
hymn. She sang the first two lines over and over to the
complete tune. She arranged the meal and went to the
door and called Luster, and after a time Luster and Ben
THE SOUND ANB THE FZJBY 3 1 /
entered. Ben was still moaning a little, as to himself.
T3e aint never quit/* Luster said.
*TTall come on en eat," Dilsey said. **Jason aint coming
to dinner/' They sat down at the table. Ben could man*
age solid food pretty well for himself, though even now*
with cold food before him, Dilsey tied a cloth about his
neclc. He and Luster ate. Dilsey moved about the kitchen*
singing the two lines of the hymn which she remembered.
""Tall kin g'awn en eat,** she said, "Jason aint comin
home.**
He was twenty miles away at that time. When he left
the house he drove rapidly to town, overreaching the
slow sabbath groups and the peremptory bells along the
broken air. He crossed the empty square and turned into
a narrow street that was abruptly quieter even yet, and
stopped before a frame house and went up the flower-
bordered walk to the porch.
Beyond the screen door people were talking. As he
lifted his hand to knock he heard steps, so he withheld
his hand until a big man in black broadcloth trousers and
a stiff-bosomed white shirt without collar opened the
door. He had vigorous untidy iron-grey hair and his grey
eyes were round and shiny like a little boy's. He took
Jason's hand and drew him into the house, still shaking it.
"Coine right in," he said, "Come right in."
"You ready to go now?" Jason said.
"Walk right in," the other said, propelling him by the
elbow into a room where a man and a woman sat. "You
know Myrtle's husband, don't you? Jason Compson,
Vernon."
"Yes/* Jason said. He did not even look at the man,
and as the sheriff drew a chair across the room the man
3*8 THE SOUND AND THE FUBY
**WeTl go out so you can talk. Come on, Myrtle.'*
**No, no/* the sheriff said, "You folks keep your seat,
I reckon It aint that serious, Jason? Have a seat."
*T11 tell you as we go along/' Jason said. "Get your hat
and coat/*
*WeII go out,* the man said, rising.
"Keep your seat/' the sheriff said. "Me and Jason will
go out on the porch."
"You get your hat and coat/' Jason said. "They've
already got a twelve hour start." The sheriff led the way
back to the porch. A man and a woman passing spoke to
him. He responded with a hearty florid gesture. Bells
were still ringing, from the direction of the section known
as Nigger Hollow. "Get your hat, Sheriff/' Jason said.
The sheriff drew up two chairs.
"Have a seat and tell me what the trouble is."
"I told you over the phone/' Jason said, standing. "I
did that to save time. Am I going to have to go to law to
compel you to do your sworn duty?"
"You sit down and tell me about it/' the sheriff said.
Til take care of you all right."
"Care, hell/' Jason said. "Is this what you call taking
care of me?"
"You're the one that's holding us up/' the sheriff said.
You sit down and tell me about it."
Jason told him, his sense of injury and impotence feed-
ing upon its own sound, so that after a time he forgot his
haste in the violent cumulation of his self justification and
his outrage. The sheriff watched him steadily with his
cold shiny eyes.
"But you dont know they done it/' he said. "You just
think so."
"Dont know?" Jason said. 'When I spent two damn
days chasing her through alleys, trying to keep her away
THE SOUND AND THE FURY 319
from him, after I told her what I'd do to her If I ever
caught her with him, and you say I clout know that that
little b "
"Now, then," the sheriff said, "That'll do. That's
enough of that" He looked out across the street, his
hands in his pockets.
"And when I come to you, a commissioned officer of
the law," Jason said.
'That show's in Mottson this week/* the sheriff said.
"Yes," Jason said, "And if I could find a law officer that
gave a solitary damn about protecting the people that
elected him to office, I'd be there too by now." He re-
peated his story, harshly recapitulant, seeming to get an
actual pleasure out of his outrage and impotence. Tlie
sheriff did not appear to be listening at all.
"Jason," he said, '"What were you doing with three
thousand dollars hid in the house?"
"What?" Jason said. "That's my business where I keep
my money. Your business is to help me get it back.**
"Did your mother know you had that much on the
place?"
"Look here," Jason said, "My house has been robbed.
I know who did it and I know where they are. I come
to you as the commissioned officer of the law, and I aslc
you once more, are you going to make any effort to re-
cover my property, or not?'*
"What do you aim to do with that girl, if you catch
them?"
"Nothing," Jason said, "Not anything. I wouldn't lay
my hand on her. The bitch that cost me a job, the one
chance I ever had to get ahead, that killed my father and
is shortening my mother's life every day and made my
name a laughing stock in the town. I wont do anything
to her," he said. "Not anything/'
320 THE SQU^B AND THE FUBY
^ou drove that girl into running off, Jason/* the
sheriff said.
"How I conduct my family is no business of yours,"
Jason said. "Are you going to help me or not?"
<c You drove her away from home," the sheriff said,
"And I have some suspicions about who that money be-
longs to that I dont reckon I'll ever know for certain."
Jason stood, slowly wringing the brim of his hat in his
hands. He said quietly: "You're not going to make any
effort to catch them for mef*
That's not any of my business, Jason. If you had any
actual proof, I'd have to act But without that I dont
figger it's any of my business."
That's your answer, is it?" Jason said. 'Think well,
now."
That's it, Jason."
"All right," Jason said. He put his hat on. "You'll regret
this. I wont be helpless. This is not Russia, where just
because he wears a little metal badge, a man is immune
to law." He went down the steps and got in his car and
started the engine. The sheriff watched him drive away,
turn, and rush past the house toward town.
The bells were ringing again, high in the scudding
sunlight in bright disorderly tatters of sound. He stopped
at a filling station and had his tires examined and the tank
filled.
"Gwine on a trip, is you?" the negro asked him. He
didn't answer. "Look like hit gwine fair off, after all/*
the negro said.
"Fair off, hell/' Jason said, "It'll be raining like hell by
twelve oclock.'* He looked at the sky, thinking about rain*
about the slick clay roads, himself stalled somewhere
miles from town. He thought about it with a sort of
triumph, of the fact that he was going to miss dinner,
THE SOUXD AXD THE FUllY
that by starting now and so serving his compulsion of
haste, he would be at the greatest possible distance from
both towns when noon came. It seemed to him that, in
this, circumstance was giving him a break, so he said to
the negro:
"What the hell are you doing? Has somebody paid you
to keep this car standing here as long as you can?"
"Dis here tf aint got no air a-tall in hit," the negro
said.
"Then get the hell away from there and let me have
that tube," Jason said.
"Hit up now/* the negro said, rising. "You kin ride
now."
Jason got in and started the engine and drove off. He
went into second gear, the engine spluttering and gasp-
ing, and he raced the engine, jamming the throttle down
and snapping the choker in and out savagely. "It's goin
to rain," he said, "Get me half way there, and rain like
hell." And he drove on out of the bells and out of town,
thinking of himself slogging through the mud, hunting a
team. "And every damn one of them will be at church.**
He thought how he'd find a church at last and take a
team and of the owner coming out, shouting at him and
of himself striking the man down, "I'm Jason Compson.
See if you can stop me. See if you can elect a man to
office that can stop me," he said, thinking of himself
entering the courthouse with a file of soldiers and
dragging the sheriff out. "Thinks he can sit with his
hands folded and see me lose my job. Ill show him about
jobs." Of his niece he did not think at all, nor the arbi-
trary valuation of the money. Neither of them had had
entity or individuality for him for ten years; together
they merely symbolized the job in the bank of which ha
had been deprived before he ever got it.
322 THE SOUND AND THE PXJRY
The air brightened, the running shadow patches were
not the obverse, and it seemed to him that the fact that
the day was clearing was another cunning stroke on the
part of the foe, the fresh battle toward which he was
carrying ancient wounds. From time to time he passed
churches, unpainted frame buildings with sheet iron
steeples, surrounded by tethered teams and shabby
motorcars, and it seemed to him that each of them was a
picket-post where the rear guards of Circumstance
peeped fleetingly back at him. "And damn You, too/' he
said, "See if You can stop me," thinking of himself, his
file of soldiers with the manacled sheriff in the rear,
dragging Omnipotence down from His throne, if neces-
sary; of the embattled legions of both hell and heaven
through which he tore his way and put his hands at last
n his fleeing niece.
The wind was out of the southeast. It blew steadily
upon his cheek. It seemed that he could feel the pro-
longed blow of it sinking through his skull, and suddenly
with an old premonition he clapped the brakes on and
stopped and sat perfectly still. Then he lifted his hand
to his neck and began to curse, and sat there, cursing in
a harsh, whisper. When it was necessary for him to drive
for any length of time he fortified himself with a hand-
kerchief soaked in camphor, which he would tie about
his throat when clear of town, thus inhaling the fumes,
and he got out and lifted the seat cushion on the chance
that there might be a forgotten one there. He looked
beneath both seats and stood again for a while, cursing,
seeing himself mocked by his own triumphing. He closed
his eyes, leaning on the door. He could return and get
the forgotten camphor, or he could go on. In either case,
his head would be splitting, but at home he could be
sure of finding camphor on Sunday, while if he went on
THE SOUND AND THE FTTEY
lie could not be sure. But if he went back, he would be
an hour and a half later in reaching Mottson. "Maybe \
can drive slow/' he sad. "M aybe I can drive slow, think-
ing of something else **
He got in and started. Til think of something eke,"
he said, so he thought about Lorraine. He imagined him-
self in bed with her, only he was just lying beside her,
pleading with her to help him, then he thought of the
money again, and that he had been outwitted by a
woman, a girl. If he could just believe it was the inan who
had robbed him. But to have been robbed of that which
was to have compensated him for the lost job, which he
had acquired through so much effort and risk, by the
very symbol of the lost job itself, and worst of all, "by a
bitch of a girl. He drove on, shielding his face from the
steady wind with the corner of his coat.
He could see the opposed forces of his destiny and his
will drawing swiftly together now, toward a junction
that would be irrevocable; he became cunning. I cant
make a blunder, he told himself. There would be just
one right thing, without alternatives: he must do that
He believed that both of them would know him on sight,
while he'd have to trust to seeing her first, unless the
man still wore the red tie. And the fact that he must de-
pend on that red tie seemed to be the sum of the impend-
ing disaster; he could almost smell it, feel it above the
throbbing of his head.
He crested the final hill. Smoke lay in the valley, and
roofs, a spire or two above trees. He drove down the hill
and into the town, slowing, telling himself again of the
need for caution, to find where the tent was located first.
He could not see very well now, and he knew that it was
the disaster which kept telling him to go directly and get
something for his head. At a filling station they told him
3*4 THE SOTJXD AND THE FURY
that the tent was not up yet, but that the show cars were
on a siding at the station. He drove there.
Two gaudily painted pullrnan cars stood on the track.
He reconnoitred them before he got out. He was trying
to breathe shailowly, so that the blood would not beat
so In his skull. He got out and went along the station
wall, watching the ears. A few garments hung out of
the windows, limp and crinkled,, as though they had been
recently laundered. On the earth beside the steps of
one sat three canvas chairs. But he saw no sign of life
at all until a man In a -dirty apron came to the door and
emptied a pan of dishwater with a broad gesture, the
sunlight glinting on the metal belly of the pan, then
entered the car again.
Now 111 have to take him by surprise, before he can
warn them, he thought. It never occurred to him that
they might not be there, In the car. That they should not
be there, that the whole result should not hinge on
whether he saw them first or they saw him first, would
be opposed to all nature and contrary to the whole
rhythm of events. And more than that: he must see them
first, get the money back, then what they did would be of
no importance to him, while otherwise the whole world
would know that he, Jason Compson, had been robbed
by Quentin, his niece, a bitch.
He reconnoitred again. Then he went to the car and
mounted the steps, swiftly and quietly, and paused at
the door. The galley was dark, rank with stale food. The
man was a white blur, singing in a cracked, shaky tenor.
An old man, he thought, and not as big as I am. He
entered the car as the man looked up.
"Hey?" the man said, stopping his song.
'Where are they?" Jason said. "Quick, now. In tke
sleeping car?"
THE SOUNB AND THE
"Where's who?" the man said.
"Dont He to me," Jason said. He blundered on in the
cluttered obscurity.
"What's that?" the other said, "Who you calling a liar?"
And when Jason grasped his shoulder he exclaimed,
"Look out, fellow!"
"Dont lie/ 5 Jason said, "Where are they?'*
"Why, you bastard/' the man said. His arm was frail
and thin in Jason's grasp. He tried to wrench free, then
he turned and fell to scrabbling on the littered table
behind him.
"Come on," Jason said, 'Where are they?"
"I'll tell you where they are/' the man shrieked,
"Lemme find my butcher knife."
"Here/' Jason said, trying to hold the other. Tin just
asking you a question."
"You bastard," the other shrieked, scrabbling at the
table. Jason tried to grasp him in both arms, trying to
prison the puny fury of him. The man's body felt so old,
tso frail, yet so fatally single-purposed that for the first
time Jason saw clear and unshadowed the disaster toward
which he rushed.
"Quit it!" he said, "Here! Here! Ill get out. Give me
time, and I'll get out."
"Call me a liar/' the other wailed, "Lemme go. Leixime
go just one minute. I'll show you."
Jason glared wildly about, holding the other. Outside
it was now bright and sunny, swift and bright and empty,
and he thought of the people soon to be going quietly
home to Sunday dinner, decorously festive, and of him-
self trying to hold the fatal, furious little old man whom
he dared not release long enough to turn his back and
run.
"Will you quit long enough for me to get out?" he
THE SOUND AND THE FU BY
said, "Will you?" But the other still struggled, and Jason
freed one hand and struck him on the head. A clumsy,
hurried blow, and not hard, but the other slumped im-
mediately and slid clattering among pans and buckets
to the floor. Jason stood above him, panting, listening.
Then he turned and ran from the car. At the door he
restrained himself and descended more slowly and stood
there again. His breath made a hah hah hah sound and
he stood there trying to repress it, darting his gaze this
way and that, when at a scuffling sound behind him he
turned in time to see the little old man leaping awk-
wardly and furiously from the vestibule, a rusty hatchet
high in his hand.
He grasped at the hatchet, feeling no shock but know-
ing that he was falling, thinking So this is how itll end,
and he believed that he was about to die and when
something crashed against the back of his head he
thought How did he hit me there? Only maybe he hit
me a long time ago, he thought, And I just now felt it,
and he thought Hurry. Hurry. Get it over with, and then
a furious desire not to die seized him and he struggled.,
hearing the old man wailing and cursing in his cracked
voice.
He still struggled when they hauled him to his feet,
but they held him and he ceased.
"Am I bleeding much?" he said, "The back of my
head. Am I bleeding?" He was still saying that while he
felt himself being propelled rapidly away, heard the old
man's thin furious voice dying away behind him. "Look
at my head/' he said, "Wait, I "
"Wait, hell," the man who held him said, "That damn
little wasp'll kill you. Keep going. You aint hurt."
"He hit me," Jason said. "Am I bleeding?"
"Keep going," the other said. He led Jason on around
THE SOUND AND THK FURY 3*7
the corner of the station., to the empty platform where
an express truck stood, where grass grew rigidly in a plot
bordered with rigid lowers and a sign in electric lights:
Keep your eye on Mottson, the gap filled by
an eye with an electric pupil. The man released
him.
"Now/' he said, "You get on out of here and stay out
What were you trying to do? Commit suicide?"
"I was looking for two people/* Jason said. **I just
asked him where they were."
"Who you looking for?"
"It's a girl/' Jason said. "And a man. He had on a red tie
in Jefferson yesterday. With this show. They robbed me."
"Oh/' the man said. "You're the one, are you. Well,
they aint here/'
"I reckon so/' Jason said. He leaned against the wall
and put his hand to the back of his head and looked at
his palm. "I thought I was bleeding/' he said. "I thought
he hit me with that hatchet/'
"You hit your head on the rail/' the man said. Tou
better go on. They aint here."
"Yes. He said they were not here. I thought he was
lying."
"Do you think I'm lying?" the man said.
"No/' Jason said. "I know they're not here/'
"I told him to get the hell out of there, both of them/'
the man said. "I wont have nothing like that in my show.
I run a respectable show, with a respectable troupe/*
"Yes/' Jason said. "You dont know where they went?"
"No. And I dont want to know. No member of my show
can pull a stunt like that. You her brother?"
"No/' Jason said. "It dont matter. I just wanted to see
them. You sure he didn't hit me? No blood, I mean/*
"There would have be^n blood if I hadn't got there
J28 THE SOUXD AKD THE FURY
when 1 did. You stay away from here, now. That little
bastard!! kill you. That your car yonder?"
"Yes."
"Well, you get in it and go back to Jefferson. If you
find them, it wont be in my show. I run a respectable
show. You say they robbed you?"
"No/* Jason said, "It dont make any difference." He
went to the car and got in. What is it I must do? he
thought. Then he remembered. He started the engine and
drove slowly up the street until he found a drugstore. The
door was locked. He stood for a while with his hand on
the knob and his head bent a little. Then he turned away
and when a man came along after a while he asked if
there was a drugstore open anywhere, but there was not.
Then he asked when the northbound train ran, and the
man told him at two thirty. He crossed the pavement and
got in the car again and sat there. After a while two
negro lads passed. He called to them.
"Can either of you boys drive a car?"
"Yes, suk"
"Whatll you charge to drive me to Jefferson right
away?"
They looked at one another, murmuring.
*TI1 pay a dollar," Jason said.
They murmured again. "Couldn't go fer dat," one said.
"What will you go for?"
< Kin you go?" one said.
"I cant git off," the other said. "Whyn't you drive him
up dar? You aint got nothin to do."
"Yes I is."
"Whut you got to do?"
They murmured again, laughing.
*TU give you two dollars," Jason said. "Either of you.* 9
"I cant git away neither," the first said.
THE SOUISTD ANB THE FUBT 329
"All right;' Jason said. "Go on"
He sat there for sometime. He heard a clock strike the
half hour, then people began to pass, in Sunday and
Easter clothes. Some looked at him as they passed, at
the man sitting quietly behind the wheel of a small car,
with his invisible life ravelled out about him like a worn-
out sock. After a while a negro in overalls came up.
"Is you de one wants to go to Jefferson?" he said.
"Yes/' Jason said. "Whatll you charge me?"
"Fo dollars."
"Give you two/*
"Cant go fer no less'n fo." The man in the car sat
quietly. He wasn't even looking at him. The negro said^
*Tou want me er not?"
"All right/' Jason said, "Get in/'
He moved over and the negro took the wheel. Jason
closed his eyes. I can get something for it at Jefferson,
he told himself, easing himself to the jolting, I can get
something there. They drove on> along the streets where
people were turning peacefully into houses and Sunday
dinners, and on out of town. He thought that. He wasn't
thinking of home, where Ben and Luster were eating
cold dinner at the kitchen table. Something the absence
of disaster, threat, in any constant evil permitted him
to forget Jefferson as any place which he had ever seen
before, where his life must resume itself.
When Ben and Luster were done Dilsey sent them
outdoors. "And see kin you keep let him alone twell fo
oclock. T. P. be here den/*
"Yessum," Luster said. They went out. Dilsey ate her
dinner and cleared up the kitchen. Then she went to the
foot of the stairs and listened, but there was no sound.
She returned through the kitchen and out the outer door
and stopped on the steps. Ben and Luster were not in
33 THE SOUXD AXD TBtB
sight, but while she stood there she heard another slug-
gish twang from the direction of the cellar door and she
went to the door and looked down upon a repetition of
the morning's scene.
"He done it jes dat way/* Luster said. He contemplated
the motionless saw with a kind of hopeful dejection. "I
aint got de right thing to hit it wid yit," he said.
"En you aint gwine find hit down here, neither,*' Dilsey
s&id, Tou take him on out in de sun. You bofe get
pneumonia down here on dis wet flo/'
She waited and watched them cross the yard toward
a clump of cedar trees near the fence. Then she went on
to her cabin.
"Now, dont you git started/" Luster said, "I had enough
trouble wid you today/' There was a hammock made of
barrel staves slatted into woven wires. Luster lay down
in the swing, but Ben went on vaguely and purposelessly.
He began to whimper again. "Hush, now/' Luster said,
"I fixin to whup you." He lay back in the swing. Ben had
stopped moving, but Luster could hear him whimpering.
"Is you gwine hush, er aint you?" Luster said. He got up
and followed and came upon Ben squatting before a
small mound of earth. At either end of it an empty bottle
of blue glass that once contained poison was fixed in the
ground. In one was a withered stalk of jimson weed. Ben
squatted before it, moaning, a slow, inarticulate sound.
Still moaning he sought vaguely about and found a twig
and put it in the other bottle. "Whyn't you hush?" Luster
said, "You want me to give you somethin' to sho nough
moan about? Sposin I does dis." He knelt and swept the
bottle suddenly up and behind him. Ben ceased moaning.
He squatted, looking at the small depression where the
bottle had sat, then as he drew his lungs full Luster
brought the bottle back into view. "Hush!" he hissed,
THE SOUND ANB THE FUEY 331
TDont you dast to beller! Dont you. Dar hit is. See? Here.
You fixin to start ef you stays here. Come on, les go see
ef dey started knocMn ball yit." He took Ben's arm and
drew him up and they went to the fence and stood side
by side there, peering between the matted honeysuckle
not yet in bloom.
TDar," Luster said, ""Dar come some. See urn?"
They watched the foursome play onto the green and
out; and move to the tee and drive. Ben watched, whim-
pering, slobbering. When the foursome went on he fol-
lowed along the fence, bobbing and moaning. One saia.
"Here, caddie. Bring the bag/*
"Hush, Benjy," Luster said, but Ben went on at his
shambling trot, clinging to the fence, wailing in his
hoarse, hopeless voice. The man played and went on,
Ben keeping pace with him until the fence turned at
right angles, and he clung to the fence, watching the
people move on and away.
"Will you hush now? w Luster said, "Will you hush
now?" He shook Ben's arm. Ben clung to the fence,
wailing steadily and hoarsely. "Aint you gwine stop?"
Luster said, "Or is you?" Ben gazed through the fence.
*AH right, den," Luster said, "You want somethin to
beller about?" He looked over his shoulder, toward the
house. Then he whispered: "Caddy! Beller now. Caddy!
Caddy! Caddy!"
A moment later, in the slow intervals of Ben's voice,
Luster heard Dilsey calling. He took Ben by the arm and
they crossed the yard toward her.
*1 tole you he wam't gwine stay quiet," Luster said.
**You vilyun!" Dilsey said, "Whut you dont to him?"
T[ aint done nothin. I tole you when dem folks start
playin, he git started up. 9 *
*TTou come an here," Dilsey said. "Hush, Benjy. Hush,
53 2 THB SOUXD AND THE FXJXY
now.** But lie wouldn't hush. They crossed the yard
quickly and went to the cabin and entered. "Run git dat
shoe, 3 * Dilsey said. "Dont you sturb Miss Cahline, now.
Ef she say anything, tell her I got him. Go on, now; you
kin sho do dat right, I reckon." Luster went out. Dilsey
led Ben to the bed and drew him down beside her and
she held him, rocking back and forth, wiping his drooling
mouth upon the hem of her skirt. "Hush, now," she said,
stroking his head, "Hush. Dilsey got you/* But he bel-
lowed slowly, abjectly, without tears; lie grave hopeless
sound of all voiceless misery under the sun. Luster re-
turned, carrying a white satin slipper. It was yellow now,
and cracked and soiled, and when they placed it into
Ben's hand he hushed for a while. But he still whimpered,
and soon he lifted his voice again.
"You reckon you kin find T. R?" Dilsey said.
**He say yistiddy he gwine yout to St John's today. Say
he be back at fo/' /
Dilsey rocked back and forth, stroking Ben's head.
TDis long time, O Jesus," she said, TDis long time/*
"I kin drive dat surrey, mammy/' Luster said.
"You kill bofe /all," Dilsey said, "You do hit fer devil-
ment. I knows you got plenty sense to. But I cant trust
you. Hush, now/* she said. "HusBu Hush/*
"Nome I wont/" Luster said. "I drives wid T. P." Dil-
sey rocked back and forth, holding Ben, "Miss Cahline
say ef you cant quiet him, she gwine git up en come
down en do hit/'
"Hush, honey/* Dilsey said., stroking Ben's head. ""Lus-
ter, honey/* she said, <c Will you think about yo ole
mammy en drive dat surrey right?"
<tf Yessum/' Luster said. "I drive hit jes like T. P."
Dilsey stroked Ben's head, rocking back and forth.
T[ does de bes I kin/ 7 she said, TLawd knows dat. Go
THE SOUND A^B THE FUILT 333
git it, den,** she said, rising. Luster scuttled out. Ben held
the slipper, crying. "Hush, now. Luster gone to git de
surrey en take you to de graveyard. We aint gwine risk
gitting yo cap/' she said. She went to a closet con-
trived of a calico curtain hung across a corner of the room
and got the felt hat she had worn. **We*s down to worse's
dis, ef folks jes knowed/* she said. **You*s de Lawd's chile,
anyway. En I be His'n too, fo long, praise Jesus. Here.**
She put the hat on his head and buttoned his coat. He
wailed steadily. She took the slipper from him and put it
away and they went out. Luster came up, with an ancient
white horse in a battered and lopsided surrey.
*TTou gwine be careful. Luster?'* she said.
**Yessum/* Luster said. She helped Ben into the back
seat. He had ceased crying, but now he began to whim-
per again.
"Hit's his flower," Luster said. "Wait, 111 git him one/*
*Tou set right dar/' Dilsey said. She went and took the
cheekstxap. "Now, hurry en git him one.** Luster ran
around the house, toward the garden. He came back with
a single narcissus.
"Dat un broke/* Dilsey said, "Whyn't you git him 3
good un?"
**Hit de onliest one I could find/' Luster said* *YaII
took all of um Friday to dec'rate de church. Wait, I'll 621
hit/* So while Dilsey held the horse Luster put a splint
on the flower stalk with a twig and two bits of string
and gave it to Ben. Then he mounted and took the reins*
Dilsey still held the bridle.
*TTou knows de way now? 9 * she said, "Up de street,
round de square, to de graveyard, den straight badh
home/*
Tessum/* Luster said, TKurn up, Queenie/*
gwine be careful, now?'*
334 THE SOITKB A3STB THE
"Yessran.** Dllsey released the bridle.
w Hum up ? Queenie/' Luster said.
"Here," Dilsey said, "You ban me dat wimp/*
"Aw, mammy/ 5 Luster said.
w Give hit here/' Dilsey said, approaching the wheel.
lister gave it to her reluctantly.
"I wont never git Queenie started now."
"Never you mind about dat/* Dilsey said. "Queenie
IQQ.OW mo bout whar she gwine clan you does. All you
got to do is set dar en hold dem reins. You knows de
way, now?"
"Yessum. Same way T. P. goes ev'y Sunday.**
"Den you do de same thing dis Sunday."
"Cose I is. Aint I drove fer T, P. mo'n a hund'ed times?"
"Den do hit again/' Dilsey said. "G'awn, now. En ef
you hurts Benjy, nigger boy, I dont know whut I do.
You bound fer de chain gang, but I'll send you dar fo
even chain gang ready fer you."
"Yessum/* Luster said. "Hum up, Queenie/'
He flapped the lines on Queenie's broad back and the
surrey lurched into motion.
"You, Luster!" Dilsey said.
x Hum up, darl" Luster said. He flapped the lines again.
With subterranean rumblings Queenie jogged slowly
down the drive and turned into the street, where Luster
exhorted her into a gait resembling a prolonged and sus-
pended fall in a forward direction.
Ben quit whimpering. He sat in the middle of the seat,
holding the repaired flower upright in his fist, his eyes
serene and ineffable. Directly before him Luster's bullet
head turned backward continually until the house passed
from view, then he pulled to the side of the street and
while Ben watched him he descended and broke a switch
from a hedge. Queenie lowered her head and fell to
THE SOUND AND THE FXJBY 3$Jf
cropping the grass until Luster mounted and hauled her
head up and harried her into motion again, then he
squared his elbows and with the switch and the reins
held high he assumed a swaggering attitude out of all
proportion to the sedate clopping of Queenie's hooves
and the organlike basso of her internal accompaniment.
Motors passed them, and pedestrians; once a group ol
half grown negroes:
"Dar Luster. Whar you gwine, Luster? To de bone-
yard?"
"Hi/* Luster said, "Aint de same boneyard y*aH headed
fer. Hum up, elefump/*
They approached the square, where the Confederate
soldier gazed with empty eyes beneath his marble hand
into wind and weather. Luster took still another notch
in himself and gave the impervious Queenie a cut with
the switch, casting his glance about the square. TDar Mr
Jason's car/' he said then he spied another group of
negroes. "Les show dem niggers how quality does,
Benjy," he said, **Whut you say?" He looked back, Ben
sat, holding the flower in his fist, Ms gaze empty and un-
troubled. Luster hit Queenie again and swung her to the
left at the monument.
For an instant Ben sat in an utter hiatus. Then he
bellowed. Bellow on bellow, his voice mounted, with
scarce interval for breath. There was more than astonish-
ment in it, it was horror; shock; agony eyeless, tongue-*
less; just sound, and Luster's eyes back-rolling for a white
instant. "Gret God," he said, "Hush! Hush! Gret God!"
He whirled again and struck Queenie with the switch. It
broke and he cast it away and with Ben's voice mounting
toward its unbelievable crescendo Luster caught up the
end of the reins and leaned forward as Jason came jump-
ing across the square and onto the step.
THE SOUND AX THE FTJBY
With a backhanded blow he hurled Luster aside and
caught the reins and sawed Queenie about and doubled
the reins back and slashed her across the hips. He cut
her again, and again, into a plunging gallop, while Ben's
hoarse agony roared about them, and swung her about
to the right of the monument. They he struck Luster over
the head with his fist,
*T)ont you know any better than to take him to the
left?" he said. He reached back and struck Ben, breaking
the flower stalk again. "Shut up!" he said, "Shut up!" He
jerked Queenie back and jumped down. "Get to hell on
home with him. If you ever cross that gate with him
again, 111 kill youl"
*Yes, suhP Luster said. He took the reins and hit
Queenie with the end of them. "Git up! Git up, darl
Benjy, fer God's sake!"
Ben's voice roared and roared. Queenie moved again,
her feet began to clop-clop steadily again, and at once
Ben hushed. Luster looked quickly back over his shoul-
der, then he drove on. The broken flower drooped over
Ben's fist and his eyes were empty and blue and serene
again as cornice and fagade flowed, smoothly once more
from left to right; post and tree, window and doorway,
and signboard, each in its ordered place.
As I Lay Dying
Jo Hal Smith
DARL
YEWEL AND i COME UP FROM THE FIELD, FOLLOWING THE
tJ path in single file. Although I am fifteen feet ahead ol
Mm, anyone watching us from the cotton-house can see
Jewel's frayed and broken straw hat a full head above
my own.
The path runs straight as a plumb-line, worn smooth
by feet and baked brick-hard by July, between the green
rows of laid-by cotton, to the cotton-house in the centre
of the field, where it turns and circles the cotton-house at
four soft right angles and goes on across the field again,
worn so by feet in fading precision.
The cotton-house is of rough logs, from between which
the chinking has long fallen. Square, with a broken roof
set at a single pitch, it leans in empty and shimmering
dilapidation in the sunlight, a single broad window in
two opposite walls giving on to the approaches of flie
path. When we reach it I turn and follow the path which
circles the house. Jewel, fifteen feet behind me, looking
straight ahead, steps in a single stride through the win-
dow. Still staring straight ahead, his pale eyes like wood
set into his wooden face, he crosses the floor in four
strides with the rigid gravity of a cigar-store Indian
dressed in patched overalls and endued with life from
the hips down, and steps in a single stride through th
opposite window and into the path again just as I come
around the corner. In single file and five feet apart and
Jewel now in front, we go on up the path toward th
foot of the bluffi
339
34 AS I LAY BYIXG
Tull's wagon stands beside the spring, hitched to the
rail, the reins wrapped about the seat stanchion. In the
wagon-bed are two chairs. Jewel stops at the spring and
takes the gourd from the willow branch and drinks. I
pass him and mount the path, beginning to hear Cash's
saw.
When, I reach the top he Las quit sawing. Standing in
a litter of chips, he is fitting two of the boards together,
Between the shadow spaces they are yellow as gold, like
soft gold, bearing on their flanks in smooth undulations
the marks of the adze blade: a good carpenter, Cash is.
He holds the two planks on the trestle, fitted along the
edges in a quarter of the finished box. lie kneels and
squints along the edge of them, then he lowers them and
takes up the adze. A good carpenter. Addie Bundren
could not want a better one, a better box to lie in. It will
give her confidence and comfort. I go on to the house,
followed by the
Chuck Chuck Chuck
of tile adze.
CORA
SO I SAVED OUT THE EGGS AND BAKED YESTERDAY. THE
cakes turned out right well. We depend a lot on our
chickens. They are good layers, what few we have left
after the possums and such. Snakes, too, in the summer,
A snake will break up a hen-house quicker than any-
AS I I, AT DYING 34 1
thing. So after they were going to cost so much more
than Mr. Tiill thought, and after 1 promised that the dif-
ference In the number of eggs would make it up, I had
to be more careful than ever because it was on my final
say-so we took them. We could have stocked cheaper
chickens, but I gave my promise as Miss Lawingtou said
when she advised me to get a good breed, because Mr.
Tull himself admits that a good breed of cows or hogs
pays in the long run. So when we lost so many of them
we couldn't aiford to use the eggs ourselves, because I
could not have had Mr. Tull chide me when it was on
my say-so we took them. So when Miss Lawington told
me about the cakes 1 thought that I could bake them
and earn enough at one time to increase the net value of
the flock the equivalent of two head. And that by saving
the eggs out one at a time, even the eggs wouldn't be
costing anything. And that week they laid so well that
I not only saved out enough eggs above what we had
engaged to sell, to bake the cakes with, I had saved
enough so that the flour and the sugar and the stove
wood would not be costing anything. So I baked yester-
day, more careful than ever I baked in my life, and the
cakes turned out right well. But when we got to town
this morning Miss Lawington told me the lady had
changed her mind and was not going to have the party
after all.
"She ought to taken those cakes anyway/* Kate says.
"Well/* I say, "I reckon she never had no use for them
now/*
"She ought to taken them/* Kate says. "But those rich
town ladies can change their minds. Poor folks can't/*
Riches is nothing in the face of the Lord, for He can
see into the heart. "Maybe I can sell them at the bazaar
Saturday/' I say. They turned out real well*
AS I JLAY DYING
"You can't get two dollars a piece for them/' Kate says,
"Well, it isn't like they cost me anything," I say. I
saved them out and swapped a dozen of them for the
sugar and flour. It isn't like the cakes cost me anything,
as Mr. Tull himself realizes that the eggs I saved were
over and beyond what we had engaged to sell, so it was
like we had found the eggs or they had been given to
us.
"She ought to taken those cakes when she same as
gave you her word," Kate says. The Lord can see into
the heart. If it is His will that some folks has different
ideas of honesty from other folks, it is not my place to
question His decree.
"1 reckon she never had any use for them," I say. They
turned out real well, too.
The quilt is drawn up to her chin, hot as it is, with
only her two hands and her face outside. She is propped
on the pillow, with her head raised so she can see out the
window, and we can hear him every time he takes up the
adze or the saw. If we were deaf we could almost watch
her face and hear him, see him. Her face is wasted away
so that the bones draw just under the skin in white lines.
Her eyes are like two candles when you watch them
gutter down into the sockets of iron candle-sticks. But
the eternal and the everlasting salvation and grace is not
upon her.
'They turned out real nice," I say. *But not like the
cakes Addie used to bake." You can see that girl's wash-
ing and ironing in the pillow-slip, if ironed it ever was.
Maybe it will reveal her blindness to her, laying there
at the mercy and the ministration of four men and a tom-
boy girl. "There's not a woman in this section could ever
bake with Addie Bundren," I say. "First thing we know
shell be up and baking again, and then we won't haw
AS I LAY DYIJSTG 343
any sale for ours at all." Under the quilt she makes no
more of a hump than a rail would, and the only way you
can tell she is breathing is by the sound of the mattress
shucks. Even the hair at her cheek does not move, even
with that girl standing right over her, fanning her "with
the fan. While we watch she swaps the fan to the other
hand without stopping it.
"Is she sleeping?" Kate whispers.
"She's just watching Cash yonder/* the girl says. We
can hear the saw in the board. It sounds like snoring.
Eula turns on the trunk and looks out the window. Her
necklace looks real nice with her red hat. You wouldn't
think it only cost twenty-five cents.
"She ought to taken those cakes,** Kate says.
I could have used the money real well. But it's not
like they cost me anything except the baking. I can tell
him that anybody is likely to make a miscue, but it's not
all of them that can get out of it without loss, I can tell
him. It's not everybody can eat their mistakes, I can tell
him.
Someone cornes through the hall. It is DarL He does
not look in as he passes the door, Eula watches him as he
goes on and passes from sight again toward the back.
Her hand rises and touches her beads lightly, and then
her hair. When she finds me watching her, her eyes go
blank.
DARL
PA AND YERNON ARE SITTING ON THE BACK POECH. FA IS
tilting snuff from the lid of his snuff-box into his lower
lip, holding the lip outdrawn between thumb and finger.
They look around as I cross the porch and dip the gourd
into the water bucket and drink.
"Where's Jewel?" pa says. When I was a boy I first
learned how much better water tastes when it has set a
while in a cedar bucket. Warmish-cooL with a faint taste
like the hot July wind in cedar trees smells. It has to set
at least six hours, and be drunk from a gourd. Water
should never be drunk from metal.
And at night it is better still. I used to lie on the pallet
in the hall, waiting until I could hear them all asleep,
so I could get up and go back to the bucket It would be
black, the shelf black, the still surface of the water a
round orifice in nothingness, where before I stirred it
awake with the dipper I could see maybe a star or two
in the bucket, and maybe in the dipper a star or two
before I drank. After that I was bigger, older. Then I
would wait until they all went to sleep so I could lie with
my shirt-tail up, hearing them asleep, feeling myself
without touching myself, feeling the cool silence blowing
upon my parts and wondering if Cash was yonder in the
darkness doing it too, had been doing it perhaps for the
last two years before I could have wanted to or could
have.
Pa's feet are badly splayed, his toes cramped and bent
and warped, with no toenail at all on his little toes, from
AS I LAY DYING-
working so hard in the wet in homemade shoes when he
was a boy. Beside his chair his brogans sit. They look as
though they had been hacked with a blunt axe out of pig-
iron. Veraon has been to town. I have never seen him go
to town in overalls. His wife 5 they say. She taught school
too, once.
I fling the dipper dregs to the ground and wipe my
mouth on my sleeve. It is going to rain before morning.
Maybe before dark "Down to the barn/* I say. "Harness-
ing the team/*
Down there fooling with that horse. He will go en
through the bam, into the pasture. The horse will not be
in sight: he is up there among the pine seedlings, in the
cool. Jewel whistles, once and shrill. The horse snorts*
then Jewel sees him, glinting for a gaudy instant among
the blue shadows. Jewel whistles again; the horse comes
dropping down the slope, stiff-legged, his ears cocking
and flicking, his mis-matched eyes rolling, and fetches up
twenty feet away, broadside on, watching Jewel over his
shoulder in an attitude kittenish and alert.
"Come here, sir/ 7 Jewel says. He moves. Moving that
quick his coat, bunching, tongues swirling like so many
flames. With tossing mane and tail and rolling eye the
horse makes another short curveting rush and stops again,
feet bunched, watching Jewel. Jewel walks steadily to-
ward him, his hands at his sides. Save for Jewel's legs
they are like two figures carved for a tableau savage in
the sun.
