CHAPTER

11
A Collection of Short Fiction
The stories of Cain and Abel, Ruth, Samson, and Joseph in the Hebrew Bible and the parables of Jesus in
the New Testament are sufficient eidence that brief narraties e!isted in ancient times" The short tales in
Boccaccio#s Decameron and Chaucer#s Canterbury Tales $the latter an ama%in& ariet' of narratie
poems ran&in& from bawd' stories to le&ends of saints( are medieal e!amples of the ancient form" But,
spea)in& &enerall', short narraties before the nineteenth centur' were either didactic pieces, with the
narratie e!istin& for the sa)e of a moral point, or the' were *curious and stri)in&+ tales $to use Somerset
,au&ham#s words for his faorite )ind of stor'( recounted in order to entertain"
The contemporar' short stor' is rather different from both of these &enres, which can be called the
parable and the anecdote" -i)e the parable, the contemporar' short stor' has a point, a meanin&. but
unli)e the parable, it has a richness of surface as well as depth, so that it is interestin& whether or not the
reader &oes on to ponder *the meanin&"+ -i)e the anecdote, the short stor' relates a happenin&, but
whereas the happenin& in the anecdote is curious and is the center of interest, the happenin& in the
contemporar' stor' often is less interestin& in itself than as a manifestation of a character#s state of mind"
A &ood short stor' usuall' has a ps'cholo&ical interest that an anecdote lac)s"
The anecdotal stor' is what *stor'+ means for most readers" /t is an interestin& happenin& or series of
happenin&s, usuall' with a somewhat surprisin& endin&" The anecdotal stor', howeer, is 0uite different
from most of the contemporar' short stories in this boo)" The anecdote is &ood entertainment, and &ood
entertainment should not be li&htl' dismissed" But it has two elements within it that preent it $unless it is
somethin& in addition to an anecdote( from ta)in& a hi&h place amon& the world#s literature" First, it
cannot be reread with increasin& or een continued pleasure" 1en when it is well told, once we )now the
happenin& we ma' lose patience with the tellin&" Second, effectie anecdotes are often hi&hl' implausible"
Now, implausible anecdotes alle&ed to be true hae a special impact b' irtue of their alle&ed truth2 the'
ma)e us sa' to ourseles, *Truth is stran&er than fiction"+ But the inented anecdote lac)s this power. its
unli)el' coincidence, its unconincin& ironic situation, its surprise endin&, are both untrue and
unbelieable" /t is entertainin& but it is usuall' not especiall' meanin&ful"
The short stor' of the last hundred and fift' 'ears is not an anecdote and is not an abbreiated noel"
/f it were the latter, Readers Digest condensations of noels would be short stories" But the' aren#t. the'
are onl' eiscerated noels" Noelists usuall' coer a lon& period of time, presentin& not onl' a few
indiiduals but also somethin& of a societ'" The' often tell of the deelopment of seeral man'3sided
fi&ures" /n contrast, short3stor' writers, hain& onl' a few pa&es, usuall' focus on a sin&le fi&ure in a
sin&le episode, reealin& a character rather than recordin& its deelopment"
4hereas the noel is narratie, the contemporar' short stor' often seems less narratie than l'ric or
dramatic2 in the short stor' we hae a sense of a present mood or personalit' reealed, rather than the
sense of a histor' reported" The reelation in a stor' is presented throu&h incidents, of course, but the
interest commonl' resides in the character reealed throu&h the incidents, rather than in the incidents
themseles" -ittle *happens,+ in the sense that there is little rushin& from place to place" 4hat does
*happen+ is usuall' a mental reaction to an e!perience, and the mental reaction, rather than the e!ternal
e!perience, is the heart of the stor'" /n older narraties the plot usuall' inoles a conflict that is resoled,
brin&in& about a chan&e in the prota&onist#s condition. in contemporar' stories the plot usuall' is
desi&ned to reeal a prota&onist#s state of mind" This de3emphasis of oert actions results in a )inship
with the l'ric and the drama"
5ne wa' of loo)in& at the matter is to distin&uish between literature of resolution and literature of
revelation, that is, between $1( literature that resoles a plot $literature that stimulates us to as), *And
what happened ne!t6+ and that finall' leaes us with a settled state of affairs(, and $7( literature that
reeals a condition $literature that causes us to sa', *Ah, now / understand how these people feel+(" Two
&reat writers of the later nineteenth centur' can be ta)en as representaties of the two )inds2 8u' de
,aupassant $19:;<19=>( usuall' put the emphasis on resolution, Anton Che)ho $19?;<1=;@( usuall' on
reelation" ,aupassant#s ti&htl' plotted stories moe to a decisie end, ordinaril' mar)ed b' a &reat
chan&e in fortune $usuall' to the characters# disadanta&e(" Che)ho#s stories, on the other hand, seem
loosel' plotted and ma' end with the characters prett' much in the condition the' were in at the start, but
we see them more clearl', een if they hae not achieed an' self3)nowled&e"
A sli&htl' different wa' of puttin& the matter is this2 much of the best short fiction from Che)ho
onward is less concerned with what happens than it is with how a character $often the narrator( feels
about the happenin&s" Thus the emphasis is not on e!ternal action but on inner action, feelin&" Aerhaps
one can sa' that the reader is left with a mood rather than with an awareness of a decisie happenin&"
The distinction between a stor' of resolution and a stor' of reelation will probabl' be clear enou&h if
'ou are familiar with stories b' ,aupassant and Che)ho, but of course the distinction should not be
oeremphasi%ed" These are poles. most stories e!ist somewhere in between, closer to one pole or the other,
but not utterl' apart from the more remote pole" Consider a&ain The Aarable of the Arodi&al Son, in
Chapter 1" /nsofar as the stor' stimulates responses such as *The son left, and then what happened? Did
he prosper?+ it is a stor' of resolution" /nsofar as it ma)es increasin&l' eident the unchan&in& loe of the
father, it is a stor' of reelation"
The de3emphasis on narratie in the contemporar' short stor' is not an inention of the twentieth3
centur' mind" /t &oes bac) at least to three important American writers of the earl' nineteenth centur'B
4ashin&ton /rin&, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and 1d&ar Allan Aoe" /n 197@ /rin& wrote2
/ fanc' much of what / alue m'self upon in writin&, escapes the obseration of the &reat mass of
m' readers2 who are intent more upon the stor' than the wa' in which it is told" For m' part /
consider a stor' merel' as a frame on which to stretch m' materials" /t is the pla' of thou&ht, and
sentiments and lan&ua&e. the weain& in of characters, li&htl' 'et e!pressiel' delineated. the
familiar and faithful e!hibition of scenes in common life. and the half3concealed ein of humor
that is often pla'in& throu&h the wholeBthese are amon& what / aim at, and upon which /
felicitate m'self in proportion as / thin) / succeed"
Hawthorne and Aoe ma' seem stran&er than /rin& as forebears of the contemporar' short stor'2 both are
)nown for their fantastic narraties $and, in addition, Aoe is )nown as the inentor of the detectie stor', a
&enre in which there is stron& interest in curious happenin&s(" But because Hawthorne#s fantastic
narraties are, as he said, hi&hl' alle&orical, the reader#s interest is pushed be'ond the narratie to the
moral si&nificance" Aoe#s *arabes0ues,+ as he called his fanciful tales $in distinction from his detectie
tales of *ratiocination+(, are aimed at reealin& and arousin& unusual mental states" The weird happenin&s
and persona&es are s'mbolic representations of the mind or soul" /n *The Cas) of Amontillado,+ for
instance, perhaps the chief interest is not in what happens but rather in the representation of an almost
uniersal fear of bein& buried alie" But, it must be noted, in both Hawthorne and Aoe we usuall' &et what
is commonl' called the tale rather than the short stor'2 4e &et short prose fiction dealin& with the stran&e
rather than the usual" $The distinction between the wondrous and the ordinar' is discussed at some len&th
in Chapter 17, *The Noel"+(
A para&raph from Aoe#s reiew $19@7( of Hawthorne#s Twice Told Tales, thou&h more useful in
reealin& Aoe#s theor' of fiction than Hawthorne#s, illuminates somethin& of the )inship between the
contemporar' short stor' and the best short fictions of the earlier nineteenth centur'" /n the reiew Aoe
has been e!plainin& that because *unit' of effect or impression+ is essential, a tale $Aoe doubtless uses
*tale+ to mean short fiction in &eneral, rather than the special t'pe Cust discussed( that can be read at a
sin&le sittin& has an adanta&e oer the noel"
A s)illful artist has constructed a tale" He has not fashioned his thou&hts to accommodate his
incidents, but hain& deliberatel' conceied a certain sin&le effect to be wrou&ht, he then inents
such incidents, he then combines such eents, and discusses them in such tone as ma' best sere
him in establishin& this preconceied effect" /f his er' first sentence tends not to be outbrin&in&
of this effect, then in his er' first step has he committed a blunder" /n the whole composition
there should be no word written of which the tendenc', direct or indirect, is not to the one pre3
established desi&n" And b' such means, with such care and s)ill a picture is at len&th painted
which leaes in the mind of him who contemplates it with a )indred art, a sense of the fullest
satisfaction" The idea of the tale, its thesis, has been presented unblemished, because undisturbed
Ban end absolutel' demanded, 'et, in the noel, alto&ether unattainable"
Nothin& that we hae said should be construed as su&&estin& that short fiction from the mid3nineteenth
centur' to the present is necessaril' better than older short narraties" The obCect of these comments has
been less to ealuate than to call attention to the characteristics dominatin& short fiction of the last centur'
and a half" Not that all of this fiction is of a piece. the stories in this boo) demonstrate somethin& of its
ariet'" Readers who do not li)e one stor' need not despair. the' need onl' $in the words of an earl'
writer of &reat short fiction( *turne oer the leef and chese another tale"+
LEO TOLSTOY
Leo Tolstoy (!"!#$%& was born into a noble family on his parents estate near Tula, Russia' (rphaned
early, he was brought up by aunts and privately tutored' )or a while he studied law at the *niversity of
+a,an, but he left without a degree and returned to his estate, where he made some unsuccessful efforts
at educating the serfs' -e then went to .t' /etersburg and later to 0oscow, where for a while he lived the
life of a ra1e' 2hile serving in the army (!3#!33& he wrote his first boo1, an autobiographical wor1
called Childhood (!3"&' 4fter leaving the military Tolstoy shuttled between .t' /etersburg and the
family estate' -is diary records his unhappiness with the loose life he was living' -e then set up a school
for peasants, which was unsuccessful' 5n !6" he married, but his abundant infidelities made the
marriage unhappy' During this period he wrote 2ar and /eace (!6$&7a prose epic on 8apoleons !"