When Jewel can almost touch him, the horse stands on
ids hind legs and slashes down at Jewel, Then Jewel is
enclosed by a glittering maze of hooves as by an illusion
of wings; among them, beneath the upreared chest, he
moves with the flashing limbemess of a snake. For an
instant before the jerk comes on to his arms he sees hi**
AS I LAY DYIXG
whole body earth-free, horizontal, whipping snake*
limber, until he finds the horse's nostrils and touches
earth again. Then they are rigid, motionless, terrific, the
horse back-thrust on stiffened, quivering legs, with low-
3red head; Jewel with dug heels, shutting off the horse's
wind with one hand, with the other patting the horse's
neck in short strokes myriad and caressing, cursing the
horse with obscene ferocity.
They stand in rigid terrific hiatus, the horse trembling
and groaning. Then Jewel is on the horse's back. He
flows upward in a stooping swirl like the lash of a whip,
his body in mid-air shaped to the horse. For another
moment the horse stands spraddled, with lowered head,
before it bursts into motion. They descend the hill ii> ^
series of spine-jolting jumps, Jewel high, leech-like on
the withers, to the fence where the horse bunches to a
scuttering halt again.
"Well," Jewel says, "you can quit now, if you got
a-plenty/'
Inside the barn Jewel slides running to the ground
before the horse stops. The horse enters the stall, Jewel
following. Without looking back the horse kicks at him,
slamming a single hoof into the wall with a pistol-like
report. Jewel kicks him in the stomach; the horse arches
his neck back, crop-toothed; Jewel strikes him across the
face with his fist and slides on to the trough and mounts
upon it. Clinging to the hay-rack he lowers his head and
peers out across the stall tops and through the doorway.
The path is empty; from here he cannot even hear Cash
sawing. He reaches up and drags down hay in hurried
fcimfuls and crams it into the rack.
"Eat/* he says. "Get the goddamn stuff out of sight
While you got a chance, you pussel-gutted bastard. You
Iweet son of a bitch," he says.
JEWEL
1T*S BECAUSE HE STAYS OUT THERE, RIGHT UNDER THE WD*
dow ? hammering and sawing on that goddamn box.
Where she's got to see him. Where every breath she
iraws is full of his knocking and sawing where she can
see him saying See. See what a good one I am making f 01
you. I told him to go somewhere else. I said Good Godi
do you want to see her in it. It's like when he was a little
boy and she says if she had some fertilizer she would try
to raise some flowers and he taken the bread-pan and
brought it back from the bam full of dung.
And now them others sitting there, like buzzards.
Waiting, fanning themselves. Because I said If you
wouldn't keep on sawing and nailing at it until a man
can't sleep even and her hands laying on the quilt like
two of them roots dug up and tried to wash and you
couldn't get them clean. I can see the fan and Dewey
DelFs arm. I said if you'd just let her alone. Sawing and
knocking, and keeping the air always moving so fast on
her face that when you're tired you can't breathe it, and
that goddamn adze going One lick less. One lick less.
One Hck less until everybody that passes in the road will
have to stop and see it and say what a fine carpenter he
is. If it had just been rne when Cash fell off of that
church and if it had just been me when pa laid sick with
that load of wood fell on him, it would not be happening
with every bastard in the county coming in to stare at
her because if there is a God what the hell is He for. It
would just be me and her on a high hill and me rolling
347
34 8 AS I LAY DYING
ihe rocks down the hill at their faces, picking them up
and throwing them down the hill, faces and teeth and aU
by God until she was quiet and not that goddamn adze
going One lick less. One lick less and we could be quiet
DARL
WE WATCH BOM COME AROUND THE CORNER AND
mount the steps. He does not look at us. <c You
ready?" he says.
"if you're hitched up," I say. I say "Wait." He stops,
looking at pa. Vernon spits, without moving. He spits
with decorous and deliberate precision into the pocked
dust below the porch. Pa rubs his hands slowly on his
knees. He is gazing out beyond the crest of the bluff, out
across the land. Jewel watches him a moment, then he
goes on to the pail and drinks again.
"I mislike undecision as much as ere a man/* pa says.
"It means three dollars/' I say. The shirt across pa's
hump is faded lighter than the rest of it. There is no
sweat stain on his shirt. I have never seen a sweat stain
on his shirt. He was sick once from working in the sun
when he was twenty-two years old, and he tells people
that if he ever sweats, he will die. I suppose he believes
it
TBut if she don't last until you get back/' he says. "Sh@
will be disappointed/'
AS I LAY DYING
Vemon spits into the dust. But it will rain before
morning.
"She's counted on it," pa says. "Shell want to start
right away. I know her. I promised her I'd keep the team
here and ready, and she's counting on it"
"Well need that three dollars then, sure/ 5 I sav. He
gazes out over the land, rubbing his hands on his knees.
Since he lost his teeth his mouth collapses in slow repeti-
tion when he dips. The stubble gives his lower face that
appearance that old dogs have. "You'd better make up
your mind soon, so we can get there and get a load on
before dark/' I say.
"Ma ain't that sick," Jewel says. "Shut up, Darl/*
"That's right," Vemon says. "She seems more like her-
self today than she has in a week. Time you and Jewel
get back, shell be setting up."
"You ought to know/' Jewel says. "You been here often
enough looking at her. You or your folks." Vemon looks
at him. Jewel's eyes look like pale wood in his high-
blooded face. He is a head taller than any of the rest of
us, always was. I told them that's why ma always
whipped him and petted him more. Because he was peak-
ling around the house more. That's why she named him
Jewel I told them.
"Shut up, Jewel/' pa says, but as though he is not
listening much. He gazes out across the land, rubbing his
knees.
"You could borrow the loan of Vernon's team and we
could catch up with you/' I say. "If she didn't wait for
us."
"Ah, shut your goddamn mouth/' Jewel says.
"Shell want to go in ourn," pa says. He rubs his knees,
"Don't ere a man mislike it more."
"It's laying there, watching Cash whittle on that
35 AS I LAY DYIXG
damn . . ." Jewel says. He says It harshly, savagely,,
but he does not say the word. Like a little boy in the
dark to flail Ms courage and suddenly aghast into silence
by his own noise.
"She wanted that like she wants to go in our own
wagon," pa says. "She'll rest easier for knowing it's a
good one, and private. She was ever a private woman.
You know it well."
Then let it be private/' Jewel says. "But how the
tell can you expect it to be " He looks at the back
of pa's head, his eyes like pale wooden eyes.
"Sho ? " Veraon says, "shell hold on till It's finished,
She'll hold on till everything's ready, till her own good
time. And with the roads like they are now, It won't
take you no time to get her to town.'*
"It's fixing up to rain," pa says. "I am a luckless man.
I have ever been." He rubs his hands on his knees. "It's
that durn doctor, liable to come at any time. I couldn't
get word to him till so late. If he was to come tomorrow
and tell her the time was nigh, she wouldn't wait. I know
her. Wagon or no wagon, she wouldn't wait. Then she'd
be upset,, and I wouldn't upset her for the living world.
With that family burying-ground in Jefferson and them
of her blood waiting for her there, she'll be impatient. I
promised my word me and the boys would get her there
quick as mules could walk it, so she could rest quiet."
He rubs his hands on his knees. "No man ever misliked
it more."
"If everybody wasn't burning hell to get her there/*
Jewel says in that harsh, savage voice. "With Cash all
day long right under the window, hammering and saw-
ing at that "
"It was her wish,** pa says. "You got no affection nor
gentleness for her. You never had. We would be be-
AS I LAY DYING 351
holden to no man/* he says, "me and her. We have never
yet been, and she will rest quieter for knowing it and that
it was her own blood sawed out the boards and drove
the nails. She was ever one to clean up after herself/"
*It means three dollars/ 9 I say. "Do you want us to
go, or not?" Pa rubs his knees. "We'll be back by to-
morrow sundown/ 7
"Well . . /* pa says. He looks out over the land, awry-
haired, mouthing the snuff slowly against his gums.
"Come on," Jewel says. He goes down the steps.
Vernon spits neatly into the dust
"By sundown, now," pa says. *! would not keep her
waiting.'*
Jewel glances back, then he goes on around the house.
I enter the hall, hearing the voices before I reach the
door. Tilting a little down the hill, as our house does 9
a breeze draws through the hall all the time, upslanting,
A feather dropped near the front door will rise and brush
along the ceiling, slanting backward, until it reaches the
down-turning current at the back door: so with voices.
As you enter the hall, they sound as though they were
speaking out of the air about your head.
CORA
IT WAS THE SWEETEST THING I EVER SAW. IT WAS LIKE HE
knew he would never see her again, that Anse Bundren
was driving him from his mother's death-bed, never to
see her to this world again. I always said Darl was dif-
AS I LAY DYING
ferent from those others. I always said lie was the only
one of them that had his mother's nature, had any
natural affection. Not that Jewel, the one she laboured
so to bear and coddled and petted so and him flinging
into tantrums or sulking spells, inventing devilment to
devil her till I would have frailed him time and time. Not
him to come and tell her good-bye. Not him to miss a
chance to make that extra three dollars at the price of
his mother's good-bye kiss. A Bundren through and
through, loving nobody, caring for nothing except how
to get something with the least amount of work. Mr.
Tull says Darl asked them to wait. He said Darl almost-
begged them on his knees not to force him to leave her
in her condition. But nothing would do but Anse and
Jewel must make that three dollars. Nobody that knows
Anse cotild have expected different, but to think of that
boy, that Jewel, selling all those years of self-denial and
down-right partiality they couldn't fool me: Mr. Tull
says Mrs. Bundren liked Jewel the least of all, but I knew
better. I knew she was partial to him, to the same quality
in him that let her put up with Anse Bundren when
Mr. Tull said she ought to poisoned him for three dol-
lars, denying his dying mother the good-bye kiss.
Why, for the last three weeks I have been coming
over every time I could, coming sometimes when I
shouldn't have, neglecting my own family and duties so
that somebody would be with her in her last moments
and she would not have to face the Great Unknown with-
out one familiar face to give her courage. Not that I de-
serve credit for it: I will expect the same for myself. But
thank God it will be the faces of my loved kin, my blood
and flesh, for in my husband and children I have been
more blessed than most, trials though they have been at
times.
AS I LAY DYING 355
lived, a lonely woman, lonely with her pride, try-
ing to make folks believe different, hiding fact 'that
they just suffered her, because she was not cold in the
coffin before they were carting her forty away to
bury her, flouting the will of God to do it. Refusing to
let her He in the same earth with those Bundrens.
"But she wanted to go/' Mr. lull said. "It was her
own wish to He among her own people.**
"Then why didn't she go aliveF* I said. "Not one of
them would have stopped her, with even that little erne
almost old enough now to be selfish and stone-hearted
like the rest of them."
"It was her own wish," Mr. Toll said* TC heard Anse
say it was/*
*'And you would beHeve Anse, of course, 10 I said. "A
man like you would. Don't tell me.**
*Td believe him about something he couldn't expect
to make anything off of me by not telling," Mr. Tull said.
TDon't tell me," I said. "A woman's place is with her
husband and children, aHve or dead. Would you expect
me to want to go back to Alabama and leave you and the
girls when my time comes, that I left of my own will to
cast my lot with yours for better and worse, until death
and after?"
"Well, folks are different," he said.
I should hope so. I have tried to live right in the sight
of God and man, for the honour and comfort of my
Christian husband and the love and respect of my Chris- 1
tian children. So that when I lay me down in the con-
sciousness of my duty and reward I will be surrounded
by loving faces, carrying the farewel kiss of each of my
loved ones into my reward. Not like Addie Bundren
dying alone, hiding her pride and her broken heart. Glad
to go. Lying there with her head propped up so she could
3H AS I 1.AY BYI2STG
watch Cash building the coffin, having to watch him so
lie would not skimp on it, like as not, with those men not
worrying about anything except if there was time to earn
another three dollars before the rain came and the river
got too high to get across it. Like as not, if they hadn't
decided to make that last load, they would have loaded
her into the wagon on a quilt and crossed the river first
and then stopped and give her time to die what Chris-
tian death they would let her.
Except Darl. It was the sweetest thing I ever saw.
Sometimes I lose faith in human nature for a time; I am
assailed by doubt. But always the Lord restores my faith
and reveals to me His bounteous love for His creatures.
Not Jewel, the one she had always cherished, not him.
He was after that three extra dollars. It was Darl, the
one that folks say is queer, lazy, pottering about the
place no better than Anse, with Cash a good carpenter
and always more building than he can get around to, and
Jewel always doing something that made him some
money or got him talked about, and that near-naked
girl always standing over Addie with a fan so that every
time a body tried to talk to her and cheer her up, would
answer for her right quick, like she was trying to keep
anybody from coming near her at all.
It was Darl. He come to the door and stood there,
looking at his dying mother. He just looked at her, and
I felt the bounteous love of the Lord again and His
mercy. I saw that with Jewel she had just been pretend-
ing, but that it was between her and Darl that the under-
standing and the true love was. He just looked at her,
not even coming in where she could see him and get up-
set, knowing that Anse was driving him away and he
would never see her again. He said nothing, just looking
at her.
I JLAY DYING 355
"What you want s Darl?" Dewey Dell said, not
stopping the fan, speaking op quick, keeping even him
from her. He didn't answer. He just stood and looked at
his dying mother, his heart too full for words.
DEWEY DELL
r "JHHE FERST TIME ME AND LAFE PICKED OX DOWN THE ROW.
A Pa dassent sweat because he will catch his death
from the sickness so everybody that comes to help us.
And Jewel don't care about anything he is not Mn to us in
caring, not care-kin. And Cash like sawing the long hot
sad yellow days up into planks and nailing them to
something. And pa thinks because neighbours will always
treat one another that way because he has always
been too busy letting neighbours do for him to find out.
And I did not think that Darl would, that sits at the
supper table with his eyes gone further than the food and
the lamp, full of the land dug out of his skull and the
holes filled with distance beyond the land.
We picked on down the row, the woods getting closer
and closer and the secret shade, picking on into the secret
shade with my sack and Lafe's sack. Because I said will
I or won't I when the sack was half -full because I said if
the sack is full when we get to the woods it won't be me,
I said if it don't mean for me to do it the sack will not be
full and I will turn up the next row but if the sack is
full, I cannot help it. It will be that I had to do it all
AS I .LAY DYING
the time and I cannot help it. And we picked on toward
the secret shade and our eyes would drown together
touching on his hands and my hands and I didn't say
anything. I said "What are you doing?" and lie said **I
am picking into your sack." And so it was full when we
came to the end of the row and I could not help it.
And so it was because I could not help it. It was then,
and then I saw Darl and he knew. He said he knew with-
out the words like he told me that ma is going to die
without words, and I knew he knew because if he had
said he knew with the words I would not have believed
that he had been there and saw us. But he said he did
know and I said "Are you going to tell pa are you going
to kill him?" without the words I said it and he said
"Why?" without the words. And that's why I can talk to
him with knowing with hating because he knows.
He stands in the door ? looking at her.
"What you want, Darl?" I say.
**She is going to die/' he says. And old turkey-buzzard
Tull coming to watch her die but I can fool them,
'When is she going to die?" I say.
"Before we get back," he says.
*Then why are you taking Jewel?" I say*
"I want him to help me load," he says*
TULL
KEEPS ON RUBBING HIS KNEES. HIS OVERALLS ABE
X1L faded; on one knee a serge patch cut out of a pair of
Sunday pants, wore iron-slick. "No man mislikes It more
than me/' he says.
"A fellow's got to guess ahead now and then/* I say*
"But, come long and short, it won*t be no harm done
neither way."
"She II want to get started right off," he says. "It s far
enough to Jefferson at best/*
"But the roads is good now/' I say. It's fixing to rain
tonight, too. His folks buries at New Hope, too, not three
miles away. But it's just like him to marry a woman born
a day's hard ride away and have her die on him.
He looks out over the land, rubbing his knees. c *No
man so mislikes it/* he says.
"They'll get back in plenty of time," I say. "I wouldn't
worry none/*
"It means three dollars," he says.
"Might be it won't be no need for them to rush back^
noways/' I say. "I hope it."
"She's a-going/* he says. "Her mind is set on it/* It's
a hard life on women, for a fact. Some women. I mind
my mammy lived to be seventy and more. Worked every
day, rain or shine; never a sick day since her last chap
was born until one day she kind of looked around her and
then she went and taken that lace-trimmed night-gown
she had had forty-five years and never wore out of the
chest and put it on and laid down on the bed and pulled
3J7
35 8 AS I LAY DYIXG
the covers up and shut her eyes. "You all will have to
look out for pa the best you can/* she said. Tin tired."
Anse rubs his hands on his knees. "The Lord giveth/'
lie says. We can hear Cash a-hammering and sawing
beyond the corner.
If s true. Never a truer breath was ever breathed. "The
Lord giveth/* I say.
That boy comes up the hill. He is carrying a fish nigh
long as he is. He slings it to the ground and grunts "Hah"
and spits over his shoulder like a man. Durn nigh long
as he is.
"What's that?" I say. "A hog? Where'd you get it?"
"Down to the bridge/' he says. He turns it over, the
under-side caked over with dust where it is wet, the eye
coated over, humped under the dirt.
"Are you aiming to leave it laying there?" Anse says.
*1 aim to show it to ma/* Vardaman says. He looks
toward the door. We can hear the talking, coining out on
the draught. Cash, too, knocking and hammering at the
boards. "There's company in there/' he says.
"Just my folks/' I say. "They'd enjoy to see it, too."
He says nothing, watching the door. Then he looks
down at the fish laying in the dust. He turns it over with
his foot and prods at the eye-bump with his toe, gouging
at it. Anse is looking out over the land. Vardaman looks
at Anse's face, then at the door. He turns, going toward
the corner of the house, when Anse calls him without
looking around.
"You clean that fish/' Anse says.
Vardaman stops. "Why can't Dewey Dell clean it?"*
he says.
"You clean that fish/' Anse says.
"Aw, pa," Vardaman says.
"You clean it," Anse says. He don't look around. Varda-
AS x 3C.A Y UYINC* 353?
man comes back and picks tip the fish. It slides out of
his hands, smearing wet dirt on to biro, and flops down,
dirtying itself again, gap-mouthed, goggle-eyed, hiding
into the dust like it was ashamed of being dead, like it
was in a hurry to get back hid again. Vardaman cusses it.
He cusses it like a grown man, standing a-straddle of it.
Anse don't look around. Vardaman picks it up again. He
goes on around the house, toting it in both arms like an
armful of wood, it overlapping him on both ends, head
and tail. Durn nigh big as he is.
Anse*s wrists dangle out of his sleeves: I never see him
with a shirt on that looked like it was his in all my life.
They all looked like Jewel might have give him his old
ones. Not Jewel, though. He's long-armed, even if he is
spindling. Except for the lack of sweat. You could tell
they ain't been nobody else's but Anse's that way without
no mistake. His eyes look like pieces of bumt-out cinder
fixed in his face, looking out over the land.
When the shadow touches the steps he says Ttt's five
o'clock."
Just as I get up Cora comes to the door and says it's
time to get on. Anse reaches for his shoes. "Now, Mr.
Bundren," Cora says, "don't you get up now." He puts his
shoes on, stomping into them, like he does everything
like he is hoping all the time he really ca^'t do it and can
quit trying to. When we go up the hall we can hear
them clumping on the floor like they was iron shoes. He
comes toward the door where she is, blinking his eyes,
kind of looking ahead of hisself before he sees, like he is
hoping to find her setting up, in a chair maybe or maybe
sweeping, and looks into the door in that surprised way
like he looks in and finds her still in bed every time and
Dewey Dell still a-fanning her with the fan. He stands
there, like he don't aim to move again nor nothing else
AS I LAY DYING
"Well, I reckon we better get on/* Cora says. "I got to
feed the chickens." It's fixing to rain, too. Clouds like that
don't lie, and the cotton making every day the Lord
sends. That'll be something else for him. Cash is still
trimming at the boards. "If there's ere a thing we caa
do," Cora says.
VnseTl let us know," I say.
Anse don't look at us. He looks around, blinking, in
that surprised way, like he had wore hisself down being
Surprised and was even surprised at that. If Cash just
Works that careful on my barn.
"I told Anse it likely won't be no need/' I say, <4 I so
tope it."
"Her mind is set on it," he says. "I reckon she's bound
to go/'
"It comes to all of us/' Cora says. "Let the Lord com-
fort you."
"About that corn/* I say. I tell him again I will help
him out if he gets into a tight, with her sick and all. Like
most folks around here, I done holp him so much already
I can't quit now.
"I aimed to get to it today," he says. "Seems like I can't
get my mind on nothing."
"Maybe she'll hold out till you are laid by," I say,
"If God wills it," he says.
"Let Him comfort you," Cora says.
If Cash just works that careful on my barn. He looks
tip when we pass. "Don't reckon 111 get to you this week/'
he says.
" Tain't no rush/' I say. "Whenever you get around to
it*
We get into the wagon. Cora sets the cake-box on her
lap. It's fixing to rain, sho.
AS I LAY BYING 361
**I don"t know what hell do/* Cora says. **I just dont
know. 3 '
*Toor Anse/* I say. "She kept Mm at work for thirty-
odd years. I reckon she is tired.**
"And I reckon shell be behind him for thirty years
more/' Kate says. "Or if it ain't her, he'll get another one
before cotton-picking/'
T reckon Cash and Dar! can get married now/' Eula
says.
That poor boy," Cora says. 'The poor little tyke."
What abont Jewel?" Kate says.
"He can, too/* Eula says.
TKumph/* Kate says. "I reckon he will. I reckon so. I
reckon there's more gals than one around here that don't
want to see Jewel tied down. Well, they needn't to
worry.**
"Why, KateP Cora says. The wagon begins to rattle.
The poor little tyke," Cora says.
It's fixing to rain this night. Yes, sir. A rattling wagon is
mighty dry weather, for a Birdsell. But that'll be cured.
It will for a fact.
"She ought to taken them cakes after she said she
would," Kate says.
ANSE
DUBN THAT ROAD. AND IT FIXING TO RADST, TOO. I
can sfend here and same as see it with second-sight,
a-shutting down behind them like a wall, shutting down
betwixt them and my given promise. I do the best I can,
much as I can get my mind on anything, but durn them
boys.
A-laying there, right up to my door, where every bad
luck that comes and goes is bound to find it I told
Addie it wasn't any luck living on a road when it come
by here, and she said, for the world like a woman, "Get
up and move, then." But I told her it wasn't no luck in it,
because the Lord put roads for travelling: why He laid
them down flat on the earth. When He aims for some-
thing to be always a-moving, He makes it long ways,
like a road or a horse or a wagon, but when He aims for
something to stay put, He makes it up-and-down ways,
like a tree or a man. And so he never aimed for folks to
live on a road, because which gets there first, I says, the
road or the house? Did you ever know Him to set a road
down by a house? I says. No you never, I says, because
it's always men can't rest till they gets the house set where
everybody that passes in a wagon can spit in the door-
way, keeping the folks restless and wanting to get up and
go somewheres else when He aimed for them to stay put
like a tree or a stand of corn. Because if He'd a aimed
for man to be always a-moving and going somewheres
else, wouldn't He a put him longways on his belly, like
a snake? It stands to reason He would.
362
AS I LAY BYIKG 3^3
Putting it where every bad luck prowling can find it
and come straight to my door, charging me taxes on top
of it. Making me pay for Cash having to get them car-
penter notions when if it hadn't been no road come there,
he wouldn't a got them; falling off of churches and lift-
ing no hand in six months and me and Addie slaving and
a-slaving, when there's plenty of sawing on this place lie
could do if he's got to saw.
And Darl, too. Talking me out of him, dum them. It
ain't that I am afraid of work; I always have fed me and
mine and kept a roof above us: it's that they would short-
hand me just because he tends to his own business, just
because he's got his eyes full of the land all the time. I
says to them, he was all right at first, with his eyes full of
the land, because the land laid up-and-down ways then;
it wasn't till that ere road come and switched the land
around longways and his eyes still full of the land, that
they begun to threaten me out of him, trying to short-
hand me with the law.
Making me pay for it. She was well and hale as ere a
woman ever were, except for that road. Just laying down,
resting herself in her own bed, asking naught of none.
"Are you sick, Addie?" I said.
"I am not sick," she said.
"You lay you down and rest you," I said. *I knowed
you are not sick. You're just tired. You lay you down and
rest."
"I am not sick," she said. "I will get up."
"Lay still and rest," I said. "You are just tired. You cam
get up tomorrow." And she was laying there, well and
hale as ere a woman ever were, except for that road.
"I never sent for you," I said. "I take you to witness I
never sent for you."
AS I LAY DYING"
*I know yon didn't/* Peabody said* "I bound that.
Where is she?''
"She's a-laying down/* I said. "She's just a little tired,
but shell "
"Get outen here, Anse," he said. "Go set on the porch a
while"
And now I got to pay for it, me without a tooth in my
head, hoping to get ahead enough so I could get my
mouth fixed where I could eat God's own victuals as a
man should, and her hale and well as ere a woman in the
land until that day. Got to pay for being put to the need
of that three dollars. Got to pay for the way for them
boys to have to go away to earn it. And now I can see
same as second sight the rain shutting down betwixt us,
a-eoming up that road like a dum man, like it wasn't ere
a other house to rain on in all the living land.
I have heard men cuss their luck, and right, for they
were sinful men. But I do not say it's a curse on me, be-
cause I have done no wrong to be eussed by. I am not
religious, I reckon. But peace is my heart: I know it is. I
have done things but neither better nor worse than them
that pretend otherlike, and I know that Old Marster will
care for me as for ere a sparrow that falls. But it seems
hard that a man in his need could be so flouted by a road.
Vardaman comes around the house, bloody as a hog to
his knees, and that ere fish chopped up with the axe like
as not, or maybe throwed away for him to lie about the
dogs et it. Well, I reckon I ain't no call to expect no more
of him than of his mangrowed brothers. He comes
along, watching the house, quiet, and sits on the steps.
"Whew," he says, "I'm pure tired."
"Go wash them hands," I say. But couldn't no woman
strove harder than Addie to make them right, man and
boy: I'll say that for her.
AS f LAY DYING
*It was full of blood and guts as a hog/* he says. But I
fust can't seem to get no heart into anything, with tibii
here weather sapping me, too. "Pa/" he says, **is ma sick
some more?'*
"Go wash them hands/' I say. But I Just can't to
get no heart into it.
DARL
HE HAS BEEN TO TOWN THIS WEEK; THE BACK OF HIS
neck is trimmed close, with a white line between
hair and sunburn like a joint of white bone. He has not
once looked back.
"Jewel," I say. Back running, tunnelled between the
two sets of bobbing mule ears, the road vanishes beneath
the wagon as though it were a ribbon and the front axle
were a spool. "Do you know she is going to die, Jewel?*"
It takes two people to make you, and one people to
Ae. That's how the world is going to end.
I said to Dewey Dell: "You want her to die so you can
get to town: is that it?" She wouldn't say what we both
knew. "The reason you will not say it is, when you say
it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it?
But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the
day when you knew it is true. Why won't you say it, even
to yourself?" She will not say it She just keeps on saying
Are you going to tell pa? Are you going to kill him?
**You cannot believe it is true because you cannot believe
AS I LAY DYING
that Dewey Dell, Dewey Dell Bundren, could have such
bad luck: is that it?"
The SUB, an hour above the horizon, is poised like a
bloody egg upon a crest of thunderheads; the light has
tamed copper: in the eye portentous, in the nose sulphur-
ous, smelling of lightning. When Peabody comes, they
will have to use the rope. He has pussel-gutted himself
eating cold greens. With the rope they will haul Mm up
the path, balloon-like up the sulphurous air.
"Jewel,'* I say, "do you know that Addie Bundren is go-
ing to die? Addie Bundren is going to die?"
PEABODY
WHEN ANSE FINAIXY SENT FOR ME OF HIS OWN AC-
cord, I said "He has wore ner out at last." And I
said a damn good thing and at first I would not go be-
cause there might be something I could do and I would
have to haul her back, by God. I thought maybe they
have the same sort of fool ethics in heaven they have in
the Medical College and that it was maybe Vernon Tull
sending for me again, getting me there in the nick of
'time, as Vernon always does things, getting the most for
Anse's money like lie does for his own. But when it got
far enough into the day for me to read weather sign I
knew it couldn't have been anybody but Anse that sent
I knew that nobody but a luckless man could ever need
a doctor in tie face of a cyclone. And I knew that if it
AS I LAY
had finally occurred to Anse himself that he needed one f
it was already too late.
When I reach the spring and get down and hitch the
team, the sun has gone down behind a bank of black
cloud like a top-heavy mountain range, like a load of
cinders dumped over there, and there is no wind. I could
hear Cash sawing for a mile before 1 got there. Anse is
standing at the top of the bluff above the path.
"Whereas the horse? 1 * I say.
"Jewel's taken and gone/' he says. "Can't nobody else
ketch hit You'll have to walk up, I reckon."
"Me, walk up, weighing two hundred and twenty-five
pounds?" I say. "Walk up that durn wall?" He stands
there beside a tree. Too bad the Lord made the mistake
of giving trees roots and giving the Anse Bundrens He
makes feet and legs. If He'd just swapped them, there
wouldn't ever be a worry about this country being de-
forested some day. Or any other country. "What do you
aim for me to do?" I say. "Stay here and get blowed clean
out of the county when that cloud breaks?" Even with
the horse it would take me fifteen minutes to ride up
across the pasture to the top of the ridge and reach the
house. The path looks like a crooked limb blown against
the bluff. Anse has not been in town in twelve years,
And how his mother ever got up there to bear him, he
being his mother's son.
"Vardaman's gittin* the rope/' he says.
After a while Vardaman appears with the ploughline.
He gives the end of it to Anse and conies down the path*
uncoiling it.
"You hold it tight/' I say. "I done already wrote this
visit on to my books, so I'm going to charge you just the
same, whether I get there or not."
"I got hit," Anse says. "You kin come on up.**
Ag I LAT DYING
111 be damned if I can see why I don't quit A man
seventy years old, weighing two hundred and odd
pounds, being hauled up and down a damn mountain on
a rope. I reckon it's because I must reach the fifty-thou-
sand dollar mark of dead accounts on my books before I
can quit. <c What the hell does your wife mean/* I say,
"taking sick on top of a durn mountain?"
Tm right sorry/* he says. He let the rope go, just
dropped it, and he has turned toward the house. There
is a little daylight up here still, of the colour of sulphur
matches. The boards look like strips of sulphur. Cash
does not look back. Vernon Tull says he brings each
board up to the window for her to see it and say it is all
right. The boy overtakes us. Anse looks back at him.
"Where's the rope?" he says.
It's where you left it/* I say. "But never you mind that
rope. I got to get back down that bluff. I don't aim for
that storm to catch me up here. I*d blow too durn far
once I got started."
The girl is standing by the bed, fanning her. When we
enter she turns her head and looks at us. She has been
dead these t<sn. days. I suppose it's having been a part of
Anse for so long that she cannot even make that change,
if change it be. I can remember how when I was young I
believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now
I know it to be merely a function of the mind and that
of the minds of the ones who suffer the bereavement.
The nihilists say it is the end; the fundamentalists, the be-
ginning; when in reality it is no more than a single ten-
ant or family moving out of a tenement or a town.
She looks at us. Only her eyes seem to move. It's like
they touch us, not with sight or sense, but like the stream
from a hose touches you, the stream at the instant of in^
pact as dissociated from the nozzle as though, it had
AS 1 LAY DYING
never been there. She does not look at Anse at ail. She
looks at me, then at the boy. Beneath the quilt she is no
more than a bundle of rotten sticks.
"Well, Miss Addle," I say. The girl does not stop the
fan. "How are you, sister?" I say. Her head lies gaunt on
the pillow, looking at the boy. "You picked out a fine
time to get me out here and bring up a storm." Then 1
send Anse and the boy out* She watches the boy as he
leaves the room. She has not moved save her eyes.
He and Anse are on the porch when I come out, the
boy sitting on the steps, Anse standing by a post, not even
leaning against it, his arms dangling, the hair pushed and
matted up on his head like a dipped rooster. He turns
his head, blinking at me,
"Why didn't you send for me sooner?** I say.
"Hit was jest one thing and then another/' he says.
'That ere corn me and the boys was aimin* to git up
with, and Dewey Dell a-takuf good keer of her, and
folks comin* in, a-offerin* to help and sich, till I Jest
thought . . ."
"Damn the money," I say. TDM you ever hear of me
worrying a fellow before he was ready to pay?"
"Hit ain't begradgin' the money/' he says. "I jest kept
a-thinkin*. . . . She's goin*, is she?" The durn little tyke is
sitting on the top step, looking smaller than ever in the
sulphur-coloured light. That's the one trouble with this
country: everything, weather, all, hangs on too long.
Like our rivers, our land: opaque, slow, violent; shaping
and creating the life of man in its implacable and brooa
ing image. "I knowed hit," Anse says. "All the while 7.
made sho. Her mind is sot on hit."
"And a damn good thing, too," I say. "With a
trifling " He sits on the top step, small, motionless IB
faded overalls. When I came out he looked up at me,
57 AS i i, AY DYIXG
then at Anse. But now lie has stopped looking at us. H
just sits there.
"Have you told her yit?" Anse says.
"What for?" I say. "What the devil for?"
''Shell know hit. I knowed that when she see you she
would know hit, same as writing. You wouldn't need te
tell her. Her mind "
Behind us the girl says, "Paw/* I look at her, at her f ac
*Tou better go quick/* I say.
When we enter the room she is watching the door.
She looks at me. Her eyes look like lamps blaring up just
before the oil is gone. "She wants you to go out/' the girl
says.
* v Now, Addie/* Anse says, "when he come all the way
from Jefferson to git you well?" She watches me: I can
feel her eyes. It's like she was shoving at me with them.
I have seen it before in women. Seen them drive from the
room them coming with sympathy and pity, with actual
help, and clinging to some trifling animal to whom they
never were more than pack-horses. That's what they
mean by the love that passeth understanding: that pride,
that furious desire to hide that abject nakedness which
we bring here with us, carry with us into operating
rooms, carry stubbornly and furiously with us into the
earth again. I leave the room. Beyond the porch Cadi's
saw snores steadily into the board. A minute later she
calls his name, her voice harsh and strong.
"Cash," she says; "you, Cash!"
DARL
PA STANDS BESIDE THE BED. FROM BEHIND HIS LEG
Vardaman peers, with his round head and his eyes
round and his mouth beginning to open. She looks at pa;
all her failing life appears to drain into her eyes, urgent,
irremediable. "Ifs Jewel she wants/* Dewey Del says.
"Why, Addie/* pa says, "him and Darl went to make
one more load. They thought there was time. That you
would wait for them, and that three dollars and all , . "
He stoops, laying his hand on hers. For a while yet she
looks at him, without reproach, without anything at all,
as if her eyes alone are listening to the Irrevocable ces-
sation of his voice. Then she raises herself, who has not
moved in ten days. Dewey Dell leans down,, trying to
press her back.
"Ma" she says; "ma."
She is looking out the window, at Cash stooping
steadily at the board in the failing light, labouring on to-
ward darkness and into it as though the stroking of the
saw illumined its own motion, board and saw engen-
dered.
"You, Cash/' she shouts, her voice harsh, strong, and
unimpaired. ""You, Cash!"
He looks up at the gaunt face framed by the window
in the twilight. It is a composite picture of all time since
he was a child. He drops die saw and lifts the board for
her to see, watching the window in which the face has
not moved. He drags a second plank into position and
slants the two of them into their final juxtaposition, ges-
3J 2 - AS I LAY DYING
taring toward the ones yet on the ground, shaping with
his empty hand in pantomime the finished box. For a
while still she looks down at him from the composite
picture, neither with censure nor approbation. Then the
face disappears,,
She lies back and turns her head without so much as
glancing at pa. She looks at Vardaman; her eyes, the life
In them, rushing suddenly upon them; the two flames
glare up for a steady instant. Then they go out as though
someone had leaned down and blown upon them.
"Ma," Dewey Dell says; "ma!" Leaning above the bed,
her hands lifted a little, the fan still moving like it has for
ten days, she begins to keen. Her voice is strong, young>
tremulous and clear, rapt with its own timbre and vol-
ume, the fan still moving steadily up and down, whisper-
ing the useless air. Then she flings herself across Addie
Bundren's knees, clutching her, shaking her with the fu-
rious strength of the young before sprawling suddenly
across the handful of rotten bones that Addie Bundren
left, jarring the whole bed into a chattering sibilance of
mattress shucks, her arms outflung and the fan in one
hand still beating with expiring breath into the quilt.
From behind pa's leg Vardaman peers, his mouth full
open and all colour draining from his face into his mouth,
as though he has by some means fleshed his own teeth in
himself, sucking. He begins to move slowly backward
from the bed, his eyes round, his pale face fading into the
dusk like a piece of paper pasted on a failing wall, and
so out of the door.
Pa leans above the bed in the twilight, his humped sil-
houette partaking of that owl-like quality of awry-feath-
ered, disgruntled outrage within which lurks a wisdom
too profound or too inert for even thought.
TDurn. them boys," he says.
AS 1 LAY BYIX6 371
Jetce^ I say. Overhead the drives level and grey %
hiding the by a of grey spears. In
a little, ijcllow the off
one clinging in sliding lunges to the of the
abo^e the ditch. The tilted lumber gleams dull yellow^
water-soaked and heavy as lead, tilted at a
into the ditch above the broken wheel; the
tered spokes and about Jewels a runnel of ijel
low neither water nor earth swirls, curving with the yel-
low road neither of earth nor water y down hitt
dissolving into a streaming muss of dark green neither of
earth nor sky. Jewel 9 I say.
Cash comes to the door, carrying the saw. Pa stands
beside the bed, humped, his arms dangling. He turns his
head, his shabby profile, his chin collapsing slowly as he
works the snuff against his gums.
"She's gone/* Cash says*
"She taken and left us/ pa says. Cash does not look at
him. "How nigh are you done?" pa says. Cash does not
answer. He enters, carrying the saw. *1 reckon you better
get at it/* pa says. "You'll have to do the best you can*
with them boys gone off that-a-way." Cash looks down
at her face. He is not listening to pa at all. He does not
approach the bed. He stops in the middle of the floor,
the saw against his leg, his sweating arms powdered
lightly with sawdust, his face composed. "If you get in a
tight, maybe some of themll get here tomorrow and
help you," pa says. "Vernon could/' Cash is not listening.
He is looking down at her peaceful, rigid face fading into
the dusk as though darkness were a precursor of the ulti-
mate earth, until at last the face seems to float detached
upon it, lightly as the reflection of a dead leaf. "There is
Christians enough to help you/ 5 pa says. Cash is not lis-
tening. After a while he turns without looking at pa and
374 AS I LAY BYIXG
leaves the room. Then the saw begins to snore again.
*TThey will help us in our sorrow/* pa says.
The sound of the saw is steady, competent, unhurried,
stirring the dying light so that at each stroke her face
seems to wake a little into an expression of listening and
of waiting,, as though she were counting the strokes. Pa
looks down at the face, at the black sprawl of Dewey
DelTs hair, the outflung arms, the clutched fan now mo-
tionless on the fading quilt. "I reckon you better get
supper on/* he says.
Dewey Dell does not move.
"Git up, now, and put supper on/* pa says. "We got to
Iceep our strength up. I reckon Doctor Peabody's right
hungry, coming all this way. And Cash'll need to eat
quick and get back to work so he can finish it in time/*
Dewey Dell rises, heaving to her feet. She looks down
at the face. It is like a casting of fading bronze upon the
pillow, the hands alone still with any semblance of life:
a curled, gnarled inertness; a spent yet alert quality from
which weariness, exhaustion, travail has not yet departed,
as though they doubted even yet the actuality of rest,
guarding with homed and penurious alertness the cessa-
tion which they know cannot last.
Dewey Dell stoops and slides the quilt from beneath
them and draws it up over them to the chin, smoothing it
down, drawing it smooth. Then without looking at pa
she goes around the bed and leaves the room.
She will go out where Peabody is, where she can stand
in the twilight and look at his back with such an expres-
sion that, feeling her eyes and turning, he will say; I
would not let it grieve me, now. She was old, and sick
too. Suffering more than we knew. She couldnt have got
well. Vardamans getting big now, and with you to take
lood care of them all. I would try not to let it grieve
AS I LAY DYING 3?S
me. I expect yotid better go and get some supper ready,
It don't have to be much. But they'll need to eat* and
she looking at him? saying lou could do so much for me
if you just would. If you just knew. I am I and you are
you and I know it and you dont know it and you could
do so much for me if you just would and if you just
would then I could tell you and then nobody would
have to know it except you and me and DarL
Pa stands over the bed, dangie-amied, humped* mo-
tionless. He raises his hand to his head, scouring Hs hair v
listening to the saw. He comes nearer and rubs his hand
palm and back, on his thigh and lays it on her face and
then on the hump of quilt where her hands are. He
touches the quilt as he saw Dewey Dell do, trying to
smooth it up to the chin, but disarranging it instead. He
tries to smooth it again, clumsily, his hand awkward as
a claw, smoothing at the wrinkles which he made and
which continue to emerge beneath his hand with perverse
ubiquity, so that at last he desists, his hand falling to his
side and stroking itself again, palm and back, on his
thigh. The sound of the saw snores steadily into the
room. Pa breathes with a quiet, rasping sound, mouth-
ing the snuff against his gums. "God's will be done," lie
says, "Now I can get them teeth/'
Jewels hat droops limp about his neck, channelling
water on to the soaked tow-sack tied about his shoulders
as, ankle-deep in the running ditch, he pries with a slip*
ping two-by-four, with a piece of rotting log for fulcrum,
at the axle. Jewel, I say, she is dead y Jewel. Addie Bun*
dren is dead.
VARDAMAN
THEN 1 BEGIN TO RUN. I RUN TOWARD THE BACK AND
come to the edge of the porch and stop. Then I be*
gin to cry. I can feel where the fish was in the dust It is
cut up into pieces of not-fish now, not-blood on my hands
and overalls. Then it wasn't so. It hadn't happened then.
And now she is getting so far ahead I cannot catch her.
The trees look like chickens when they ruffle out into
the cool dust on the hot days. If I jump off the porch I
Will be where the fish was, and it all cut up into not-fish
now. I can hear the bed and her face and them and I
can feel the floor shake when he walks on it that came
and did it That came and did it when she was all right
but he came and did it
"The fat son of a bitch.'*
I jump from the porch, running. The top of the bam
comes swooping up out of the twilight If I jump I can
go through it like the pink lady in the circus, into the
warm smelling, without having to wait My hands grab
at the bushes; beneath my feet the rocks and dirt go rub^
bling down.
Then I can breathe again, in the wscnn smelling. I en-
ter the stall, trying to touch, him, and then I can cry
then I vomit the crying. As soon as he gets through kick-
ing I can and then I can cry, the crying can.
"He kilt her. He kilt her."
The life in him runs under the skin, under my h^ficd,
running through the splotches, smelling up into my nose
where the sickness is beginning to cry, vomiting the cry-
37*
!8 I LAY TDYING 377
ing ? and then I can breathe, vomiting it. It makes a lot
of noise. I can smell the life running up from under my
hands, up my arms, and then I can leave the stall,
I cannot find it. In the dark, along the dust, the walls
I cannot find it. The crying makes a lot of noise. I wish
it wouldn't make so much noise. Then I find it in the
wagon-shed, in the dust, and I run across the lot and into
the road, the stick jouncing on my shoulder.
They watch me as I run up, beginning to jerk back 3
their eyes rolling, snorting, jerking back on the hitch
rein. I strike. I can hear the stick striking; I can see it hit-
ting their heads, the breast-yoke, missing altogether some-
times as they rear and plunge, but I am glad.
"You kilt my mawl"
The stick breaks, they rearing and snorting, their feet
popping loud on the ground; loud because it is going to
rain and the air is empty for the rain. But it is still long
enough. I run this way and that as they rear and jerk at
the hitch-rein, striking.
'You kilt her!"
I strike at them, striking, they wheeling in a long lunge*
the buggy wheeling on to two wheels and motionless like
it is nailed to the ground and the horses motionless like
they are nailed by the hind feet to the centre of a whirl-
ing-plate.
I run in the dust I cannot see, running in the sucking
dust where the buggy vanishes tilted on two wheels. I
strike, the stick hitting into the ground, bouncing, strik-
ing into the dust and then into the air again and the dust
sucking on down the road faster than if a car was in it*
And then I can cry, looking at the stick. It is broken
down to my hand, not longer than stove wood that was
a long stick. I throw it away and I can cry. It does ad
make so much noise now.
37 AS I LAY DYING
Th** cow is standing in the barn door, chewing. When
she sees me come into the lot she lows, her mouth full of
flopping green, her tongue flopping.
<C I ain't a-goin' to milk you. I ain't a-goin' to do nothing
for them/'
I hear her turn when I pass. When I turn she is just be-
hind me with her sweet, hot, hard breath.
"Didn't I tell you I wouldn't?"
She nudges me, snuffing. She moans deep inside, her
mouth, closed. I jerk my hand, cursing her like Jewel does.
"Git, now."
I stoop my hand to the ground and run at her. She
jumps back and whirls away and stops, watching me.
She moans. She goes on to the path and stands there,
looking up the path.
It is dark in die barn, warm, smelling, silent. I can cry
quietly, watching the top of the hill.
Cash comes to the hill, limping where he fell off of the
schurch. He looks down at the spring, then up the road
and back toward the barn. He comes down the path
stiffly and looks at the broken hitch-rein and at the dust
in the road and then up the road, where the dust is gone.
"I hope they've got clean past Tuffs by now, I so hope
bit."
Cash turns and limps up the path.
"Dum him. I showed him. Durn him/'
I am not crying now. I am not anything. Dewey Dell
comes to the hill and calls me. "Vardaman." I am not any-
thing. I am quiet. "You, Vardaman." I can cry quiet now,
feeling and hearing my tears.
"Then bit want. Hit hadn't happened then. Hit was
a-layin' right there on the ground. And now she's gittin
ready to cook hit."
It is dark. I can hear wood, silence: I know them. But
AS I LAY DYIXG 379
not living sounds, not even him. It is as though the dark
were resolving him out of his integrity, into an unrelated
scattering of components snuffings and stampings;
smells of cooling flesh and ammoniac hair; an illusion of
a coordinated whole of splotched hide and strong bones
within which, detached and secret and familiar, an is
different from my is. I see him dissolve legs, a rolling
eye, a gaudy splotching like cold flames and float upon
the dark in fading solution; all one yet neither; all either
yet none. I can see hearing coil toward him, caressing,
shaping his hard shape fetlock, hip, shoulder and
smell and sound. I am not afraid.
"Cooked and et. Cooked and et."
DEWEY DELL
HE COULD DO SO MUCH FOR ME IF HE JUST WOUOX HE
could do everything for me. It's like everything in
the world for me is inside a tub full of guts, so that you
wonder how there can be any room in it for anything
else very important. He is a big tub of guts and I am a
little tub of guts and if there is not any room for anything
else important in a big tub of guts, how can it be room
in a little tub of guts. But I know it is there because God
gave women a sign when something has happened bad,
It's because I am alone. If I could just feel it, it would
be different, because I would not be alone. But if I were
not alone, everybody would know it. And he could
380 AS i :LAT DYING
So so much, for me, and then I would not be alone. Then
t could be all right alone.
I would let Mm come in between me and Lafe, like
Darl came in between me and Laf e, and so Laf e is alone
too. He is Lafe and I am Dewey Dell, and when mother
died I had to go beyond and outside of me and Lafe and
Darl to grieve because he could do so much for me and
he don't know it. He don't even know it.
From the back porch I cannot see the barn. Then the
sound of Cash's sawing comes in from that way. It is
like a dog outside the house, going back and forth
around the house to whatever door you come to, waiting
to come in. He said I worry more than you do and I said
You don't know what worry is so I can't worry. I try to
but I can't think long enough to worry.
I light the kitchen lamp. The fish, cut into jagged
pieces, bleeds quietly in the pan. I put it into the cup-
board quick, listening into the hall, hearing. It took her
ten days to die; maybe she don't know it is yet. Maybe
she won't go until Cash. Or maybe until Jewel. I take the
dish of greens from the cupboard and the bread-pan
from the cold stove, and I stop, watching the door.
"Where's Vardaman?" Cash says. In the lamp his saw-
dusted arms look like sand.
"I don't know. I ain't seen him."
TPeabody's team run away. See if you can find Varda-
man. The horse will let him catch him."
**Well. Tell them to come to supper."
I cannot see the barn. I said, I don't know how to
Worry. I don't know how to cry. I tried, but I can't. After
a while the sound of the saw comes around, coming dark
along the ground in the dust-dark. Then I can see him,
going up and down above the plank.
"You come in to supper/' I say. "Tell him." He could
AS I LAY DYING
do everything for me. And lie don't know it He is hi&
guts and I am my guts. And I am Lafe's guts. That's it
I don't see why he didn't stay in town. We are country
people not as good as town people. I don't see why he
didn't. Then I can see the top of the barn. The cow
stands at the foot of the path, lowing. When I turn back,
Cash is gone.
I carry the buttermilk in. Pa and Cash and he are at
the table.
"Where's that big fish Bud caught, sister?'* he says.
I set the milk on the table. "I never had no time to
cook it/*
"Plain turnip greens is mighty spindling eating for a
man my size," he says. Cash is eating. About his head
the print of his hat is sweated into his hair. His shirt is
blotched with sweat. He has not washed his hands and
arms.
"You ought to took time/' pa says. 'Where's Varda-
man?"
I go toward the door. "I can't find him/'
"Here, sister," he says; "never mind about the fish. ItM
save, I reckon. Come on and sit down."
"I ain't minding it/' I say. Tm going to milk before il
sets in to rain/*
Pa helps himself and pushes the dish on. But he does
not begin to eat. His hands are half -closed on either side
of his plate, his head bowed a little, his awry hair stand
ing into the lamplight He looks like right after the maul
hits the steer and it no longer alive and don't yet know
that it is dead.
But Cash is eating, and he is too. "You better eat
something/' he says. He is looking at pa. "Like Cash and
me. You'll need it/'
"Ay," pa says. He rouses up, like a steer that's been
3^2 AS I X.AY DYING
kneeling In a pond and you run at it "She would not be-
grudge me it."
When I am out of sight of the house, I go fast The
cow lows at the foot of the bluff. She nuzzles at me, snuf-
fing, blowing her breath in a sweet, hot blast, through my
dress, against my hot nakedness, moaning. "You got to
wait a little while. Then I'll tend to you." She follows me
into the barn where I set the bucket down. She breathes
into the bucket, moaning. "I told you. You just got to
wait, now. I got more to do than I can tend to." The barn
is dark. When I pass, he kicks the wall a single blow. I go
on, The broken plank is like a pale plank standing on
end. Then I can see the slope, feel the air moving on my
face again, slow, pale, with lesser dark and with empty
seeing, the pine clumps blotched up the tilted slope,
secret and waiting.
The cow in silhouette against the door nuzzles at the
silhouette of the bucket, moaning.
Then I pass the stall. I have almost passed it I listen
to it saying for a long time before it can say the word
and the listening part is afraid that there may not be
time to say it. I feel my body, my bones and flesh begin-
ning to part and open upon the alone, and the process of
coming unalone is terrible. Lafe. Lafe. "Lafe" Lafe. Lafe.
I lean a little forward, one foot advanced with dead
walking. I feel the darkness rushing past my breast, past
the cow; I begin to rush upon the darkness but the cow
stops me and the darkness rushes on upon the sweet
blast of her moaning breath, filled with wood and with
silence.
"Vardaman. You, Vardaman."
He comes out of the stall "You durn little sneakl Yw.
durn little sneak!"
AS I LAY J)YING
He does not resist; the last of rushing darkness flees
whistling away. "What? I ain't done nothing/*
"You dum little sneak!" My hands shake him, hard.
Maybe I couldn't stop them. I didn't know they could
shake so hard. They shake both of us ? shaking.
"I never done it/* he says. "I never touched them."
My hands stop shaking him, but I still hold him.
"What are you doing here? Why didn't you answer when
I called you?"
"I ain't doing nothing."
"You go on to the house and get your supper."
He draws back. I hold him. "You quit now. You leave
me be/*
<c What were you doing down here? You didn't come?
down here to sneak after me?"
"I never. I never. You quit, now. I didn't even know
you was down here. You leave me be."
I hold him, leaning down to see his face, feel it with
my eyes. He is about to cry. "Go on, now. I done put
supper on and 111 be there soon as I milk. You better go
on before he eats everything up. I hope that team runs'
clean back to Jefferson/'
"He kilt her/' he says. He begins to cry.
"Hush."
"She never hurt him and he come and kilt her/'
"Hush." He struggles. I hold him. "Hush/'
"He kilt her/' The cow comes up behind us, moaning,
I shake him again.
"You stop it, now. Right this minute. You're fixing to
make yourself sick and then you can't go to town. You
go on to the house and eat your supper."
"I don't want no supper. I don't want to go to town/*
leave you here, then. Lessen you behave, we win
AS I LAY DYING
leave you. Go on, BOW, before that old green-eating tub
of guts eats everything up from you." He goes on, disap-
pearing slowly into the hill. The crest, the trees, the roof
of the house stand against the sky. The cow nuzzles at
me, moaning. "You'll just have to wait. What you got in
you ain't nothing to what I got in me, even if you are a
woman too." She follows me, moaning. Then the dead,
hot, pale air breathes on my face again. He could fix it
all right, if he just would. And lie don't even know it. He
could do everything for me if he just knowed it. The cow
breathes upon my hips and back, her breath warm,
sweet, stertorous, moaning. The sky lies flat down the
slope, upon the secret clumps. Beyond the hill sheet-
lightning stains upward and fades* The dead air shapes
the dead earth, in the dead darkness, further away than
seeing shapes the dead earth. It lies dead and warm
upon me, touching me naked through my clothes. I said
You don't know what worry is. I don't know what it is.
I don't know whether I am worrying or not. Whether I
can or not I don't know whether I can cry or not. I don't
know whether I have tried to or not. I feel like a wet
seed wild in the hot blind earth.
VARDAMAN
WHEN THEY GET IT FINISHED THEY ABE GOING TO PUT
her in it and then for a long time I couldn't say it.
I saw the dark stand up and go whirling away and I said
"Are you going to nail her up in it, Cash? Cash? Cash?" I
AS I LAY DYING
got shut up In the crib the new door it was too heavy
for me it went shut I couldn't breathe because the rat
was breathing up all the air. I said "Are you going to nail
it shut, Cash? Nail it? Nail it?"
Pa walks around. His shadow walks around, over Cash
going up and down above the saw, at the bleeding
plank.
Dewey Dell said we will get some bananas. The train
is behind the glass, red on the track. When it runs the
track shines on and off. Pa said flour and sugar and coffee
costs so much. Because I am a country boy because boys
in town. Bicycles. Why do flour and sugar and coffee cost
so much when he is a country boy. "Wouldn't you rather
have some bananas instead?" Bananas are gone, eaten t
Gone. When it runs on the track shines again. "Why ain't
I a town boy, pa?" I said God made me. I did not said
to God to made me in the country. If He can make the
train, why can't He make them all in the town because
flour and sugar and coffee. "Wouldn't you ruther have
bananas?"
He walks around. His shadow walks around.
It was not her. I was there, looking. I saw. I thought
it was her, but it was not. It was not my mother. She
went away when the other one laid down in her bed and
drew the quilt up. She went away. "Did she go as far as
town?" "She went farther than town." "Did all those rab-
bits and possums go farther than town?" God made the
rabbits and possums. He made the train. Why must He
make a different place for them to go if she is just like the
rabbit.
Pa walks around. His shadow does. The saw sounds
like it is asleep.
And so i Cash nails the box up, she is not a rabbit,
and so if she is not a rabbit I couldn't breathe in the
AS I LAY DYING
crib and Cash, is going to nail it up. And so if she lets
him it is not her. I know. I was there. I saw when it did
not be her. I saw. They think it is and Cash is going to
nail it up.
It was not her because it was laying right yonder in
the dirt. And now it's all chopped up. I chopped it up.
It's laying in the kitchen in the bleeding pan, waiting to
be cooked and et. Then it wasn't and she was, and now
it is and she wasn't And tomorrow it will be cooked and
et and she will be him and pa and Cash and Dewey Dell
and there won't be anything in the box and so she can
breathe. It was laying right yonder on the ground. I can
get Vernon. He was there and he seen it, and with both
of us it wiU be and then it will not be.
TULL
IT WAS NIGH TO MIDNIGHT AND IT HAD SET IN TO RAIN
when he woke us. It had been a misdoubtful night,
with the storm making; a night when a fellow looks for
most anything to happen before he can get the stock fed
and himself to the house an supper et and in bed with the
rain starting, and when Peabody's team come up, lath-
ered, with the broke harness dragging and the neck-yoke
betwixt the off critter's legs, Cora says "It's Addie Bun-
dren. She's gone at last"
"Peabody mought have been to ere a one of a dozen
houses hereabouts," I says. "Besides, how do you know
it's Peabody's team?"
AS I LAY DYING
'Well, ain't it?" she says. "You hitch up, now.' 7
"What for?" I says. "If she is gone, we can't do nothing
till morning. And it fixing to storm too.
"It's my duty/* she says. "You put the team in."
But I wouldn't do it. "It stands to reason they'd send
for us if they needed us. You don't even know she's gone
yet."
"Why, don't you know that's Peabody's team? Do you
( claim it ain't? Well, then." But I wouldn't go. When folks
wants a fellow, it's best to wait till they sends for him,
I've found. "It's my Christian duty," Cora says, "Will
you stand between me and my Christian duty?"
"You can stay there all day tomorrow, if you want/* I
says.
So when Cora waked me it had set in to rain. Even
while I was going to the door with the lamp and it shin-
ing on the glass so he could see I am coming, it kept on
knocking. Not loud, but steady, like he might have gone
to sleep thumping, but I never noticed how low down
on the door the knocking was till I opened it and never
seen nothing. I held the lamp up, with the rain sparkling
across it and Cora back in the hall saying "Who is it, Ver-
non?" but I couldn't see nobody a-tall at first until I
looked down and around the door, lowering the lamp.
He looked like a drowned puppy, in them overalls,
without no hat, splashed up to his knees where he had
walked them four miles in die mud. 'Well, I'll be
durned/' I says.
"Who is it, Vernon?" Cora says.
He looked at me, his eyes round and black in the
die like when you throw a light in a owl's face.
mind that ere fish/' he says.
"Come in the house," I says. "What is it? Is your
AS I LAY DYING
cs Vemon/ 5 Cora says.
He stood kind of around behind the door, in the dark
The rain was blowing on to the lamp, hissing on it so 1
am scared every minute it'll break. "You was there/" he
says. "You seen it.'*
Then Cora come to the door. "You come right in outen
the rain/* she says, pulling him in and him watching me.
He looked Just like a drowned puppy. < l told you/' Cora
says. **I told you it was a-happening. You go and hitch/'
TBut he ain't said " I says.
He looked at me, dripping on to the floor. "He's a-ruin-
ing the rug/' Cora says. "Ton go get the team while I take
him to the kitchen."
But he hung back, dripping, watching me with them
eyes. *Tou was there. You seen it laying there. Cash is
fixing to nail her up ? and it was a-laying right there on
the ground. You seen it. You seen the mark in the dirt.
The rain never come up till after I was a-coming here. So
we can get back in time."
I be durn if it didn't gi\ r e me the creeps, even when I
didn't know yet But Cora did. "You get that team quick
as you can/' she says, "He's outen his head with grief and
worry."
I be durn if it didn*t give me the creeps. Now and
then a fellow gets to thinking. About all the sorrow and
afflictions in this world; how it's liable to strike any-
where, like lightning. I reckon it does take a powerful
trust in the Lord to guard a fellow, though sometimes I
think that Cora's a mite over-cautious, like she was trying
to crowd the other folks away and get in closer than any-
body else. But then, when something like this happens,
I reckon she is right and you got to keep after it and I
reckon I am blessed in having a wife that ever strives for
sanctity and well-doing like she says I am.
AS I LAY DYIXG
Now and then a fellow gets to thinking about it. Not
often, though. Which is a good thing. For the Lord
aimed for him to do and not to spend too much time
thinking, because his brain if s like a piece of machinery:
it won't stand a whole lot of racking. It's best when
it all runs along the same, doing the day's work and not
no one part used no more than needful. I have said and
I say again, that's ever living thing the matter with Darl:
he just thinks by himself too much. Cora's right when
she says all he needs is a wife to straighten him out And
when I think about that, I think that if nothing but be-
ing married will help a man, he's dum nigh hopeless. But
I reckon Cora's right when she says the reason the Lord
had to create women is because man don't know his own
good when he sees it.
When I come back to the house with the team, they
was in the kitchen. She was dressed on top of her night*
gown with a shawl over her head and her umbrella and
her Bible wrapped up in the oilcloth, and him sitting on
a up-turned bucket on the stove-zinc where she had put
him, dripping on to the floor. "I can't get nothing outen
him except about a fish/' she says. "It's a judgment on
them. I see the hand of the Lord upon this boy for Anse
Bundren's judgment and warning."
*TThe rain never come up till after I left," he says. TE
had done left. I was on the way. And so it was there in
the dust. You seen it. Cash is fixing to nail her, but you
seen it."
When we got there is was raining hard, and him sitting
on the seat between us, wrapped up in Cora's shawl. He
hadn't said nothing else, just sitting there with Cora holl-
ing the umbrella over him. Now and then Cora would
stop singing long enough to say "It's a judgment on Anse
Bundren. May it show Mm the path of sin he is a-hrod-
39 AS I LAY DYING
ding/' Then she would sing again, and him sitting there
between us, leaning forward a little like the mules
couldn't go fast enough to suit him.
"It was laying right yonder/* he says, "but the rain
come up after I taken and left. So I can go and open
the windows, because Cash ain't nailed her yet"
It was long a-past midnight when we drove the last
nail, and almost dust-dawn when I got back home and
taken the team out and got back in bed, with Cora's
nightcap laying on the other pillow. And be durned if
even then it wasn't like I could still hear Cora singing
and feel that boy leaning forward between us like he was
ahead of the mules, and still see Cash going up and
down with that saw, and Anse standing there like a scare-
crow, Mke he was a steer standing knee-deep in a pond
and somebody come by and set the pond up on edge
and he ain't missed it yet.
It was nigh toward daybreak when we drove the last
nail and toted it into the house, where she was laying on
the bed with the window open and the rain blowing on
her again. Twice he did it, and him so dead for sleep
that Cora says his face looked like one of these here
Christmas masts that had done been buried a while and
then dug up, until at last they put her into it and nailed
it down so he couldn't open the window on her no more.
And the next morning they found him in his shirt-tail
laying asleep on the floor like a felled steer, and the top
of the box bored clean full of holes and Cash's new auger
broke off in the last one. When they taken the lid off her
they found that two of them had bored on into her face.
If it's a judgment, it ain't right. Because the Lord's
got more to do than that. He's bound to have. Because
the only burden Anse Bundren's ever had is himself. And
AS I LAY DYING 391
when follcs talks him low, I think to myself he ain't that
less of a man or he couldn't a bore himself this long.
It ain't right. I be dura if it is. Because He said Suffet
little children to come unto Me don't make it right,
neither. Cora said, "I have bore you what the Lord God
sent me. I faced it without fear nor terror because my
faith was strong in the Lord, a-bolstering and sustaining
me. If you have no son, it's because the Lord has decreed
otherwise in His wisdom. And my life is and has ever
been a open book to ere a man or woman among His
creatures because I trust in my God and my reward."
I reckon she's right. I reckon if there's ere a man or
woman anywhere that He could turn it all over to and go
away with His mind at rest, it would be Cora. And I
reckon she would make a few changes, no matter how He
was running it. And I reckon they would be for man's
good. Leastways, we would have to like them. Leastways,
we might as well go on and make like we did.
DARL
THE LANTERN SITS ON A STUMP. RUSTED, GREASE-FOXJLED 5
its cracked chimney smeared on one side with a soar-
ing smudge of soot, it sheds a feeble and sultry glare
upon the trestles and the boards and the adjacent earth.
Upon the dark ground the chips look like random smears
of soft pale paint on a black canvas. The boards look
AS I LAY DYIXG
like long smooth tatters torn from the flat darkness and
turned backside out.
Cash labours about the trestles, moving back and
forth, lifting and placing the planks with long clattering
reverberations in the dead air as though he were lifting
and dropping them at the bottom of an invisible well,
the sounds ceasing without departing, as if any move-
ment might dislodge them from the immediate air in
reverberant repetition. He saws again, his elbow flashing
slowly, a thin thread of fire running along the edge of
the saw, lost and recovered at the top and bottom of
each stroke in unbroken elongation, so that the saw ap-
pears to be six feet long, into and out of pa's shabby and
aimless silhouette. "Give me that plank," Cash says. "No;
the other one/' He puts the saw down and comes and
picks up the plank he wants, sweeping pa away with
the long swinging gleam of the balanced board.
The air smells like sulphur. Upon the impalpable
plane of it their shadows form as upon a wall, as though
like sound they had not gone very far away in falling
but had merely congealed for a moment, immediate and
musing. Cash works on, half turned into the feeble light,
one thigh and one pole-thin arm braced, his face sloped
into the light with a rapt, dynamic immobility above
his tireless elbow. Below the sky sheet-lightning slum-
bers lightly; against it the trees, motionless, are ruffled
out to the last twig, swollen, increased as though quick
With young.
It begins to rain. The first harsh, sparse, swift drops
,rush through the leaves and across the ground in a long
sigh, as though of relief from intolerable suspense. They
are big as buckshot, warm as though fired from a gun;
they sweep across the lantern in a vicious hissing. Pa
lifts his face, slack-mouthed, the wet black rim of snuff
AS I JLAY DYING 393
plastered close along the base of Ms gums; from behind
his slack-faced astonishment he muses as though from
beyond time, upon the ultimate outrage. Cash looks once
at the sky, then at the lantern. The saw has not faltered,
the running gleam of its pistoning edge unbroken. "Gel
something to cover the lantern/' he says.
Pa goes to the house. The rain rushes suddenly down,
without thunder, without warning of any sort; he is
swept on to the porch upon the edge of it and in an
instant Cash is wet to the skin. Yet the motion of the
saw has not faltered, as though it and the arm functioned
in a tranquil conviction that rain was an illusion of the
mind. Then he puts down the saw and goes and crouches
above the lantern, shielding it with his body, his back
shaped lean and scrawny by his wet shirt as though he
had been abruptly turned wrong-side out, shirt and all
Pa returns. He is wearing Jewel's raincoat and carrying
Dewey Dell's, Squatting over the lantern, Cash reaches
back and picks up four sticks and drives them into the
earth and takes Dewey DeE's raincoat from pa and
spreads it over the sticks, forming a roof above the lan-
tern. Pa watches him. "I don't know what you'll do," he
says. "Darl taken his coat with him/'
"Get wet," Cash says. He takes up the saw again;
again it moves up and down, in and out of that unhurried
imperviousness as a piston moves in the oil; soaked,
scrawny, tireless, with tihe lean light body of a boy of
an old man. Pa watches him, bMnking, Ms face sireara-
ing; again he looks up at the sky with that expression
of dumb and brooding outrage and yet of vindication,,
as though he had expected no less; now and then he
stirs, moves, gaunt and streaming, picking up a board
or a tool and then laying it down. Vernon TuU is there
now, and Cash is wearing Mrs* Tolls raincoat and he
394 AS I LAY DYING
and Veraon are hunting the saw. After a while they Bud
it in pa's hand.
"Why don't you go on to the house, out of the rain?"
Cash says. Pa looks at him., his face streaming slowly.
It is as though upon a face carved by a savage carica-
turist a monstrous burlesque of all bereavement flowed.
"You go on in/* Cash says. "Me and Vernon can finish
it/'
Pa looks at them. The sleeves of Jewel's coat are too
short for him. Upon his face the rain streams, slow as
cold glycerine. "I don't begrudge her the wetting/' he
says. He moves again and falls to shifting the planks,
picking them up, laying them down again carefully, as
though they are glass. He goes to die lantern and pulls
at the propped raincoat until he knocks it down and
Cash comes and fixes it back.
"You get on to the house/' Cash says. He leads pa
to the house and returns with the raincoat and folds it
and places it beneath the shelter where the lantern sits,
Vernon has not stopped. He looks up, still sawing.
"You ought to done that at first/' he says. "You knowed
It was fixing to rain/'
"It's his fever," Cash says. He looks at the board.
"Ay/' Vernon says. "He'd a come, anyway/'
Cash squints at the board. On the long flank of it the
rain crashes steadily, myriad, fluctuant. "I'm going to
bevel it," he says.
"It'll take more time," Vernon says. Cash sets the
plank on edge; a moment longer Vernon watches him,
then he hands him the plane.
Vernon holds the board steady while Cash bevels the
edge of it with the tedious and minute care of a jew-
eller. Mrs. Tull comes to the edge of the porch and calls
Veraon. "How near are you done?" she says.
AS I LAY DYING 395
Vemon does not look up. "Not long. Some, yet.**
She watches Cash stooping at the plank, the turgid
savage gleam of the lantern slicking on the raincoat as
he moves. "You go down and get some planks off the
barn and finish it and come in out of the rain/' she says,
"You'll both catch your death." Vemon does not move.
''Vernon/' she says.
"We won't be long," he says. "Well be done after a
spell.'* Mrs. Tull watches them a while. Then she re-
enters the house.
"If we get in a tight, we could take some of them
planks," Vernon says. "I'll help you put them back."
Cash ceases the plane and squints along the plank,,
wiping it with his palm. "Give me the next one/* he
says.
Some time toward dawn the rain ceases. But it is not
yet day when Cash drives the last nail and stands stiffly
up and looks down at the finished coffin, the others
watching him. In the lantern-light his face is calm, mus
ing; slowly he strokes his hands on his raincoat thighs
in a gesture deliberate, final and composed. Then the
four of them Cash and pa and Vernon and Peabody
raise the coffin to their shoulders and turn toward the
house. It is light, yet they move slowly; empty, yet they
carry it carefully; lif eless, yet they move with husheJ
precautionary words to one another, speaking of it as
though, complete, it now slumbered lightly alive, wait-
ing to come awake. On the dark floor their feet clump
awkwardly, as though for a long time they have not
walked on floors.
They set it down by the bed. Peabody says quietly:
"Let's eat a snack. It's almost daylight. Where's Cash?*
He has returned to the trestles, stooped again in the
lantern's feeble glare as he gathers up his tools and
AS I LAY DYIISTG
wipes them on a cloth carefully and puts them into the
box with its leather sling to go over the shoulder. Then
he takes up box, lantern and raincoat and returns to the
house, mounting the steps into faint silhouette against
the paling east.
In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep.
And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you.
And when you are emptied for sleep, you are not. And
when you are filled with sleep, you never were. I don't
know what I am. I don't know if I am or not. Jewel
knows he is, because he does not know that he does not
know whether he is or not. He cannot empty himself
for sleep because lie is not what lie is and he is what
he is not. Beyond the unlamped wall I can hear the
rain shaping the wagon that is ours, the load that is
no longer theirs that felled and sawed it nor yet theirs
that bought it and which is not ours either, lie on our
wagon though it does, since only the wind and the rain
shape it only to Jewel and me, that are not asleep. And
since sleep is is-not and rain and wind are was, it is not.
Yet the wagon is ? because when the wagon is was, Addie
Bundren will not be. And Jewel is, so Addie Bundrea
must be. And then I must be, or I could not empty my-
relf for sleep in a strange room. And so if I am not
emptied yet, 1 am is.
How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof,
thinking of home.
I
CASH
MADE IT ON THE BEVEL.
1. There is more surface for the nails to grip.
2. There is twice the gripping-surface to each seam,
3. The water will have to seep into it on a slant
Water moves easiest up and down or straight
across.
4. In a house people are upright two-thirds of the
time. So the seams and joints are made up-and-
down. Because the stress is up-and-down.
5. In a bed where people lie down all the time, the
joints and seams are made sideways, because the
stress is sideways.
8. Except.
7. A body is not square like a cross-tie.
8. Animal magnetism.
9. The animal magnetism of a dead body makes the
stress come slanting, so the seams and joints of a
coffin are made on the bevel.
10. You can see by an old grave that the earth sinks
down on the bevel.
11. While in a natural hole it sinks by the centre, the
stress being up-and-down,
12. So I made it on the bevel
13. It makes a neater job.
397
VARDAMAN
M
Y MOTHER IS A F35BL
TULL
IT WAS TEN O'CLOCK WHEN I GOT BACK, WTTH FEABODY's
team hitched on to the back of the wagon. They had
already dragged the buckboard back from where Quick
found it upside down straddle of the ditch about a mile
from the spring. It was pulled out of the road at the
spring, and about a dozen wagons was already there.
It was Quick found it. He said tie river was up and still
rising. He said it had already covered the highest water-
mark on the bridge-piling he had ever seen. "That bridge
won't stand a whole lot of water/' I said. "Has somebody
told Anse about it?"
"I told him," Quick said. "He says he reckons them
boys has heard and unloaded and are on the way back
by now. He says they can load up and get across."
"He better go on and bury her at New Hope/' Arm-
stid said. 'That bridge is old. I wouldn't monkey with
it."
AS I LAY DYING 395?
"His mind is set on taking her to Jefferson/* Quick
said.
"Then he better get at it soon as he can," Armstid
said.
Anse meets us at the door. He has shaved, but not
good. There is a long cut on his jaw, and he is wearing
his Sunday pants and a white shirt with the neckband
buttoned. It is drawn smooth over his hump, making it
look bigger than ever, like a white shirt will, and his
face is different too. He looks folks in the eye now, digni-
fied, his face tragic and composed, shaking us by the
hand as we walk up on to the porch and scrape our
shoes, a little stiff in our Sunday clothes, our Sunday
clothes rustling, not looking full at him as he meets us,
"The Lord giveth/' we say.
"The Lord giveth."
That boy is not there. Peabody told about how he
come into the kitchen, hollering, swarming and claw-
ing at Cora when he found her cooking that fish, and
how Dewey Dell taken him down to the bam. "My
team all right?" Peabody says.
"All right/' I tell him. "I give them a bait this morn-
ing. Your buggy seems all riglit too. It ain't hurt."
"And no fault of somebody's/' he says. "I'd give a
nickel to know where that boy was when that teanii
broke away."
"If it's broke anywhere, III fix it," I say.
The women folks go on into the house. We can hear
them, talking and fanning. The fans go whish, whish,
whish and them talking, the talking sounding kind of
like bees murmuring in a water-bucket. The men stop
on the porch, talking some, not looking at one another,
"Howdy, Vernon/' they say. "Howlyv Tull."
"Looks like more rain/*
40 AS I LAY DYING
It does for a fact'*
"Yes, sir. It will rain some more.* 9
"It come up quick/*
"And going away slow. It don't fail."
I go around to the back. Cash is filling up the holes
fie bored in the top of it. He is trimming oat pings for
them, one at a time, the wood wet and hard to work.
He could cut up a tin can and hide the holes and no-
body wouldn't know the difference. Wouldn't mind,,
anyway. I have seen him spend a hour trimming out
a wedge like it was glass he was working, when he
could have reached around and picked up a dozen
sticks and drove them into the joint and made it do.
When we finished I go back to the front. The men
have gone a little piece from the house, sitting on the
mds of the boards and on the saw-horses where we
made it last night, some sitting and some squatting.
Whitfield ain*t come yet.
They look up at me, their eyes asking.
"It's about/' I say. "He's ready to nail."
While they are getting up Anse conies to the door
and looks at us and we return to the porch. We scrape
our shoes again, careful, waiting for one another to go
in first, milling a little at the door. Anse stands inside
the door, dignified, composed. He waves us in and leads
the way into the room.
They had laid her in it reversed. Cash made it clock-
shape, like this jr** 8 **^^ with, every joint and seam
bevelled and 'U*,,^*^^ scrubbed with the plane,
tight as a drum and neat as a sewing basket, and they
had laid her in it head to foot so it wouldn't crush her
dress. It was her wedding dress and it had a flare-out bot-
tom, and they had laid her head to foot in it so the dress
could spread out, and they had made her a veil out of
AS I LAY DYING 40!
a mosquito bar so the auger holes in her face wouldn't
show.
When we are going out, Whitfield comes. He is wet
and muddy to the waist, coining in. "The Lord comfort
this house," he says. "I was late because the bridge has
gone. I went down to the old ford and swum my horse
over, the Lord protecting me. His grace be upon this
house."
We go back to the trestles and plank-ends and sit or
squat.
"I knowed it would go," Armstid says.
"It's been there a long time, that ere bridge,** Quick
says.
The Lord has kept it there, you mean," Uncle Billy
says. "I don't know ere a man that's touched hammer to
it in twenty-five years/*
"How long has it been there, Uncle Billy?" Quick says.
"It was built in ... let me see ... It was in the year
1888," Uncle Billy says. TE mind it because the first man
to cross it was Peabody coming to my house when Jody
was born."
"If I'd crossed it every time your wife littered since,
it'd a been wore out long before this, Billy/' Peabody
says.
We laugh, suddenly loud, then suddenly quiet again,
We look a little aside at one another.
"Lots of folks has crossed it that won't cross no more
bridges/' Houston says.
"It's a fact/' Littlejohn says. "It's so/'
"One more ain't, no ways," Armstid says. "It'd taken
them two-three days to got her to town in the wagon.
They'd be gone a week, getting her to Jefferson and
back."
AS I LAY D
"What's Anse so itching to take her to Jefferson for,
anyway?" Houston says.
"He promised her," I say, "She wanted it. She come
from there. Her mind was set on it/*
"And Anse is set on it, too," Quick says.
"Ay," Uncle Billy says, "It's like a man that's let every-
thing slide all his life to get set on something that will
make the most trouble for everybody he knows."
"Well, it'll take the Lord to get her over that river
aow," Peabody says. "Anse can't do it."
"And I reckon He will/' Quick says. "He's took care of
Anse a long time, now."
"It's a fact," Littlejohn says.
Too long to quit now," Armstid says.
"I reckon He's like everybody else around here," Uncle
Billy says. "He's done it so long now He can't quit"
Cash comes out. He has put on a clean shirt; his hair,
wet, Is combed smooth down on his brow, smooth and
black as if he had painted it on to his head. He squats
stiffly among us, we watching him.
"You feeling this weather, ain't you?" Armstid says.
Cash says nothing.
"A broke bone always feels it," Littlejohn says. "A fel-
low with a broke bone can tell it a-coming."
"Lucky Cash got off with just a broke leg," Armstid
says. "He might have hurt himself bedrid. How far'd you
fall, Cash?"
Twenty-eight foot, four and a half inches, about/*
Cash says. I move over beside him.
"A fellow can sho slip quick on wet planks," Quick says.
"It's too bad," I say. "But you couldn't a help it."
"It's them durn women," he says. "I made it to balance
with her. I made it to her measure and weight."
AS I LAY DYIdttG 43
If it takes wet boards for folks to fall, ifs -fixing to "be
lots of falling before this spell is done.
"You couldn't have holp it," I say.
I dont mind the folks falling. Ifs the cotton and corn 1
mind.
Neither does Peabody mind the folks falling. How
'bout it, Doc?
It's a fact. Washed clean outen the ground it will be.