invasion of Russia7and 4nna +arenina (!99&, a novel about a woman tragically destroyed by her faith
in romantic love'
4bout !96 Tolstoy began a ree:amination of his life, which led to a conversion to the Christian
doctrine of love and to a doctrine of nonresistance to evil' (bsessed with trying to live a simple and
saintly life, he decided to leave his family, intending to enter a monastery' -is ;ourney ended in the
waiting room of a nearby railway station where he was fatally stric1en' 4ccording to one report, as
Tolstoy lay dying on the station masters couch, he whispered these last words to his son< =5 love
Truth ' ' ' very much' ' ' ' 5 love Truth'> 4nother version of his last words< =5 wonder how a peasant
would die'>
?et another @uotation, this one setting forth his view of the @ualities of a writer, is of special interest'
Tolstoy said that his brother 8icholas
was a wonderful bo', and later a wonderful man" Tur&ene used to sa' of him, er' trul', that he lac)ed
onl' certain faults to be a &reat writer" He lac)ed the chief fault necessar' for authorshipBanit'Band
was not at all interested in what people thou&ht of him" The 0ualities of a writer that he possessed were,
first of all, a fine artistic sense, an e!tremel' deeloped sense of proportion, a &ood3natured, &a' sense of
humor, an e!traordinar', ine!haustible ima&ination, and a truthful and hi&hl' moral iew of life"
The Death of Ivan Ilych [1886]
Translated by Louise and 4ylmer 0aude
I
Durin& an interal in the ,elins)i trial in the lar&e buildin& of the -aw Courts, the members and
public prosecutor met in /an 1&oroich Shebe)#s priate room, where the conersation turned on the
celebrated Erasos)i case" FFdor Gasilieich warml' maintained that it was not subCect to their
Curisdiction, /an 1&oroich maintained the contrar', while Aeter /anoich, not hain& entered into
the discussion at the start, too) no part in it but loo)ed throu&h the Aa,ette which had Cust been
handed in"
*8entlemen,+ he said, */an /l'ch has diedH+
*Iou don#t sa' soH+
*Here, read it 'ourself,+ replied Aeter /anoich, handin& FFdor Gasilieich the paper still damp
from the press" Surrounded b' a blac) border were the words2 *Aras)o'a FFdorona 8oloina, with
profound sorrow, informs relaties and friends of the demise of her beloed husband /an /l'ch
8oloin, ,ember of the Court of Justice, which occurred on Februar' the @th of this 'ear 1997" The
funeral will ta)e place on Frida' at one o#cloc) in the afternoon"+
/an /l'ch had been a collea&ue of the &entlemen present and was li)ed b' them all" He had been
ill for some wee)s with an illness said to be incurable" His post had been )ept open for him, but there
had been conCectures that in case of his death Ale!ee mi&ht receie his appointment, and that either
Ginni)o or Shtabel would succeed Ale!ee" So on receiin& the news of /an /l'ch#s death the first
thou&ht of each of the &entlemen in that priate room was of the chan&es and promotions it mi&ht
occasion amon& themseles or their ac0uaintances"
*/ shall be sure to &et Shtabel#s place or Ginni)o#s,+ thou&ht FFdor Gasilieich" */ was promised
that lon& a&o, and the promotion means an e!tra ei&ht hundred rubles a 'ear for me besides the
allowance"+
*Now / must appl' for m' brother3in3law#s transfer from Ealu&a,+ thou&ht Aeter /anoich" *,'
wife will be er' &lad, and then she won#t be able to sa' that / neer do an'thin& for her relations"+
*/ thou&ht he would neer leae his bed a&ain,+ said Aeter /anoich aloud" */t#s er' sad"+
*But what reall' was the matter with him6+
*The doctors couldn#t sa'Bat least the' could, but each of them said somethin& different" 4hen
last / saw him / thou&ht he was &ettin& better"+
*And / haen#t been to see him since the holida's" / alwa's meant to &o"+
*Had he an' propert'6+
*/ thin) his wife had a littleBbut somethin& 0uite triflin&"+
*4e shall hae to &o to see her, but the' lie so terribl' far awa'"+
*Far awa' from 'ou, 'ou mean" 1er'thin&#s far awa' from 'our place"+
*Iou see, he neer can for&ie m' liin& on the other side of the rier,+ said Aeter /anoich,
smilin& at Shebe)" Then, still tal)in& of the distances between different parts of the cit', the' returned
to the Court"
Besides considerations as to the possible transfers and promotions li)el' to result from /an
/l'ch#s death, the mere fact of the death of a near ac0uaintance aroused, as usual, in all who heard of
it the complacent feelin& that *it is he who is dead and not /"+
1ach one thou&ht or felt, *4ell, he#s dead but /#m alieH+ But the more intimate of /an /l'ch#s
ac0uaintances, his so3called friends, could not help thin)in& also that the' would now hae to fulfill
the er' tiresome demands of propriet' b' attendin& the funeral serice and pa'in& a isit of
condolence to the widow"
FFdor Gasilieich and Aeter /anoich had been his nearest ac0uaintances" Aeter /anoich had
studied law with /an /l'ch and had considered himself to be under obli&ations to him"
Hain& told his wife at dinner3time of /an /l'ch#s death and of his conCecture that it mi&ht be
possible to &et her brother transferred to their circuit, Aeter /anoich sacrificed his usual nap, put on
his eenin& clothes, and droe to /an /l'ch#s house"
At the entrance stood a carria&e and two cabs" -eanin& a&ainst the wall in the hall downstairs
near the cloa)3stand was a coffin3lid coered with cloth of &old, ornamented with &old cord and
tassels, that had been polished up with metal powder" Two ladies in blac) were ta)in& off their fur
cloa)s" Aeter /anoich reco&ni%ed one of them as /an /l'ch#s sister, but the other was a stran&er to
him" His collea&ue Schwart% was Cust comin& downstairs, but on seein& Aeter /anoich enter he
stopped and win)ed at him, as if to sa'2 */an /l'ch has made a mess of thin&sBnot li)e 'ou and
me"+
Schwart%#s face with his Aiccadill' whis)ers1 and his slim fi&ure in eenin& dress, had as usual
an air of ele&ant solemnit' which contrasted with the pla'fulness of his character and had a special
pi0uanc' here, or so it seemed to Aeter /anoich"
Aeter /anoich allowed the ladies to precede him and slowl' followed them upstairs" Schwart%
did not come down but remained where he was, and Aeter /anoich understood that he wanted to
arran&e where the' should pla' brid&e that eenin&" The ladies went upstairs to the widow#s room,
and Schwart% with seriousl' compressed lips but a pla'ful loo) in his e'es, indicated b' a twist of his
e'ebrows the room to the ri&ht where the bod' la'"
Aeter /anoich, li)e eer'one else on such occasions, entered feelin& uncertain what he would
hae to do" All he )new was that at such times it is alwa's safe to cross oneself" But he was not 0uite
sure whether one should ma)e obeisances while doin& so" He therefore adopted a middle course" 5n
enterin& the room he be&an crossin& himself and made a sli&ht moement resemblin& a bow" At the
same time, as far as the motion of his head and arm allowed, he sure'ed the room" Two 'oun& men
Bapparentl' nephews, one of whom was a hi&h3school pupilBwere leain& the room, crossin&
themseles as the' did so" An old woman was standin& motionless, and a lad' with stran&el' arched
e'ebrows was sa'in& somethin& to her in a whisper" A i&orous, resolute Church Reader, in a froc)3
coat, was readin& somethin& in a loud oice with an e!pression that precluded an' contradiction" The
butler#s assistant, 8erasim, steppin& li&htl' in front of Aeter /anoich, was strewin& somethin& on
the floor" Noticin& this, Aeter /anoich was immediatel' aware of a faint odor of a decomposin&
bod'"
The last time he had called on /an /l'ch, Aeter /anoich had seen 8erasim in the stud'" /an
/l'ch had been particularl' fond of him and he was performin& the dut' of a sic) nurse"
Aeter /anoich continued to ma)e the si&n of the cross, sli&htl' inclinin& his head in an
intermediate direction between the coffin, the Reader, and the icons7 on the table in a corner of the
room" Afterwards, when it seemed to him that this moement of his arm in crossin& himself had &one
on too lon&, he stopped and be&an to loo) at the corpse"
The dead man la', as dead men alwa's lie, in a speciall' hea' wa', his ri&id limbs sun) in the
soft cushions of the coffin, with the head foreer bowed on the pillow" His 'ellow wa!en brow with
bald patches oer his sun)en temples was thrust up in the wa' peculiar to the dead, the protrudin&
nose seemin& to press on the upper lip" He was much chan&ed and had &rown een thinner since
Aeter /anoich had last seen him, but, as is alwa's the case with the dead, his face was handsomer
and aboe all more di&nified than when he was alie" The e!pression on his face said that what was
necessar' had been accomplished, and accomplished ri&htl'" Besides this there was in that e!pression
a reproach and a warnin& to the liin&" This warnin& seemed to Aeter /anoich out of place, or at
least not applicable to him" He felt a certain discomfort and so he hurriedl' crossed himself once more