Seems like something is always happening to it.
'Course it does. That's why it's worth anything. If noth-
ing didnt happen and everybody made a big crop., do
you reckon it would be worth the raising?
Well, I be durn if I like to see my work washed omen
the ground, work I sweat over.
It's a fact. A fettow wouldn't mind seeing it washed
up if he could just turn on the rain himself.
Who is that man can do that? Where is the colour of
his eyes?
Ay. The Lord made it to grow. Ifs Hisn to wash up
if He sees it fitten so.
"You couldn't have holp it," I say.
"If s them durn women/' he says,
In the house the women begin to sing. We hear the
first line commence, beginning to swell as they take hold,
and we rise and move toward the door, taking off our
hats and throwing our chews away. We do not go in. We
stop at the steps, clumped, holding our hats between our
lax hands in front or behind, standing with one foot ad-
vanced and our heads lowered, looking aside, down at
our hats in our hands and at the earth or now and then
at the sky and at one another's grave, composed face.
The song ends; the voices quaver away with a rich anc|
dying fall. Whitfield begins. His voice is bigger than him.
It's like they are not the same. It's like lie is one, and his
voice is one, swimming on two horses side by side across
the ford and coming into the house, the mud-splashed
one and the one that never even got wet, triumphant and
sad. Somebody in the house begins to cry. It sounds like
her eyes and her voice were turned back inside her, lis-
tening; we move, shifting to the other leg, meeting one
another's eye and makiag like they hadn't touched.
Whitfield stops at last. The women sing again. In the
thick air it's like their voices come out of the air y flowing
together and on in the sad, comforting tunes. When they
.cease it's like they hadn't gone away. It's like they had
just disappeared into the air and when we moved we
would loose them again out of the air around us, sad and
comforting. Then they finish and we put on our hats, our
movements stiff, like we hadn't never wore hats before.
On the way home Cora is still singing. "I am bounding
toward my God and my reward," she sings, sitting on the
wagon, the shawl around her shoulders and the umbrella
open over her, though it is not raining.
"She has hern," I say. "Wherever she went, she has her
reward in being free of Anse Bundren." She laid there
three days in that box, waiting for Darl and Jewel to
come clean back home and get a new wheel and go back
to where the wagon was in the ditch. Take my team,
Anse, I said.
Well wait for own, he said. She'll want it so. She was
ever a particular woman.
On the third day they got back and they loaded her
into the wagon and started and it already too late. You'll
have to go all the way round by Samsons bridge. It'll
take you a day to get there. Then you'll be forty miles
from Jefferson. Take my team, Anse.
We'll wait for ourn. She'll want it so.
AS I LAY DYING 40 J
It was about a mile from the house we saw him, sitting
on the edge of the slough. It hadn't had a fish in It never
that I knowed. He looked around at us, his eyes round
and calm, Ms face dirty, the pole across his knees. Cora
was still singing.
"This ain't no good day to fish," I said. '"You come on
home with us and me and you'll go down to the river first
thing in the morning and catch some fish."
"It's one In here/' he said. "Dewey Dell seen It"
''You come on with us. The river's the best place/*
"It's in here/' he said. "Dewey Dell seen it"
"I'm bounding toward my God and my reward/' Cora
sung.
DARL
" Ws NOT YOUR HORSE THAT ? S DEAD, JEWEL/' I SAY. HE SITS
A erect on the seat, leaning a little forward, wooden-
backed. The brim of his hat has soaked free of the crown
In two places, drooping across his wooden face so that,
head lowered, he looks through it like through the visor
of a helmet, looking long across the valley to where the
barn leans against the bluff, shaping the invisible horse,
"See then?" I say. High above the house, against the
quick thick sky, they hang in narrowing circles. From
here they are no more than specks, implacable, patient
portentous. "But it's not your horse that's dead."
"Goddamn you," he says. "Goddamn you/'
406 AS I LAY DYING
I cannot love my mother because I have no mother.
Jewel's mother is a horse.
Motionless, the taU buzzards hang in soaring circles,
the clouds giving them an illusion of retrograde.
Motionless, wooden-backed, wooden-faced, he shapes
the horse in a rigid stoop like a hawk, hook-winged.
They are waiting for us, ready for the moving of it, wait-
ing for him. He enters the stall and waits until it kicks at
him so that he can slip past and mount on to the trough
and pause, peering out across the intervening stall-tops
toward the empty path, before he reaches into the loft.
"Goddamn Mm. Goddamn him."
CASH
IT WON'T BALAJSTQE. IF YOU WANT TO TOTE AND RIDE ON
a balance, we will have "
"Tick up. Goddamn you, pick up."
'Tm telling you it won't tote and it won't ride on a bal-
ance unless "
TPick up! Pick up, goddamn your thick-nosed soul to
fiell, pick up!"
It won't balance. If they want it to tote and ride on a
balance, they will have
DARlb
HE STOOPS AMONG US ABOVE IT, TWO OF THE EIGHT
hands. In Ms face the blood goes in waves. In be'
tween them his flesh is greenish looking, about thai
smooth, thick, pale green of cow's cud; his face suffo'
cated, furious, his lip lifted upon his teeth. Tick up!" he
says. "Pick up, goddamn your thick-nosed soul!"
He heaves, lifting one whole side so suddenly that we
all spring into the lift to catch and balance it before he
hurls it completely over. For an instant it resists, as
though volitional, as though within it her pole-thin body
clings furiously, even though dead, to a sort of modesty,
as she would have tried to conceal a soiled garment that
she could not prevent her body soiling. Then it break?
free, rising suddenly as though the emaciation of her
body had added buoyancy to the planks or as though,
seeing that the garment was about to be torn from her,
she rushes suddenly after it in a passionate reversal that
flouts its own desire and need. Jewel's face goes com-
pletely green and I can hear teeth in his breath.
We carry it down the hall, our feet harsh and clumsy
on the floor, moving with shuffling steps, and through tho
door.
"Steady it a minute, now/' pa says, letting to. He turns
back to shut and lock the door, but Jewel will no, wait
"Come on/' he says in that suffocating voice. "Come
on."
We lower it carefully down the steps. We move, bal-
ancing it as though it were something infinitely precious,
407
408 AS I LAY DYING
our faces averted, breathing through our teeth to keep
our nostrils closed. We go down the path, toward the
slope.
"We better wait/' Cask says. *I tell you it ain't balanced
now. Well need another hand on that hill."
"Then turn loose/* Jewel says. He will not stop. Cash
begins to faU behind, hobbling to keep up, breathing
harshly; then he is distanced and Jewel carries the entire
front end alone, so that, tilting as the path begins to
slant, it begins to rush away from me and slip down the
air like a sled upon invisible snow, smoothly evacuating
atmosphere in which the sense of it is still shaped.
"Wait, Jewel/' I say. But he will not wait. He is almost
running now and Cash is left behind. It seems to me that
the end which I now carry alone has no weight, as
though it coasts like a rushing straw upon the furious tide
of Jewel's despair. I am not even touching it, when, turn-
ing, he lets it overshoot him, swinging, and stops it
and sloughs it into the wagon-bed in the same motion
and looks back at me, his face suffused with fury and de-
spair.
"Goddamn you. Goddamn you/'
VARDAMAN
f 1C 7E ARE GOING TO TOWN. DEWEY BELL SAYS IT WON*T
V V be sold because it belongs to Santa Glaus and he
has taken it back with him until next Christmas. Then it
be behind the glass again, shining with waiting.
AS I LAY DVgTG
Pa and Cash are coming down the hill, but Jewel is go-
ing to the barn. "Jewel/* pa says. Jewel does not stop.
**Where are you going?" pa says. But Jewel does not stop.
'Ton leave that horse here," pa says. Jewel stops and
iooks at pa. Jewel's eyes look like marbles. **You leave
that horse here/' pa says. "We'll all go in the wagon with
ma, like she wanted."
But my mother is a fish. Vernon seen it He was there.
"Jewel's mother is a horse," Darl said.
"Then mine can be a fish, can't it, Darl?" I said.
Jewel is my brother.
"Then mine will have to be a horse, too," I said.
'Why?" Darl said. "If pa is your pa, why does your ma
have to be a horse just because Jewel's is?"
"Why does it?" I said. "Why does it, Darl?"
Darl is my brother.
"Then what is your ma, Darl?" I said.
'1 haven't got ere one," Darl said. "Because if I had
one, it is was. And if it is was, it can't be is. Can it?"
"No," I said.
"Then I am not/' Darl said "Am IF
"No," I said.
I am. Darl is my brother.
"But you are, Darl/' I said.
"I know it," Darl said. "That's why I ain not is. Are is
too many for one woman to foal."
Cash is carrying his tool-box. Pa looks at him. "Til stop
at TulTs on the way back," Cash says. "Get on that bam
roof."
"It ain't respectful," pa says. "It's a deliberate flouting
of her and of me."
TDo you want him to come all the way back here and
eany them up to TuITs afoot-?" D#rl says. Fa looks at
4*0 AS I LAY DYING
Darl, Ms mouth chewing. Pa shaves every day now be*
cause my mother Is a Ish.
"Tfr ain't right," pa says.
Dewey Dell has the package in her hand. She has the
basket with our dinner too.
What's that?" pa says.
"Mrs. TulFs cakes/* Dewey Dell says, getting into the
wagon. *Tm taking them to town for her."
"It ain't right/' pa says. "It's a flouting of the dead.*
It'll be there. It'll be there come Christmas, she says 5
shining on the track. She says he won't sell it to no town
boys.
DARL
HE GOES ON TOWARD THE BARN, ENTERING THE LOT,
wooden-backed.
Dewey Dell carries die basket on one arm, in the other
hand something wrapped square in a newspaper. Her
face is calm and sullen, her eyes brooding and alert;
within them I can see Peabody's back like two round
peas in two thimbles: perhaps in Peabody's back two or
those worms which work surreptitious and steady
through you and out the other side and you waking sud-
denly from sleep or from waking, with on your face an
expression sudden, intent, and concerned. She sets the
basket into the wagon and climbs in, her leg coming long
trow beneath her tightening dress: that lever whicS
DYING
moves tike world; one ot that caiiper which measures th
length and breadth of life. She sits on the seat "beside Var-
daman and sets the parcel on her lap.
Then he enters the barn. He has not looked back.
"It ain't right," pa says. "It's little enough for him to do
for her. 39
"Go on," Cash says. "Leave him stay if he wants. He'lj
be all right here. Maybe he'll go irp to 'lull's and stay. 9 *
"He'll catch us/* I say. "He'll cut across and meet us a!
TulTs lane."
"He would have rid that horse, too/' pa says, "if 1
hadn't a stopped him. A durn spotted critter wilder thar
a cattymount. A deliberate flouting of her and of me.''
The wagon moves; the mules' eirs begin to bob. Be-
hind us, above the house., motionless in tali and soaring
circles, they diminish and disappear.
ANSE
I TOLD HIM NOT TO BWNG THAT HORSE OUT OF RESPEC1
for his dead ma, because it wouldn't look right, him
prancing along on a durn circus animal and her wanting
iis all to be in the wagon with her that sprung from her
flesh and blood, but we hadn't no more than passed Tull'i
lane when Darl begun to laugh. Setting back there on the
plank seat with Cash, with his dead rna lying in her cof-
fin at his feet, laughing. How many times I told him it's
doing such things as that that makes folks talk about
AS i :LAY DYIJ^G
I don't know. I says I got some regard for what folks say
about my flesh, and blood even if you haven't, even if 1
have raised such a dum passel of boys, and when yon
fixes it so folks can say such about you, it's a reflection
on your ma, I says, not me: 1 am a man and I can stand
it; it's on your womenfolks, your ma and sister that you
should care for, and I turned and looked back at him set-
ting there, laughing.
"I don't expect you to have no respect for me," I says*
"But with your own ma not cold in her coffin yet."
"Yonder/' Cash says, jerking his head toward the lane.
The horse is still a right smart piece away, coming up at
a good pace, but I don't have to be told who it is. I just
looked back at Darl, setting there laughing.
"I done my best," I says. "I tried to do as she woidd
wish it The Lord will pardon me and excuse the con-
duct of them He senc me/ 3 And Darl setting on the plank
neat right above her where she was laying, laughing,
DARL
HE COMES "OF THE LANE FAST, YET WE ARE THREE HUN
dred yards beyond the mouth of it when he turns
into the road, the mud flying beneath the flickering drive
of the hooves. Then he slows a little, light and erect in
the saddle, the horse mincing through the mud.
TuU. is in his lot. He looks at us, lifts his hand. We go
AS I LAY DYING 413
on, the wagon creaking, the mud whispering on the
wheels. Vernon still stands there. He watches Jewel as he
passes, the horse moving with a light, high-kneed driving
gait ? three hundred yards back. We go on, with a motion
so soporific, so dreamlike as to be uninf erant of progress,
as though time and not space were decreasing between us
and it.
It turns off at right angles, the wheel-marks of last Sun-
day healed away now: a smooth, red scoriation curving
away into the pines-; a white signboard with faded letter-
ing: New Hope Church. 3 mi. It wheels up like a motion-
less hand lifted above the profound desolation of the
ocean; beyond it the red road lies like a spoke of which
Addie Bundren is the rim. It wheels past, empty, un-
scarred, the white signboard turns away its fading and
tranquil assertion. Cash looks up the road quietly, his
head turning as we pass it like an owl's head, his face
composed. Pa looks straight ahead, humped. Dewey Del]
looks at the road too, then she looks back at me, her eyes
watchful and repudiant, not like that question which was
in those of Cash, for a smouldering while. The signboard
passes; the unscarred road wheels on. Then Dewey Dell
turns her head. The wagon creaks on.
Cash spits over the wheel. "In a couple of days now
it'll be smelling/* he says.
"You might tell Jewel that," I say.
He is motionless now, sitting the horse at the junction,
upright, watching us, no less still than the signboard that
lifts its fading capitulation opposite him.
"It ain't balanced right for no long ride," Cash says.
"Tell him that, too," I say. The wagon creaks on.
A mile farther along he passes us, the horse, arch-
necked, reined back to a swift single-foot. He sits
lightly, poised, upright, wooden-faced in the saddle, the
4*4 AS I LAY DYING
broken hat raked at a swaggering angle. He passes us
swiftly, without looking at us, the horse driving, its
hooves hissing in the mud. A gout of mud, back-flung,
plops on to the box. Cash leans forward and takes a tool
from his box and removes it carefully. When the road
crosses Whiteleaf, the willows leaning near enough, he
breaks off a branch and scours at the stain with the wet
leaves.
ANSE
I/S A HAKD CXXJNTOY ON MAN; IT'S HARD. EIGHT MILES OF
the sweat of his body washed up outen the Lord's
earth, where the Lord Himself told him to put it. No-
where in this sinful world can a honest, hard-working
man profit. It takes them that runs the stores in the
towns, doing no sweating, living off of them that sweats.
It ain't the hard-working man, the farmer. Sometimes I
wonder why we keep at it. It's because there is a reward
for us above, where they can't take their motors and
such. Every man will be equal there and it will be taken
from them that have and give to them that have not by
the Lord.
But it's a long wait, seems like. It's bad that a fellow
must earn the reward of his right-doing by flouting his-
self and his dead. We drove all the rest of the day and
got to Samson's at dust-dark and then that bridge was
gone, too. They hadn't never seen the river so high, and
AS I LAY BYI3STG 415
it's not done raining yet. There was old men that hadn't
never seen nor heard of it being so in the memory of
man. I am chosen of the Lord, for who He loveth, so
doeth He chastised^ But I be dum if He don't take some
curious ways to show it, seems like.
But now I can get them teeth. That will be a comfort
It will
SAMSON
IT WAS JUST BEFOKE SUNDOWN. WE WERE SITTING ON THE
porch when the wagon came up the road with the five
of them in it and the other one on the horse behind. One
of them raised his hand, but they was going on past the
store without stopping.
'Who's that?" MacCallum says: I cant think of Ms
name: Rafe's twin; that one it was.
"It's Bundren, from down beyond New Hope/* Quick
says. "There's one of them Snopes horses Jewel's riding.*
"I didn't know there was ere a one of them horses left,"
MacCallum says. "I thought you folks down there finally
contrived to give them all away."
"Try and get that one," Quick says. The wagon wen*
on.
"I bet old man Lon never gave it to him/' I says.
"No/' Quick says. "He bought it from pappy." The
wagon went on. 'They must not a heard about the
bridge," he says.
AS I LAY DYIKG
"WhatVe they doing up here, anyway?" MacCallum
says.
"Taking a holiday since he got his wife buried, I
reckon/* Quick says. "Heading for town, I reckon, with
TulTs bridge gone too. I wonder if they ain't heard about
the bridge."
"They'll have to fly, then/' I says. "I don't reckon there's
ere a bridge between here and Mouth of Ishatawa."
They had something in the wagon. But Quick had been
to the funeral three days ago and we naturally never
thought anything about it except that they were heading
away from home mighty late and that they hadn't heard
about the bridge. <c You better holler at them/' MacCallum
says. Burn it, the name is right on the tip of my tongue,
So Quick hollered and they stopped and he went to the
wagon and told them.
He come back with them. 'They're going to Jefferson/*
he says. "The bridge at Tulfs is gone, too." Like we didn't
know it, and his face looked funny, around the nostrils,
but they just sat there, Bundren and the girl and the
chap on the seat, and Cash and the second one, the one
folks talks about, on a plank across the tail-gate, and the
other one on that spotted horse. But I reckon they was
used to it by then because when I said to Cash that
they'd have to pass by New Hope again and what they'd
better do, he just says.,
"I reckon we can get there."
I ain't much for meddling. Let every man run his own
business to suit himself, I say. But after I talked to Rachel
about them not having a regular man to fix her and it
being July and all, I went back down to the barn and
tried to talk to Bundren about it.
"I give her my promise," he says. "Her mind was set on
it*
AS I LAY BYI3STG 417
I notice how it takes a lazy man, a man that hates mov-
ing, to get set on moving once he does get started off, the
same as he was set on staying still, like it ain't the moving
he hates so much as the starting and stopping. And like
he would be kind of proud of whatever come up to make
the moving or the setting still look hard. He set there on
the wagon, hunched up, blinking, listening to us tell
about how quick the bridge went and how high the
water was, and I be durn if he didn't act like h-^ was
proud of it, like he had made the river rise himself.
*Tou say it's higher than you ever see it before?" he
says, "God's will be done," he says. "I reckon it won't go
down much by morning, neither," he says.
"You better stay here tonight," I says, "and get a early
start for New Hope tomorrow morning.'" I was just sorry
for them bone-gaunted mules. I told Rachel, I says, 'Well,
would you have had me turn them away at dark, eight
miles from home? What else could I do," I says. "It won't
be but one night, and they'll keep it in the barn, and
they'll sholy get started by daylight." And so I says, *Tou
stay here tnight and early tomorrow you can go back to
New Hope. I got tools enough, and the boys can go on
light after supper and have it dug and ready if they
want," and then I found that girl watching me. If her
eyes had a been pistols, I wouldn't be talking now. I be
dog if they didn't blaze at me. And so when I went down
to the barn I come on them, her talking so she never no-
ticed when I come up.
"You promised her," she says. "She wouldn't go until
you promised. She thought she could depend on you. If
you don't do it, it will be a curse on you."
"Can't no man say I don't aim to keep my word/' Bun*
dren says. "My heart is open to ere a man."
"I don't care what your heart is," she says. She was
4*8 AS I LAY DYING
whispering, kind of ? talking fast. "You promised iier.
You've got to. You " Then she seen me and quit,
standing there. If they'd been pistols, I wouldn't be talk-
ing now, So when I talked to him about it, he says,
"I give her my promise. Her mind is set on it.* 9
TBut seems to me she'd rather have her ma buried close
by, so she could "
"It's Addie I give the promise to,** he says. "Her mind
is set on it"
So I told them to drive it into the barn because it was
"threatening rain again, and that supper was about ready.
Only they didn't want to come in.
"I thank you/' Bundren says. "We wouldn't discom-
mode you. We got a little something in the basket. We
can make out."
'Well," I says, "since you are so particular about your
womenfolks, I am too. And when folks stops with us at
meal-time and won't come to the table, my wife takes it
as a insult."
So the girl went on to the kitchen to help Rachel. And
then Jewel come to me.
"Sho," I says. "Help yourself outen the loft. Feed him
when you bait the mules."
"I rather pay you for him/' he says.
"What for?" I says. "I wouldn't begrudge no man a
bait for his horse."
*1 rather pay you," he says; I thought he said extra.
"Extra for what?" I says. 'Won't he eat hay and corn?"
"Extra feed," he says. "I feed him a little extra and 1
don't want him beholden to no man."
"You can't buy no feed from me, boy," I says. "And if
he can eat that loft clean, 111 help you load the barn on
to the wagon in the morning.'*
AS I LAY DYI^G 415
"He ain't never been beholden to no man/* lie says. *1
rather pay yon for it."
And if I had my rathers, you wouldn't be here a-taH, 1
wanted to say. But I just says, "Then it's high time "he
commenced. You can't buy no feed from me."
When Rachel put supper on, her and the girl went
and fixed some beds. But wouldn't any of them come in.
"She's been dead long enough to get over that sort of
foolishness," I says. Because I got just as much respect
for the dead as ere a man, but you've got to respect the
dead themselves, and. a woman that's been dead in a box
four days, the best way to respect her is to get her into
the ground as quick as you can. But they wouldn't do it
"It wouldn't be right," Bundren says. "Course, if the
boys wants to go to bed, I reckon I can set up with her.
I don't begrudge her it."
So when I went back down there they were squatting
on the ground around the wagon, all of them. "Let that
chap come to the house and get some sleep, anyway," I
says. "And you better come too," I says to the girl. I
wasn't aiming to interfere with them. And I sholy hadn't
done nothing to her that I knowed.
"He's done already asleep," Bundren says. They had
done put him to bed in the trough in a empty stall.
"Well, you come on, then," I says to her. But still she
never said nothing. They just squatted there. You
couldn't hardly see them. "How about you boys?" I
says. "You got a full day tomorrow." After a while Cash
says,
"I thank you. We can make out."
"We wouldn't be beholden," Bundren says. "I thank
you kindly."
So I left them squatting there. I reckon after four days
they was used to it. But Rachel wasn't.
AS I LAY DYING
"It's an outrage/' she says. "An outrage."
"What could he V done?" I says. "He give her his prom-
ised word."
'Who's talking about him? 5> she says. "Who cares about
him?" she says, crying. "I just wish that you and him and
all the men in the world that torture us alive and flout us
dead, dragging us up and down the country **
"Now, now," I says. "You're upset."
TDon't you touch me!" she says. "Don*t you touch meP
A man can't tell nothing about them. I lived with the
same one fifteen years and I be durn if I can. And I
Imagined a lot of things coming up between us, but I be
durn if I ever thought it would be a body four days dead
and that a woman. But they make life hard on them not
taking it as it comes up, like a man does.
So I laid there, hearing it commence to rain, thinking
about them down there, squatting around the wagon
and the rain on the roof, and thinking about Rachel cry-
ing there until after a while it was like I could still hear
her crying even after she was asleep, and smelling it even
when I knowed I couldn't. I couldn't decide even thei?
whether I could or not ? or if it wasn't just knowing it was
what it was.
So next morning I never went down there. I heard
them hitching up and then when I knowed they must be
about ready to take out, I went out the front and went
down the road toward the bridge until I heard the wagon
come out of the lot and go back toward New Hope. And
then when I come back to the house, Rachel jumped on
me because I wasn't there to make them come in to
breakfast You can't tell about them. Just about when you
decide they mean one thing, I be durn if you not only
haven't got to change your mind, like as not you got to
take a raw-hiding for thinking they meant it.
AS i :LAY DYING 421
But It was still like I could smell it. And so I decided
then that it wasn't smelling it, but it was just knowing it
was there, like you will get fooled now and then. But
when i went to the barn I knew different. When I walked
into the hallway I saw something. It kind of hunkered
up when I come in and I thought at first it was one of
them got left, then I saw what it was. It was a buzzard.
It looked around and saw me and went on down the hall,
spraddle-legged, with its wings kind of hunkered out,
watching me first over one shoulder and then over the
other, like a old bald-headed man. When it got outdoors
it begun to fly. It had to fly a long time before it ever got
up into the air, with it thick and heavy and full of rain
like it was.
If they was bent on going to Jefferson, I reckon they
could have gone around up by Mount Vernon, like Mac-
Callum did. Hell get home about day after tomorrow,
horse-back. Then they'd be just eighteen miles from
town. But maybe this bridge being gone too has learned
him the Lord's sense and judgment.
That MacCallum. He's been trading with me off and
on for twelve years. I have known him from a boy up;
know his name as well as I do my own. But be durn if
I can say it.
DEWEY DELL
THE SIGNBOABD COMES IN SIGHT. IT IS LOOKING OUT AT
the road now, because it can wait New Hope. 3 mi.
it will say. New Hope. 3 mi. New Hope. 3 mi. And then
the road will begin, curving away into the trees, empty
with waiting, saying New Hope three miles.
I heard that my mother is dead. I wish I had time to
let her die. I wish I had time to wish I had. It is because
in the wild and outraged earth too soon too soon too
soon. It's not that I wouldn't and will not it's that it is
too soon too soon too soon.
Now it begins to say it New Hope three miles. New
Hope three miles. That's what they mean by the womb
of time: the agony and the despair of spreading bones,
the hard girdle in which lie the outraged entrails of
events. Cash's head turns slowly as we approach, his pale,
empty, sad, composed and questioning face following
the red and empty curve; beside the back wheel Jewel
sits the horse, gazing straight ahead.
The land runs out of Darl's eyes; they swim to pin-
points. They begin at my feet and rise along my body to
my face, and then my dress is gone: I sit naked on the
seat above the unhurrying mules, above the travail. Sup-
pose I tell him to turn. He will do what I say. Don't you
know he will do what I say? Once I waked with a black
void rushing under me. I could not see. I saw Vardaman
rise and go to the window and strike the knife into the
fish, the blood gushing, hissing like steam but I could not
422
AS 1 LAY DYING
see. Hell do as I say. He always does. I can persuade
him to anything. You know 1 can. Suppose I say Turn
here. That was when I died that time. Suppose I do.
We'll go to New Hope. We wont have to go to town*
I rose and took the knife from the streaming fish still
hissing and I killed Darl.
When I used to sleep with Vardaman I had a night~
mare once I thought I was awake but I couldn't see and
couldnt feel the bed under me and I couldnt think
what I was I couldnt think of my name I couldn't even
think I am a girl I couldn't even think I nor even think I
want to wake up nor remember what was opposite to
awake so I could do that I knew that something toas pass~
ing but I couldnt even think of time then all of a sudden
I knew that something was it was ivind blowing over me
it was like the wind came and blew me back from where
it was I was not blowing the room and Vardaman asleep
and all of them back under me again and going on like a
piece of cool silk dragging across my naked legs.
It blows cool out of the pines, a sad steady jound. New
Hope. Was 3 mi. Was 3 mi. I believe in God I believe in
God.
'Why didn't we go to New Hope, pa?" Vardaman says.
"Mr. Samson said we was, but we done passed the road. 31
Darl says, "Look, Jewel." But he is not looking at me.
He is looking at the sky. The buzzard is as still as if lie
were nailed to it.
We turn into lull's lane. We pass the barn and go on,
the wheels whispering in the mud, passing the green
rows of cotton in the wild earth, and Vernon little across
the field behind the plough. He lifts his hand as we pas?
and stands there looking after us for a long while.
"Look, Jewel," Darl says. Jewel sits on his horse like
AS I LAY DYING
they were both made out of wood, looking straight
ahead,
I believe in God, God. God, I believe in God.
TULL
AFTER THEY PASSED I TAKEN THE MULE OUT AND LOOPED
up the trace chains and followed. They were setting
in the wagon at the end of the levee. Anse was setting
there, looking at the bridge where it was swagged down
into the river with just the two ends in sight. He was
looking at it like he had believed all the time that folks
had been lying to him about it being gone, but like he
was hoping aU the time it really was. Kind of pleased as-
tonishment he looked, setting on the wagon in his Sun-
day pants, mumbling his mouth. Looking like a uncur-
ried horse dressed up: I don't know*
The boy was watching the bridge where it was mid-
ifunk and logs and such drifted up over it and it swag-
ging and shivering like the whole thing would go any
ninute, big-eyed he was watching it, like he was to a cir-
sus. And the gal, too. When I come up she looked around
it me, her eyes kind of blaring up and going hard like I
lad made to touch her. Then she looked at Anse again
ind then back at the water again.
It was nigh up to the levee on both sides, the earth
lid except for the tongue of it we was on going out to
he bridge and then down into the water, and except for
AS I LAY DYING
knowing bow the road and the bridge used to look, ft
fellow couldn't tell where was the river and where tibtf
land. It was just a tangle of yellow and the levee not less
wider than a knife-back land of, with us setting in the
wagon and on the horse and the mule.
Darl was looking at me, and then Cash turned and
looked at me with that look In his eyes like when he was
figuring on whether the planks would fit her that night,
like he was measuring them inside of him and not asking
you to say what you thought and not even letting on he
was listening if you did say it, but listening all right
Jewel hadn't moved. He sat there on the horse, leaning a
little forward, with that same look on his face when hfari
and Darl passed the house yesterday, coming back to get
her.
"If it was just up, we could drive across," Anse says.
4 *We could drive right on across it."
Sometimes a log would get shoved over the jam and
float on, rolling and turning, and wo could watch it go on
to where the ford used to be. It would slow up and whirl
crossways and hang out of water for a minute, and you
could tell by that that the ford used to be there.
"But that don't show nothing," I say. "It could be a bar
of quicksand built up there." We watch the log. Then the
gal is looking at me again.
"Mr. Whitfield crossed it," she says.
"He was a horse-back," I say. "And three days ago. It's
riz five foot since."
"If the bridge was just up/* Anse says.
The log bobs up and goes on again. There is a lot of
trash and foam, and you can hear the water.
"But it's down," Anse says.
Cash says, "A careful fellow could walk across yondei
on the planks and logs."
A I 1LAY BYIISTG
"But you couldn't tote nothing," I say. "Likely time
you set foot on that mess, it'll all go, too. What you think,
Darl?"
He is looking at me. He don't say nothing; just looks at
me with them queer eyes of hisn that makes folks talk,
I always say it ain't never been what he done so much
or said or anything so much as how he looks at you. It's
like he had got into the inside of you, someway. Like
somehow you was looking at yourself and your doings
outen his eyes. Then I can feel that gal watching me like
i had made to touch her. She says something to Anse,
*. . . Mr. Whitfield . . ." she says.
"I give her my promised word in the presence of the
Lord, 37 Anse says. "I reckon it ain't no need to worry.**
But still he does not start the mules. We set there
above the water. Another log bobs up over the jam and
goes on; we watch it check up and swing slow for a min-
ute where the ford used to be. Then it goes on.
"It might start falling tonight," I say. "You could lay
over one more day."
Then Jewel turns sideways on the horse. He has not
moved until then, and he turns and looks at me. His
face is kind of green, then it would go red and then green
again. "Get to hell on back to your damn ploughing," he
says. "Who the hell asked you to follow us here?"
"I never meant no harm," I say.
"Shut up, Jewel," Cash says. Jewel looks back at the
water, his face gritted, going red and green and then red.
'Well," Cash says after a while, "what you want to do?"
Anse don't say nothing. He sets humped up, mumbling
his mouth. "If it was just up, we could drive across it/' he
says.
"Come on," Jewel says, moving the horse.
"Wait/' Cash says. He looks at the bridge. We look at
AS I -LAY JDYUSTO- 4*7
him, except Anse and the gal. They are looking at the
water. "Dewey Dell and Vardaman and pa better walk
across on the bridge," Cash says.
"Vernon can help them/' Jewel says. "And we can hitch
his mule ahead of ourn."
"Y ou ain't going to take my mule into that water,** I say.
Jewel looks at me. His eyes look like pieces of a broken
plate. "Ill pay for your damn mule. Ill buy it from you
right now."
"My mule ain't going into that water," I say.
"Jewel's going to use his horse," Darl says. 'Why won't
you risk your mule, Vernon?"
"Shut up, Darl," Cash says. "You and Jewel both."
"My mule ain't going into that water," I say.
DARL
HE SITS THE HORSE, GLABING AT VEBNON, HIS LEAN FACE
suffused up to and beyond the pale rigidity of his
eyes. The summer when he was fifteen, he took a spell of
sleeping. One morning when I went to feed the mules the
cows were stil] in the tie-up and then I heard pa go back
to the house and call him. When we came on back to the
house for breakfast he passed us, carrying the milk buck*
ets, stumbling along like he was drunk, and he was milk-
ing when we put the mules in and went on to the field
without him. We had been there an hour and still he
never showed up. When Dewey Dell came with our
<28 AS I LAY DYING
lunch, pa sent her back to find Jewel They found him in.
the tie-up, sitting on the stool, asleep.
After that, every morning pa would go in and wake
;liim. He would go to sleep at the supper-table and soon
as supper was finished he would go to bed, and when I
came in to bed he would be lying there like a dead man.
Yet still pa would have to wake him in the morning. He
would get up, but he wouldn't hardly have half sense:
he would stand for pa's jawing and complaining without
a word and take the milk buckets and go to the barn,
and once I found him asleep at the cow, the bucket in
place and half-full and his hands up to the wrists in the
milk and his head against the cow's flank.
After that Dewey Dell had to do the milking. He still
got up when pa waked him, going about what we told
him to do in that dazed way. It was like he was trying
hard to do them; that he was as puzzled as anyone else.
"Are you sick?" ma said. "Don't you feel all right?'"
"Yes," Jewel said. "I feel all right"
"He's just lazy, trying me," pa said, and Jewel standing
there, asleep on his feet like as not. "Ain't you?" he said,,
waking Jewel up again to answer.
"No," Jewel said,
''You take off and stay in the house today," ma said.
'With that whole bottom piece to be busted out?" pa
said. "If you ain't sick, what's the matter with you?"
"Nothing/' Jewel said. Tm all right."
"All right?" pa said. "You're asleep on your feet this
minute."
"No," Jewel said. Tm all right"
"I want him to stay at home today," ma said.
"I'll need him," pa said. "It's tight enough, with all of
us to do it"
AS I LAY DYING
"YoiiTl just have to do the best you can with Cash and
Darf," ma said. "I want him to stay in today/'
But he wouldn't do it. "I'm all right," he said, going on*
But he wasn't all right. Anybody could see it He was los-
ing flesh, and I have seen him go to sleep chopping^
watched the hoe going slower and slower up and down,
with less and less of an arc, until it stopped and he lean-
ing on it motionless in the hot shimmer of the sun.
Ma wanted to get the doctor, but pa didn't want to
spend the money without it was needful, and Jewel
did seem all right except for his thinness and his way of
dropping off to sleep at any moment. He ate hearty
enough, except for his way of going to sleep in his plate,
with a piece of bread half-way to his mouth and his jaws
still chewing. But he swore he was all right.
It was ma that got Dewey Dell to do his milking, paid
her somehow, and the other jobs around the house that
Jewel had been doing before supper she found some way
for Dewey Dell and Vardaman to do them. And doing
them herself when pa wasn't there. She would fix him
special things to eat and hide them for him. And that
may have been when I first found it out, that Addie
Bundren should be hiding anything she did, who had
tried to teach us that deceit was such that, in a world
where it was, nothing else could be very bad or very im-
portant, not even poverty. And at times when I went in
to go to bed she would be sitting in the dark by Jewel
where he was asleep. And I knew that she was hating her-
self for that deceit and hating Jewel because she had to
love him so that she had to act the deceit.
One night she was taken sick and when I went to the
bam to put the team in and drive to lull's, I couldn't
find the lantern. I remembered noticing it on the nail the
43 AS I LAY DYING
night before, but It wasn't there now at midnight. So 1
hitched in the dark and went on and came back with
Mrs. Toll just after daylight. And there the lantern was,
hanging on the nail where I remembered it and couldn't
find it before. And then one morning while Dewey Dell
was milking just before sun-up, Jewel came into the barn
from the back, through the hole in the back wall, with
the lantern in his hand.
I told Cash, and Cash and 1 looked at one another.
Cutting," Cash said.
"Yes," I said. "But why the lantern? And every night,
loo. No wonder he's losing flesh. Are you going to say
anything to him?"
"Won't do any good/* Cash said.
"What he's doing now won't do any good, either."
**1 know. But hell have to learn that himself. Give Mm
time to realize that it'll save, that there'll be just as much
more tomorrow, and he'll be all right I wouldn't tell any-
body, I reckon."
"No/' I said. "I told Dewey Dell not to. Not ma, any*
way."
"No. Not ma."
After that I thought it was right comical: he acting so
bewildered and willing and dead for sleep and gaunt as
a bean-pole, and thinking he was so smart with it. And I
wondered who the girl was. I thought of all I knew that
it might be, but I couldn't say for sure.
"'Taint any girl/' Cash said. "It's a married woman
somewhere. Ain't any young girl got that much daring
and staying power. That's what I don't like about it."
"Why?" I said. "She'll be safer for him than a girl
Would. More judgment."
He looked at me, his eyes fumbling, the words fum-
XS I LAY DYING 43*
bling at what he was trying to say. "It ain't always the
safe things in this world that a fellow . * /'
"You mean, the safe things are not always the best
things?"
"Ay; best/* he said, fumbling again. It ain't the best,
things, the things that are good for him. ... A young
boy. A fellow land of hates to see . . . wallowing in some
body else's mire . . ." That's what he was trying to say.
When something is new and hard and bright, there
ought to be something a little better for it than just be-
ing safe, since the safe things are just the things that folks'
have been doing so long they have worn the edges off
and there's nothing to the doing of them that leaves a
man to say. That was not done before and it cannot be
done again.
So we didn't tell, not even when after a while he'd ap-
pear suddenly in the field beside us and go to work, with-
out having had time to get home and make out he had
been in bed all night. He would tell ma that he hadn't
been hungry at breakfast or that he had eaten a piece of
bread while lie was hitching up the team. But Cash and 1
knew that he hadn't been home at all on those nights
and he had come up out of tho woods when we got to
the field. But we didn't teU. Summer was almost over
then; we knew that when the nights began to get cool,
she would be done if he wasn't.
But when fall came and the nights began to get longer,
the only difference was that he would always be in bed
for pa to wake him, getting him up at last in that first
state of semi-idiocy like when it first started, worse than
when he had stayed out all night.
"She's sure a stayer/' I told Cash. "I used to admire
her, but I downright respect her now."
43* AS I LAY DYING
Tit ain't a woman," he said.
"You know/' I said. But lie was watching me. "What is
it then?"
"That's what I aim to find out," he said.
"Yon can trail him through the woods all night if you
want to," I said. *Tm not."
"I ain't trailing him/* he said.
"What do you call it, then?"
"I ain't trailing him/' he said. "I don't mean it that
way."
And so a few nights later I heard Jewel get up and
climb out the window, and then I heard Cash get up
and follow him. The next morning when I went to the
barn, Cash was already there, the mules fed, and he was
helpipg Dewey Dell milk. And when I saw him I knew
that he knew what it was. Now and then I would catch
him watching Jewel with a queer look, like having found
out where Jewel went and what he was doing had given
him something to really think about at last. But it was
not a worried look; it was the kind of look I would see
on him when I would find him doing some of Jewel's
work around the house, work that pa still thought Jewel
was doing and that ma thought Dewey Dell was doing.
So I said nothing to him, believing that when he got done
digesting it in his mind, he would tell me. But he never
did.
One morning it was November then, five months
since it started Jewel was not in bed and he didn't join
us in the field. That was the first time ma learned any-
thing about what had been going on. She sent Vardaman
down to find where Jewel was, and after a while she came
down too. It was as though, so long as the deceit ran
along quiet and monotonous, all of us let ourselves be de-
ceived, abetting it unawares or maybe through coward-
AS I LAY DYING 433
ice, since all people are cowards and naturally prefer any
kind of treachery because it has a bland outside. But
now it was like we had all and by a kind of telepathic
agreement of admitted fear flung the whole thing back
like covers on the bed and we all sitting bolt upright in
our nakedness, staring at one another and saying "Now
is the truth. He hasn't come home. Something has hap-
pened to him. We let something happen to him/'
Then we saw him. He came up along the ditch and
then turned straight across the field, riding the horse. Its
mane and tail were going, as though in motion they were
carrying out the splotchy pattern of its coat: he looked
like he was riding on a big pinwheel, barebacked, with a
rope bridle, and no hat on his head. It was a descendant
of those Texas ponies Flem Snopes brought here twenty-
five years ago and auctioned off for two dollars a head
and nobody but old Lon Quick ever caught his and still
owned some of the blood because he could never give it
away.
He galloped up and stopped, his heels in the horsed
ribs and it dancing and swirling like the shape of its mane
and tail and the splotches of its coat had nothing what-
ever to do with the flesh-and-bone horse inside them, and
he sat there, looking at us.
"Where did you get that horse?" pa said.
"Bought it," Jewel said. "From Mr. Quick."
"Bought it?" pa said, "With what? Did you buy that
thing on my word?"
"It was my money," Jewel said. "I earned it. You won't
need to worry about it. 9 *
"Jewel," ma said; "Jewel/*
"Tit's all right," Cash said. "He earned the money. H
cieaned up that forty acres of new ground Quick laid out
last spring. He did it single-handed, working at night by
454 AS I LAY DYING
lantern. I saw him. So I don't reckon that horse cost any-
body anything except Jewel. I don't reckon we need
worry."
"Jewel/' ma said. "Jewel " Then she said: <e You
come right to the house and go to bed."
"Not yet," Jewel said. *1 ain't got time. I got to get me a
iiaddle and bridle. Mr. Quick says he "
"Jewel," ma said, looking at him. "Ill give I'll give
give " Then she began to cry. She cried hard, not hid-
ing her face, standing there in her faded wrapper, look-
ing at him and him on the horse, looking down at her,
his face growing cold and a little sick looking until he
looked away quick and Cash came and touched her.
"You go on to the house," Cash said. "This here ground
is too wet for you. You go on, now." She put her hands to
her face then and after a while she went on, stumbling a
little on the ploughmarks. But pretty soon she straight-
ened up and went on. She didn't look back. When she
reached the ditch she stopped and called Vardaman. He
was looking at the horse, kind of dancing up and down
by it.
**Let me ride, Jewel," he said. "Let me ride, Jewel. 97
Jewel looked at him, then he looked away again, hold-
ing the horse reined back. Pa watched him, mumbling his
%
"So you bought a horse/* he said. "You went behind my
tack and bought a horse. You never consulted me; you
Icnow how tight it is for us to make by, yet you bought
a horse for me to feed. Taken the work from your flesli
and blood and bought a horse with it."
Jewel looked at pa, his eyes paler than ever.
"He won't never eat a mouthful of yours," he said. **Not
a mouthful. I'll kill him first Don't you never think it.
Don't you never/'
AS I LAY DYING 435
**Let me ride, Jewel/' Vardaman said. "Let me ride
Jewel/' He sounded like a cricket in the grass, a little one.
"Let me ride, Jewel"
That night I found ma sitting beside the bed where he
was sleeping, in the dark. She cried hard, maybe be-
cause she had to cry so quiet; maybe because she felt the
same way about tears she did about deceit, hating herself
for doing it, hating him because she had to. And then I
knew that I knew, I knew that as plain on that day as I
knew about Dewey Dell on that day.
TULL
SO THEY FINALLY GOT ANSE TO SAY WHAT HE WANTED TO
do, and him and the gal and the boy got out of the
wagon. But even when we were on the bridge Anse kept
on looking back, like he thought maybe, once he was
outen the wagon, the whole thing would kind of blow up
and he would find himself back yonder in the field again
and her laying up there in the house, waiting to die and it
to do all over again.
"You ought to let them taken your mule," he says, and
the bridge shaking and swaying under us, going down
into the moiling water like it went clean through to the
other side of tie earth, and the other end coming up
outen the water like it wasn't the same bridge a-tall and
that them that would walk up outen the water on that
side must come from the bottom of the earth. But It was
AS 1 LAY BYIXG
still whole; you could tell that by the way when this end
swagged, It didn't look like the other end swagged at
all: just like the other trees and the bank yonder were
swinging back and forth slow like on a big clock. And
them logs scraping and bumping at the sunk part and
tilting end-up and shooting clean outen the water and
tumbling on toward the ford and the waiting, slick, whirl-
ing, and foamy.
"What good would that 'a' done?" I says. "If your team
can't find the ford and haul it across, what good would
three mules or even ten mules do?"
"I ami asking it of you," he says. "I can always do for
me and mine. I ain't asking you to risk your mule. It ain't
your dead; I am not blaming you."
'They ought to went back and laid over until tomor-
row," I says. The water was cold. It was thick, like slush
ice. Only it kind of lived. One part of you knowed it
was just water, the same thing that had been running
under this same bridge for a long time, yet when them
logs would come spewing up outen it, you were not sur-
prised, like they was a part of water, of the waiting and
the threat.
It was like when we was across, up out of the water
again and the hard earth under us, that I was surprised.
It was like we hadn't expected the bridge to end on the
other bank, on something tame like the hard earth again
that we had tromped on before this time and knowed
well. Like it couldn't be me here, because I'd have had
better sense than to done what I just done. And when I
looked back and saw the other bank and saw my mule
standing there where I used to be and knew that I'd
have to get back there some way, I knew it couldn't
be, because I just couldn't think of anything that could
make me cross that bridge ever even once* Yet here I was,
AS I LAY DYIIsTO 437
and the fellow that could make himself cross it twice,
couldn't be me, not even if Cora told him to.
It was that boy. I said "Here; you better take a holt o
my hand," and lie waited and held to me. I be dum if it
wasn't like he come back and got me; like he was saying
They won't nothing hurt you. Like he was saying about
a fine place he knowed where Christmas come twice with
Thanksgiving and lasts on through the winter and the
spring and the summer, and if I just stayed with him I'd
be all right too.
When I looked back at my mule it was like he was one
of these here spy-glasses and I could look at him stand-
ing there and see all the broad land and my house
sweated outen it like it was the more die sweat, the
broader the land; the more the sweat, the tighter the
house because it would take a tight house for Cora, to
hold Cora like a jar of milk in the spring: you've got to
have a tight jar 01 you'll need a powerful spring, if you
have a big spring, why then you have the incentive to
have tight, well-made jars, because it is your milk, sour or
not, because you would rather have milk that will sour
than to have milk that won't, because you are a man.
And him holding to my hand, his hand that hot and
confident, so that I was like to say: Look-a-here. Can't
you see that mule yonder? He never had no business ove*
here, so he never come, not being nothing but a mule.
Because a fellow can see ever now and then that children
have more sense than him. But he don't like to admit it
to them until they have beards. After they have a beard,
they are too busy because they don't know if they'll ever
quite make it back to where they were in sense before
they was haired, so you don't mind admitting then to
folks that are worrying about the same thing that ain't
worth the worry that you are yourself.
AS I LAY DYING
Then we was over and we stood there, looking at Cash
turning the wagon around. We watched them drive back
down the road to where the trail turned off into the bot-
tom. After a while the wagon was out of sight.
"We better get on down to the ford and git ready to
help," I said.
"I give her my word/' Anse says. "It is sacred on me. I
know you begrudge it, but she will bless you in heaven."
*Well, they got to finish circumventing the land before
they can dare the water," I said. "Come on."
T's the turning back/' he said. "It ain't no luck in turn-
ing back."
He was standing there, humped, mournful, looking
at the empty road beyond the swagging and swaying
bridge. And that gal, too, with the lunch-basket on one
arm and that package under the other. Just going to
town. Bent on it. They would risk the fire and the earth
and the water and all just to eat a sack of bananas. "You
ought to laid over a day," I said. "It would V fell some
by morning. It mought not 'a' rained tonight. And it can't
get no higher."
"I give my promise," he says. "She is counting on it. 9 *
DARL
BEFOBE US THE THICK DARK CURRENT RUNS. IT TALKS UF
to us in a murmur become ceaseless and myriad, the
yellow surface dimpled monstrously into fading swirls
travelling along the surface for an instant, silent, imper-
AS I E&Y BYING 439
manent and profoundly significant, as though just be-
neath the surface something huge and alive waked for a
moment of lazy alertness out of and into light slumber
again.
It clucks and murmurs among the spokes and about
the mules* knees, yellow, scummed with flotsam and
with thick soiled gouts of foam as though it had sweat,
lathering, like a driven horse. Through the undergrowth,
it goes with a plaintive sound, a musing sound; in It the
unwinded cane and saplings lean as before a little gale,
swaying without reflections as though suspended on in-
visible wires from the branches overhead. Above the
ceaseless surface they stand trees, cane, vines rootless,
severed from the earth, spectral above a scene of im<-
mense yet circumscribed desolation filled with the voice
o the waste and mournful water.
Cash and I sit in the wagon; Jewel sits the horse at
the off rear-wheel. The horse is trembling, its eye rolling
wild and baby-blue in its long pink face, its breathing
stertorous like groaning. He sits erect, poised, looking
quietly and steadily and quickly this way and that, his
face calm., a little pale, alert. Cash's face is also gravely
composed; he and I look at one another with long prob-
ing looks, looks that plunge unimpeded through one an-
other's eyes and into the ultimate secret place where for
an instant Cash and Darl crouch flagrant and unabashed
in all the old terror and the old foreboding, alert and
secret and without shame. When we speak our voices are
quiet, detached.
"I reckon we're still in the road, all right."
"Tull taken and cut them two big whiteoaks. I heard
tell how at high water in the old days they used to line
up the ford by them trees."
"I reckon he did that two years ago when he was log
44 AS I LAY DYING
ging down here. I reckon lie never thought that anybody
would ever use this ford again."
"I reckon not. Yes, it must have been then. He cut a
sight of timber outen here then. Payed off that mortgage
With it, I hear tell."
"Yes. Yes, I reckon so. I reckon Vemon could have
done that/ 5
"That's a fact Most folks that logs in this here country,
they need a durn good farm to support the sawmill. Or
maybe a store. But I reckon Vemon could/'
"I reckon so. He's a sight/ 7
"Ay. Vemon is. Yes, it must still be here. He never
would have got that timber out of here if he hadn't
cleaned out that old road. I reckon we are still on it/'
He looks about quietly, at the position of the trees, lean-
ing this way and that, looking back along the floorless
road shaped vaguely high in air by the position of the
lopped and felled trees, as if the road too had been
soaked free of earth and floated upward, to leave in its
spectral tracing a monument to a still more profound des-
olation than this above which we now sit, talking quietly
of old security and old trivial things. Jewel looks at hirr^
then at me, then his face turns in in that quiet, constant,
questing about the scene, the horse trembling quietly and
steadily between his knees.
"He could go on ahead slow and sort of feel it out," J
say.
"Yes," Cash says, not looking at me. His face is in
profile as he looks forward where Jewel has moved on
ahead.
"He can't miss the river/' I say. "He couldn't miss seeing
it fifty yards ahead/*
Cash does not look at me, his face in profile. 'If I'd
AS I JLAY DYING 44 1
just suspicioned It, I coald 'a' come down last week and
taken a sight on it."
"The bridge was up then," I say. He does not look at
me. "Whitfield crossed it a-horse-back."
Jewel looks at us again, his expression sober and alert
and subdued. His voice is quiet, "What you want me to
dor
"I ought to come down last week and taken a sight on
it," Cash says.
"We couldn't have known," I say. "There wasn't any
way for us to know. 3 '
"I'll ride on ahead," Jewel says. "You can follow where
I am." He lifts the horse. It shrinks, bowed; he leans to It,
speaking to it, lifting it forward almost bodily, it setting
its feet down with gingerly splashings, trembling, breath-
ing harshly. He speaks to it, murmurs to it. "Go on," he
says. "I ain't going to let nothing hurt you. Go on, now.''
"Jewel," Cash says. Jewel does not look back. He lifts
the horse on.
"He can swim," I say. 'If he'll just give the horse Ome^
anyhow . . ." When he was born, he had a bad time of it.
Ma would sit in the lamplight, holding him on a pillow
on her lap. We would wake and find her so. There would
be no sound from them.
"That pillow was longer than him." Cash says. He is
leaning a little forward. "I ought to come down ksf
week and sighted. I ought to done it."
"That's right," I say. "Neither his feet nor his head
would reach the end of it. You couldn't have known/' I
say.
"I ought to done it," he says. He lifts the reins. The
mules move, into the traces; the wheels murmur alive in
the water. He looks back and down at Addie. "It ain't on
a balance," he says.
AS I LAY DY13STG
At last the trees open; against the open river Jewel sits
!he horse, half turned, It belly deep BOW. Across the river
we can see Vemon and pa and Vardaman and Dewey
Dell. Vernon is waving at us, waving us further do\vn-
jstream.
"We are too high up/ ? Cash says. Vernon is shouting
too, but we cannot make out what he says for the noise
of the water. It runs steady and deep now, unbroken,
without sense of motion until a log comes along, turning
slowly. "Watch it," Cash says. We watch, it and see it falter
and hang for a moment, the current building up behind
it in a thick wave, submerging it for an instant before it
shoots up and tumbles on.
"There it is," I say.
"Ay," Cash says. "It's there." We look at Vernon again.
He is now flapping his arms up and down. We move oil
downstream, slowly and carefully, watching Vernon. He
drops his hands. "This is the place/' Cash. says.
"Well, goddamn it, lets get across, then," Jewel says. He
moves the horse on.
"You wait," Cash says. Jewel stops again.
"Well, by God " he says. Cash looks at the water,
then he looks back at Addie. "It ain't on a balance," he
says.
"Then go on back to the goddamn bridge and walk
across/' Jewel says. "You and Darl both. Let me on that
wagon."
Cash does not pay him any attention. "It ain't on a,
balance/' he says. "Yes, sir. We got to watch it."
"Watch it, hell," Jewel says. "You get out of that wagon
and let me have it. By God, if you're afraid to drive it
over . . /' His eyes are pale as two bleached chips in Ms
face. Cash is looking at him.
A*? I LAY DYING 443
"We'll get it over/' he says. "I tell you what you do. You
ride on back and walk across the bridge and come down
the other bank and meet us with the rope. VernonTI take
your horse home with him and keep it till we get back/*
"You go to hell/' Jewel says.
"You take the rope and come down the bank and be
ready with it," Cash says. "Three can't do no more than
two can one to drive and one to steady it."
"Goddamn you/ 7 Jewel says.
"Let Jewel take the end of the rope and cross upstream
of us and brace it/* I say. "WiU you do that, Jewel?"
Jewel watches me, hard. He looks quick at Cash, then
back at me, his eyes alert and hard. "I don't give a damn.
Just so we do something. Setting here, not lifting a god*
damn hand . . ."
"Let's do that, Cash/" I say.
"I reckon well have to/' Cash says.
The river itself is not a hundred yards across, and pa
and Vemon and Vardaman and Dewey Dell are the
only things in sight not of that single monotony of desola-
tion leaning with that terrific quality a little from right
to left, as though we had reached the place where the
motion of the wasted world accelerates just before the
final precipice. Yet they appear dwarfed. It is as though
the space between us were time: an irrevocable quality.
It is as though time, no longer running straight before us
in a diminishing line, now runs parallel between us like
a looping string, the distance being the doubling accre-
tion of the thread and not the interval between. The
mules stand, their forequarters already sloped a little,
their rumps high. They too are breathing now with a
deep groaning sound; looking back once, their gaze
sweeps across us with in their eyes a wild, sad, profound
444 AS I LAY DYING
and despairing quality as though they had already seen
ia the thick water the shape of the disaster which they
could not speak and we could not see.
Cash turns back into the wagon. He lays his hands flat
on Addie, rocking her a little. His face is calm, down-
sloped, calculant, concerned. He lifts his box of tools
and wedges it forward under the seat; together we shove
Addie forward, wedging her between the tools and the
wagon-bed. Then he looks at me.
"No," I say. "I reckon I'll stay. Might take both of us/ 3
From the tool-box he takes his coiled rope and carries
the end twice around the seat stanchion and passes the
end to me without tying it. The other end he pays out to
Jewel, who takes a turn about his saddle-horn.
He must force the horse down into the current. It
moves, high-kneed, arch-necked, boring and chafing.
Jewel sits lightly forward, his knees lifted a little; again his
swift alert calm gaze sweeps upon us and on* He lowers
the horse into the stream, speaking to it in a soothing
murmur. The horse slips, goes under to the saddle, surges
to its feet again, the current building up against Jewel's
thighs.
**Watch yourself/* Cash says.
"I'm on It now/' Jewel says. <c You can come ahead
now."
Cash takes the reins and lowers the team carefully and
skilfully into the stream.
I felt the current take us and I knew we were on the
ford by that reason, since it was only by means of that
slipping contact that we could tell that we were in mo-
tion at all. What liad once been a flat surface was now a
succession of troughs and hillocks lifting and falling
about us, shoving at us, teasing at us with light lazy
AS I LAY DYING 445
touches in the vain instants of solidity underfoot. Cash
looked back at me, and then I knew that we were gone.
But I did not realize the reason for the rope until I saw
the log. It surged up out of the water and stood for an
instant upright upon that surging and heaving desolation
like Christ. Get out and let the current take you down to
the bend, Cash said. You can make it all right. No 9 I
said, Td get just as wet that way as this.
The log appears suddenly between two hills, as if it
had rocketed suddenly from the bottom of the river,
Upon the end of it a long gout of foam hangs like the
beard of an old man or a goat. When Cash speaks to me
I know that he has been watching it all the time, watch-
ing it and watching Jewel ten feet ahead of us. "Let the
rope go/' he says. With his other hand he reaches down
and reeves the two turns from the stanchion. "Ride on,
Jewel/' he says; "see if you can pull us ahead of the log/ 1
Jewel shouts at the horse; again he appears to lift It
bodily between his knees. He is just above the top of the
ford and the horse has a purchase of some sort for il
surges forward, shining wetly half out of water, crashing
on in a succession of lunges. It moves unbelievably fast;
by that token Jewel realizes at last that the rope is free,
for I can see him sawing back on the reins, his head
turned, as the log rears in a long sluggish lunge between
us, bearing down upon the team. They see it too; for a
moment they also shine black out of water. Then the
do^vnstream one vanishes, dragging the other with him;
the wagon sheers crosswise, poised on the crest of the
ford as the log strikes it, tilting it up and on. Cash is half
turned, the reins running taut from his hand and disap-
pearing into the water, the other hand reached back
upon Addie, holding her jammed over against the higb
AS I LAY DYIHG
side of the wagon. "Jump clear," he says quietly. "Stay
away from the team and don't try to fight it. It'll swing
you into the bend all right.'*
**You come too," I say. Vemon and Vardaman are run-
ning along the bank, pa and Dewey Dell stand watching
us, Dewey Dell with the basket and the package in her
arms. Jewel is trying to fight the horse back. The head of
one mule appears, its eyes wide; it looks back at us for an
instant, making a sound almost human. The head van-
ishes again.
"Back, Jewel,** Cash shouts. TBack, Jewel/* For another
instant I see him leaning to the tilting wagon, his arm
braced back against Addie and his tools; I see the
bearded head of the rearing log strike up again, and be-
yond it Jewel holding the horse upreared, its head
wrenched around, hammering its head with his fist. I
jump from the wagon on the downstream side. Between
two hills I see the mules once more. They roll up out of
the water in succession, turning completely over, theii
legs stiffly extended as when they had lost contact with
the earth.
VARDAMAN
CASH TRIED BUT SHE FELL, OFF AND DARL JUMPED GO
ing under he went under and Cash hollering to catch
her and I hollering running and hollering and Dewey
Dell hollering at me Vardaman you vardaman you varda*
AS I LA*" DYING 44?
man and Vemon passed me because hie was seeing h&
come up and she jumped into the water again, and
Darl hadn't caught her yet
He came up to see ant. I hollering catch her Dar! catch
her and he didn't come back because she was too heavy
he had to go on catching at her and I hollering catch her
darl catch her darl because in the water she could go
faster than a man and Darl had to grabble for her so J
knew he could catch her because he is the best grabble*
even with the mules in the way again they dived up roll-
ing their feet stiff rolling down again and their backs up
now and Darl had to again because in the water she
could go faster than a man or a woman and I passed Ver-
non and he wouldn't get in the water and help Darl he
would grabble for her with Darl he knew but he
wouldn't help
The mules dived up again diving their legs stiff their
stiff legs rolling slow and then Darl again and I hollering
catch her darl catch her head her into the bank darj
and Vernon wouldn't help and then Darl dodged past the
mules where he could he had her under the water coming
in to the bank coming in slow because in the water she
fought to stay under the water but Darl is strong and he
was coming in slow and so I knew he had her because he
came slow and I ran down into the water to help and I
couldn't stop hollering because Darl was strong and
steady holding her under the water even if she did fight
he would not let her go he was seeing me and he would
hold her and it was all right now it was all right now it
was all right
Then he comes up out of the water. He comes a long
way up slow before his hands do but he's got to have
her got to so I can bear it. Then his hands come up and
all of him above the water. I cant stop. I have not got
44 s AS I LAY
Ume to try. I will try to when I can but Ms hands came
mipttf out of the water emptying the wat&r emptying
uway
"Where is ma y Darl?** I said. Tou never got her. You
knew she is a fish but you let her get away. You never
got her. Darl. DarL Bar!/' I began to run along the bank;
watching the mules dive up slow again and then down
again.
TULL
WHEN I TOLD COBA HOW DAKL JUMPED OUT OF THE
wagon and left Cash sitting there trying to save it
and the wagon turning over, and Jewel that was almost
to the bank fighting that horse back where it had more
sense than to go, she says "And you're one of the folktf
that says Darl is the queer one, the one that ain't bright,
and him the only one of them that had sense enough to
get off that wagon. I notice Anse was too smart to been
on it a-tall."
"He couldn*t V done no good, if he'd been there/* I
said. "They was going about it right and they would
have made it if it hadn't a-been for that log.'*
"Log, fiddlesticks/' Cora said. "It was the hand of
God."
"Then how can you say it was f oolish?" I said. "Nobody
can't guard against the hand of God. It would be sacri-
kge to try to.*
AS 1 LAY DYING 449
Then why dare It?" Cora says. "Tell me that"
<c Anse didn't/' I said. '"That's just what you faulted him
for."
**His place was there/ 7 Cora said. *If he had been a
man, he would V been there instead of making his sons
do what he dursn't."
"I don't know what you want, then/' I said, "One
bieath you say they was daring the hand of God to try
it, and the next breath you jump on Anse because he
wasn't with them." Then she begun to sing again, work-
ing at the wash-tub, with that singing look in her face
like she had done give up folks and all their foolishness
and had done went on ahead of them, marching up the
sky, singing.
The wagon hung for a long time while the current
built up under it, shoving it off the ford, and Cash lean-
ing more and more, trying to keep the coffin braced so it
wouldn't slip down and finish tilting the wagon over.
Soon as the wagon got tilted good, to where the current
could finish it, the log went on. It headed around the
wagon and went on good as a swimming man could have
done. It was like it had been sent there to do a job and
done it and went on.
When the mules finally kicked loose, it looked for a
minute like maybe Cash would get the wagon back. It
looked like him and the wagon wasn't moving at all, and
just Jewel fighting that horse back to the wagon. Then
that boy passed me, running and hollering at Darl and
the gal trying to catch him, and then I see the inules come
rolling slow up out of the water, their legs spraddled
stiff like they had balked upside down, and roll on into
the water again.
Then the wagon tilted over and then it and Jewel and
the horse was all mixed up together. Cash went outen
45 AS I LAY DYING
Sight, still holding the coffin braced, and then I couldn't
tell anything for the horse lunging and splashing. I
thought that Cash had give up then and was swimming
for it and I was yelling at Jewel to come on back and then
all of a sudden him and the horse went under too and I
thought they was all going. I knew that the horse had got
dragged off the ford too, and with that wild drowning
horse and that wagon and that loose box, it was going to
be pretty bad, and there I was, standing knee deep in
the water, yelling at Anse behind me: "See what you
done now. See what you done now?"
The horse come up again. It was headed for the bank
now, throwing its head up, and then I saw one of them
holding to the saddle on the downstream side, so I started
^running along the bank, trying to catch sight of Cash be-
cause he couldn't swim, yelling at Jewel where Cash was
like a durn fool, bad as that boy that was on down the
bank still hollering at Darl.
So I went down into the water so I could still keep
some kind of a grip in the mud, when I saw Jewel He
was middle deep, so I knew he was on the ford, anyway,
leaning hard upstream, and then I see the rope and then
I see the water building up where he was holding the
wagon snubbed just below the ford.
So it was Cash holding to the horse when it come
splashing and scrambling up the bank, moaning and
groaning like a natural man. When I come to it it was
just kicking Cash loose from his holt on the saddle. His
face turned up a second when he was sliding back into
the water. It was grey, with his eyes closed and a long
swipe of mud across his face. Then he let go and turned
over in the water. He looked Just like an old bundle of
clothes kind of washing up and down against the bank,
tie looked like he was laying there in the water on his
AS T 3LAY DYING 4JI
f ace rocking up and down a little, looking at something
on the bottom.
We could watch the rope cutting down into the water,
and we could feel the weight of the wagon kind of blmnp
and lunge lazy like, like it just as soon as not, and that
rope cutting down into the water hard as a iron bar. We
could hear the water hissing on it like it was red hot.
Like it was a straight iron bar stuck into the bottom and
us holding the end of it, and the wagon lazing up and
down, kind of pushing and prodding at us like it had
come around and got behind us, lazy like, like it just as
soon as not when it made up its mind. There was a
shoat come by, blowed up like a balloon: one of them
spotted shoats of Lon Quick's. It bumped against the
rope like it was a iron bar and bumped off and went on,
and us watching that rope slanting down into the water.
We watched it
DARL
CASH LIES ON HIS BACK ON THE EARTH, BOS HEAT RAISED
on a rolled garment His eyes are closed, his face is
grey, his hair plastered in a smooth smear across his fore-
head as though done with a paint-brush. His face ap-
pears sunken a little, sagging from the bony ridges of eye-
sockets, nose, gums, as though the wetting had slacked
the firmness which had held the sfcin full; his teeth, set in
pale gums, are parted a little as if he had been laughing
45 2 AS I LAY DYING
quietly. He lies pole-thin in Ms wet clothes, a little poo'
of vomit at his head and a thread of it running from the
corner of his mouth and down his cheek where he
couldn't turn his head quick or far enough, until Dewey
Dell stoops and wipes it away with the hem of her dress,
Jewel approaches. He has the plane, "Vernon jus!
found the square," he says. He looks down at Cash, drip-
ping too. "Ain't he talked none yet?"
"He had his saw and hammer and chalk-line and rule/'
I say. "I know that"
Jewel lays the square down. Pa watches him. "They
can't be far away," pa says. "It all went together. Was
there ere a such misfortunate man."
Jewel does not look at pa. "You better call Vardaman
back here," he says. He looks at Cash, Then he turns and
goes away. "Get him to talk soon as he can," he says, "so
he can tell us what else there was."
We return to the river. The wagon is hauled clear, the
wheels chocked (carefully: we all helped; it is as though
upon the shabby, familiar, inert shape of the wagon there
lingered somehow, latent yet still immediate, that vio-
lence which had slain the mules that drew it not an hour
since) above the edge of the flood. In the wagon bed it
lies profoundly, the long pale planks hushed a little with
wetting yet still yellow, like gold seen through water,
save for two long muddy smears. We pass it and go on to
the bank.
One end of the rope is made fast to a tree. At the
edge of the stream, knee-deep, Vardaman stands, bent
forward a little, watching Vernon with rapt absorption.
He has stopped yelling and he is wet to the armpits.
Vernon is at the other end of the rope, shoulder-deep in
the river, looking back at Vardaman, "Further back than
AS I LAY DYIISTG 453
that/* he says. "You git back by the tree and hold the
rope for me, so it can't slip."
Vardaman backs along the rope, to the tree, moving
blindly, watching Yemon. When we come up he looks at
us once, his eyes round and a little dazed. Then he looks
at Vemon again in that posture of rapt alertness.
**I got the hammer too/* Vemon says. "Looks like we
ought to done already got that chalk-line. It ought to
floated."
"Floated clean away/' Jewel says. "We won't get it,
We ought to find the saw, though/ 7
"I reckon so/' Vernon says. He looks at the water. "That
chalk-line, too. What else did he have?"
"He ain't talked yet/' Jewel says, entering the water. He
looks back at me. *Tou go back and get him roused up to
talk/' he says.
"Pa's there," I say. I follow Jewel into the water, along
the rope. It feels alive in my hand, bellied faintly in a
prolonged and resonant arc. Vernon is watching me.
"You better go," he says. "You better be there/'
"Let's see what else we can get before it washes on
down/' I say.
We hold to the rope, the current curling and dimpling
about our shoulders. But beneath that false blandness the
true force of it leans against us lazily. 1 had not thought
that water in July could be so cold. It is like hands
moulding and prodding at the very bones. Vernoa is
still looking back toward the bank.
"Reckon itll hold us all?" he says. We too look back,
following the rigid bar of the rope as It rises from the
water to the tree and Vardaman crouched a little beside
it, watching us. 'Wish my mule wouldn't strike out foi
home/' Vernon savs.
454 AS I LAY DYING
"Come on/* Jewel says. "Let's get outen here/*
We submerge in turn, holding to the rope, being
clutched by one another while the cold wall of the
water sucks the slanting mud backward and upstream
from beneath our feet and we are suspended so, groping
along the cold bottom. Even the mud there is not still.
It has a chill, scouring quality, as though the earth under
us were in motion too. We touch and fumble at one
another's extended arms, letting ourselves go cautiously
against the rope; or, erect in turn, watch the water suck
and boil where one of the other two gropes beneath the
surface. Pa has come down to the shore, watching us.
Vernon comes up, streaming, his face sloped down into
bis pursed blowing mouth. His mouth is bluish, like a cir-
cle of weathered rubber. He has the rule.
"Hell be glad of that," I say. "It's right new. He bought
it just last month out of the catalogue/*
"If we just knowed for sho what else," Vernon says,
looking over his shoulder and then turning to face
where Jewel had disappeared. "Didn't he go down 'fore
me?" Vernon says.
"I don't know," I say. "I think so. Yes. Yes, he did."
We watch the thick curling surface, streaming away
from us in slow whorls.
"Give him a pull on the rope/* Vernon says.
"He's on your end of it/' I say.
"Ain't nobody on my end of it," he says.
"Pull it in/' I say. But he has already done that, hold-
ing the end above the water; and then we see Jewel. He
is ten yards away; he comes up, blowing, and looks at us,
tossing his long hair back with a jerk of his head, then
he looks toward the bank; we can see him filling his
lungs.
"Jewel/* Vernon says, not loud, but his voice going full
AS I LAY DYING 455
and clear along the water, peremptory yet tactful. "If 13
be back here. Better come back."
Jewel dives again. We stand there, leaning back against
the current, watching the water where he disappeared.,
holding the dead rope between us Like two men holding
the nozzle of a fire-hose, waiting for the water. Suddenly
Dewey Dell is behind us in the water. "You make him
come back/' she says. "Jewel!" she says. He comes up
again, tossing his hair back from his eyes. He is swim-
ming now, toward the bank, the current sweeping him
downstream quartering. "You, Jewel!" Dewey Dell says.
We stand holding the rope and see him gain the
bank and climb out. As he rises from the water, he stoops
and picks up something. He comes back along the bank,
He has found the chalk-line. He comes opposite us and
stands there, looking about as if he were seeking some^
thing. Pa goes on down the bank. He is going back to
look at the mules again where their round bodies float
and rub quietly together in the slack water within the
bend.
**What did you do with the hammer, Vemon?" Jewel
says.
"I give it to him," Vernon says, jerking his head at
Vardaman. Vardaman is looking after pa. Then he looks
at Jewel. "With the square/' Vernon is watching JeweL
He moves toward the bank, passing Dewey Dell and me*
"You get on out of here, 7 * I say. She says nothing, look*
ing at Jewel and Vernon.
""Where's the hammer?" Jewel says. Vardaman scuttles
up the bank and fetches it.
"It's heavier than the saw," Vernon says. Jewel is tying
the end of the chalk-line about the hammer shaft.
"Hammer's got the most wood in it/' Jewel says. He
and Vernon face one another, watching Jewel's hands.
AS I LAY DYING
"And latter, too, 9 ' Vernon says. "If d float three to one,
Almost. Try the plane."
Jewel looks at Veraon. Vernon Is tali, too; long and
lean, eye to eye they stand in their close wet clothes. Lou
Quick could look even at a cloudy sky and tell the time
to ten minutes. Big Lon I mean, not little Lon,
"Why don't you get out of the water?" I say.
"It won't float like a saw/' Jewel says.
"It'll float nlgher to a saw than a hammer will/* Vernon
says.
"Bet you/* Jewel says,
"I won't bet," Vernon says.
They stand there, watching Jewel's still hands.
"Hell," Jewel says. "Get the plane, then."
So they get the plane and tie it to the chalk-line and
enter the water again. Pa comes back along the bank. He
stops for a while and looks at us, hunched, mournf uL, like
a failing steer or an old tall bird.
Vernon and Jewel return, leaning against the current.
**Get out of the way/' Jewel says to Dewey Dell. "Get out
of the water/'
She crowds against me a little so they can pass, Jewel
holding the plane high as though it were perishable, the
blue string trailing back over bis shoulder. They pass
us and stop; they fall to arguing quietly about just where
the wagon went over,
"Darl ought to know/* Vemon, says. They look at me.
"I don't know/' I says. "I wasn't there that long."
"Hell/' Jewel says. They move on, gingerly, leaning
against the current, reading the ford with their feet
THave you got a holt of the rope?" Vernon says. Jewel
does not answer. He glances back at the shore, calculant,
then at the water. He flings the plane outward, letting
the string run through his fingers, his fingers turning blue
AS I "LAY DYING 47
where it runs over them. When the line stops, he hands
it back to Vernon.
"Better let me go this time," Vernon says. Again Jewel
does not answer; we watch him duck beneath the sur-
face.
"Jewel/' Dewey DeE whimpers.
"It ain't so deep there," Vernon says. He does not look
back. He is watching the water where Jewel went under.
When Jewel comes up he has the saw.
When we pass the wagon pa is standing beside it,
scrubbing at the two mud smears with a handful of
leaves. Against the jungle Jewel's horse looks like a patch-
work quilt hung on a line.
Cash has not moved. We stand above him, holding
the plane, the saw, the hammer, the square, the rule, the
chalk-line, while Dewey Dell squats and lifts Cash's head
"Cash," she says; "Cask"
He opens his eyes, staring profoundly up at our in*
verted faces.
"If ever was such a misfortunate man/* pa says.
"Look, Cash," we say, holding the tools up so he can
see; "what else did you have?"
He tries to speak, rolling his head, shutting his eyes*
"Cash," we say; "Cash"
It is to vomit he is turning his head. Dewey Dell wipes
his mouth on the wet hem of her dress; then he can
speak.
"It's his saw-set," Jewel says. 'The new one he bought
when he bought the rule." He moves, turning away. Ver-
non looks up after him, still squatting. Then he rises and
follows Jewel down to the water.
"If ever was such a misfortunate man," pa says. He
looms tall above us as we squat; he looks like a figure
carved clumsily from tough wood by a drunken carica-
" AS I LAY DYIXG
hnist. "It's a trial," he says. "But I don't begrudge her it.
No man can say I begrudge her It." Dewey Dell has laid
Cash's head back on the folded coat, twisting his head a
little to avoid the vomit. Beside him his tools lie. "A fel-
low might call it lucky it was the same leg he broke
when he fell offen that church/' pa says. "But I don't be-
grudge her it."
Jewel and Vemon are in the river again. From here
they do not appear to violate the surface at all; it is as
though it had severed them both at a single blow, the
two torsos moving with infinitesimal and ludicrous care
upon the surface. It looks peaceful, like machinery does
after you have watched it and listened to it for a long
time. As though the clotting which is you had dissolved
into the myriad original motion, and seeing and hearing
in themselves blind and deaf; fury in itself quiet with
stagnation. Squatting, Dewey Dell's wet dress shapes for
the dead eyes of three blind men those mammalian ludi-
crosities which, are the horizons and the valleys of the
earth.
CASH
IT WASN'T ON A BALANCE, i TOLD THEM THAT IF THEY
wanted it to tote and ride on a balance, they would
have to
CORA
ONE DAY WE WEBE TALKING. SHE HAD NEVEB BEEN FUHP
religious, not even after that summer at the camp
meeting when Brother Whitfield wrestled with her spirit,
singled her out and strove with the vanity in her mortal
heart, and I said to her many a time, "God gave you
children to comfort your hard human lot and for a token
of His own suffering and love, for in Icy** you conceived
and bore them.'* I said that because she took God's love
and her duty to Him too much as a matter of course,
and such conduct is not pleasing to Him. I said, "He gave
us the gift to raise our voices in His undying praise'' be^
cause I said there is more rejoicing in heaven over one
sinner than over a hundred that never sinned. And she
said "My daily life is an acknowledgment and expiation
of my sin" and I said "Who are you, to say what is sin
and what is not sin? It is the Lord's part to judge; ours to
praise His mercy and His holy name in the hearing of
our fellow mortals** because He alone can see into the
heart, and just because a woman's life is right in the sight
of man, she can't know if there is no sin in her heart with-
out she opens her heart to the Lord and receives His
grace. I said, "Just because you have been a faithful wife
is no sign that there is no sin in your heart, and just be-
cause your life is hard is no sign that the Lord's grace
is absolving you/' And she said, "I know my own sin. I
know that I deserve my punishment. I do not begrudge
it." And I said, "It is out of your vanity that you would
judge sin and salvation in the Lord's place. It is our mor*
459
460 AS I LAY BYIXG
tal lot to suffer and to raise our voices in praise of Him
who judges the sin and offers the salvation through our
trials and tribulations time out of mind amen. Not even
after Brother Whitfield, a godly man if ever one breathed
God's breath, prayed for you and strove as never a man
coulcl except him/' I said.
Because it is not us that can judge our sins or Icnow
what is sin in the Lord's eyes. She has had a hard life,
but so does every woman. But you'd think from the way
she talked that she knew more about sin and salvation
than the Lord God Himself, than them who have strove
and laboured with the sin in this human world. When
the only sin she ever committed was being partial to
Jewel that never loved her and was its own punishment,
in preference to Darl that was touched by God Himself
and considered queer by us mortals and that did love
her. I said, "There is your sin. And your punishment too.
Jewel is your punishment. But where Is your salvation?
And life is short enough/' I said, "to win eternal grace in.
And God is a jealous God. It is His to judge and to
mete; not yours.' ?
"I know," she said. "I Then she stopped, and I
said,
"Know what?"
"Nothing," she said. "He is my cross and he will be my
salvation. He will save me from the water and from the
fire. Even though I have laid down my life, he will save
aie/ ?
"How do you know, without you open your heart to
Him and lift your voice in His praise?" I said. Then I real-
ized that she did not mean God. I realized that out of the
vanity of her heart she had spoken sacrilege. And I went
down on my knees right there. I begged her to kneel and
open her heart and cast from it the devil of vanity and
AS I LAY DTI KG 461
cast herself upon the mercy of the Lord. But she wouldn't
Sbe just sat there, lost in her vanity and her pride, thai
Jaad closed her heart to God and set that selfish mortal
boy in His place. Kneeling there I prayed for her. !
prayed for that poor blind woman as I had never prayecf
for me and mine.