and turned and went out the doorBtoo hurriedl' and too re&ardless of propriet', as he himself was
aware"
Schwart% was waitin& for him in the adCoinin& room with le&s spread wide apart and both hands
to'in& with his top3hat behind his bac)" The mere si&ht of that pla'ful, well3&roomed, and ele&ant
fi&ure refreshed Aeter /anoich" He felt that Schwart% was aboe all these happenin&s and would not
surrender to an' depressin& influences" His er' loo) said that this incident of a church serice for
/an /l'ch could not be a sufficient reason for infrin&in& the order of the sessionBin other words, that
it would certainl' not preent his unwrappin& a new pac) of cards and shufflin& them that eenin&
while a footman placed four fresh candles on the table2 in fact, that there was no reason for supposin&
that this incident would hinder their spendin& the eenin& a&reeabl'" /ndeed he said this in a whisper
as Aeter /anoich passed him, proposin& that the' should meet for a &ame at FFdor Gasilieich#s"
But apparentl' Aeter /anoich was not destined to pla' brid&e that eenin&" Aras)o'a FFdorona $a
short, fat woman who despite all efforts to the contrar' had continued to broaden steadil' from her
shoulders downwards and who had the same e!traordinaril' arched e'ebrows as the lad' who had
been standin& b' the coffin(, dressed all in blac), her head coered with lace, came out of her own
room with some other ladies, conducted them to the room where the dead bod' la', and said2 *The
serice will be&in immediatel'" Alease &o in"+
Schwart%, ma)in& an indefinite bow, stood still, eidentl' neither acceptin& nor declinin& this
initation" Aras)o'a FFdorona, reco&ni%in& Aeter /anoich, si&hed, went close up to him, too) his
hand, and said2 */ )now 'ou were a true friend of /an /l'ch " " "+ and loo)ed at him awaitin& some
suitable response" And Aeter /anoich )new that, Cust as it had been the ri&ht thin& to cross himself
in that room, so what he had to do here was to press her hand, si&h, and sa', *Beliee me" " " "+ So he
did all this and as he did it felt that the desired result had been achieed2 that both he and she were
touched"
*Come with me" / want to spea) to 'ou before it be&ins,+ said the widow" *8ie me 'our arm"+
Aeter /anoich &ae her his arm and the' went to the inner rooms, passin& Schwart%, who
win)ed at Aeter /anoich compassionatel'"
*That does for our brid&eH Don#t obCect if we find another pla'er" Aerhaps 'ou can cut in when
'ou do escape,+ said his pla'ful loo)"
Aeter /anoich si&hed still more deepl' and despondentl', and Aras)o'a FFdorona pressed his
arm &ratefull'" 4hen the' reached the drawin&3room, upholstered in pin) cretonne and li&hted b' a
dim lamp, the' sat down at the tableBshe on a sofa and Aeter /anoich on a low pouffe, the sprin&s
of which 'ielded spasmodicall' under his wei&ht" Aras)o'a FFdorona had been on the point of
warnin& him to ta)e another seat, but felt that such a warnin& was out of )eepin& with her present
condition and so chan&ed her mind" As he sat down on the pouffe Aeter /anoich recalled how /an
/l'ch had arran&ed this room and had consulted him re&ardin& this pin) cretonne with &reen leaes"
The whole room was full of furniture and )nic)3)nac)s, and on her wa' to the sofa the lace of the
widow#s blac) shawl cau&ht on the cared ed&e of the table" Aeter /anoich rose to detach it, and the
sprin&s of the pouffe, relieed of his wei&ht, rose also and &ae him a push" The widow be&an
detachin& her shawl herself, and Aeter /anoich a&ain sat down, suppressin& the rebellious sprin&s
of the pouffe under him" But the widow had not 0uite freed herself and Aeter /anoich &ot up a&ain,
and a&ain the pouffe rebelled and een crea)ed" 4hen this was all oer she too) out a clean cambric
hand)erchief and be&an to weep" The episode with the shawl and the stru&&le with the pouffe had
cooled Aeter /anoich#s emotions and he sat there with a sullen loo) on his face" This aw)ward
situation was interrupted b' So)olo, /an /l'ch#s butler, who came to report that the plot in the
cemeter' that Aras)o'a FFdorona had chosen would cost two hundred rubles" She stopped weepin&
and, loo)in& at Aeter /anoich with the air of a ictim, remar)ed in French that it was er' hard for
her" Aeter /anoich made a silent &esture si&nif'in& his full coniction that it must indeed be so"
*Alease smo)e,+ she said in a ma&nanimous 'et crushed oice, and turned to discuss with
So)olo the price of the plot for the &rae"
Aeter /anoich while li&htin& his ci&arette heard her in0uirin& er' circumstantiall' into the
price of different plots in the cemeter' and finall' decided which she would ta)e" 4hen that was done
she &ae instructions about en&a&in& the choir" So)olo then left the room"
*/ loo) after eer'thin& m'self,+ she told Aeter /anoich, shiftin& the albums that la' on the
table. and noticin& that the table was endan&ered b' his ci&arette3ash, she immediatel' passed him an
ashtra', sa'in& as she did so2 */ consider it an affectation to sa' that m' &rief preents m' attendin&
to practical affairs" 5n the contrar', if an'thin& canB/ won#t sa' console me, butBdistract me, it is
seein& to eer'thin& concernin& him"+ She a&ain too) out her hand)erchief as if preparin& to cr', but
suddenl', as if masterin& her feelin&, she shoo) herself and be&an to spea) calml'" *But there is
somethin& / want to tal) to 'ou about"+
Aeter /anoich bowed, )eepin& control of the sprin&s of the pouffe, which immediatel' be&an
0uierin& under him"
*He suffered terribl' the last few da's"+
*Did he6+ said Aeter /anoich"
*5h, terribl'H He screamed unceasin&l', not for minutes but for hours" For the last three da's he
screamed incessantl'" /t was unendurable" / cannot understand how / bore it. 'ou could hear him
three rooms off" 5h, what / hae sufferedH+
*/s it possible that he was conscious all that time6+ as)ed Aeter /anoich"
*Ies,+ she whispered" *To the last moment" He too) leae of us a 0uarter of an hour before he
died, and as)ed us to ta)e Gas'a awa'"+
The thou&ht of the sufferin&s of this man he had )nown so intimatel', first as a merr' little bo',
then as a school3mate, and later as a &rown3up collea&ue, suddenl' struc) Aeter /anoich with
horror, despite an unpleasant consciousness of his own and this woman#s dissimulation" He a&ain saw
that brow, and that nose pressin& down on the lip, and felt afraid for himself"
*Three da's of fri&htful sufferin& and then deathH 4h', that mi&ht suddenl', at an' time, happen
to me,+ he thou&ht, and for a moment felt terrified" ButBhe did not himself )now howBthe
customar' reflection at once occurred to him that this had happened to /an /l'ch and not to him, and
that it should not and could not happen to him, and that to thin) that it could would be 'ieldin& to
depression which he ou&ht not to do, as Schwart%#s e!pression plainl' showed" After which reflection
Aeter /anoich felt reassured, and be&an to as) with interest about the details of /an /l'ch#s death,
as thou&h death was an accident natural to /an /l'ch but certainl' not to himself"
After man' details of the reall' dreadful ph'sical sufferin&s /an /l'ch had endured $which
details he learnt onl' from the effect those sufferin&s had produced on Aras)o'a FFdorona#s neres(
the widow apparentl' found it necessar' to &et to business"
*5h, Aeter /anoich, how hard it isH How terribl', terribl' hardH+ and she a&ain be&an to weep"
Aeter /anoich si&hed and waited for her to finish blowin& her nose" 4hen she had done so he
said, *Beliee me " " "+ and she a&ain be&an tal)in& and brou&ht out what was eidentl' her chief
concern with himBnamel', to 0uestion him as to how she could obtain a &rant of mone' from the
&oernment on the occasion of her husband#s death" She made it appear that she was as)in& Aeter
/anoich#s adice about her pension, but he soon saw that she alread' )new about that to the
minutest detail, more een than he did himself" She )new how much could be &ot out of the
&oernment in conse0uence of her husband#s death, but wanted to find out whether she could not
possibl' e!tract somethin& more" Aeter /anoich tried to thin) of some means of doin& so, but after
reflectin& for a while and, out of propriet', condemnin& the &oernment for its ni&&ardliness, he said
he thou&ht that nothin& more could be &ot" Then she si&hed and eidentl' be&an to deise means of
&ettin& rid of her isitor" Noticin& this, he put out his ci&arette, rose, pressed her hand, and went out
into the anteroom"
/n the dinin&3room where the cloc) stood that /an /l'ch had li)ed so much and had bou&ht at an
anti0ue shop, Aeter /anoich met a priest and a few ac0uaintances who had come to attend the
serice, and he reco&ni%ed /an /l'ch#s dau&hter, a handsome 'oun& woman" She was in blac) and
her slim fi&ure appeared slimmer than eer" She had a &loom', determined, almost an&r' e!pression,
and bowed to Aeter /anoich as thou&h he were in some wa' to blame" Behind her, with the same
offended loo), stood a wealth' 'oun& man, an e!aminin& ma&istrate, whom Aeter /anoich also
)new and who was her fiancJ, as he had heard" He bowed mournfull' to them and was about to pass
into the death3chamber, when from under the stairs appeared the fi&ure of /an /l'ch#s schoolbo' son,
who was e!tremel' li)e his father" He seemed a little /an /l'ch, such as Aeter /anoich remembered
when the' studied law to&ether" His tear3stained e'es had in them the loo) that is seen in the e'es of
bo's of thirteen or fourteen who are not pure3minded" 4hen he saw Aeter /anoich he scowled
morosel' and shamefacedl'" Aeter /anoich nodded to him and entered the death3chamber" The
serice be&an2 candles, &roans, incense, tears, and sobs" Aeter /anoich stood loo)in& &loomil' down
at his feet" He did not loo) once at the dead man, did not 'ield to an' depressin& influence, and was
one of the first to leae the room" There was no one in the anteroom, but 8erasim darted out of the
dead man#s room, rumma&ed with his stron& hands amon& the fur coats to find Aeter /anoich#s,
and helped him on with it"
*4ell, friend 8erasim,+ said Aeter /anoich, so as to sa' somethin&" */t#s a sad affair, isn#t it6+
*/t#s 8od#s will" 4e shall all come to it some da',+ said 8erasim, displa'in& his teethBthe een,
white teeth of a health' peasantBand, li)e a man in the thic) of ur&ent wor), he bris)l' opened the
front door, called the coachman, helped Aeter /anoich into the sled&e, and spran& bac) to the porch
as if in readiness for what he had to do ne!t"
Aeter /anoich found the fresh air particularl' pleasant after the smell of incense, the dead bod',
and carbolic acid"
*4here to, sir6+ as)ed the coachman"
*/t#s not too late een now " " " /#ll call round on FFdor Gasilieich"+
He accordin&l' droe there and found them Cust finishin& the first rubber, so that it was 0uite
conenient for him to cut in"
II
/an /l'ch#s life had been most simple and most ordinar' and therefore most terrible"
He had been a member of the Court of Justice, and died at the a&e of fort'3fie" His father had
been an official who after serin& in arious ministries and departments in Aetersbur&> had made the
sort of career which brin&s men to positions from which b' reason of their lon& serice the' cannot be
dismissed, thou&h the' are obiousl' unfit to hold an' responsible position, and for whom therefore
posts are speciall' created, which thou&h fictitious carr' salaries of from si! to ten thousand rubles
that are not fictitious, and in receipt of which the' lie on to a &reat a&e"
Such was the Ari' Councillor and superfluous member of arious superfluous institutions, /l'a
1pimoich 8oloin"
He had three sons, of whom /an /l'ch was the second" The eldest son was followin& in his
father#s footsteps onl' in another department, and was alread' approachin& that sta&e in the serice at
which a similar sinecure would be reached" The third son was a failure" He had ruined his prospects
in a number of positions and was now serin& in the railwa' department" His father and brothers, and
still more their wies, not merel' disli)ed meetin& him, but aoided rememberin& his e!istence unless
compelled to do so" His sister had married Baron 8reff, a Aetersbur& official of her father#s t'pe" /an
/l'ch was le phBni: de la famille@ as people said" He was neither as cold and formal as his elder
brother nor as wild as the 'oun&er, but was a happ' mean between themBan intelli&ent, polished,
liel', and a&reeable man" He had studied with his 'oun&er brother at the School of -aw, but the
latter had failed to complete the course and was e!pelled when he was in the fifth class" /an /l'ch
finished the course well" 1en when he was at the School of -aw he was Cust what he remained for
the rest of his life2 a capable, cheerful, &ood3natured, and sociable man, thou&h strict in the
fulfillment of what he considered to be his dut', and he considered his dut', to be what was so
considered b' those in authorit'" Neither as a bo' nor as a man was he a toad', but from earl' 'outh
was b' nature attracted to people of hi&h station as a fl' is drawn to the li&ht, assimilatin& their wa's
and iews of life and establishin& friendl' relations with them" All the enthusiasms of childhood and
'outh passed without leain& much trace on him. he succumbed to sensualit', to anit', and latterl'
amon& the hi&hest classes to liberalism, but alwa's within limits which his instinct unfailin&l'
indicated to him as correct"
At school he had done thin&s which had formerl' seemed to him er' horrid and made him feel
dis&usted with himself when he did them. but when later on he saw that such actions were done b'
people of &ood position and that the' did not re&ard them as wron&, he was able not e!actl' to re&ard
them as ri&ht, but to for&et about them entirel' or not be at all troubled at rememberin& them"
Hain& &raduated from the School of -aw and 0ualified for the tenth ran) of the ciil serice,
and hain& receied mone' from his father for his e0uipment, /an /l'ch ordered himself clothes at
Scharmer#s, the fashionable tailor, hun& a medallion inscribed respice finem: on his watch3chain,
too) leae of his professor and the prince who was patron of the school, had a farewell dinner with
his comrades at Donon#s first3class restaurant, and with his new and fashionable portmanteau, linen,
clothes, shain& and other toilet appliances, and a traelin& ru&, all purchased at the best shops, he
set off for one of the proinces where, throu&h his father#s influence, he had been attached to the
8oernor as an official for special serice"
/n the proince /an /l'ch soon arran&ed as eas' and a&reeable a position for himself as he had
had at the School of -aw" He performed his official tas)s, made his career, and at the same time
amused himself pleasantl' and decorousl'" 5ccasionall' he paid official isits to countr' districts,
where he behaed with di&nit' both to his superiors and inferiors, and performed the duties entrusted
to him, which related chiefl' to the sectarians,? with an e!actness and incorruptible honest' of which
he could not but feel proud"
/n official matters, despite his 'outh and taste for friolous &aiet', he was e!ceedin&l' resered,
punctilious, and een seere. but in societ' he was often amusin& and witt', and alwa's &ood3natured,
correct in his manner, and bon enfant,K as the &oernor and his wifeBwith whom he was li)e one of
the famil'Bused to sa' of him"
/n the proince he had an affair with a lad' who made adances to the ele&ant 'oun& law'er, and
there was also a milliner. and there were carousals with aides3de3camp who isited the district, and
after3supper isits to a certain outl'in& street of doubtful reputation. and there was too some
obse0uiousness to his chief and een to his chief#s wife, but all this was done with such a tone of &ood
breedin& that no hard names could be applied to it" /t all came under the headin& of the French
sa'in&2 =5l faut @ue ;eunesse se passe'>9 /t was all done with clean hands, in clean linen, with French
phrases, and aboe all amon& people of the best societ' and conse0uentl' with the approal of people
of ran)"
So /an /l'ch sered for fie 'ears and then came a chan&e in his official life" The new and
reformed Cudicial institutions were introduced, and new men were needed" /an /l'ch became such a
new man" He was offered the post of e!aminin& ma&istrate, and he accepted it thou&h the post was in
another proince and obli&ed him to &ie up the connections he had formed and to ma)e new ones"
His friends met to &ie him a send3off. the' had a &roup3photo&raph ta)en and presented him with a
siler ci&arette3case, and he set off to his new post"
As e!aminin& ma&istrate /an /l'ch was Cust as comme il faut = and decorous a man, inspirin&
&eneral respect and capable of separatin& his official duties from his priate life, as he had been when
actin& as an official on special serice" His duties now as e!aminin& ma&istrate were far more
interestin& and attractie than before" /n his former position it had been pleasant to wear an undress
uniform made b' Scharmer, and to pass throu&h the crowd of petitioners and officials who were
timorousl' awaitin& an audience with the &oernor, and who enied him as with free and eas' &ait he
went strai&ht into his chief#s priate room to hae a cup of tea and a ci&arette with him" But not man'
people had been directl' dependent on himBonl' police officials and the sectarians when he went on
special missionsBand he li)ed to treat them politel', almost as comrades, as if he were lettin& them
feel that he who had the power to crush them was treatin& them in this simple, friendl' wa'" There
were then but few such people" But now, as an e!aminin& ma&istrate, /an /l'ch felt that eer'one
without e!ception, een the most important and self3satisfied, was in his power, and that he need onl'