ADDIE
IN THE AFTERNOON WHEN SCHOOL WAS OUT AND THE
last one had left with his little dirty snuffling nose, in-
stead of going home I would go down the hill to the
spring where I could be quiet and hate them. It would
be quiet there then, with the water bubbling up and away
and the sun slanting quiet in the trees and the quiet
smelling of damp and rotting leaves and new earth; es-
pecially in the early spring, for it was worst then,
I could just remember how my father used to say
that the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead
a long time. And when I would have to look at them day
after day, each with his and her secret and selfish thought,
and blood strange to each other blood and strange to
mine, and think that this seemed to be the only way I
could get ready to stay dead, I would hate my father for
having ever planted use. I would look forward to the
times when they faulted, so I could whip them. When the
switch fell I could feel it upon my flesh; when it welted
and ridged it was my blood that ran, and I would thini
4^2 AS I LAY DYING
with each blow of the switch: Now you are aware of rnef
Now I am something in your secret and selfish life, who
have marked your blood with my own for ever and
ever,
And so I took Anse. I saw him pass the school-house
three or four times before I learned that he was driving
four miles out of his way to do it. I noticed then how he
was beginning to hump a tall man and young so that
he looked already like a tall bird hunched in the cold
weather, on the wagon-seat He would pass the school-
house, the wagon creaking slow, his head turning slow to
watch the door of the school-house as the wagon passed,
antil he went on around the curve and out of sight. One
day I went to the door and stood there when he passed.
When he saw me he looked quickly away and did not
look back again.
In the early spring it was worst Sometimes I thought
that I could not bear it, lying in bed at night, with the
wild geese going north and their honking coming faint
and high and wild out of the wild darkness, and during
the day it would seern as though I couldn't wait for the
kst one to go so I could go down to the spring. And so
when I looked up that day and saw Anse standing
there in his Sunday clothes, turning his hat round and
round in his hands, I said:
"If you've got any womenfolks, why in the world don't
they make you get your hair cut?"
"I ain't got none," he said. Then he said suddenly,
driving his eyes at me like two hounds in a strange yard:
"That's what I come to see you about."
"And make you hold your shoulders up," I said. "You
haven't got any? But you've got a house. They tell me
youVe got a house and a good farm. And you live there
AS I LAY BYIKG 463
alone, doing for yourself, do you?" He just looked at we*
turning the hat in his hands. "A new house," I said. "Are
you going to get married?"
And he said again, holding his eyes to mine: "That's
what I come to see you about."
Later he told me, T ain't got no people. So that won*!
be no worry to you. I don't reckon you can say tha
same/'
"No. I have people. In Jefferson."
His face fell a little. "Well, I got a little property. I'm
forehanded; I got a good honest name. I know how town
folks are, but maybe when they talk to me . . ?
"They might listen," I said. "But they'll be hard to talk
to." He was watching my face. 'They're in the cemetery."
"But your living kin," he said. "They'll be different"
"Will they?" I said. "I don't know. I never had any
other kind."
So I took Anse. And when I knew that I had Cash, I
knew that living was terrible and that this was the an-
swer to it. That was when I learned that words are BO
good; that words don't ever fit even what they are trying
to say at When he was born I knew that motherhood
was invented by someone who had to have a word for it
because the ones that had the children didn't care
whether there was a word for it or not. I knew that fear
was invented by someone that had never had the fear;
pride, who never had the pride. I knew that it had been,
not that they had dirty noses, but that we had had to use
one another by words like spiders dangling by theii
mouths from a beam, swinging and twisting and neve*
touching, and that only through the blows of the switch
could my blood and their blood flow as one stream. I
knew that it had been, not that my aloneness had to be
4^4 AS I !LAY DYING
violated over and over each day, but that it had never
been violated until Cash came. Not even by Anse in the
nights.
He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been
used to words for a long time, I knew that that word
was like the others: just a shape to 11 a lack; that when
the right time came, you wouldn't need a word for that
any more than for pride or fear. Cash did not need to
say it to me nor I to him, and I would say, Let Anse use
it, if he wants to. So that it was Anse or love; love or
Anse: it didn't matter.
I would think that even while I lay with him in the
dark and Cash asleep in the cradle within the swing of
my hand. I would think that if he were to wake and cry r
I would suckle him, too. Anse or love: it didn't matter.
My aloneness had been violated and then made whole
again by the violation: time, Anse, love, what you wil^
outside the circle,
Then I found that I had DarL At first I would not be-
lieve it. Then I believed that I would kill Anse. It was
as though he had tricked me, hidden within a word like
within a paper screen and struck me in the back through
it But then I realized that I had been tricked by words
older than Anse or love, and that the same word had
tricked Anse too, and that my revenge would be that he
would never know I was taking revenge. And when I>arl
was born I asked Anse to promise to take me back to
JeffersoD when I died, because I knew that father had
been right, even when he couldn't have known he was
right any more than I could have known I was wrong.
^Nonsense/' Anse said; "you and me ain't nigh done
chapping yet y with just two.*
He did not fcoow that lie was dead, themu Sometimes I
AS I LAY DYING
would lie by him in the dark, hearing the land that was
now of my blood and flesh, and I would think: Anse.
Why Anse. Why are you Anse. I would think about his
name until after a while I could see the word as a shape,
a vessel, and I would watch him liquefy and flow into it
like cold molasses flowing out of die darkness into the
vessel, until the jar stood full and motionless: a signifi-
cant shape profoundly without Me like an empty door
frame; and then I would find that I had forgotten the
name of the jar. I would think: The shape of my body
where I used to be a virgin is in the shape of a
and I couldn't think Anse, couldn't remember Anse. It
was not that I could think of myself as no longer unvir-
gin, because I was three now. And when I would think
Cash and Darl that way until their names would die and
solidify Into a shape and then fade away, I would say,
All right It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what they
call them.
And so when Cora Tull would tell me I was not a
true mother, I would think how words go straight up in
a thin line, quick and harmless, and how terribly doing
goes along the earth, clinging to it, so that after a while
the two lines are too far apart for the same person to
straddle from one to the other; and that sin and love and
fear are just sounds that people who never sinned nor
loved nor feared have for what they never had and can-
not have until they forget the words. Like Cora, who
could never even cook.
She would tell me what I owed to my children and to
Anse and to God. I gave Anse the children. I did not ask
for them. I did not even ask him for what he could have
given me: not- Anse. That was my duty to him, to not
ask that, and that duty I fulfilled. I would be I; I would
466 AS I LAY DYING
let him be the shape and echo of his word. That was
more than he asked, because he could not have asked for
that and been Anse, using himself so with a word.
And then he died. He did not know he was dead. I
would lie by him in the dark, hearing the dark land
talking of God's love and His beauty and His sin;
hearing the dark voicelessness in which the words are the
deeds, and the other words that are not deeds, that are
Just the gaps in peoples* lacks, coming down like the
cries of the geese out of the wild darkness in the old ter-
rible nights, fumbling at the deeds like orphans to whom
are pointed out in a crowd two faces and told, That is
your father, your mother.
I believed that I had found it I believed that the rea-
son was the duty to the alive, to the terrible blood, the
red bitter flood boiling through the land. I would think
of sin as I would think of the clothes we both wore in
the world's face, of the circumspection necessary be-
cause he was he and I was I; the sin the more utter and
terrible since he was the instrument ordained by God
who created the sin, to sanctify that sin He had created.
While I waited for him in the woods, waiting for him be-
fore he saw me, I would think of him as dressed in sin.
I would think of him as thinking of me as dressed also in
sin, he the more beautiful since the garment which he
had exchanged for sin was sanctified. I would think of
the sin as garments which we would remove in order to
shape and coerce the terrible blood to the forlorn echo of
the dead word high in the air. Then I would lay with
Anse again I did not lie to him: I just refused, just as
I refused my breast to Cash and Darl after their time was
up hearing the dark land talking the voiceless speech.
I hid nothing. I tried to deceive no one, I would not
have cared. I merely took the precautions that he thought
AS I LAY DYING '467
necessary for his sake, not for my safety, but just as I
wore clothes in the world's face. And I would think then
when Cora talked to me, of how the high dead words in
time seemed to lose even the significance of their dead
sound.
Then it was over. Over in the sense that he was gone
and I knew that, see him again though I would, I would
never again see him coming swift and secret to me in the
woods dressed in sin like a gallant garment already blow-
ing aside with the speed of his secret coming.
But for me it was not over. I mean, over in the sense
of beginning and ending, because to me there was no be-
ginning nor ending to anything then. I even held Anse re
framing still, not that I was holding him recessional, but
as though nothing else had ever been. My children were
of me alone, of the wild blood boiling along the earth,
of me and of all that lived; of none and of all. Then I
found that I had Jewel. When I waked to remember to
discover it, he was two months gone.
My father said that the reason for living is getting
ready to stay dead. I knew at last what he meant and
that he could not have known what he meant himself,
because a man cannot know anything about cleaning up
the house afterward. And so I have cleaned my house*
With Jewel I lay by the lamp, holding up my own
head, watching him cap and suture it before he breathed
the wild blood boiled away and the sound of it ceased.
Then there was only the milk, warm and calm, and I
lying calm in the slow silence, getting ready to clean my
house.
I gave Anse Dewey Dell to negative Jewel, Then I gave
him Vardaman to replace the child I had robbed him of,
And now he has three children that are Ms and not mine-
And then I could get ready to die.
AS I X.AY DYING
One day I was talking to Cora. She prayed for me be-
cause she believed I was blind to sin, wanting me to kneel
End pray too, because people to whom sin is just a matter
of words, to them salvation is just words too.
WHITFIELD
WHEN THEY TOLD ME SHE WAS DYING, ALL THAT NIGHT
I wrestled with Satan, and i emerged victorious. 1
woke to the enormity of my sin; I saw the true light at
last, and I fell on my knees and confessed to God and
asked his guidance and received it. "Rise," He said; "re-
pair to that home in which you have put a living lie,
among those people with whom you have outraged My
Word; confess your sin aloud. It is for them, for that de-
ceived husband, to forgive you: not I."
So I went, I heard that lull's bridge was gone; I said
"Thanks, O Lord, O Mighty Ruler of all"; for by those
dangers and difficulties which I should have to surmount
I saw that He had not abandoned me; that my reception
again into His holy peace and love would be the sweeter
for it "Just let me not perish before I have begged the
forgiveness of the man whom I betrayed/' I prayed;
"let me not be too late; let not the tale of mine and her
transgression come from her lips instead of mine. She had
sworn then that she would never tell it, but eternity is a
fearsome thing to face: have I not wrestled thigh to thigh
with Satan myself? let me not have also the sin of her
AS I LAY DYIKG
broken vow upon my soul. Let not the waters of Thy
mighty wrath encompass me until I have cleansed mji
soul in the presence of them whom I injured."
It was His hand that bore me safely above the fiood a
that fended from me the dangers of the waters. My horse
was frightened, and my own heart failed me as the logs
and the uprooted trees bore down upon my littleness. But
not my soul: time after time I saw them averted at de-
struction's final instant, and I lifted my voice above the
noise of the flood: "Praise to thee, O Mighty Lord and
King. By this token shall I cleanse my soul and gain
again into the fold of Thy undying love/ 7
I knew then that forgiveness was mine. The flood, the
danger, behind, and as I rode on across the firm earth
again and the scene of my Gethsemane drew closer and
closer, I framed the words which I should use. I would
enter the house; I would stop her before she had spoken;
I would say to her husband: "Anse, I have sinned. Do
with me as you will/'
It was already as though it were done. My soul felf
freer, quieter than it had in years; already I seemed to
dwell in abiding peace again as I rode on. To either side
I saw His hand; in my heart I could hear His voice:
"Courage. I am with thee/*
Then I reached Tuffs house. His youngest girl came
out and called to me as I was passing. She told me that
she was already dead.
I have sinned, O Lord. Thou knowest the extent of rny
remorse and the will of my spirit. But He is merciful; He
will accept the will for the deed, Who knew that when I
framed the words of my confession it was to Anse J
spoke them, even though he was not there. It was He in
His infinite wisdom that restrained the tale from her dy-
ing lips as she lay surrounded by those who loved and
47 AS I LAY DYING
trusted her; mine the travail by water which I sustained
by the strength of His hand. Praise to Thee in Thy
bounteous and omnipotent love; O praise.
I entered the house of bereavement, the lowly dwelling
where another erring mortal lay while her soul faced the
awful and irrevocable judgment, peace to her ashes.
"God's grace upon this house," I said.
DARL
ON THE HORSE HE RODE UP TO ARMSTID's AND CAME
back on the horse, leading Armstid's team. We
hitched up and laid Cash on top of Addie. When we laid
him down he vomited again, but he got his head over the
wagon bed in time.
"He taken a lick in the stomach too/' Vernon said.
"The horse may have kicked him in the stomach too,* 3
I said. "Did he kick you in the stomach, Cash?"
He tried to say something. Dewey Dell wiped his
mouth again.
"What's he say?" Vernon said.
'What is it, Cash?" Dewey Dell said. She leaned down.
"His tools," she said. Vernon got them and put them into
the wagon. Dewey Dell Lifted Cash's head so he could
see. We drove on, Dewey Dell and I sitting beside Cash
to steady him and he riding on ahead on the horse. Ver-
non stood watching us for a while. Then he turned and
Went back toward the bridge. He walked gingerly, be-
AS I LAY DYING 471
ginning to flap the wet sleeves of Ills shirt as though he
had just got weL
He was sitting the horse before the gate. Annstid was
waiting at the gate. We stopped and he got down and we
lifted Cash down and carried him into the house, where
Mrs. Armstid had the bed ready. We left her and Dewey
Dell undressing him.
We followed pa out to the wagon. He went back and
got into the wagon and drove on, we following on foot,
into the lot. The wetting had helped, because Araistid
said, "You welcome to the house. You can put it there.**
He followed, leading the horse y and stood beside the
wagon, the reins in his hand.
"I thank you/' pa said. "Well use in the shed yonder.
I know it's a imposition on you."
"You're welcome to the house," Armstid said. He had
tJiat wooden look on his face again; that bold, surly, high-
coloured rigid look like his face and eyes were two col-
ours of wood., the wrong one pale and the wrong one
dark. His shirt was beginning to dry > but it still clung
close upon him when he moved,
"She would appreciate it," pa said.
We took the team out and rolled the wagon back un-
der the shed. One side of the shed was open.
"It won't rain under, 9 * Axmstid said. "But if you'd
rather . . ."
Back of the barn was some rusted sheets of tin roofing.
We took two of them and propped them against the
open side.
"You're welcome to the house," Armstid said.
"I thank you," pa said. "I'd take it right kind if you'd
give them a little snack."
"Sho," Armstid said. "Lula'U have supper ready soon ar
she gets Cash comfortable." He had gone back to the
47 2 AS 1 LAY DYING
"horse and he was taking the saddle off, his damp
lapping flat to him when he moved.
Pa wouldn't come in the house.
"Come In and eat/' Araistid said. "It's nigh ready/'
"I wouldn't crave nothing," pa said. "I thank you."
"You come in and dry and eat," Armstid'said. "It'll be
all right here."
"It's for her," pa said. "It's for her sake I am taking the
food. I got no team, no nothing. But she will be grateful
to ere a one of you."
"Sho," Amistid said. "You folks come in and dry."
But after Amistid gave pa a drink, he felt better, and
when we went in to see about Cash he hadn't come in
with us. When I looked back he was leading the horse
into the barn he was already talking about getting an-
other team, and by supper time he had good as bought
it. He is down there in the barn, sliding fiuidly past the
gaudy lunging swirl, into the stall with it. He climbs on
to the manger and drags the hay down and leaves the
stall and seeks and finds the curry-comb. Then he returns
and slips quickly past the single crashing thump and up
against the horse, where it cannot over-reach. He applies
the curry-comb, holding himself toithin the horse's strik-
ing radius with the agility of an acrobat^ cursing the horse
in a whisper of obscene caress. Its head -flashes back?
tooth-cropped; its eyes roll in the dusk like marbles on a
gaudy velvet cloth as he strikes it upon the face with the
back of the curry-comb.
ARMSTID
BUT TIME I GIVE HIM ANOTHER SOT OF WHISKY ANI
supper was about ready, he had done already
bought a team from somebody, on a credit. Picking and
choosing he were by then, saying how he didn't like this
span and wouldn't put his money in nothing so-and-so
owned, not even a hen coop.
"You might try Snopes," I said. "He's got three-foul
span. Maybe one of them would suit you."
Then he begun to mumble his mouth, looking at me
like it was me that owned the only span of mules in the
country and wouldn't sell them to him, when I knew
that like as not it would be my team that would ever get
them out of the lot at all. Only I don't know what they
would do with them, if they had a team. Littlejohn had
told me that the levee through Haley bottom had done
gone for two miles and that the only way to get to Jef-
ferson would be to go around by Mottson. But that was
Anse's business.
"He's a close man to trade with/' he says, mumbling
his mouth. But when I give him another sup after supper,
he cheered up some. He was aiming to go back to the
barn and set up with her. Maybe he thought that if he
just stayed down there ready to take out, Santa Glaus
would maybe bring him a span of mules. "But I reckon I
can talk him around," he says. "A manll always help a
fellow in a tight, if he's got ere a drop of Christian blood
i y>
in him.
"Of course you're welcome to the use of mine," I said*
473
4/4 AS I LAY DYING
me knowing how much he believed that was the reason.
4 T thank you/* he said. "Shell want to go in ourn/' and
Mm knowing how much I believed that was the reason.
After supper Jewel rode over to the Bend to get Pea-
body. I heard he was to be there today at Varner's. Jewel
come back about midnight. Peabody had gone down be-
low Inverness somewhere, but Uncle Billy come back
with him, with his satchel of horse-physic. Like he says,
a man ain't so different from a horse or a mule, come
long come short, except a mule or a horse has got a little
more sense. "What you been into now, boy?" he says,
looking at Cash. "Get me a mattress and a chair and a
glass of whisky/' he says.
He made Cash drink the whisky, then he run Anse
out of the room* "Lucky it was the same leg he broke last
summer/* Anse says, mournful, mumbling and blinking.
"That's something/'
We folded the mattress across Cash's legs and set the
chair on the mattress and me and Jewel set on the chair
and the gal held the lamp and Uncle Billy taken a chew
of tobacco and went to work. Cash fought pretty hard for
a while, until he fainted. Then he laid still, with big balls
of sweat standing on his face like they had started to roll
down and then stopped to wait for him.
When he waked up, Uncle Billy had done packed up
and left. He kept on trying to say something until the gal
leaned down and wiped his mouth. "It's his tools/' she
said.
"I brought them in/' Darl said. "I got them."
He tried to talk again; she leaned down. "He wants to
see them/' she said. So Darl brought them in where he
could see them. They shoved them under the side of the
bed, where he could reach his hand and touch them when
he felt better. Next morning Anse taken that horse and
AS I LAY DYIISTG 475
rode over to the Bend to see Snopes. Him and Jewel
stood in the lot talking a while, then Anse got on the
horse and rode off. I reckon that was the first time Jewel
ever let anybody ride that horse, and until Anse come
back he hung around in that swole-up way, watching the
road like he was half a mind to take out after Anse and
get the horse back.
Along toward nine o'clock it begun to get hot. That
was when I see the first buzzard. Because of the wetting,
I reckon. Anyway it wasn't until well into the day that I
see them. Lucky the breeze was setting away from the
house, so it wasn't until well into the morning. But soon
as I see them it was like I could smell it in the field a
mile away from just watching them, and then circling
and circling for everybody in the county to see what
was in my barn.
I was still a good half a mile from the house when I
heard that boy yelling. I thought maybe he might have
fell into the well or something, so I whipped up and come
into the lot on the lope.
There must have been a dozen of them setting along
the ridge-pole of the barn, and that boy was chasing
another one around the lot like it was a turkey and it
just lifting enough to dodge him and go flopping back to
the roof of the shed again where he had found it setting
on the coffin. It had got hot then, right, and the breeze
had dropped or changed or something, so I went and
found Jewel, but Lula come out.
"You got to do something/' she said. "It's a outrage."
"That's what I aim to do," I said.
"It's a outrage," she said. "He should be lawed for treat'
ing her so."
"He's getting her into the ground the best he caa," 1
said. So I found Jewel and asked him if he didn't want
AS I LAY DYING
to take one of the mules and go over to the Bend and
see about Anse. He didn't say nothing. He just looked at
me with his jaws going bone-white and them bone-white
eyes of hisn, then he went and begun to call Darl.
'What you fixing to do?" I said.
He didn^t answer. Darl come out. "Come on/' Jewel
said.
'What you aim to do?" Darl said.
"Going to move the wagon/' Jewel said over his shoul-
der.
"Don't be a fool/' I said. "I never meant nothing. You
couldn't help it." And Darl hung back too, but nothing
wouldn't suit Jewel.
"Shut your goddamn mouth/' he says,
'It's got to be somewhere/' Darl said. 'We 11 take out
soon as pa gets back."
"You won't help me?" Jewel says, them white eyes of
hisn kind of blaring and his face shaking like he had a
aguer.
"No/' Darl said. "I won't Wait till pa gets back."
So I stood in the door and watched him push and haul
at that wagon, It was on a downhill, and once I thought
he was fixing to beat out the back end of the shed. Then
the dinner-bell rung. I called him, but he didn't look
around. "Come on to dinner/' I said. "Tell that boy."
But he didn't answer, so I went on to dinner. The gal
went down to get that boy, but she come back without
him. About half through dinner we heard him yelling
again, running that buzzard out.
"It's a outrage/' Lula said; "a outrage."
"He's doing the best he can," I said. "A fellow don't
trade with Snopes in thirty minutes. They'll set in the
shade all afternoon to dicker."
"Do?" she says, "Do? He's done too much, already/*
AS I LAY DYING 477
And I reckon he had. Trouble is, his quitting was just
about to start our doing. He couldn't buy no team from
nobody, let alone Snopes, withouten he had something
to mortgage he didn't know would mortgage yet And
so when I went back to the field I looked at my mules
and same as told them good-bye for a spell. And when I
come back that evening and the sun shining all day on
that shed, I wasn't so sho I would regret it.
He come riding up just as I went out to the porch,
where they all was. He looked kind of funny: kind of
more hang-dog than common, and kind of proud too.
Like he had done something he thought was cute but
wasn't so sho now how other folks would take it.
"I got a team/' he said.
"You bought a team from Snopes?" I said,
"I reckon Snopes ain't the only man in this country that
can drive a trade," he said.
"Sho," I said. He was looking at Jewel, with that funny
look, but Jewel had done got down from the porch and
was going toward the horse. To see what Anse had done
to it, I reckon.
"Jewel" Anse says. Jewel looked back. "Come here/ 3
Anse says. Jewel come back a little and stopped again.
"What you want?" he said.
"So you got a team from Snopes," I said, "Hell send
them over tonight, I reckon? You'll want a early start to-
morrow, long as you'll have to go by Mottson."
Then he quit looking like he had been for a while. He
got that badgered look like he used to have, mumbling
his mouth.
"I do the best I can/' he said. "'Fore God, if there
were ere a man in the living world suffered the trials and
floutings I have suffered/'
"A fellow that just beat Snopes in a trade ought to
47 8 AS I LAY
feel pretty good/* I said. "What did you give him, Anse?* 9
He didn't look at me. "I give a chattel mortgage on my
cultivator and seeder," lie said.
"But they ain't worth forty dollars. How far do you
aim to get with a forty-dollar team?"
They were all watching him now, quiet and steady.
Jewel was stopped, half-way back, waiting to go on to
the horse. "I give other things," Anse said. He begun to
mumble his mouth again, standing there like he was
waiting for somebody to hit him and him with his mind
already made up not to do nothing about it.
'What other things?" Darl said.
"Hell," I said. "You take my team. You can bring them
back. Ill get along some way."
"So that's what you were doing in Cash's clothes last
night," Darl said. He said it just like he was reading it
outen the paper. Like he never give a dum himself one
way or the other. Jewel had come back now, standing
there, looking at Anse with them marble eyes of hisn.
"Cash aimed to buy that talking machine from Suratt
with that money," Darl said.
Anse stood there, mumbling his mouth. Jewel watched
him. He ain't never blinked yet.
"But that's just eight dollars more," Darl said, in that
voice like he was just listening and never give a dum
himself. "That still won't buy a team."
Anse looked at Jewel quick, kind of sliding his eyes
that way, then he looked down again. "God knows, if
there were ere a man," he says. Still they didn't say noth-
ing. They just watched him, waiting, and him sliding his
eyes toward their feet and up their legs but no higher.
"And the horse," he says.
"What horse?" Jewel said. Anse just stood there. I be
<iurn, if a man can't keep the upper hand of his sons, he
'AS I LAY DYING 475
ought to ran them away from home, no matter how big
they are. And if he can't do that, I be durn if he oughtn't
to leave himself. I be durn if I wouldn't. "You mean, you
tried to swap my horse?" Jewel says.
Anse stands there, dangle-armed. "For fifteen years I
ain't had a tooth in my head/' he says. "God knows it. He
knows in fifteen years I ain't et the victuals He aimed for
man to eat to keep his strength up, and me saving a
nickel here and a nickel there so my family wouldn't suf-
fer it, to buy them teeth so I could eat God's appointed
food. I give that money. I thought that if I could do
without eating, my sons could do without riding, God
knows I did."
Jewel stands with his hands on his hips, looking at
Anse. Then he looks away. He looked out across the
field, his face still as a rock, like it was somebody else
talking about somebody else's horse and him not even lis-
tening. Then he spit, slow, and said "Hell" and he turned
and went on to the gate and unhitched the horse and got
on it. It was moving when he come into the saddle and
by the time he was on it they was tearing down the road
like the Law might have been behind them. They went
out of sight that way, the two of them looking like some
kind of a spotted cyclone.
"Well," I says. "You take my team," I said. But he
wouldn't do it. And they wouldn't even stay, and that
boy chasing them buzzards all day in the hot sun until
he was nigh as crazy as the rest of them. "Leave Cash
here, anyway," I said. But they wouldn't do that. They
made a pallet for him with quilts on top of the coffin and
laid him on it and set his tools by him, and we put my
team in and hauled the wagon about a mile down the
road.
"If we'll bother you here," Anse says, "just say so, w
AS I LAY DYING
"Sho ," I said. "It'll be fine here. Safe, too. Now let's go
back and eat supper/'
*1 thank you/' Anse said. "We got a little something in
the basket. We can make out"
'Where'd you get it?" I said,
**We brought it from home."
*But it'll be stale now/' I said. "Come and get some hot
victuals/'
But they wouldn't come. "I reckon we can make out/*
Anse said. So I went home and et and taken a basket
back to them and tried again to make them come back
to the house.
*1 thank you/' he said. '1 reckon we can make out." So
I left them there, squatting around a little fire, waiting;
God knows what f cr.
1 come on home. I kept thinking about them there,
and about that fellow tearing away on that horse. And
that would be the last they would see of him. And I be
dum if I could blame him. Not for wanting to not give
up his horse, but for getting shut of such a durn fool as
Anse.
Or that's what 1 thought then. Because be durn if there
ain't something about a durn fellow like Anse that seems
to make a man have to help him, even when he knows
he'll be wanting to kick himself next minute. Because
about a hour after breakfast next morning Eustace
Giimm that works Snopes' place come up with a span of
mules., hunting Anse.
"I thought him and Anse never traded/' I said.
"Sho/' Eustace said. "All they liked was the horse. Like
I said to Mr. Snopes, he was letting this team go for fifty
dollars, because if his uncle Flem had a just kept them
Texas horses when he owned them, Anse wouldn't
a-never *'
AS I LAY DYIKG
"The horse?'* I said. "Anse's boy taken that horse and
cleared out last night, probably half-way to Texas by
now, and Anse "
"I didn't know who brung it," Eustace said. "I never
see them. I just found the horse in the bam this morning
when I went to feed, and I told Mr. Snopes and he said
to bring the team on over here."
Well, that'll be the last they'll ever see of him now, sho
enough. Come Christmas time they'll maybe get a postal
card from him in Texas, I reckon. And if it hadn't a been
Jewel, I reckon it'd a been me; I owe him that much, my-
self. I be durn if Anse don't conjure a man, some way. I
be durn if he ain't a sight.
VARDAMAN
NOW THEBE AEE SEVEN OF THEM, IN LITTLE TALI*
black circles.
"Look, Darl," I say; "see?"
He looks up. We watch them in little tall black circles
of not-moving.
"Yesterday there were just four," I say.
There were more than four on the foam.
"Do you know what I would do if he tries to light on
the wagon again?'' I say.
er What would you do?" Darl says.
"1 wouldn't let him light on ter/' I say, "I wouldn't let
him light OB Cash, either."
AS I LAY DYING
Cash is sick. He is sick on the box. But my mother is a
fish.
"We got to get some medicine in Mottson/' pa says. TE
reckon well just have to."
**How do you feel, Cash?" Darl says.
"It don't bother none/* Cash says.
"Do you want it propped a little higher?" Darl says.
Cash has a broken leg. He has had two broken legs. He
lies on the box with a quilt rolled under his head and a
piece of wood under his knee.
4< I reckon we ought to left him at Armstid's," pa says.
I haven't got a broken leg and pa hasn't and Darl
hasn't and "It's just the bumps/' Cash says. "It kind of
grinds together a little on a bump. I don't bother none/*
Jewel has gone away. He and his Jiorse went away one
supper time.
"It's because she wouldn't have us beholden/* pa says.
** 'Fore God, I do the best that ere a man." Is it because
JeweTs mother is a horse, Darl? I said.
""Maybe I can draw the ropes a little tighter," Darl says,
That's why Jewel and I were both in the shed and she
was in the wagon "because the horse lives in the barn and
I had to keep on running the buzzard away from
"If you just would/' Cash says. And Dewey Dell hasn't
got a broken leg and I haven't. Cash is my brother.
We stop. When Darl loosens the rope Cash begins to
sweat again. His teeth look out.
"Hurt?" Darl says.
<4 I reckon you better put it back," Cash says.
Darl puts the rope back, pulling hard. Cash's teetb
look out.
"Hurt?" Darl says.
"It don't bother none/' Cash says.
"Do you want pa to drive slower?" Darl says.
AS I LAY DYING 4 3
"No/* Cash says. "Ain't no time to hang back. It don't
bother none."
"Well have to get some medicine at Mottson/' pa says.
"I reckon we'll have to."
"Tell him to go on/' Cash says. We go on. Dewey Dell
leans back and wipes Cash's face. Cash is my brother.
But Jewels mother is a horse. My mother is a fish. Darl
says tJiat when we come to the water again I might see
her and Dewey Dell said > She's in the bax; how could
she have got out? She got out through the holes I bored,
into the water I said, and when we come to the water
again I am going to see her. My mother is not in the box.
My mother does not smell like that. My mother is a fish.
"Those cakes will be in fine shape by the time we get
to Jefferson," Darl says.
Dewey Dell does not look around.
"You better try to sell them in Mottson/' Darl says,
"When will we get to Mottson, Darl?" I say.
"Tomorrow," Darl says. "If this team don't rack to
pieces. Snopes must have fed them on sawdust/'
"Why did he feed them on sawdust, Darl?" I say.
"Look/ 7 Darl says. "Seer
"Now there are nine of them, tall in little tall black
circles.
When we come to the foot of the hill pa stops and
Darl and Dewey Dell and I get out Cash can't walk be-
cause he has a broken leg. "Come up, mules/' pa says.
The mules walk hard; the wagon creaks. Darl and Dewey
Dell and I walk behind the wagon, up the hill. When we
come to the top of the hill pa stops and we get back into
the wagon.
Now there are ten of them, tall in little tall black cir-
cles on the sky.
M O S E L E Y
I HAPPENED TO LOOK UP, AND SAW HER OUTSIDE THE WIN-
dow, looking in. Not close to the glass, and not look-
ing at anything in particular; just standing there with her
head turned this way and her eyes full on me and kind
of blank too, like she was waiting for a sign. When I
looked up again she was moving toward the door.
She kind of bumbled at the screen door a minute, like
they do, and came in. She had on a stiff -brimmed straw
hat setting on the top of her head and she was carrying
a package wrapped in newspaper: I thought that she had
a quarter or a dollar at the most, and that after she stood
around awhile she would maybe buy a cheap comb or
a bottle of nigger toilet water, so I never disturbed her
for a minute or so except to notice that she was pretty
in a kind of sullen, awkward way, and that she looked a
sight better in her gingham dress and her own complexion
than she would after she bought whatever she would
finally decide on. Or tell that she wanted. I knew that
she had already decided before she came in. But you
have to let them take their time. So I went on with what
1 was doing, figuring to let Albert wait on her when he
caught up at the fountain, when he came back to me.
"That woman/' he said. "You better see what she
Wants."
"What does she want?" I said,
"I don't know. I can't get anything out of her. You
better wait on her."
So I went around the counter. I saw that she was
484
AS I LAY DYING
barefooted, standing with her feet flat and easy on the
floor, like she was used to it. She was looking at me, hard,
holding the package; I saw she had about as black a pair
of eyes as ever I saw, and she was a stranger. I never re-
membered seeing her in Mottson before. "What can I do
for you?" I said.
Still she didn't say anything. She stared at me without
winking. Then she looked back at the folks at the foun-
tain. Then she looked past me, toward the back of the
store.
"Do you want to look at some toilet things?" I said*
"Or is it medicine you want?"
"That's it," she said. She looked quick back at the foun-
tain again. So I thought maybe her ma or somebody had
sent her in for some of this female dope and she was
ashamed to ask for it. I knew she couldn't have a com-
plexion like hers and use it herself, let alone not being
much more than old enough to barely know what it was
for. It's a shame, the way they poison themselves with it.
But a man's got to stock it or go out of business in this
country,
"Oh," I said. "What do you use? We have " She
looked at me again, almost like she had said hush, and
looked toward the back of the store again.
*Td liefer go back there," she said.
"All right," I said. You have to humour them. You save
time by it. I followed her to the back. She put her hand
on the gate. "There's nothing back there but the pre-
scription case," I said. "What do you want?" She stopped
and looked at me. It was like she had taken some kind of
a lid off her face, her eyes. It was her eyes: kind of dnrr.h
and hopeful and sullenly willing to be disappointed all at
the same time. But she was in trouble of some sort; I
could see that. 'What's your trouble?'' I said. "Tell me
486 AS I LAY DYING
what it is you want. I'm pretty busy/* I wasn't meaning to
hurry her, but a man just hasn't got the time they have
out there.
'It's the female trouble/* she said.
"Oh," I said. 'Is that all?" I thought maybe she was
younger than she looked, and her first one had scared
her, or maybe one had been a little abnormal as it will in
young women. "Where's your ma?" I said. "Haven't you
got one?"
"She's out yonder in the wagon," she said.
"Why not talk to her about it before you take any med-
icine," I said. "Any woman would have told you about
it." She looked at me, and I looked at her again and said,
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen," she said.
**Oh," I said. *1 thought maybe you were . . ." She was
watching me. But then, in the eyes all of them look like
they had no age and knew everything in the world, any-
how. "Are you too regular, or not regular enough?"
She quit looking at me but she didn't move. "Yes," she
said. "I reckon so. Yes."
"Well, which?" I said. "Don't you know?" It's a crime
and a shame; but after all, they'll buy it from somebody.
She stood there, not looking at me. "You want something
to stop it?" I said. "Is that it?"
"No/' she said. "That's it It's already stopped/*
"Well, what " Her face was lowered a little, still,
like they do in all their dealings with a man so he don't
ever know just where the lightning will strike next
"You are not married, are you?" I said.
"No/'
"Oh," I said. *And how long has it been since it
stopped? about five months maybe?"
"It ain't been but two/' she said.
AS 1 LAY DYING 487
"Well, I haven't got anything in my store you want to
buy/' I said, "unless it's a nipple. And I'd advise you to
buy that and go back home and tell your pa, if you have
one, and let him make somebody buy you a wedding li'
cence. Was that all you wanted?"
But she just stood there, not looking at me.
"I got the money to pay you," she said.
"Is it your own, or did he act enough of a man to give
you the money?"
"He give it to me. Ten dollars. He said that would be
enough."
"A thousand dollars wouldn't be enough in my store
and ten cents wouldn't be enough," I said. "You take my
advice and go home and tell you pa or your brothers if
you have any or the first man you come to in the road/'
But she didn't move. "Lafe said I could get it at the
drug-store. He said to tell you me and him wouldn't
never tell nobody you sold it to us."
"And I just wish your precious Lafe had come for it
himself; that's what I wish. I don't know: I'd have had
a little respect for him then. And you can go back and tell
him I said so if he ain't half-way to Texas by now, which
I don't doubt. Me, a respectable druggist, that's kept
store and raised a family and been a church-member
for fifty-six years in this town. I'm a good mind to tell
your folks myself, if I can just find who they are."
She looked at me now, her eyes and face kind of blank
again like when I first saw her through the window. "I
didn't know," she said. "He told me I could get some-
thing at the drug-store. He said they might not want to
sell it to me, but if I had ten dollars and told them I
wouldn't never tell nobody . . ."
"He never said this drug-store/' I said. "If he aid or
mentioned my name, I defy him to prove it. I defy him
AS I LAY DYING
to repeat it or I'll prosecute Mm to the full extent of the
law, and you can tell him so."
"But maybe another drug-store would/' she said.
Then I don't want to know it Me, that's " Then I
looked at her. But it's a hard life they have; sometimes
a man ... if there can ever be any excuse for sin, which
it can't be. And then, life wasn't made to be easy on folks:
they wouldn't ever had any reason to be good and die.
"Look here," I said. "You get that notion out of your head.
The Lord gave you what you have, even if He did use
the devil to do it; you let Him take it away from you if
it's His will to do so. You go on back to Lafe and you
and him take that ten dollars and get married with it*
TLafe said I could get something at the drag-store," she
said.
*Then go and get it," I said. "You won't get it here. 5 '
She went out, carrying the package, her feet making
a little hissing on the floor. She bumbled again at the
door and went out. I could see her through the glass go-
ing on down the street
It was Albeit told me about the rest of it. He said the
wagon was stopped in front of Grummet's hardware store,
with the ladies all scattering up and down the street with
handkerchief to their noses, and a crowd of hard-nosed
men and boys standing around the wagon, listening to
the marshal arguing with the man. He was a kind of tall,
gaunted man sitting on the wagon, saying it was a pub-
lic street and he reckoned he had as much right there as
anybody, and the marshal telling him he would have to
move on; folks couldn't stand it. It had been dead eight
days, Albert said. They came from some place out in Yok-
napatawpha county, trying to get to Jefferson with it It
must have been like a piece of rotten cheese coming into
AS I LAY DYH^TG
an ant-hill, in that ramshackle wagon that Albert said
folks were scared would fall all to pieces before they
could get it out of town, with that home-made box and
another fellow with a broken leg lying on a quilt on top
of it, and the father and a little boy sitting on the seat
and the marshal trying to make them get out of town.
"If s a public street/' the man says. "I reckon we can
stop to buy something same as airy other man. We got
the money to pay for hit, and hit ain't airy law that says
a man can't spend his money where he wants."
They had stopped to buy some cement. The other
son was in Grummet's, trying to make Grummet break
a sack and let him have ten cents' worth, and finally
Grummet broke the sack to get him out. They wanted
the cement to fix the fellow's broken leg, someway.
'Why, you'll kill him," the marshal said. "You'll cause
him to lose his leg. You take him on to a doctor, and you
get this thing buried soon as you can. Don't you know
you're liable to jail for endangering the public health?"
"We're doing the best we can," the father said. Then
he told a long tale about how they had to wait for the
wagon to come back and how the bridge was washed
away and how they went eight miles to another bridge
and it was gone too so they came back and swum the
ford and the mules got drowned and how they got an-
other team and found that the road was washed out and
they had to come clean around by Mottson, and then
the one with the cement came back and told him to shut
up.
"We'll be gone in a minute," he told the marshal
'We never aimed to bother nobody/' the father said.
"You take that fellow to a doctor," the marshal told
the one with the cement.
49 AS I LAY DYING
"1 reckon he's all right," he said.
"It ain't that we're hard-hearted," the marshal said.
'"But I reckon you can tell yourself how it is/*
"Sho," the other said. "Well take out soon as Dewey
Dell comes back. She went to deliver a package/'
So they stood there with the folks backed off with
handkerchiefs to their faces, until in a minute the girl
came up with that newspaper package.
"Come on," the one with the cement said, "we've lost
too much time/' So they got in the wagon and went on.
And when I went to supper it still seemed like I could
smell it. And the next day I met the marshal and I be-
gan to sniff and said,
"Smell anything?"
"I reckon they're in Jefferson by now," he said,
"Or in jail. Well, thank the Lord it's not our jail/'
"That's a fact," he said.
DARL
ERES A PLACE, PA SAYS. HE PULLS THE TEAM up
and sits looking at the house. "We could get some
Water over yonder/*
"All right," I say. "You'll have to borrow a bucket from
them, Dewey Dell/'
"God knows,'" pa says. *1 wouldn't be beholden, God
knows/'
"If you see a good-sized can, you might bring it," 1
say. Dewey Dell gets down from the wagon, carrying the
AS I LAY DYING
package. "You had more trouble than you expected, sell-
ing those cakes in Mottson," I say. How do our lives ravel
out into the no-wind, no-sound, the weary gestures wear-
ily recapitulant: echoes of old compulsions with no-hand
on no-strings: in sunset we fall into furious attitudes, dead
gestures of dolls. Cash broke his leg and now the saw-
dust is running out. He is bleeding to death is Cash.
"I wouldn't be beholden," pa says. "God knows."
"Then make some water yourself," I say. "We can use
Cash's hat."
When Dewey Dell comes back the man comes witk
her. Then he stops and she comes on and he stands there
and after a while he goes back to the house and stands on
the porch, watching us.
"We better not try to lift him down," pa says. "We can
fix it here."
'Do you want to be lifted down, Cash?" I say.
"Won't we get to Jefferson tomorrow?" he says. He is
watching us, his eyes interrogatory, intent, and sad. "I
can last it out."
It'll be easier on you/* pa says. "Itll keep it from rub-
bing together."
"I can last it,*' Cash says. "Well lose time stopping."
"We done bought the cement, now," pa says.
"I could last it," Cash says. "It ain't but one more day.
It don't bother to speak of." He looks at us, his eyes
wide in his thin grey face, questioning. "It sets up so," lie
says.
"We done bought it now/* pa says.
I mix the cement in the can, stirring the slow water
into the pale-green thick coils. I bring the can to the
wagon where Cash can see. He lies on his back, his thin
profile in silhouette, ascetic and profound against the
sky. "Does that look about right?" I say.
49 2 AS I LAY DYING
"You don't want too much water, or it won't work
right," he says.
"Is this too much?"
"Maybe if you could get a little sand," he says. "It ain't
but one more day/' he says. "It don't bother me none.'*
Vardaman goes back down the road to where we
crossed the branch and returns with sand. He pours it
slowly into the thick coiling in the can. I go to the
wagon again.
"Does that look all right?"
"Yes/* Cash says. "I could have lasted. It don't bother
me none/'
We loosen the splints and pour the cement over his
leg, slow.
"Watch out for it/' Cash says. "Don't get none on it if
you can help."
"Yes," I say. Dewey Dell tears a piece of paper from
the package and wipes the cement from the top of it as
it drips from Cash's leg.
"How does that feel?"
"It feels fine/' he says. "It's cold. It feels fine."
"If it'll just help you/' pa says. "I asks your forgiveness.
I never f orseen it no more than you/ 7
"It feels fine/' Cash says.
If you could just ravel out into time. That would be
nice. It would be nice if you could just ravel out into
time.
We replace the splints, the cords, drawing them tight,
the cement in thick pale green slow surges among the
cords, Cash watching us quietly with that profound
questioning look.
"That'll steady it," I say.
"Ay," Cash says. Tm obliged/'
Then we all turn on the wagon and watch him. He is
AS I LAY DYING 493
coming up the road behind us, wooden-backed, wooden-
faced, moving only from his hips down. He comes up
without a word, with his pale rigid eyes in his high
sullen face, and gets into the wagon.
"Here's a hill," pa says. "I reckon you'll have to get out
and walk."
VARDAMAN
DABL AND JEWEL AND DEWEY JQELL AND I ARE WALKING
up the hill behind the wagon. Jewel came back. He
came up the road and got into the wagon. He was walk-
ing. Jewel hasn't got a horse any more. Jewel is my
brother. Cash is my brother. Cash has a broken leg. We
fixed Cash's leg so it doesn't hurt. Cash is my brother.
Jewel is my brother too, but he hasn't got a broken leg,
Now there are five of them, tall in little tall black
circles.
'Where do they stay at night, Darl?" I say. ""When we
stop at night in the barn, where do they stay?"
The hill goes off into the sky. Then the sun comes up
from behind the hill and the mules and the wagon and
pa walk on the sun. You cannot watch them, walking slow
on the sun. In Jefferson it is red on the track behind the
glass. The track goes shining round and round. Dewey
Deli says so.
Tonight I am going to see where they stay while we
are in the barn.
DARL
*- YEWEL/* i SAY, *VHOSE SON ABE YOU?*'
tJ The breeze was setting up from the barn, so we
put tier under the apple tree, where the moonlight can
dapple the apple tree upon the long slumbering flanks
within which now and then she talks in little trickling
bursts of secret and murmurous bubbling. I took Varda-
man to listen. When we came up the cat leaped down
from it and flicked away with silver claw and silver eye
into the shadow.
'Tour mother was a horse, but who was your father,
Jewel?"
"You goddamn lying son of a bitch/*
"Don't call me that," I say.
"You goddamn lying son of a bitch."
"Don't you call me that, Jewel/' In the tall moonlight
his eyes look like spots of white paper pasted on a high
small football.
After supper Cash began to sweat a little. "It's getting
a little hot/' he said. "It was the sun shining on it all day,
I reckon/'
"You want some water poured on it?" we say. "Maybe
that will ease it some/'
"I'd be obliged/' Cash said. "It was the sun shining on
it, I reckon. I ought to thought and kept it covered/'
"We ought to thought/' we said. "You couldn't have
suspicioned."
"I never noticed it getting hot/' Gash said. "I ought to
minded it."
494
AS I LAY DYING 495
So we poured the water over it His leg and foot below
the cement look like they had been boiled. "Does that
ieei better?" we said.
*Tm obliged;' Cash said. "It feels fine."
Dewey Dell wipes his face with the hem of her dress.
"See if you can get some sleep/* we say.
"Sho," Cash says. Tm right obliged. It feels fine now/'
Jewel, I say, Who was your father, Jewel?
Goddamn you. Goddamn you.
VARDAMAN
SHE WAS TINDER THE APPLE TREE AND DARL AND I GO
across the rnoon and the cat jumps down and ruas
and we can hear her inside the wood. "Hear?" Darl says.
"Put your ear close."
I put my ear close and 1 can hear her. Only I can't
tell what she is saying.
'What is she saying, Darl?'* I say. "Who is she talking
to?"
"Shes talking to God," Darl says. *She is calling on
Him to help her/*
"What does she want Him to do?" I say.
"She wants Him to hide her away from the sight of
man/' Darl says.
"Why does she want to hide her away from the sight
of man, Darl?"
"So she can lay down her life," Darl says.
49 6 AS I LAY DYING
"Why does she want to lay down her life, Darl?"
"Listen/* Darl says. We hear her. We hear her turn over
on her side. "Listen," Darl says.
"She's turned over/ 7 1 say, "She's looking at me through
the wood."
"Yes" Darl says.
"How can she see through the wood, Darl?"
"Come/' Darl says. "We must let her be quiet. Come."
"She can't see out there, because the holes are in the
top," I say. "How can she see, Darl?"
"Let's go see about Cash/' Darl says.
And I saw something Dewey Dell told me not to tell
nobody.
Cash is sick in his leg. We fixed his leg this afternoon,
but he is sick in it again, lying on the bed. We pour water
on his leg and then he feels fine.
"I feel fine/' Cash says. "I'm obliged to you''
"'Try to get some sleep," we say.
"I feel fine/' Cash says. "I'm obliged to you."
And I saw something Dewey Dell told me not to tell
nobody. It is not about pa and it is not about Cash and
it is not about Jewel and it is not about Dewey Dell and
it is not about me.
Dewey Dell and I are going to sleep on the pallet. It
is on the back porch, where we can see the barn, and the
moon shines on half of the pallet and we will lie half in
the white and half in the black, with the moonlight on
our legs. And then I am going to see where they stay at
night while we are in the bam. We are not in the barn to-
night but I can see the barn and so I am going to find
where they stay at night.
We lie on the pallet, with our legs in the moon.
"Look," I say, "my legs look black. Your legs look black,
too,"
AS I LAY DYING 497
"Go to sleep/' Dewey Dell says.
Jefferson is a far piece.
"Dewey Dell."
"If it's not Christmas now, now will it be there? 9 *
It goes round and round on the shining track. The^
the track goes shining round and round.
"Will what be there?"
"That train. In the window.' 5
*You go to sleep. You can see tomorrow if it's there. 3 "
Maybe Santa Glaus won't know they are town boys.
"Dewey Dell."
"You go to sleep. He sdrit going to let none of them
town boys have it."
It was behind the window, red on the track, and the
track shining round and round. It made my heart hurt.
And then it was pa and Jewel and Darl and Mr. Gilles-
pie's boy. Mr. Gillespie's boy's legs come down under his
nightshirt. When he goes into the moon, his legs fuzz.
They go on around the house toward the apple tree.
"What are they going to do, Dewey Dell?"
They went around the house toward the apple tree*
"I can smell her," I say. "Can you smell her, too?"
"Hush," Dewey Dell says. "The wind's changed. Go to
sleep."
And so I am going to know where they stay at night
soon. They come around the house, going across the
yard in the moon, carrying her on their shoulders. They
carry her down to the barn, the moon shining flat and
quiet on her. Then they come back and go into the house
again. While they were in the moon, Mr. Gillespie's boy's
legs fuzzed. And then I waited and I said Dewey Dell?
and then I waited and then I went to find where they
stay at night and I saw something that Dewey Dell told
me not to tell nobody.
DARL
A GAINST THE BARK DOORWAY HE SEEMS TO MATERIAIJZE
AJL out of darkness, lean as a racehorse in his under-
clothes in the beginning of the glare. He leaps to the
ground with on his face an expression of furious unbelief.
He has seen me without even turning his head or his eyes
in which the glare swims like two small torches. "Come
on," he says, leaping down the slope toward the barn.
For an instant longer he runs silver in the moonlight,
then he springs out like a flat figure cut cleanly from tin
against an abrupt and soundless explosion as the whole
loft of the barn takes fire at once, as though it had been
stuffed with powder. The front, the conical fagade with
the square orifice of doorway broken only by the square
squat shape of the coffin on the saw-horses like a cubistic
bug, comes into relief. Behind me pa and Gillespie and
Mack and Dewey Dell and Vardaman emerge from the
house.
He pauses at the coffin, stooping, looking at me, his
face furious. Overhead the flames sound like thunder;
across us rushes a cool draught: there is no heat in it at
all yet, and a handful of chaff lifts suddenly and sucks
swiftly along the stalls where a horse is screaming.
"Quick," I say; "the horses."
He glares a moment longer at me, then at the roof over-
head, then he leaps toward the stall where the horse
screams. It plunges and kicks, the sound of the crashing
blows sucking up into the sound of the flames. They
sound like an interminable train crossing an endless tres-
498
AS I LAY DYING
tie. Gillespie and Mack pass me, in knee-length night-
shirts, shouting, their voices thin and high and meaning-
less and at the same time profoundly wild and sad: ". . .
cow . . . stall . . /* Gillespie's nightshirt rushes ahead
of him on the draft, ballooning about his hairy thighs.
The stall door has swung shut. Jewel thrusts it back
with his buttocks and he appears, his back arched, the
muscles ridged through his garments as he drags the
horse out by its head. In the glare its eyes roll with soft,
fleet, wild opaline fire; its muscles bunch and run as it
flings its head about, lifting Jewel clear of the ground. He
drags it on, slowly, terrifically; again he gives me across
his shoulder a single glare furious and brief. Even when
they are clear of the barn the horse continues to fight
and lash backward toward the doorway until Gillespie
passes me, stark naked, his nightshirt wrapped about
the mule's head, and beats the maddened horse on out of
the door.
Jewel returns, running; again he looks down at the cof-
fin. But he comes on. "Where's cow?" he cries, passing me.
I follow him. In the stall Mack is struggling with the
other mule. When its head turns into the glare I can see
the wild rolling of its eye too, but it makes no sound. It
just stands there, watching Mack over its shoulder, swing-
ing its hindquarters toward him whenever he approaches.
He looks back at us, his eyes and mouth three round
holes in his face on which the freckles look like English
peas on a plate. His voice is thin, high, far away.
"I can't do nothing. . . ." It is as though the sound
had been swept from his lips and up and away, speaking
back to us from an immense distance of exhaustion.
Jewel slides past us; the mule whirls and lashes out, but
he has already gained its head. I lean to Mack's ear:
"Nightshirt. Around his head/'
500 AS I LAY DYISTG
Mack stares at me. Then he rips the nightshirt off and
flings it over the mule's head, and it becomes docile at
once. Jewel is yelling at Mm: "Cow? Cow?"
"Back," Mack cries. "'Last stall."
The cow watches us as we enter. She is backed into
the corner, head lowered, still chewing thougH rapidly.
But she makes no move. Jewel has paused, looking up,
and suddenly we watch tie entire floor to the loft dis-
solve. It just turns to fire; a faint litter of sparks rains
down. He glances about. Back under the trough is a
three-legged mUking-stooL He catches it up and swings
it into the planking of the rear wall. He splinters a
plank, then another, a third; we tear the fragments
away. While we are stooping at the opening something
charges into us from behind. It is the cow; with a single
whistling breath she rushes between us and through the
gap and into the outer glare, her tail erect and rigid as a
broom nailed upright co the end of her spine.
Jewel turns back into the barn. "Here," I say; "Jewel!"*
I grasp at him; he strikes my hand down. "You fool," I
say, "don't you see you can't make it back yonder?" The
hall-way looks like a searchlight turned into rain. "Come
on," I say, "around this way."
When we are through the gap he begins to run. "Jewel,"
I say, running. He darts around the corner. When I reach
it he has almost reached the next one, running against
the glare like that figure cut from tin. Pa and Gillespie
and Mack are some distance away, watching the barn,
pink against the darkness where for the time the moon-
light has been vanquished. "Catch him!" I cry; "stop him!" 1
When I reach the front, he is struggling with Gillespie;
the one lean in underclothes, the other stark naked. They
are like two figures in a Greek frieze, isolated out of all
by the red glare. Before I can reach them he has
AS I LAY DYING 5 01
struck Gillespie to the ground and turned and run bad;
into the barn.
The sound of It has become quite peaceful now, like
the sound of the river did. We watch through the dis-
solving proscenium of the doorway as Jewel runs ciouch-
ing to the far end of the coffin and stoops to It. For an
instant he looks up and out at us through the rain of
burning hay like a portiere of flaming beads, and I can
see his mouth shape as he calls my name.
"Jewel!" Dewey Dell cries; "Jewel!" It seems to me that
I now hear the accumulation of her voice through the
last five minutes, and 1 hear her scuffling and struggling
as pa and Mack hold her, screaming, "Jewel! Jewel!" But
he is no longer looking at us. We see his shoulders strain
as he up-ends the coffin and slides it single-handed from
the saw-horses. It looms unbelievably tall, hiding him: I
would not have believed that Addie Bundren would have
needed that much room to lie comfortable in; for another
instant It stands upright while the sparks rain on it in
scattering bursts as though they engendered other sparks
from the contact. Then it topples forward, gaining mo-
mentum, revealing Jewel and the sparks raining on him
too in engendering gusts, so that he appears to be en-
closed in a thin nimbus of fire. Without stopping it over-
ends and rears again, pauses, then crashes slowly forward
and through the curtain, This time Jewel Is riding upon
it, clinging to it, until it crashes down and flings him for-
ward and clear and Mack leaps forward into a thin smell
of scorching meat and slaps at the widening crimson-
edged holes that bloom like flowers in his undershirt.
VARDAMAN
WHEN" I WENT TO FIND WHERE THEY STAY AT NIGHT, I
saw something. They said, "Where is Darl? Where
did Darl go?"
They carried her back tinder the apple tree.
The barn was still red, but it wasn't a barn now. It was
sunk down, and the red went swirling up. The bam went
swirling up in little red pieces, against the sky and the
stars so that the stars moved backward.
And then Cash was still awake. He turned his head
from side to side, with sweat on his face.
"Do you want some more water on it, Cash?" Dewey
Dell said.
Cash's leg and foot turned black We held the lamp
and looked at Cash's foot and leg where it was black.
"Your foot looks like a nigger's foot, Cash/' I said.
"I reckon well have to bust it off," pa said.
"What in the tarnation you put it on there for?" Mr.
Gillespie said.
"I thought it would steady it some," pa said. "I just
aimed to help him."
They got the flatiron and the hammer. Dewey Dell
held the lamp. They had to hit it hard. And then Cash
went to sleep.
"He's asleep now," I said. "It can't hurt him while he's
asleep."
It just cracked. It wouldn't come off.
"It'll take the hide, too," Mr. Gillespie said. 'Why in
502
AS I LAY DYIINTG 503
the tarnation you put it on there? Didn't none of you
think to grease his leg first?"
"I just aimed to help him," pa said. "It was Darl put it
on."
"Where is Darl?" they said.
"Didn't none of you have more sense than that?" Mr,
Gillespie said. Td V thought he would, anyway/*
Jewel was lying on his face. His back was red, Dewey
Dell put the medicine on it. The medicine was made out
of butter and soot, to draw out the fire. Then his back
was black.
"Does it hurt. Jewel?" I said. *Your back looks like a
nigger's, Jewel," I said. Cash's foot and leg looked like a
nigger's. Then they broke it off. Cash's leg bled.
"You go on back and lay down," Dewey Dell said.
"You ought to be asleep."
"Where is Darl?" they said.
He is out there under the apple tree with her, lying
on her. He is there so the cat won't come back. I said,
"Are you going to keep the cat away, Darl?"
The moonlight dappled on him too. On her it was still,
but on Darl it dappled up and down.
''You needn't to cry," I said. "Jewel got her out
You needn't to cry, Daii."
The bam is still red. It used to be redder than this.
Then it went swirling, making the stars run backward
without falling. It hurt my heart like the train did.
When I went to find where they stay at night, I saw
something that Dewey Dell says I mustn't never tell
nobody.
DARL
WE HAVE BEEN PASSING THE SIGNS FOR SOME TIME
BOW: the drug-stores, the clothing stores, the patent
medicine and the garages and cafes, and the mile-boards
diminishing, becoming more starkly re-accruent: 3 ml 2
mi. From the crest of a hill, as we get into the wagon
again, we can see the smoke low and flat, seemingly un-
moving in the unwinded afternoon.
"Is that it, Darir Vardaman says. "Is that Jefferson? 5 '
He too has lost flesh; like ours, his face has an expression
strained, dreamy, and gaunt.
"Yes/* I say, He lifts his head and looks at the sky. High
against it they hang in narrowing circles, like the smoke,
ivith an outward semblance of form and purpose, but
with no inference of motion, progress or retrograde. We
mount the wagon again where Cash lies on the box,
the jagged shards of cement cracked about his leg. The
shabby mules droop rattling and clanking down the hill.
"Well have to take him to the doctor/' pa says.
K I reckon it ain't no way around it." The back of Jewel's
#hirt, where it touches him, stains slow and black with
grease. Life was created in the valleys. It blew up on to
the hills on the old terrors, the old lusts, the old despairs.
That's why you must walk up the hills so you can ride
down,
Dewey Dell sits on the seat, the newspaper package on
her lap. When we reach the foot of the hill where the
road flattens between close walls of trees, she begins to
504
AS I LAY DYING JOS
look about quietly from one side of the road to the other,
At last she says,
"I got to stop. 39
Pa looks at her, his shabby profile that of anticipant
and disgruntled annoyance. He does not check the team.
"What for?"
"I got to go to the bushes/' Dewey DeH says.
Pa does not check the team. "Can't you wait till we get
to town? It ain't over a mile now/"
"Stop," Dewey Dell says. "I got to go to the bushes."
Pa stops in the middle of the road and we watch
Dewey Dell descend, carrying the package. She does not
look back.
"Why not leave your cakes here?" I say. "We'll watch
them."
She descends steadily, not looking at us.
"How would she know where to go to if she waited
till we get to town?" Vardaman says. "Where would you
go to do it in town, Dewey Dell?"
She lifts the package down and turns and disappears
among the trees and undergrowth.
"Don't be no longer than you can help/" pa says. "We
ain't got no time to waste." She does not answer. After a
while we cannot hear her even. 'We ought to done like
Armstid and Gillespie said and sent word to town and
had it dug and ready," he said.
"Why didn't you? 7 ' I say. "You could have telephoned.**
"What for?" Jewel says. "Who the hell can't dig a hole
in the ground?"
A car comes over the hill. It begins to sound the horn,
slowing. It runs along the roadside in low gear, the out-
side wheels in the ditch, and passes us and goes on. Var-
watches it until it is out of sight.
JOS AS I LAY DYIKO
THow far is it now, Darl?" lie says,
"Not far/' I say.
"We ought to done it," pa says. "I just never wanted to
be beholden to none except her flesh and blood."
"Who the hell can't dig a damn hole in the ground?"
Jewel says,
"It ain't respectful, talking that way about her grave,"
pa says. "You all don't know what it is. You never pure
loved her, none of you/* Jewel does not answer. He sits
a little stiffly erect, his body arched away from his shirt.
His high-coloured jaw juts.
Dewey Dell returns. We watch her emerge from the
bushes, carrying the package, and climb into the wagon.
She now wears her Sunday dress, her beads, her shoes
and stockings.
"I thought I told you to leave them clothes to home,**
pa says. She does not answer, does not look at us. She
sits the package in the wagon and gets in. The wagon
moves on.
"How many more hills now, Darl?" Vardaman says.
"Just one," I say. 'The next one goes right up into
town."
This hill is red sand, bordered on either hand by negro
cabins; against the sky ahead the massed telephone lines
run, and the clock on the court-house lifts among the
trees. In the sand the wheels whisper, as though the very
earth would hush our entry. We descend as the hill com-
mences to rise.
We follow the wagon, the whispering wheels, passing
the cabins where faces come suddenly to the doors,
white-eyed. We hear sudden voices, ejaculant. Jewel has
been looking from side to side; now his head turns for-
ward and I can see his ears taking on a still deeper tone
Ab I LAY DYING 507
of furious red. Three negroes walk beside the road ahead
of us; ten feet ahead of them a white man walks. When
we pass the negroes their heads turn suddenly with that
expression of shock and instinctive outrage. "Great God/'
one says; "what they got in that wagon?"
Jewel whirls. "Son of a bitches," he says. As he does so
he is abreast of the white man, who has paused. It is as
though Jewel had gone blind for the moment, for it is the
white man toward whom he whirls,
"Darl!" Cash says from the wagon. I grasp at Jewel.
The white man has fallen back a pace, his face still slack-
jawed; then his jaw tightens, claps to. Jewel leans above
him, his jaw muscles gone white.
"What did you say?" he says.
"Here," I say. "He don't mean anything, mister.
Jewel/ 3 I say. When I touch him he swings at the man. I
grasp his arm; we struggle. Jewel has never looked at me.
He is trying to free his arm. When I see the man again
he has an open knife in his hand.
"Hold up, mister/' I say; "I've got him. Jewel," I say.
"Thinks because he's a goddam town fellow/* Jewel
says, panting, wrenching at me. "Son of a bitch," he says.
The man moves. He begins to edge around me, watch-
ing Jewel, the knife low against his flank, "Can't no man
call me that," he says. Pa has got down, and Dewey Dell
is holding Jewel, pushing at him. I release him and face
the man.
"Wait," I say. "He don't mean nothing. He s sickj got
burned in a fire last night, and he ain't himself/*
"Fire or no fire," the man says, "can't no man call me
that."
"He thought you said something to him/* T say.
*I never said nothing to him. I never see him before/
AS I LAY DYI3STG
**'Fore God/' pa says; "'fore God. 7 '
*I know/' I say* "He never meant anything. Hell tahe
it back/'
**Let him take it back, then."
"Put up your knife, and he will."
The man looks at me. He looks at Jewel. Jewel is qiaiet
now.
"Put up your knife/* I say.
The man shuts the knife.
*' Tore God," pa says. " Tore God."
"Tell him you didn't mean anything, Jewel/* I say.
"I thought he said something/' Jewel says. "Just because
lie's "
"Hush/' I say. "Tell him you didn't mean it."
"I didn't mean it/' Jewel says.
**He better not/' the man says. "Calling me a w
"Do you think he's afraid to call you that?" I say.
The man looks at me. "I never said that/' he said.
"Don't think it, neither," Jewel says.
"Shut up/' I say. "Come on. Drive on, pa. '
The wagon moves. The man stands watching us. Jewel
does not look back. "Jewel would 'a' whipped him/' Var-
cbman says.
We approach the crest, where the street runs, where
cars go back and forth; the mules haul the wagon up
and on to the crest and the street. Pa stops them. The
street runs on ahead, where the square opens and the
monument stands before the court-house. We mount
again while the heads turn with that expression which we
know; save Jewel. He does not get on, even though the
wagon has started again. "Get in, Jewel," I say. "Come on.
Let's get away from here/' But he does not get in. Instead
lie sets his foot on the turning hub of the rear wheel, one
hand grasping the stanchion, and with the hub turning
AS I LAY DYING
smoothly under liis sole lie lifts the other foot and squats
there, staring straight ahead, motionless, lean, wooden*
backed, as though carved squatting out of the lean wood.
CASH
IT WASN'T NOTHING ELSE TO DO. rr WAS EITHER SEND
to Jackson, or have Gillespie sue us, because hs
fcnowed some way that Darl set fire to it. I don't know
how he knowed, but he did. Vardaman see him do it,
but he swore he never told nobody but Dewey Dell
and that she told him not to tell nobody. But Gillespie
knowed it. But he would V suspicioned it sooner or later*
He could have done it that night just watching the way
Darl acted.
And so pa said, "I reckon there ain't nothing else to do,*
and Jewel said,
"You want to fix him now?"
"Fix him? 5> pa said.
"Catch him and tie him up," Jewel said. "Goddam it,
do you want to wait until he sets fire to the goddam toam
and wagon?"
But there wasn't no use in that. "There ain't no use io
that/' I said. "We can wait till she is underground." A fel-
low that's going to spend the rest of his life locked up, he
ought to be let to have what pleasure he can have before
he goes.
"l reckon he ought to be there," pa says. "God knows,
AS I AY DYING
it's a trial on me. Seems like it aint no end to bad luck
when once it starts ."
Sometimes I ain't so sho who's got ere a right to say
when a man is crazy and when he ain't. Sometimes I
think it ain't none of us pure crazy and ain't none of us
pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way.
It's like it ain't so much what a fellow does, but it's the
way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does
it.
Because Jewel is too hard on him. Of course it was
Jewel's horse was traded to get her that nigh to town,
and in a sense it was the value of his horse Darl tried to
burn up. But I thought more than once before we crossed
the river and after, how it would be God's blessing if He
did take her outen our hands and get shut of her in some
clean way, and it seemed to me that when Jewel worked
so to get her outen the river, he was going against God
in a way, and then when Dan seen that it looked like one
of us would have to do something, I can almost believe
he done right in a way. But I don't reckon nothing ex-
cuses setting fire to a man's barn and endangering his
stock and destroying his property. That's how I reckon
a man is crazy. That's how he can't see eye to eye with
other folks. And I reckon they ain't nothing else to do
with him but what the most folks says is right.
But it's a shame, in a way. Folks seems to get away
from the olden right teaching that says to drive the nails
down and trim the edges well always like it was for your
own use and comfort you were making it. It's like some
folks has the smooth, pretty boards to build a court-house
with and others don't have no more than rough lumber
fitten to build a chicken coop. But it's better to build a
tight chicken coop than a shoddy court-house, and when
ikey both build shoddy or build well, neither because it's
AS I LAY BYI^TG
one or tother is going to make a man feel the better not
the worse.
So we went up the street, toward the square, and he
said, "We better take Cash to the doctor first We can
leave him there and come back for him/" That's it. Ifs
because me and him was born close together, and It
nigh ten years before Jewel and Dewey Dell and Vaida-
man begun to come along. I feel kin to them, all right,
but I don't know. And me being the oldest, and thinking
already the very thing that he done: I don't know.
Pa was looking at me, then at him, mumbling his
mouth.
"Go on," I said. "Well get it done first/'
"She would want us all there," pa says.
"Let's take Cash to the doctor first/' Darl said. "She 11
wait. She's already waited nine days."
"You all don't know," pa says. "The somebody you was
young with and vou growed old in her and she growed
old in you, seeing the old coming on and it was the one
somebody you could hear say it don't matter and know
it was the truth outen the hard world and all a man's grief
and trials, You all don't know.''
"We got the digging to do, too," I said.
"Armstid and Gillespie both told you to send word
ahead," Darl said. "Don't you want to go to Peabody's
now, Cash?"
"Go on," I said. "It feels right easy now. It's best to get
things done in the right place."
"If it was just dug," pa says. "We forgot our spade,
too."
"Yes," Darl said. Til go to the hardware store. We'll
have to buy one."
"It'll cost money," pa says.
"Do you begrudge her it?" Darl says.
AS I LAY DYING
"Go on and get a spade/* Jewel said. "Here, give m
the money."
But pa didn't stop. "I reckon we can get a spade/* he
said. "I reckon there are Christians here." So Darl set still
and we went on, with Jewel squatting on the tail gate,
watching the back of DarFs head. He looked like one of
these bulldogs, one of these dogs that don't bark none,
squatting against the rope, watching the thing he was
waiting to jump at.
He set that way all the time we was in front of Mrs.
Bundren's house, hearing the music, watching the back
of DarFs head with them hard white eyes of hisn.
The music was playing in the house. It was one of
them graphophones. It was natural as a music-band.
"Do you want to go to Peabody's?" Darl said. "They
can wait here and tell pa, and 111 drive you to Peabody's
and come back for them."
"No/ 5 1 said. It was better to get her underground, now
we was this close, just waiting until pa borrowed the
shovel. He drove along the street until we could hear the
music.
"Maybe they got one here/"" he said. He pulled up at
Mrs. Bundren's. It was like he knowed. Sometimes I think
that if a working man could see work as far ahead as a
lazy man can see laziness. So he stopped there like he
knowed, before that little new house, where the music
was. We waited there, hearing it. I believe I could have
dickered Suratt down to five dollars on that one of his.
It's a comfortable thing, music is. "Maybe they got one
here," pa says.
"You want Jewel to go," Darl says, "or do you reckon I
better?"
"I reckon I better/* pa says. He got down and went up
AS I LAY DYING 5*3
the path and around the house to the back. The music
stopped, then it started again.
"He'll get it, too," Darl said.
"Ay/* I said. It was just like he knowed, like he could
see through the walls and into the next ten minutes.
Only it was more than ten minutes. The music stopped
and never commenced again for a good spell, where her
and pa was talking at the back. We waited in the wagon.
"You let me take you back to Peabody's/' Darl said.
"No/' I said. "We'll get her underground."
"If he ever gets back/' Jewel said. He began to cuss. He
started to get down from the wagon. *Tm going/' he said*
Then we saw pa coming back. He had two spades,
coming around the house. He laid them in the wagon
and got in and we went on. The music never started
again. Pa was looking back at the house. He kind of
lifted his hand a little and I saw the shade pulled back a
little at the window and her face in it.
But the curiousest thing was Dewey Dell. It surprised
me. I see all the while how folks could say he was
queer, but that was the very reason couldn't nobody holcf
it personal. It was like he was outside of it too, same as
you, and getting mad as it would be kind of like getting
mad at a mud-puddle that splashed you when you
stepped in it. And then I always kind of had a idea that
him and Dewey Dell kind of knowed things betwixt
them. If I'd V said it was ere a one of us she liked better
than ere a other, I'd V said it was Darl. But when we got
at filled and covered and drove out the gate and turned
into the lane where them fellows was waiting, when they
come out and come on him and he jerked back, it was
Dewey Dell that was on him before even Jewel could
get at him. And then I believed I knowed how Gillespie
knowed about how his barn taken fire.
JI4 AS I LAY DYING
She hadn't said a word, hadn't even looked at him, but
when them fellows told him what they wanted and that
they had come to get him and he throwed back, she
jumped on him like a wild cat so that one ot the fellows
had to quit and hold her and her scratching and clawing
at him like a wild cat, while the other one and pa and
Jewel throwed Darl down and held him lying on his
back, looking up at me.
"I thought you would have told me," he said. "I never
thought you wouldn't have."
"Darl," I said. But he fought again, him and Jewel and
the fellow, and the other one holding Dewey Dell and
Vardaman yelling and Jewel saying,
"Kill him. Kill the son of a bitch"
It was bad so. It was bad. A fellow can't get away
from a shoddy job. He can't do it, I tried to tell him, but
he just said, "I thought you'd w a told me. It's not that
I," he said, then he began to laugh. The other fellow
pulled Jewel off of him and he sat there on the ground,
laughing.
I tried to tell him. If I could have just moved, even set
up. But I tried to tell him and he quit laughing, looking
up at me.
"Do you want me to go?" he said.
"It'll be better for you," I said. "Down there it'll be
quiet, with none of the bothering and such. It'll be better
for you, Darl," I said.
"Better," he said. He began to laugh again. "Better,"
he said. He couldn't hardly say it for laughing. He sat
on the ground and us watching him, laughing and laugh-
ing. It was bad. It was bad so. I be durn if I could see
anything to laugh at. Because there just ain't nothing
justifies the deliberate destruction of what a man has
AS I LAY DYING 5*5
built with Ms own sweat and stored the fruit of Ms sweat
into.
But I ain't so sho that ere a man has the right to say
what is crazy and what ain't. It's like there was a fellow
in every man that's done a-past the sanity or the insanit/ r
that watches the sane and the insane doings of that
with the same horror and the same astonishment.
PEABODY
I SAID, "l RECKON A MAN IN A UGHT MIGHT LET
Varner patch Mm up like a damn mule, but I be
damned if the man that'd let Anse Bundren treat him
with raw cement ain't got more spare legs than 1 have."
'They just aimed to ease hit some," he said.
"Aimed, hell," I said, "What in hell did Armstid mean
by even letting them put you on that wagon again?"
"Hit was gittin' right noticeable," he said. "We never
had time to wait." I just looked at him. "Hit never both-
ered me none, 1 ' he said.
"Don't you lie there and try to tell me you rode sis
days on a wagon without springs, with a broken leg and
it never bothered you."
"I never bothered me much," he said.
"You mean, it never bothered Anse much," I said. "No
more than it bothered him to throw that poor devil dowr,
in the public street and handcuff him like a damn mar
AS I LAY DYING
derer. Don't tell me. And don't tell me it ain't going to
bother you to lose sixty-odd square inches of skin to get
that concrete off. And don't tell me it ain't going to
bother you to have to limp around on one short leg for
the balance of your life if you walk at all again. Con-
crete/* I said. "God Amighty, why didn't Anse carry you
to the nearest sawmill and stick your leg in the saw? That
would have cured it. Then you all could have stuck his
head into the saw and cured a whole family. . . Where
is Anse, anyway? What's he up to now?"
"He's takin' back them spades he borrowed/* he said-
''That's right/* I said. "Of course he'd have to borrow
a spade to bury his wife with. Unless he could borrow
a hole in the ground. Too bad you all didn't put him in
it too. . . . Does that hurt?"
"Not to speak of," he said, and the sweat big as
marbles running down his face and his face about the
colour of blotting-paper.
"Course not," I said. "About next summer you can
hobble around fine on this leg. Then it won't bother
you, not to speak of ... If you had anything you could
call luck, you might say it was lucky this is the same leg
you broke before/' I said.
"Hit's what paw says/* he said.
MACGOWAN
T HAPPENED I AM BACK OF THE PRESCRIPTION CASE, POXJR-
1 ing up some chocolate sauce, when Jody comes back
and says, "Say, Skeet, there's a woman up front that
wants to see the doctor and when I said What doctor
you want to see, she said she want to see the doctor that
works here and when I said There ain't any doctor works
here, she just stood there, looking back this way/'
"What kind of a woman is it?" I says. "Tell her to go
upstairs to Alford's office."
"Country woman," he says.
"Send her to the court-house," I says. "Tell her all the
doctors have gone to Memphis to a Barbers' Convention. 3 '
"All right/' he says, going away. "She looks pretty
good for a country girl," he says.
"Wait," I says. He waited and I went and peeped
through the crack. But I couldn't tell nothing except she
had a good leg against the light "Is she young, you say?"
I says.
"She looks like a pretty hot mamma, for a country
girl," he says.
"Take this," I says, giving him the chocolate. I took
off my apron and went up there. She looked pretty good.
One of them black-eyed ones that look like she'd as
soon put a knife in you as not if you two-timed her. She
looked pretty good. There wasn't nobody else in the
store; it was dinner-time.
"What can I do for you?" I says.
517
JI8 AS I LAY DYIKG
"Are you the doctor?" she says.
"Sure," I says. She quit looking at me and was land of
looking around.
"Can we go back yonder?" she says.
It was just a quarter-past twelve, but I went and told
Jody to kind of watch out and whistle if the old man
come in sight, because he never got back before one.
"You better lay off of that," Jody says. "He'll fire your
stern out of here so quick you can't wink."
"He don't never get back before one," I says, "You
can see him go into the post-office. You keep your eye
peeled, now, and give me a whistle."
"What you going to do?" he says.
"You keep your eye out. I'll tell you later."
"Ain't you going to give me no seconds on it?" he says.
"What the heU do you think this is?" I says; "a stud-
farm? You watch out for him. I'm going into conference."
So I go on to the back. I stopped at the glass and
smoothed my hair, then I went behind the prescription
case, where she was waiting. She is looking at the medi-
cine cabinet, then she looks at me.
"Now, madam," I says; "what is your trouble?"
"It's the female trouble," she says, watching me. "I got
the money," she says.
"Ah," I says. "Have you got female troubles or do
you want female troubles? If so, you come to the right
doctor." Them country people. Half the time they don't
know what they want, and the balance of the time they
can't tell it to you. The clock said twenty past twelve.
"No," she says.
"No which?" I says.
"I ain't had it," she says. 'That's it." She looked at me.
*1 got the money," she says.
AS I LAY Di T ING
So I knew what she was talking about
"Oh, 9 * I says. "You got something in your belly you
wish you didn't have." She looks at me. "You wish you
had a little more or a little less, huh?"
"I got the money," she says. "He said I could git
something at the drug-store for hit."
"Who said so?" I says.
"He did," she says, looking at me.
"You don't want to call no names," I says. "The one
that put the acorn in your belly? He the one that told
you?" She don't say nothing. "You ain't married, are
you?" I says. I never saw no ring. But like as not, they
ain't heard yet out there that they use rings.
"I got the money," she says. She showed it to me, tied
up in her handkerchief: a ten spot.