write a few words on a sheet of paper with a certain headin&, and this or that important, self3satisfied
person would be brou&ht before him in the role of an accused person or a witness, and if he did not
choose to allow him to sit down, would hae to stand before him and answer his 0uestions" /an /l'ch
neer abused his power. he tried on the contrar' to soften its e!pression, but the consciousness of it
and of the possibilit' of softenin& its effect, supplied the chief interest and attraction of his office" /n
his wor) itself, especiall' in his e!aminations, he er' soon ac0uired a method of eliminatin& all
considerations irreleant to the le&al aspect of the case, and reducin& een the most complicated case
to a form in which it would be presented on paper onl' in its e!ternals, completel' e!cludin& his
personal opinion of the matter, while aboe all obserin& eer' prescribed formalit'" The wor) was
new and /an /l'ch was one of the first men to appl' the new Code of 19?@"1;
5n ta)in& up the post of e!aminin& ma&istrate in a new town, he made new ac0uaintances and
connections, placed himself on a new footin&, and assumed a somewhat different tone" He too) up an
attitude of rather di&nified aloofness towards the proincial authorities, but pic)ed out the best circle
of le&al &entlemen and wealth' &entr' liin& in the town and assumed a tone of sli&ht dissatisfaction
with the &oernment, of moderate liberalism, and of enli&htened citi%enship" At the same time,
without at all alterin& the ele&ance of his toilet, he ceased shain& his chin and allowed his beard to
&row as it pleased"
/an /l'ch settled down er' pleasantl' in this new town" The societ' there, which inclined
towards opposition to the &oernor, was friendl', his salar' was lar&er, and he be&an to pla' vint,11
which he found added not a little to the pleasure of life, for he had a capacit' for cards, pla'ed &ood3
humoredl', and calculated rapidl' and astutel', so that he usuall' won"
After liin& there for two 'ears he met his future wife, Aras)o'a FFdorona ,i)hel, who was
the most attractie, cleer, and brilliant &irl of the set in which he moed, and amon& other
amusements and rela!ations from his labors as e!aminin& ma&istrate, /an /l'ch established li&ht and
pla'ful relations with her"
4hile he had been an official on special serice he had been accustomed to dance, but now as an
e!aminin& ma&istrate it was e!ceptional for him to do so" /f he danced now, he did it as if to show
that thou&h he sered under the reformed order of thin&s, and had reached the fifth official ran), 'et
when it came to dancin& he could do it better than most people" So at the end of an eenin& he
sometimes danced with Aras)o'a FFdorona, and it was chiefl' durin& these dances that he
captiated her" She fell in loe with him" /an /l'ch had at first no definite intention of marr'in&, but
when the &irl fell in loe with him he said to himself2 *Reall', wh' shouldn#t / marr'6+
Aras)o'a FFdorona came of a &ood famil', was not bad3loo)in&, and had some little propert'"
/an /l'ch mi&ht hae aspired to a more brilliant match, but een this was &ood" He had his salar',
and she, he hoped, would hae an e0ual income" She was well connected, and was a sweet, prett',
and thorou&hl' correct 'oun& woman" To sa' that /an /l'ch married because he fell in loe with
Aras)o'a FFdorona and found that she s'mpathi%ed with his iews of life would be as incorrect as
to sa' that he married because his social circle approed of the match" He was swa'ed b' both these
considerations2 the marria&e &ae him personal satisfaction, and at the same time it was considered
the ri&ht thin& b' the most hi&hl' placed of his associates"
So /an /l'ch &ot married"
The preparations for marria&e and the be&innin& of married life, with its conCu&al caresses, the
new furniture, new croc)er', and new linen, were er' pleasant until his wife became pre&nantBso
that /an /l'ch had be&un to thin) that marria&e would not impair the eas', a&reeable, &a', and
alwa's decorous character of his life, approed of b' societ' and re&arded b' himself as natural, but
would een improe it" But from the first months of his wife#s pre&nanc', somethin& new,
unpleasant, depressin&, and unseeml', and from which there was no wa' of escape, une!pectedl'
showed itself"
His wife, without an' reasonBde gaietB de coeur17 as /an /l'ch e!pressed it to himselfBbe&an
to disturb the pleasure and propriet' of their life" She be&an to be Cealous without an' cause, e!pected
him to deote his whole attention to her, found fault with eer'thin&, and made coarse and ill3
mannered scenes"
At first /an /l'ch hoped to escape from the unpleasantness of this state of affairs b' the same
eas' and decorous relation to life that had sered him heretofore2 he tried to i&nore his wife#s
disa&reeable moods, continued to lie in his usual eas' and pleasant wa', inited friends to his house
for a &ame of cards, and also tried &oin& out to his club or spendin& his eenin&s with friends" But
one da' his wife be&an upbraidin& him so i&orousl', usin& such coarse words, and continued to
abuse him eer' time he did not fulfill her demands, so resolutel' and with such eident
determination not to &ie wa' till he submittedBthat is, till he sta'ed at home and was bored Cust as
she wasBthat he became alarmed" He now reali%ed that matrimon'Bat an' rate with Aras)o'a
FFdoronaBwas not alwa's conducie to the pleasures and amenities of life, but on the contrar' often
infrin&ed both comfort and propriet', and that he must therefore entrench himself a&ainst such
infrin&ement" And /an /l'ch be&an to see) for means of doin& so" His official duties were the one
thin& that imposed upon Aras)o'a FFdorona, and b' means of his official wor) and the duties
attached to it he be&an stru&&lin& with his wife to secure his own independence"
4ith the birth of their child, the attempts to feed it and the arious failures in doin& so, and with
the real and ima&inar' illnesses of mother and child, in which /an /l'ch#s s'mpath' was demanded
but about which he understood nothin&, the need of securin& for himself an e!istence outside his
famil' life became still more imperatie"
As his wife &rew more irritable and e!actin& and /an /l'ch transferred the center of &rait' of
his life more and more to his official wor) so did he &row to li)e his wor) better and became more
ambitious than before"
Ger' soon, within a 'ear of his weddin&, /an /l'ch had reali%ed that marria&e, thou&h it ma'
add some comforts to life, is in fact a er' intricate and difficult affair towards which in order to
perform one#s dut', that is, to lead a decorous life approed of b' societ', one must adopt a definite
attitude Cust as towards one#s official duties"
And /an /l'ch eoled such an attitude towards married life" He onl' re0uired of it those
coneniencesBdinner at home, housewife, and bedBwhich it could &ie him, and aboe all that
propriet' of e!ternal forms re0uired b' public opinion" For the rest he loo)ed for li&ht3hearted
pleasure and propriet', and was er' than)ful when he found them, but if he met with anta&onism
and 0uerulousness he at once retired into his separate fenced3off world of official duties, where he
found satisfaction"
/an /l'ch was esteemed a &ood official, and after three 'ears was made Assistant Aublic
Arosecutor" His new duties, their importance, the possibilit' of indictin& and imprisonin& an'one he
chose, the publicit' his speeches receied, and the success he had in all these thin&s made his wor)
still more attractie"
,ore children came" His wife became more and more 0uerulous and ill3tempered, but the attitude
/an /l'ch had adopted towards his home life rendered him almost imperious to her &rumblin&"
After seen 'ears# serice in that town he was transferred to another proince as Aublic
Arosecutor" The' moed, but were short of mone' and his wife did not li)e the place the' moed to"
Thou&h the salar' was hi&her the cost of liin& was &reater, besides which two of their children died
and famil' life became still more unpleasant for him"
Aras)o'a FFdorona blamed her husband for eer' inconenience the' encountered in their new
home" ,ost of the conersations between husband and wife, especiall' as to the children#s education,
led to topics which recalled former disputes, and those disputes were apt to flare up a&ain at an'
moment" There remained onl' those rare periods of amorousness which still came to them at times
but did not last lon&" These were islets at which the' anchored for a while and then a&ain set out upon
that ocean of eiled hostilit' which showed itself in their aloofness from one another" This aloofness
mi&ht hae &rieed /an /l'ch had he considered that it ou&ht not to e!ist, but he now re&arded the
position as normal, and een made it the &oal at which he aimed in famil' life" His aim was to free
himself more and more from those unpleasantnesses and to &ie them a semblance of harmlessness