"I'll swear you have/' I says. "He give it to you?"
"Yes," she says.
"Which one?" I says. She looks at rne. "Which one of
them give it to you?"
"It ain't but one," she says. She looks at me.
"Go on," I says. She don't say nothing. The trouble
about the cellar is, it ain't but one way out and that's
back up the inside stairs. The clock says twenty-five to
one. "A pretty girl like you," I says.
She looks at me. She begins to tie the money back up
in the handkerchief. "Excuse me a minute," I says. I go
around the prescription case. "Did you hear about that
fellow sprained his ear?" I says. "After that he couldn't
even hear a belch."
"You better get her out from back there before the
old man comes," Jody says.
"If you'll stay up there in front where he pays you t&
stay, he won't catch nobody but me," I says.
AS I &AY DYING
He goes on, slow, toward the front. "What you doing
to her, Skeet?" he says.
"I can't tell you," I says. "It wouldn't be ethical. You
go on up there and watch."
"Say, Skeet," he says.
"Ah, go on," I says. "I ain't doing nothing but filling
a prescription."
"He may not do nothing about that woman back there,
but if he finds you monkeying with that prescription case ?
hell kick your stern clean down them cellar stairs."
"My stern has been kicked by bigger bastards than
him," I says. "Go back and watch out for him, now."
So I come back. The clock said fifteen to one. She is
tying the money in the handkerchief. "You ain't the
doctor," she says.
"Sure I am," I says. She watches me. "Is it because I
look too young, or am I too handsome?" I says. "We
used to have a bunch of old water-jointed doctors here,"
I says; "Jefferson used to be a kind of Old Doctors' Home
for them. But business started falling off and folks stayed
so well until one day they found out that the women
wouldn't never get sick at all. So they run all the old
doctors out and got us young good-looking ones that
the women would like and then the women begun to
get sick again and so business picked up. They're doing
that all over the country. Hadn't you heard about it?
Maybe it's because you ain't never needed a doctor."
"I need one now," she says.
"And you come to the right one," I says. "I already
told you that."
"Have you got something for it?" she says. "I got the
money."
"Well," I says, "of course a doctor has to learn all sorts
AS T LAY DYING
of things while he's learning to roll calomel; he can't
help himself. But I don't know about your trouble."
"He told me I could get something. He told me I could
get it at the drug-store.'*
"Did he tell you the name of it?" I says. ""You better
go back and ask him."
She quit looking at me, kind of turning the handker-
chief in her hands. "I got to do something/* she says.
"How bad do you want to do something?" I says. Sh@
looks at me. "Of course, a doctor learns all sorts of things
folks don't think he knows. But he ain't supposed to te&
all he knows. It's against the law."
Up front Jody says, "Skeet."
"Excuse me a minute," I says. I went up front TDo
you see him?" I says.
"Ain't you done yet?" he says. "Maybe you better come
up here and watch and let me do that consulting."
"Maybe you'll lay a egg," I says. I come back. She is
looking at me. "Of course you realize that I could be put
in the penitentiary for doing what you want," I says. "I
would lose my licence and then I'd have to go to work
You realize that?"
"I ain't got but ten dollars/' she says. "I could bring
the rest next month, maybe."
"Pooh," I says, "ten dollars? You see, I can't put no
price on my knowledge and skill. Certainly not for no
little paltry sawbuck."
She looks at me. She don't even blink. "What you want,
then?"
The clock said four to one. So I decided I better get
her out. "You guess three times and then I'll show you/'
I says.
She don't even blink her eyes. "I got to do something/'
AS I LAY DYING
she says. She looks behind her and around, then she
looks toward the front. "Gimme the medicine first," she
says.
"You mean, you're ready to right now?" I says. "Here?"
"Gimme the medicine first/* she says.
So I took a graduated glass and kind of turned my
back to her and picked out a bottle that looked all right,
because a man that would keep poison setting around
in a unlabelled bottle ought to be in jail, anyway. It
smelled like turpentine. I poured some into the glass
and give it to her. She smelled it, looking at me across
the glass.
"Hit smells like turpentine," she says.
"Sure," I says. "That's just the beginning of the treat-
ment. You come back at ten o'clock to-night and I'll give
you the rest of it and perform the operation."
"Operation?" she says.
"It won't hurt you. You've had the same operation
before. Ever hear about the hair of the dog?"
She looks at me. "Will it work?" she says.
"Sure it'll work. If you come back and get it'*
So she drunk whatever it was without batting a eye,
and went out. I went up front.
"Didn't you get it?" Jody says.
"Get what?" I says.
"Ah, come on," he says. "I ain't going to try to beat
your time."
"Oh, her," I says. "She just wanted a little medicine.
She's got a bad case of dysentery and she's a little
ashamed about mentioning it with a stranger there."
It was my night, anyway, so I helped the old bastard
check up and I got his hat on him and got him out of
the store by eight-thirty. I went as far as the corner with
him and watched him until he passed under two street
AS I LAY DYING 5 2 3
lamps and went on out of sight. Then I come back to the
store and waited until nine-thirty and turned out the
front lights and locked the door and left just one light
burning at the back, and I went back and put some tal-
cum powder into six capsules and kind of cleared up the
cellar and then I was all ready.
She come in just at ten, before the clock had done
striking. I let her in and she come in, walking fast. I
looked out the door, but there wasn't nobody but a boy
in overalls sitting on the curb. <c You want something?" I
says. He never said nothing, just looking at me. I locked
the door and turned off the light and went on back. She
was waiting. She didn't look at me now.
"Where is it?" she said.
I gave her the box of capsules. She held the box in.
her hand, looking at the capsules.
"Are you sure it'll work?" she says.
"Sure/' I says. "When you take the rest of the treat-
ment/'
"Where do I take it?" she says.
"Down in the cellar," I says.
VARDAMAN
Now rr is WIDER AND LIGHTER, BUT THE STORES
dark because they have all gone home. The stores
are dark, but the lights pass on the windows when we
pass. The lights are in the trees around the court-house.
AS I LAY DYING
They roost in the trees, but the court-house is dark. The
clock on it looks four ways, because it is not dark. The
moon is not dark too. Not very dark. Darl he went to
Jackson is my brother Darl is my brother Only it was
over that way, shining on the track.
<e Let's go that way, Dewey Dell," I say.
"What for?" Dewey Dell says. The track went shining
around the window, it red on the track. But she said he
would not sell it to the town boys. "But it will be there
Christmas/* Dewey Dell says. 'TToull have to wait till
then, when he brings it back."
Darl went to Jackson. Lots of people didnt go to Jack-
son. Darl is my brother. My brother is going to Jackson
While we walk the lights go around, roosting in the
trees. On all sides it is the same. They go around the
court-house and then you cannot see them. But you can
see them in the black windows beyond. They have all
gone home to bed except me and Dewey Dell.
Going on the train to Jackson. My brother
There is a light in the store, far back. In the window
are two big glasses of soda-water, red and green. Two
men could not drink them. Two mules could not. Two
cows could not. Darl
A man comes to the door. He looks at Dewey Dell.
"You wait out here," Dewey Dell says.
"Why can't I come in?" I say. "I want to come in, too."
"You wait out here," she says.
"All right," I say.
Dewey Dell goes in.
Darl is my brother. Darl went crazy
The walk is harder than sitting on the ground. He is
in the open door. He looks at me. "You want something?"
he says. His head is slick. Jewel's head is slick sometimes.
AS I JbAY DYING
Cash's head is not slick. Darl he went to Jackson my
Brother Darl In the street he ate a banana. Wouldn't you
rather have bananas? Dewey Dell said. You wait till
Christmas. It'll be there then. Then you can see it. So we
are going to have some bananas. We are going to have a
bag -full, me and Dewey Dell. He locks the door. Dewey
Dell is inside. Then the light winks out.
He went to Jackson. He went crazy and went to Jack"
son both. Lots of people didnt go crazy. Pa and Cash
and Jewel and Dewey Dell and me didnt go crazy. We
never did go crazy. We didn't go to Jackson either. Darl
I hear die cow a long time, clopping on the street
Then she comes into the square. She goes across the
square, her head down clopping . She lows. There
was nothing in the square before she lowed, but it wasn't
empty. Now it is empty after she lowed. She goes on,
clopping . She lows. My brother is Darl. He went to
Jackson on the train. He didnt go on the train to go crazy.
He went crazy in our wagon. Darl She had been in there
a long time. And the cow is gone too. A long time. She
has been in there longer than the cow was. But not as
long as empty. Darl is my brother. My brother Darl
Dewey Dell comes out. She looks at me.
"Let's go around that way now," I say.
She looks at me. "It ain't going to work/* she says.
"That son of a bitch."
'What ain't going to work, Dewey Dell?"
"I just know it won't," she says. She is not looking at
anything. "I just know it"
"Let's go that way," I say.
"We got to go back to the hotel. It's late. We got to
slip back in."
"Can't we go by and see, anyway?"
5*6 AS I LAY DYING
THadn't you rather have bananas? Hadn't you rather?"
"All right.*' My brother he went crazy and he went to
Jackson too. Jackson is further away than crazy
"It won't work," Dewey Dell says. "I just know it
won't"
"What won't work?" I say. He had to get on the train
to go to Jackson. I have not been on the train, but Darl
has been on the train. Darl. Darl is my brother. Darl.
Darl
DARL
DARL HAS GONE TO JACKSON. THEY PUT HIM ON THE
train, laughing, down the long car laughing, the
heads turning like the heads of owls when he passed.
"What are you laughing at?" I said.
"Yes yes yes yes yes,"
Two men put him on the train. They wore mis-
matched coats, bulging behind over their right hip
pockets. Their necks were shaved to a hairline, as though
the recent and simultaneous barbers had had a chalk-
line like Cash's. "Is it the pistols you're laughing at?" I
said. 'Why do you laugh?" I said. "Is it because you hate
the sound of laughing?"
They pulled two seats together so Darl could sit by
the window to laugh. One of them sat beside him, the
other sat on the seat facing him, riding backward. One
of them had to ride backward because the state's money
AS I LAY BYIXG 5 2 ?
had a face to each backside and a backside to each face,
and they are riding on the state's money which is incest.
A nickel has a woman on one side and a buffalo on the
other; two faces and no back. I don't know what that is.
Darl had a little spy-glass he got in France at the war.
In it it had a woman and a pig with two backs and no
face. I know what that is. "Is that why you are laughing,
Darl?"
"Yes yes yes yes yes yes/*
The wagon stands on the square, hitched, the mules
motionless, the reins wrapped about the seat-spring, the
back of the wagon toward the court-house. It looks no
different from a hundred other wagons there; Jewel
standing beside it and looking up the street like any
other man in town that day, yet there is something dif-
ferent, distinctive. There is about it that unmistakable
air of definite and imminent departure that trains have,
perhaps due to the fact that Dewey Dell and Vardaman
on the seat and Cash on a pallet in the wagon bed are
eating bananas from a paper bag. "Is that why you are
laughing, Darl?"
Darl is our brother, our brother Darl. Our brother
Darl in a cage in Jackson where, his grimed hands lying
light in the quiet interstices, looking out he foams.
"Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes/*
DEWEY DELL
WHEN HE SAW THE MONEY I SAID, "l/S NOT MX
money, it doesn't belong to me."
"Whose is it, then?"
"It's Cora Tuffs money. It's Mrs. Tuffs. I sold the cakes
far it*
'"Ten dollars for two cakes?*'
"Don't you touch it. It's not mine."
"You never had them cakes. It's a lie. It was them
Sunday clothes you had in that package/'
"Don't you touch it! If you take it you are a thief/'
"My own daughter accuses me of being a thief. My
own daughter/'
"Pa. Pa/'
"I have fed you and sheltered you. I give you love and
care, yet my own daughter, the daughter of my dead
wife, calls me a thief over her mother's grave/'
"It's not mine, I tell you. If it was, God knows you
eould have it/'
"Where did you get ten dollars?"
"Pa. Pa/'
"You won't tell me. Did you come by it so shameful
you dare not?"
"It's not mine, I tell you. Can't you understand it's not
mine?"
"It's not like I wouldn't pay it back. But she calls her
own father a thief/'
"I can't, I tell you. I tell you it's not my money. God
knows you could have it/'
528
AS I LAY DYING
"I wouldn't take it. My own born daughter that Las ef
my food for seventeen years, begrudges me the loan of
ten dollars."
"It's not mine. I can't."
"Whose is it, then?"
"It was give to me. To buy something with."
"To buy what with?"
"Pa. Pa."
"Ifs just a loan. God knows, I hate for my blooden
children to reproach me. But I give them what was mina
without stint. Cheerful I give them > without stint. And
now they deny me. Addie, It was lucky for you you died,
Addie."
"Pa. Pa."
"God knows it is."
He took the money and went out
CASH
SO WHEN WE STOPPED THERE TO BOKROW THE SHOVELS
we heard the graphophone playing in the house, and
so when we got done with the shovels pa says, "I reckon
I better take them back."
So we went back to the house. "We better take Cast
on to Peabody's," Jewel said.
"It won't take but a minute,," pa said. He got down
from the wagon. The music was not playing now.
5}0 AS i LAY DYING
"Let Vardaman do it," Jewel said. "He can do it in
half the time you can. Or here, you let me "
"I reckon I better do it/' pa says. "Long as it was me
that borrowed them."
So we set in the wagon, but the music wasn't playing
now. I reckon it's a good thing we ain't got ere a one
D them. I reckon I wouldn't never get no work done
a-tall for listening to it. I don't know if a little music
ain't about the nicest thing a fellow can have. Seems like
when he comes in tired of a night, it ain't nothing could
rest him like having a little music played and him rest-
ing. I have seen them that shuts up like a hand-grip*
with a handle and all, so a fellow can carry it with him
wherever he wants.
'What you reckon he's doing?" Jewel says. "I could a
toted them shovels back and forth ten times by now."
TLet him take his time," I said. "He ain't as spry as you,
remember."
"Why didn't he let me take them back, then? We got
to get your leg fixed up so we can start home tomorrow."
*We got plenty of time," I said. *1 wonder what them
machines costs on the instalment."
"Instalment of what?" Jewel said. 'What you got to
buy it with?"
"A fellow can't tell," I said. TE could V bought that
one from Suratt for five dollars, I believe."
And so pa come back and we went to Peabody's*
While we was there pa said he was going to the barber-
shop and get a shave. And so that night he said he had
some business to tend to, kind of looking away from us
while he said it, with his hair combed wet and slick and
smelling sweet with perfume, but I said leave him be;
1 wouldn't mind hearing a little more of that music my-
self.
AS I LAY DYING 53!
And so next morning lie was gone again, then he
come back and told us get hitched up and ready to take
out and he would meet us and when they was gone he
said,
"I don't reckon you got no more money."
"Peabody just give me enough to pay the hotel with/*
I said. "We don't need nothing else, do we?"
"No/' pa said; "no. We don't need nothing/' He stood
there, not looking at me.
"If it is something we got to have, I reckon maybe
Peabody," I said.
"No," he said; "it ain't nothing else. You all wait 01
me at the corner."
So Jewel got the team and come for me and they fixed
me a pallet in the wagon and we drove across the square
to the corner where Pa said, and we was waiting there in
the wagon, with Dewey Dell and Vardaman eating
bananas, when we see them coming up the street Pa
was coming along with that kind of daresome and hang-
dog look all at once like when he has been up to some-
thing he knows ma ain't going to like, carrying a grip in
his hand, and Jewel says,
"Who's that?"
Then we see it wasn't the grip that made him look dif-
ferent; it was his face, and Jewel says, "He got them
teeth."
It was a fact. It made him look a foot taller, kina of
holding his head up, hangdog and proud too, and then
we see her behind him, carrying the other grip a kind
of duck-shaped woman all dressed up, with them kind of
hard-looking pop eyes like she was daring ere a man to
say nothing. And there we set watching them, with
Dewey Dell's and Vardarnan's mouth half open and
half-et bananas in their hands and her coming around
53 2 AS I LAY DYIKG
from behind pa, looking at us like she dared ere a man,
And then I see that the grip she was carrying was one of
them little graphophones. It was for a fact, all shut up as
pretty as a picture, and every time a new record would
come from the mail order and us setting in the house
in the winter, listening to it, I would think what a shame
Darl couldn't be to enjoy it too. But it is better so for
him. This world is not his world; this life his life.
It's Cash and Jewel and Vardaman and Dewey Dell,"
pa says, kind of hangdog and proud too, with his teeth
and all, even if he wouldn't look at us. "Meet Mrs-
Bundren/* he says.
The Best of the Worlds Best Books
COMPLETE LIST OF TITLES IN
THE MODERN LIBRARY
ADAMS, HENRY: The Education of Henry Adams
AESCHYLUS: The Complete Greek Tragedies, Vol. I
AESCHYLUS: The Complete Greek Tragedies, Vol. II
AIKEN, CONRAD (Editor): A Comprehensive Anthology of
American Poetry
AIKEN, CONRAD (Editor): 2.oth~Century American Poetry
ALEICHEM, SHOLOM: Selected Stories
ANDERSON, SHERWOOD: Winesburg, Ohio
AQUINAS, ST. THOMAS: Introduction to St. Thomas Aquinas
ARISTOTLE: Introduction to Aristotle
ARISTOTLE: Politics
ARISTOTLE: Rhetoric and Poetics
AUDEN, W. H.: Selected Poetry
AUGUSTINE, ST.: Confessions
AUSTEN, JANE: Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility
BACON, FRANCIS: Selected Writings
BALZAC: Cousin Bette
BALZAC: Droll Stories
BALZAC: Pere Goriot and Eugenie Grandet
BEERBOHM, MAX: Ziileika Dob son
BELLAMY, EDWARD: Looking Backward
BENNETT, ARNOLD: The Old Wives' Tale
BERGSON, HENRI: Creative Evolution
BLAKE, WILLIAM: Selected Poetry and Prose
BOCCACCIO: The Decameron
BOSWELL, JAMES: The Life of Samuel Johnson
BRONTE, CHARLOTTE: Jane Eyre
RONTE, EMILY: Wuthering Heights
IROWNING, ROBERT: Selected Poetry
'BucK, PEARL: The Good Earth [Italy
BURCKHARDT, JACOB : The Civilization, of the Renaissance in
BURK, JOHN NT.: The Life and Works of Beethoven
BURKE, EDMUND: Selected Writings
BUTLER, SAMUEL: Erewhon and Erewhon Revisited
BUTLER, SAMUEL: The Way of All Flesh
BYRON, LORD: Selected Poetry
BYRON, LORD: Don Juan
CAESAR, JULIUS: The Gallic War and Other Writings
CALDWELL, ERSKINE: God's Little Acre
CALDWELL, ERSKINE: Tobacco Road
CAMUS, ALBERT: The Plaque
CARROLL, LEWIS: Alice in Wonderland , etc.
CASANOVA, JACQUES: Memoirs of Casanova
BELLINI, BENVENUTO: Autobiography of Cellini
IERVANTES: Don Quixote
CHAUCER: Tfoe Canterbury Tales
CHEKHOV, ANTON: Best Plays
CHEKHOV, ANTON: Short Stories
CICERO: Basic Works
COLERIDGE: Selected Poetry and Prose
COLETTE: Six Novels
COMMAGER, HENRY STEELE & NEVINS, ALLAN: A Short His-
tory of the United States
CONFUCIUS: The Wisdom of Confucius
/CONRAD, JOSEPH: Lord Jim
CONRAD, JOSEPH: Nostromo
^UONRAD, JOSEPH: Victory
COOPER, JAMES FENIMORE: The Pathfinder
CORNEILLE RACINE: Six Plays by Corneille and Racine
CRANE, STEPHEN: The Red Badge of Courage
CTJMMINGS, E. E.: The Enormous Room
DANA, RICHARD HENRY: T-wo Years Before the Mast
DANTE: The Divine Comedy
DEFOE, DANIEL: Moll Flanders
FOiE, DANIEL: Robinson Crusoe and A Journal of the
Plague Year
DESCARTES, RENE: Philosophical "Writings
DEWEY, JOHN: Human Nature and Conduct
DiCKENs, CHARLES: David Copperfield
DICKENS, CHARLES: Pickwick Papers
DICKENS, CHARLES: Our M^ltual Friend
I DICKENS, CHARLES: A Tale of Two Cities
DICKINSON, EJVULY: Selected Poems
DINESEN, ISAK: Out of Africa
DINESEN, ISAK: Seven Gothic Tales
DONNE, JOHN: Complete Poetry and Selected Prose
Dos PASSOS, JOHN: Three Soldiers
DOSTOYEVSKY, FYODOR: Best Short Stories
> DOSTOYEVSKY, FYODOR: The Brothers Karamazov
>DOSTOYEVSKY, FYODOR: Crime and Punishment
DOSTOYEVSKY, FYODOR: The Possessed
DOUGLAS, NORMAN: South Wind
DOYLE, SIR ARTHUR CONAN; The Adventures and Memoirs
of Sherlock Holmes
REI SER, THEODORE: Sister Carrie
ocj DUMAS, ALEXANDRE: Camille
*TJJ7 DUMAS, ALEXANDRE: The Three Musketeers
~33$7 Du MAURIER, DAPHNE: Rebecca
192. EMERSON, RALPH WALDO: The Journals
91 EMERSON, RALPH WALDO: Essays and Other Writings
331 ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS: The Praise of Folly
314 EURIPIDES: The Complete Greek Tragedies, Vol. V
315 EURIPIDES: The Complete Greek Tragedies, Vol. VI
2,71 FAULKNER, WILLIAM: Absalom,, Absalom!
175 FAULKNER, WILLIAM: Go ~Dovjn, Moses
88 FAULKNER, WILLIAM: Light in August
6 1 FAULKNER, WILLIAM:: Sanctuary [Dying
187 FAULKNER, WILLIAM: The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay
324 FAULKNER, WILLIAM: Selected Short Stories
117 FIELDING, HENRY: Joseph Andrews
FIELDING, HENRY: Totw Jones
FLAUBERT, GUSTAVE: Madame Bovary
FORESTER, C. S.: The African Queen
FRANCE, ANATOLE: Penguin Island
FRANK, ANNE: Diary of a Voting Girl
FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN: Autobiograph, etc.
FREUD, SIGJMUND: The Interpretation of Dreams
FROST, ROBERT: Poems of Robert Frost
GEORGE, HENRY: Progress and Poverty
GIDE, ANDRE: The Counterfeiters
GOETHE : Faust
GOGOL, NIKOLAI: Dead Souls
2,91 GOLDSMITH, OLIVER: The. Vicar of Wakefield and Other
20 GRAVES, ROBERT: I, Claudi%is [Writings
286 GUNTHER, JOHN: Death Be Not Proud
265 HACKETT, FRANCIS: The Personal History of Henry the Eighth
163 HAGGARD, H. RIDER: She and King Solomon's Mines
320 HAMILTON, EDITH: The Greek Way
135 HARDY, THOMAS: Jude the Obscure
17 HARDY, THOMAS: The Mayor of Casterbridge
"Wj> HARDY, THOMAS: The Return of the Native
"-72 HARDY, THOMAS: Tess of the D'Urbervilles
233 HART KAUFMAN: Six Plays
329 HART, Moss: Act One
HARTE, BRET: Best Stories
AWTHORNE , NATHANIEL: The Scarlet Letter
EGEL : The Philosophy of Hegel
HELLMAN, LILLIAN: Six Plays
HENRY, O.: Best Sfoort Stories
HERODOTUS: The Persian Wars
HERSEY, JOHN -.Hiroshima
HESSE, HERMAN: Steppen-wolf
HOMER: The Iliad
HOMER: The Odyssey
HORACE: Complete Works
HOWARD, JOHN TASKER: World's Great Operas
HOWELLS, WILLIAM DEAN: The Rise of Silas Lapham
HUDSON, W, H.: Green Mansions
HUGO, VICTOR: The Hunchback of Notre Dame
HUXLEY, ALDOUS: Antic Hay
^HUXLEY, ALDOUS: Brave New "World
HUXLEY, ALDOUS: Point Counter Point
IBSEN, HENRIK: Six Plays
IBSEN, HENRIK: The Wild Duck and Other Plays
IRVING, WASHINGTON: Selected Writings
!AMES, HENRY: The Bostonians
AMES, HENRY: The Portrait of a Lady
AMES, HENRY: The Turn of the Screw
AMES, HENRY: Washington Square
AMES, HENRY: The Wings of the Dove
JAMES, WILLIAM;: The Philosophy of William James
JAMES, WILLIAM:: The Varieties of Religious Experience
JEFFERSON, THOMAS: The Life and Selected Writings
JOYCE, JAMES: Dubliners
JUNG, C. G.: Basic Writings
IVAFKA, FRANZ: The Trial
KAFKA, FRANZ: Selected Stones
KANT: Critique of Pure Reason
KANT: The Philosophy of Kant
KAUFMAN & HART: Six Plays
KEATS: Complete Poetry and Selected Prose
KIERKEGAARD, S0REN: A Kierkegaard Anthology
"go KIPLING, RUDYABD: Kim
KOESTLER, ARTHUR: Darkness at Noon
LAOTSE: The W r isdom of Laotse
LAWRENCE, D. H.: Lady Chatterley's Lover
LAWRENCE, D. H.: The Rainbow
LAWRENCE, D. H.: Sons and Lovers
LAWRENCE, D. H.: W^omen in Love
LEWIS, SINCLAIR: Dads-worth
LEWIS, SINCLAIR: Cass Timhcrlane
325 LIVY: A History of Rome
56 LONGFELLOW, HENRY W.: Poems
77 LOUYS, PIERRE: Aphrodite
95 LTJDWIG, EMIL: Napoleon
65 MACHIAVELLI: The Prince and The Discourses
321 MAILER, NORMAN: The Naked and the Dead
33 MALRAUX, ANDRE: Man's Fate
309 MALTHUS, THOMAS ROBERT: On Population
182 MARQUAND, JOHN P.: The Late George Apley
2,02, MARX, KARL: Capital and Other Writings
14 MAUGHAM, W. SOMERSET: Best Short Stories
2,70 MAUGHAM, W. SOMERSET: Cakes and Ale
27 MAUGHAM, W. SOMERSET: The Moon and Sixpence
17%, MAUGHAM, W. SOMERSET: Of Human Bondage
MAUPASSANT, GUY DE: Best Short Stories
MAUROIS, ANDRE: Disraeli
^MELVILLE, HERMAN: Moby Dick
MEREDITH, GEORGE: The Egoist
MEREDITH, GEORGE: The Ordeal of Richard Feverel
MEREJKOWSKJ, DMITRI: The Romance of Leonardo da Vinci
2,96 MICHENER, JAMES A.: Selected Writings
32,2, MILL, JOHN STUART: Selections
132. MILTON, JOHN: Complete Poetry and Selected Prose
78 MOLIERE: Eight Plays
2.18 MONTAIGNE: Selected Essays
191 NASH, OGDEN: Selected Verse [tory of the United States
2,35 NEVINS, ALLAN & COMMAGER, HENRY STEELE: A Short His-
113 NEWMAN, CARDINAL JOHN H.: Apologia Pro Vita Sua
9 NIETZSCHE, FRIEDRICH: Thus Spake Zarathustra
8 1 NOSTRADAMUS: Oracles
67 ODETS, CLIFFORD: Six Plays
42, O'HARA, JOHN: Appointment in Samarra
2,11 O'HARA, JOHN: Selected Short Stories
32.3 O'HARA, JOHN: Butterfield 8
146 O'NEILL, EUGENE: The Emperor Jones, Anna Christie and
The Hairy Ape [the Sea
in O'NEILL, EUGENE: The Long Voyage Home: Seven Plays of
2-32, PALGRAVE, FRANCIS CEdltor): The Golden Treasury
123 PARKER, DOROTHY: Collected Short Stories
2-37 PARKER, DOROTHY: Collected Poetry
2.67 PARJGVCAN, FRANCIS: The Oregon Trail
164 PASCAL, BLAISE: Pensees and The Provincial Letters
86 PATER, WALTER: The Renaissance
103 PEPYS, SAMUEL: Passages from the Diary
2,47 PERELMAN, S. J.: The Best of S. J. Pereltnan
153 PLATO: The Republic
181 PLATO: The Works of Plato
82, POE, EDGAR ALLAN: Selected Poetry and Prose
196 POLO, MARCO: The Travels of Marco Polo
2,57 POPE, ALEXANDER: Selected Works
2,84 PORTER, E^ATHERINE ANNE: Flowering Judas
45 PORTER, KATHERINE ANNE: Pale Horse, Pale Rider
120 PROUST, MARCEL: The Captive
2,20 PROUST, MARCEL: Cities of the Plain
2,13 PROUST, MARCEL: The Guermantes Way
2,78 PROUST, MARCEL: The Past Recaptured
59 PROUST, MARCEL: Swann's Way
2,60 PROUST, MARCEL: The Sweet Cheat Gone
172 PROUST, MARCEL: Within a Budding Grove
335
52.
2,8 1
2-,3
4 ' 5 6
7
19
2,94
112
2-74
159
312,
,
vols "
RACINE & CORNEILLE: Six Plays by Comeille and Racine
READB, CHARLES: The Cloister and the Hearth
REED, JOHN: Ten Days That Shook the World
RENAN, ERNEST: The Life of Jesus
RENAULT, MARY: The Last of the Wine
RICHARDSON, SAMUEL: Clarissa
RODGERS HAMMERSTEIN: Six Plays
ROSTAND, EDMOND: Cyrano de Bergerac
ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES: The Confessions
RUNYON, DAMON: Famous Stories
RUSSELL, BERTRAND: Selected Papers of Bertrand Russell
SAKI: Short Stories
SALINGER, J. D.: Nine Stories
MALINGER, J. D.: The Catcher in the Rye
SANTAYANA, GEORGE : The Sense of Beauty
SARTRE, JEAN-PAUL: The Age of Reason
SCHOPENHAUER: The Philosophy of Schopenhauer
SCHULBERG, BUDD: What Makes Sammy Run?
SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM: Tragedies complete, 2, vols.
SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM: Comedies complete, 2, vols.
SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM: Histories _ i .
SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM: Histories, Poems } complete '
SHAW, BERNARD: Four Plays [and the Lion
SHAW, BERNARD: Saint Joan, Major Barbara, and Androcles
SHAW, IRWIN: The Young Lions
SHAW, IRWIN: Selected Short Stories
SHELLEY: Selected Poetry and Prose
SMOLLETT, TOBIAS: Humphry Clinker
SOPHOCLES I: Complete Greek Tragedies , Vol. Ill
SOPHOCLES II: Complete Greek Tragedies, Vol. IV
SPINOZA: The Philosophy of Spinoza
STEIN, GERTRUDE: Selected Writings
STEINBECK, JOHN: In Dubious Battle
STEINBECK, JOHN: Of Mice and Men
STEINBECK, JOHN: Tortilla Flat
^STENDHAL: The Red and the Black
STERNE, LAURENCE: Tristram Shandy
STEWART, GEORGE R.: Storm
STOKER, BRAM: Dracula
STONE, IRVING: Lust for Life
STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER: Uncle Tom's Cabin
STRACHEY, LYTTON: Eminent Victorians
SUETONIUS: Lives of the Twelve Caesars
SWIFT, JONATHAN: Gulliver's Travels and Other Writings
SYMONDS, JOHN A.: The Life of Michelangelo
TACITUS: Complete Works
TENNYSON: Selected Poetry
THACKERAY, WILLIAM: Henry Esmond
THACKERAY, WILLIAM: Vanity Fair
THOMPSON, FRANCIS: Com-plete Poems
THOREAU, HENRY DAVID: Walden and Other Writings
THUCYDIDES: Complete Writings
THURBER, JAMES: The Thurber Carnival
TOLSTOY, LEO: Anna Karenina
TROLLOPE, ANTHONY: Barchester Towers and The Warden
TURGENEV, IVAN: Fathers and Sons
TWAIN, MARK: A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
VASARI, GIORGIO: Lives of the Most Eminent Painters , Sculp*
tors and Architects
VEBLEN, THQRSTEIN: The Theory of the Leisure Class
156 Vnsrci, LEOISTAKDO DA: The Notebooks
75 VIRGIL: The Aeneid, Eclogues and Georgics
47 VOLTAIRE: Candida and Other Writings
178 WALPOLE, HUGH: Fortitude
fTfOy WARREN, ROBERT PENN: All The King's Men
>a*g WEBB, MARY: Precious Bane
225 WEIDMAN, JEROIVIE : I Can Get It for You Wholesale
197 WELLS, H. G-: Tono Bungay
290 WELTY, EUDORA: Selected Stories
2,99 WHARTON, EDITH: The Age of Innocence
97 WHITMAN, WALT: Leaves of Grass
.12.5 WILDE, OSCAR: Dorian Gray and De Profundis
83 WILDE, OSCAR: The Plays of Oscar Wilde
84 WILDE, OSCAR: Poems and Fairy Tales
12.6 WODEHOTJSE, P. J. : Selected Stories
2,68 WORDSWORTH: Selected Poetry
44 YEATS, W. B. (Editor) : Irish Fairy and Folk Tales
179 YOUNG, G. K: The Medici
207 ZIMMERN, ALFRED: The Greek. Commonwealth
142. ZOLA, RMILE: Nana
MISCELLANEOUS
2,88 An Anthology of Irish Literature
330 Anthology of Medieval Lyrics
326 The Apocrypha
201 The Arabian Nights' Entertainments
87 Best American Humorous Short Stories
1 8 Best Russian Short Stories
129 Best Spanish Stories
Complete Greek Tragedies
310 Vol. I C Aeschylus I); 311 Vol. II C Aeschylus H); 312 Vol. Ill
(Sophocles I); 313 Vol. IV (Sophocles II); 314 Vol. V (Euripides
I): 315 Vol. VI (Euripides II)
101 A Comprehensive Anthology of American Poetry
226 The Consolation of Philosophy
94 'Eight Famous Elizabethan Plays
224 Eighteenth-Century Plays
73 Famous Ghost Stories
*39 The Federalist
30 Five Great Modern Irish Plays
144 Fourteen Great Detective Stories
1 08 Great German Short Novels and Stories
1 68 Great Modern Short Stories
238 Great Tales of the American "West
203 The Greek Poets
118 Stories of Modern Italy
217 The Latin Poets
149 The Making of Man; An Outline of Anthropology
183 Making of Society
133 Medieval Romances
I The Modern Library Dictionary
258 New Voices in the American Theatre
152 Outline of Abnormal Psychology
66 Outline of Psychoanalysis
287 Restoration Plays
158 Seven Famous Greek Plays
57 The Short Bible
276 Six Modern American Plays
38 Six American Plays for Today
127 Twentieth-Century American Poetry revised
MODERN LIBRARY GIANTS
A series of sturdily hound and handsomely printed,
full-sized library editions of books formerly available
only in expensive sets. These volumes contain from
600 to 1,400 pages each.
THE MODERN LIBRARY GIANTS REPRESENT A
SELECTION OF THE WORLDS GREATEST BOOKS
ANDERSEN & GRIMM:: Tales
G?4 AUGUSTINE, ST.: The City of God
G$& AUSTEN, JANE: Complete Novels
Gyo BLAKE, WILLIAM & DONNE, JOHN: Complete Poetry
Ga BOSWELL, JAMES: Life of Samuel Johnson
Gi7 BROWNING, ROBERT: Poems and Plays
Gi4 BULFINCH: Mythology (Illustrated)
G35 BURY, J. B.: A History of Greece
Gi3 CARLYLE, THOMAS: The French Revolution
G2.8 CARROLL, LEWIS: Complete Works
Gi5 CERVANTES: Dor. Quixote (Illustrated)
G33 COLLINS, WILKIE: The Moonstone and The Woman in White
Gay DARWIN, CHARLES: Origin of Species and The Descent of
Man
G43 DEWEY, JOHN: Intelligence in the Modem World: John
De-wey's Philosophy
Gyo DONNE, JOHN & BLAKE, WILLIAM:: Complete Poetry
G$6 DOSTOYEVSKY, FYODOR: The Brothers Karamazov
G6o DOSTOYEVSKY, FYODOR: The Idiot
G$i ELIOT, GEORGE: Eest-Known Novels
G4i FARRELL, JAMES T.: Studs Lonigan
G8a FAULKNER, WILLIAM: The Faulkner Reader
FREUD, SIGMUND: The Basic Writings
GIBBON, ED\VARD: The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
(Complete in three volumes)
G25 GILBERT & SULLIVAN: Complete Plays
Gy6 GRIMM & ANDERSEN: Tales
Gsy HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL: Complete Novels and Selected
Tales
Gy8 HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL: The Mind and Faith of Justice
Holmes
HOMER: Complete Works
HUGO, VICTOR: Les Miserables
Gi8 IBSEN, HENRIK: Eleven Plays
Gil JAMES, HENRY: Short Stories
G52, JOYCE, JAMES: Ulysses
G-2,4 LAMB, CHARLES: The Complete Works and Letters
G4 KEATS & SHELLEY: Complete Poems
Gao LINCOLN, ABRAHAM: The Life and Writings of Abraham
Lincoln
G84 MANN, THOMAS: Stories of Three Decades
MARX, KABX: Capital
MELVILLE, HERMAN: Selected Writings
MURASARA, LADY: The Tale of Genji
MYERS, GUSTAVUS: History of the Great American Fortunes
NIETZSCHE, FRIEDRICH: The Philosophy of Nietzsche
O'NEILL, EUGENE: Nine Plays
PAINE, TOM: Selected Work
PASTERNAK, BORIS: Doctor Zhivago
PLUTARCH: Lives CThe Dryden Translation)
POE, EDGAR ALLAN: Complete Tales and Poems
PRESCOTT, WILLIAM H.: The Conquest of Mexico and The
Conquest of Peru
PUSHKIN: Poems, Prose and Plays
RABELAIS: Complete Works
SCOTT, SIR WALTER: The Most Popular Novels CQuentm
Durward, Ivaniioe & Kenllworth)
SHELLEY & KEATS: Complete Poems
SMITH, ADAM: The Wealth of Nations
SPAETH, SIGMUND: A Guide to Great Orchestral Music
STEVENSON, ROBERT Louis: Selected Writings
SUE, EUGENE: The Wandering Jew
TENNYSON: The Poems and Plays
TOLSTOY, LEO: Anna Karenina
TOLSTOY, LEO: War and Peace
' TWAIN, MARK: Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn
WHITMAN, WALT: Leaves of Grass
WILSON, EDMUND: The Shock of Recognition
MISCELLANEOUS
G77 An Anthology of Famous American Stories
G?4 An Anthology of Famous British Stories
Goy Anthology of Famous English and American Poetry
G8 1 An Encyclopedia of Modern American Humor
G47 The English Philosophers from Bacon to Mill
Gi6 The European Philosophers from Descartes to Nietzsche
G$i Famous Science-Fiction Stories: Adventures in Time and
Space
G85 Great Ages and Ideas of the Jewish People
G?2, Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural
Gp Great Voices of the Reformation
G&7 Medieval Epics
G4& The Metropolitan Opera Guide
G46 A New Anthology of Modern Poetry
G6p One Hundred and One Years' Entertainment
Gai Sixteen Famous American Plays
G63 Sixteen Famous British Plays
Gyi Sixteen Famous European Plays
G45 Stoic and Epicurean Philosophers
G2-2, Thirty Famous One-Act Plays
G66 Three Famous Murder Novels
Before the Fact, Francis lies
Trent's Last Case, E. C. Bentley
The House of the Arrow, A. E. W. Mason
Gio Twelve Famous Plays of the Restoration and Eighteenth
Century C 1660 1820)
CCongreve, Wycherley, Gay, Goldsmith, Sheridan, etc.)
G56 The "Wisdom of Catholicism
G$9 The Wisdom of China and India
G79 The Wisdom of Israel
134151