and propriet'" He attained this b' spendin& less and less time with his famil', and when obli&ed to be
at home he tried to safe&uard his position b' the presence of outsiders" The chief thin& howeer was
that he had his official duties" The whole interest of his life now centered in the official world and
that interest absorbed him" The consciousness of his power, bein& able to ruin an'bod' he wished to
ruin, the importance, een the e!ternal di&nit' of his entr' into court, or meetin&s with his
subordinates, his success with superiors and inferiors, and aboe all his masterl' handlin& of cases, of
which he was consciousBall this &ae him pleasure and filled his life, to&ether with chats with his
collea&ues, dinners, and brid&e" So that on the whole /an /l'ch#s life continued to flow as he
considered it should doBpleasantl' and properl'"
So thin&s continued for another seen 'ears" His eldest dau&hter was alread' si!teen, another
child had died, and onl' one son was left, a schoolbo' and a subCect of dissension" /an /l'ch wanted
to put him in the School of -aw, but to spite him Aras)o'a FFdorona entered him at the Hi&h
School" The dau&hter had been educated at home and had turned out well2 the bo' did not learn badl'
either"
III
So /an /l'ch lied for seenteen 'ears after his marria&e" He was alread' a Aublic Arosecutor of lon&
standin&, and had declined seeral proposed transfers while awaitin& a more desirable post, when an
unanticipated and unpleasant occurrence 0uite upset the peaceful course of his life" He was e!pectin&
to be offered the post of presidin& Cud&e in a Lniersit' town, but Happe somehow came to the front
and obtained the appointment instead" /an /l'ch became irritable, reproached Happe, and 0uarreled
both with him and with his immediate superiorsBwho became colder to him and a&ain passed him
oer when other appointments were made"
This was in 199;, the hardest 'ear of /an /l'ch#s life" /t was then that it became eident on the
one hand that his salar' was insufficient for them to lie on, and on the other that he had been
for&otten, and not onl' this, but that what was for him the &reatest and most cruel inCustice appeared
to others a 0uite ordinar' occurrence" 1en his father did not consider it his dut' to help him" /an
/l'ch felt himself abandoned b' eer'one, and that the' re&arded his position with a salar' of >,:;;
rubles as 0uite normal and een fortunate" He alone )new that with the consciousness of the inCustices
done him, with his wife#s incessant na&&in&, and with the debts he had contracted b' liin& be'ond
his means, his position was far from normal"
/n order to sae mone' that summer he obtained leae of absence and went with his wife to lie
in the countr' at her brother#s place"
/n the countr', without his wor), he e!perienced ennui for the first time in his life, and not onl'
ennui but intolerable depression, and he decided that it was impossible to &o on liin& li)e that, and
that it was necessar' to ta)e ener&etic measures"
Hain& passed a sleepless ni&ht pacin& up and down the eranda, he decided to &o to Aetersbur&
and bestir himself, in order to punish those who had failed to appreciate him and to &et transferred to
another ministr'"
Ne!t da', despite man' protests from his wife and her brother, he started for Aetersbur& with the
sole obCect of obtainin& a post with a salar' of fie thousand rubles a 'ear" He was no lon&er bent on
an' particular department, or tendenc', or )ind of actiit'" All he now wanted was an appointment to
another post with a salar' of fie thousand rubles, either in the administration, in the ban)s, with the
railwa's, in one of the 1mpress ,ar'a#s /nstitutions, or een in the customsBbut it had to carr' with
it a salar' of :,;;; rubles and be in a ministr' other than that in which the' had failed to appreciate
him"
And this 0uest of /an /l'ch#s was crowned with remar)able and une!pected success" At Eurs)
an ac0uaintance of his, F" /" /l'in, &ot into the first3class carria&e, sat down beside /an /l'ch, and
told him of a tele&ram Cust receied b' the 8oernor of Eurs) announcin& that a chan&e was about to
ta)e place in the ministr'2 Aeter /anoich was to be superseded b' /an SemFnoich"
The proposed chan&e, apart from its si&nificance for Russia, had a special si&nificance for /an
/l'ch, because b' brin&in& forward a new man, Aeter Aetroich, and conse0uentl' his friend Machar
/anoich, it was hi&hl' faorable for /an /l'ch, since Machar /anoich was a friend and collea&ue
of his"
/n ,oscow this news was confirmed, and on reachin& Aetersbur& /an /l'ch found Machar
/anoich and receied a definite promise of an appointment in his former department of Justice"
A wee) later he tele&raphed to his wife2 *Machar in ,iller#s place" / shall receie appointment on
presentation of report"+
Than)s to this chan&e of personnel, /an /l'ch had une!pectedl' obtained an appointment in his
former ministr' which placed him two sta&es aboe his former collea&ues besides &iin& him fie
thousand rubles salar' and three thousand fie hundred rubles for e!penses connected with his
remoal" All his ill humor towards his former enemies and the whole department anished, and /an
/l'ch was completel' happ'"
He returned to the countr' more cheerful and contented than he had been for a lon& time"
Aras)o'a FFdorona also cheered up and a truce was arran&ed between them" /an /l'ch told of how
he had been fNted b' eer'bod' in Aetersbur&, how all those who had been his enemies were put to
shame and now fawned on him, how enious the' were of his appointment, and how much eer'bod'
in Aetersbur& had li)ed him"
Aras)o'a FFdorona listened to all this and appeared to beliee it" She did not contradict
an'thin&, but onl' made plans for their life in the town to which the' were &oin&" /an /l'ch saw with
deli&ht that these plans were his plans, that he and his wife a&reed, and that, after a stumble, his life
was re&ainin& its due and natural character of pleasant li&htheartedness and decorum"
/an /l'ch had come bac) for a short time onl', for he had to ta)e up his new duties on the 1;th
of September" ,oreoer, he needed time to settle into the new place, to moe all his belon&in&s from
the proince, and to bu' and order man' additional thin&s2 in a word, to ma)e such arran&ements as
he had resoled on, which were almost e!actl' what Aras)o'a FFdorona too had decided on"
Now that eer'thin& had happened so fortunatel', and that he and his wife were at one in their
aims and moreoer saw so little of one another, the' &ot on to&ether better than the' had done since
the first 'ears of marria&e" /an /l'ch had thou&ht of ta)in& his famil' awa' with him at once, but the
insistence of his wife#s brother and her sister3in3law, who had suddenl' become particularl' amiable
and friendl' to him and his famil', induced him to depart alone"
So he departed, and the cheerful state of mind induced b' his success and b' the harmon'
between his wife and himself, the one intensif'in& the other, did not leae him" He found a deli&htful
house, Cust the thin& both he and his wife had dreamt of" Spacious, loft' reception rooms in the old
st'le, a conenient and di&nified stud', rooms for his wife and dau&hter, a stud' for his sonBit mi&ht
hae been speciall' built for them" /an /l'ch himself superintended the arran&ements, chose the
wallpapers, supplemented the furniture $preferabl' with anti0ues which he considered particularl'
comme il faut(, and superised the upholsterin&" 1er'thin& pro&ressed and pro&ressed and
approached the ideal he had set himself2 een when thin&s were onl' half completed the' e!ceeded
his e!pectations" He saw what a refined and ele&ant character, free from ul&arit', it would all hae
when it was read'" 5n fallin& asleep he pictured to himself how the reception3room would loo)"
-oo)in& at the 'et unfinished drawin&3room he could see the fireplace, the screen, the what3not, the
little chairs dotted here and there, the dishes and plates on the walls, and the bron%es, as the' would
be when eer'thin& was in place" He was pleased b' the thou&ht of how his wife and dau&hter, who
shared his taste in this matter, would be impressed b' it" The' were certainl' not e!pectin& as much"
He had been particularl' successful in findin&, and bu'in& cheapl', anti0ues which &ae a
particularl' aristocratic character to the whole place" But in his letters he intentionall' understated
eer'thin& in order to be able to surprise them" All this so absorbed him that his new dutiesBthou&h
he li)ed his official wor)Binterested him less than he had e!pected" Sometimes he een had
moments of absent3mindedness durin& the Court Sessions, and would consider whether he should
hae strai&ht or cured cornices for his curtains" He was so interested in it all that he often did thin&s
himself, rearran&in& the furniture, or rehan&in& the curtains" 5nce when mountin& a step3ladder to
show the upholsterer, who did not understand, how he wanted the han&in&s draped, he made a false
step and slipped, but bein& a stron& and a&ile man he clun& on and onl' )noc)ed his side a&ainst the
)nob of the window frame" The bruised place was painful but the pain soon passed, and he felt
particularl' bri&ht and well Cust then" He wrote2 */ feel fifteen 'ears 'oun&er"+ He thou&ht he would
hae eer'thin& read' b' September, but it dra&&ed on till mid35ctober" But the result was charmin&
not onl' in his e'es but to eer'one who saw it"
/n realit' it was Cust what is usuall' seen in the houses of people of moderate means who want to
appear rich, and therefore succeed onl' in resemblin& others li)e themseles2 there were damas)s,
dar) wood, plants, ru&s, and dull and polished bron%esBall the thin&s people of a certain class hae
in order to resemble other people of that class" His house was so li)e the others that it would neer
hae been noticed, but to him it all seemed to be 0uite e!ceptional" He was er' happ' when he met
his famil' at the station and brou&ht them to the newl' furnished house all lit up, where a footman in
a white tie opened the door into the hall decorated with plants, and when the' went on into the
drawin&3room and the stud' utterin& e!clamations of deli&ht" He conducted them eer'where, dran)
in their praises ea&erl', and beamed with pleasure" At tea that eenin&, when Aras)o'a FFdorona
amon& other thin&s as)ed him about his fall, he lau&hed and showed them how he had &one fl'in&
and had fri&htened the upholsterer"
*/t#s a &ood thin& /#m a bit of an athlete" Another man mi&ht hae been )illed, but / merel'
)noc)ed m'self, Cust here. it hurts when it#s touched, but it#s passin& off alread'Bit#s onl' a bruise"+
So the' be&an liin& in their new homeBin which, as alwa's happens, when the' &ot thorou&hl'
settled in the' found the' were Cust one room shortBand with the increased income, which as alwa's
was Cust a little $some fie hundred rubles( too little, but it was all er' nice"
Thin&s went particularl' well at first, before eer'thin& was finall' arran&ed and while
somethin& had still to be done2 this thin& bou&ht, that thin& ordered, another thin& moed, and
somethin& else adCusted" Thou&h there were some disputes between husband and wife, the' were both
so well satisfied and had so much to do that it all passed off without an' serious 0uarrels" 4hen
nothin& was left to arran&e it became rather dull and somethin& seemed to be lac)in&, but the' were
then ma)in& ac0uaintances, formin& habits, and life was &rowin& fuller"
/an /l'ch spent his mornin&s at the law court and came home to dinner, and at first he was
&enerall' in a &ood humor, thou&h he occasionall' became irritable Cust on account of his house"
$1er' spot on the tablecloth or the upholster', and eer' bro)en windowblind strin&, irritated him"
He had deoted so much trouble to arran&in& it all that eer' disturbance of it distressed him"( But on
the whole his life ran its course as he belieed life should do2 easil', pleasantl', and decorousl'"
He &ot up at nine, dran) his coffee, read the paper, and then put on his undress uniform and went
to the law courts" There the harness in which he wor)ed had alread' been stretched to fit him and he
donned it without a hitch2 petitioners, in0uiries at the chancer', the chancer' itself, and the sittin&s
public and administratie" /n all this the thin& was to e!clude eer'thin& fresh and ital, which
alwa's disturbs the re&ular course of official business, and to admit onl' official relations with people,
and then onl' on official &rounds" A man would come, for instance, wantin& some information" /an
/l'ch, as one in whose sphere the matter did not lie, would hae nothin& to do with him2 but if the
man had some business with him in his official capacit', somethin& that could be e!pressed on
officiall' stamped paper, he would do eer'thin&, positiel' eer'thin& he could within the limits of
such relations, and in doin& so would maintain the semblance of friendl' human relations, that is,
would obsere the courtesies of life" As soon as the official relations ended, so did eer'thin& else"
/an /l'ch possessed this capacit' to separate his real life from the official side of affairs and not mi!
the two, in the hi&hest de&ree, and b' lon& practice and natural aptitude had brou&ht it to such a pitch
that sometimes, in the manner of a irtuoso, he would een allow himself to let the human and
official relations min&le" He let himself do this Cust because he felt that he could at an' time he chose
resume the strictl' official attitude a&ain and drop the human relation" And he did it all easil',
pleasantl', correctl', and een artisticall'" /n the interals between the sessions he smo)ed, dran) tea,
chatted a little about politics, a little about &eneral topics, a little about cards, but most of all about
official appointments" Tired, but with the feelin&s of a irtuosoBone of the first iolins who has
pla'ed his part in an orchestra with precisionBhe would return home to find that his wife and
dau&hter had been out pa'in& calls, or had a isitor, and that his son had been to school, had done his
homewor) with his tutor, and was dul' learnin& what is tau&ht at Hi&h Schools" 1er'thin& was as it
should be" After dinner, if the' had no isitors, /an /l'ch sometimes read a boo) that was bein&
much discussed at the time, and in the eenin& settled down to wor), that is, read official papers,
compared the depositions of witnesses, and noted para&raphs of the Code appl'in& to them" This was
neither dull nor amusin&" /t was dull when he mi&ht hae been pla'in& brid&e, but if no brid&e was
aailable it was at an' rate better than doin& nothin& or sittin& with his wife" /an /l'ch#s chief
pleasure was &iin& little dinners to which he inited men and women of &ood social position, and
Cust as his drawin&3room resembled all other drawin&3rooms so did his enCo'able little parties
resemble all other such parties"
5nce the' een &ae a dance" /an /l'ch enCo'ed it and eer'thin& went off well, e!cept that it
led to a iolent 0uarrel with his wife about the ca)es and sweets" Aras)o'a FFdorona had made her
own plans, but /an /l'ch insisted on &ettin& eer'thin& from an e!pensie confectioner and ordered
too man' ca)es, and the 0uarrel occurred because some of those ca)es were left oer and the
confectioner#s bill came to fort'3fie rubles" /t was a &reat and disa&reeable 0uarrel" Aras)o'a
FFdorona called him *a fool and an imbecile,+ and he clutched at his head and made an&r' allusions
to diorce"
But the dance itself had been enCo'able" The best people were there, and /an /l'ch had danced
with Arincess Trufonoa, a sister of the distin&uished founder of the Societ' *Bear ,' Burden"+
The pleasures connected with his wor) were pleasures of ambition. his social pleasures were
those of anit'. but /an /l'ch#s &reatest pleasure was pla'in& brid&e" He ac)nowled&ed that whateer
disa&reeable incident happened in his life, the pleasure that beamed li)e a ra' of li&ht aboe
eer'thin& else was to sit down to brid&e with &ood pla'ers, not nois' partners, and of course to four3
handed brid&e $with fie pla'ers it was anno'in& to hae to stand out, thou&h one pretended not to
mind(, to pla' a cleer and serious &ame $when the cards allowed it(, and then to hae supper and
drin) a &lass of wine" After a &ame of brid&e, especiall' if he had won a little $to win a lar&e sum was
unpleasant(, /an /l'ch went to bed in speciall' &ood humor"
So the' lied" The' formed a circle of ac0uaintances amon& the best people and were isited b'
people of importance and b' 'oun& fol)" /n their iews as to their ac0uaintances, husband, wife, and
dau&hter were entirel' a&reed, and tacitl' and unanimousl' )ept at arm#s len&th and shoo) off the
arious shabb' friends and relations who, with much show of affection, &ushed into the drawin&3
room with its Japanese plates on the walls" Soon these shabb' friends ceased to obtrude themseles
and onl' the best people remained in the 8oloins# set"
Ioun& men made up to -isa, and Aetrische, an e!aminin& ma&istrate and Dmitri /anoich
Aetrische#s son and sole heir, be&an to be so attentie to her that /an /l'ch had alread' spo)en to
Aras)o'a FFdorona about it, and considered whether the' should not arran&e a part' for them, or
&et up some priate theatricals"
So the' lied, and all went well, without chan&e, and life flowed pleasantl'"
IV
The' were all in &ood health" /t could not be called ill health if /an /l'ch sometimes said that he had
a 0ueer taste in his mouth and felt some discomfort in his left side"
But this discomfort increased and, thou&h not e!actl' painful, &rew into a sense of pressure in his
side accompanied b' ill humor" And his irritabilit' became worse and worse and be&an to mar the
a&reeable, eas', and correct life that had established itself in the 8oloin famil'" Ouarrels between
husband and wife became more and more fre0uent, and soon the ease and amenit' disappeared and
een the decorum was barel' maintained" Scenes a&ain became fre0uent, and er' few of those islets
remained on which husband and wife could meet without an e!plosion" Aras)o'a FFdorona now
had &ood reason to sa' that her husband#s temper was tr'in&" 4ith characteristic e!a&&eration she
said he had alwa's had a dreadful temper, and that it had needed all her &ood nature to put up with it
for twent' 'ears" /t was true that now the 0uarrels were started b' him" His bursts of temper alwa's
came Cust before dinner, often Cust as he be&an to eat his soup" Sometimes he noticed that a plate or
dish was chipped, or the food was not ri&ht, or his son put his elbow on the table, or his dau&hter#s
hair was not done as he li)ed it, and for all this he blamed Aras)o'a FFdorona" At first she retorted
and said disa&reeable thin&s to him, but once or twice he fell into such a ra&e at the be&innin& of
dinner that she reali%ed it was due to some ph'sical deran&ement brou&ht on b' ta)in& food, and so
she restrained herself and did not answer, but onl' hurried to &et the dinner oer" She re&arded this
self3restraint as hi&hl' praiseworth'" Hain& come to the conclusion that her husband had a dreadful
temper and made her life miserable, she be&an to feel sorr' for herself, and the more she pitied
herself the more she hated her husband" She be&an to wish he would die. 'et she did not want him to
die because then his salar' would cease" And this irritated her a&ainst him still more" She considered
herself dreadfull' unhapp' Cust because not een his death could sae her, and thou&h she concealed
her e!asperation, that hidden e!asperation of hers increased his irritation also"
After one scene in which /an /l'ch had been particularl' unfair and after which he had said in
e!planation that he certainl' was irritable but that it was due to his not bein& well, she said that if he
was ill it should be attended to, and insisted on his &oin& to see a celebrated doctor"
He went" 1er'thin& too) place as he had e!pected and as it alwa's does" There was the usual
waitin& and the important air assumed b' the doctor, with which he was so familiar $resemblin& that
which he himself assumed in court(, and the soundin& and listenin&, and the 0uestions which called
for answers that were fore&one conclusions and were eidentl' unnecessar', and the loo) of
importance which implied that *if onl' 'ou put 'ourself in our hands we will arran&e eer'thin&Bwe
)now indubitabl' how it has to be done, alwa's in the same wa' for eer'bod' ali)e"+ /t was all Cust
as it was in the law courts" The doctor put on Cust the same air towards him as he himself put on
towards an accused person"
The doctor said that so3and3so indicated that there was so3and3so inside the patient, but if the
inesti&ation of so3and3so did not confirm this, then he must assume that and that" /f he assumed that
and that, then " " " and so on" To /an /l'ch onl' one 0uestion was important2 was his case serious or
not6 But the doctor i&nored that inappropriate 0uestion" From his point of iew it was not the one
under consideration, the real 0uestion was to decide between a floatin& )idne', chronic catarrh, or
appendicitis" /t was not a 0uestion of /an /l'ch#s life or death, but one between a floatin& )idne' and
appendicitis" And that 0uestion the doctor soled brilliantl', as it seemed to /an /l'ch, in faor of the
appendi!, with the reseration that should an e!amination of the urine &ie fresh indications the
matter would be reconsidered" All this was Cust what /an /l'ch had himself brilliantl' accomplished
a thousand times in dealin& with men on trial" The doctor summed up Cust as brilliantl', loo)in& oer
his spectacles triumphantl' and een &ail' at the accused" From the doctor#s summin& up /an /l'ch
concluded that thin&s were bad, but that for the doctor, and perhaps for eer'bod' else, it was a
matter of indifference, thou&h for him it was bad" And this conclusion struc) him painfull', arousin&
in him a &reat feelin& of pit' for himself and of bitterness towards the doctor#s indifference to a
matter of such importance"
He said nothin& of this, but rose, placed the doctor#s fee on the table, and remar)ed with a si&h2
*4e sic) people probabl' often put inappropriate 0uestions" But tell me, in &eneral, is this complaint
dan&erous, or not6 " " "+
The doctor loo)ed at him sternl' oer his spectacles with one e'e, as if to sa'2 *Arisoner, if 'ou
will not )eep to the 0uestions put to 'ou, / shall be obli&ed to hae 'ou remoed from the court"+
*/ hae alread' told 'ou what / consider necessar' and proper" The anal'sis ma' show somethin&
more"+ And the doctor bowed"
/an /l'ch went out slowl', seated himself disconsolatel' in his sled&e, and droe home" All the
wa' home he was &oin& oer what the doctor had said, tr'in& to translate those complicated, obscure,
scientific phrases into plain lan&ua&e and find in them an answer to the 0uestion2 */s m' condition
bad6 /s it er' bad6 5r is there as 'et nothin& much wron&6+ And it seemed to him that the meanin&
of what the doctor had said was that it was er' bad" 1er'thin& in the streets seemed depressin&" The
cabmen, the houses, the passers3b', and the shops, were dismal" His ache, this dull &nawin& ache that
neer ceased for a moment, seemed to hae ac0uired a new and more serious si&nificance from the
doctor#s dubious remar)s" /an /l'ch now watched it with a new and oppressie feelin&"
He reached home and be&an to tell his wife about it" She listened, but in the middle of his
account his dau&hter came in with her hat on, read' to &o out with her mother" She sat down
reluctantl' to listen to this tedious stor', but could not stand it lon&, and her mother too did not hear
him to the end"
*4ell, / am er' &lad,+ she said" *,ind now to ta)e 'our medicine re&ularl'" 8ie me the
prescription and /#ll send 8erasim to the chemist#s"+1> And she went to &et read' to &o out"
4hile she was in the room /an /l'ch had hardl' ta)en time to breathe, but he si&hed deepl'
when she left it"
*4ell,+ he thou&ht, *perhaps it isn#t so bad after all"+
He be&an ta)in& his medicine and followin& the doctor#s directions, which had been altered after
the e!amination of the urine" But then it happened that there was a contradiction between the
indications drawn from the e!amination of the urine and the s'mptoms that showed themseles" /t
turned out that what was happenin& differed from what the doctor had told him, and that he had
either for&otten, or blundered, or hidden somethin& from him" He could not, howeer, be blamed for
that, and /an /l'ch still obe'ed his orders implicitl' and at first deried some comfort from doin& so"
From the time of his isit to the doctor, /an /l'ch#s chief occupation was the e!act fulfillment of
the doctor#s instructions re&ardin& h'&iene and the ta)in& of medicine, and the obseration of his
pain and his e!cretions" His chief interests came to be people#s ailments and people#s health" 4hen
sic)ness, deaths, or recoeries were mentioned in his presence, especiall' when the illness resembled
his own, he listened with a&itation which he tried to hide, as)ed 0uestions, and applied what he heard
to his own case"
The pain did not &row less, but /an /l'ch made efforts to force himself to thin) that he was
better" And he could do this so lon& as nothin& a&itated him" But as soon as he had an'
unpleasantness with his wife, an' lac) of success in his official wor), or held bad cards at brid&e, he
was at once acutel' sensible of his disease" He had formerl' borne such mischances, hopin& soon to
adCust what was wron&, to master it and attain success, or ma)e a &rand slam" But now eer'
mischance upset him and plun&ed him into despair" He would sa' to himself2 *There now, Cust as /
was be&innin& to &et better and the medicine had be&un to ta)e effect, comes this accursed
misfortune, or unpleasantness" " " "+ And he was furious with the mishap, or with the people who were
causin& the unpleasantness and )illin& him, for he felt that this fur' was )illin& him but could not
restrain it" 5ne would hae thou&ht that it should hae been clear to him that this e!asperation with
circumstances and people a&&raated his illness, and that he ou&ht therefore to i&nore unpleasant
occurrences" But he drew the er' opposite conclusion2 he said that he needed peace, and he watched
for eer'thin& that mi&ht disturb it and became irritable at the sli&htest infrin&ement of it" His
condition was rendered worse b' the fact that he read medical boo)s and consulted doctors" The
pro&ress of his disease was so &radual that he could deceie himself when comparin& one da' with
anotherBthe difference was so sli&ht" But when he consulted the doctors it seemed to him that he was
&ettin& worse, and een er' rapidl'" Iet despite this he was continuall' consultin& them"
That month he went to see another celebrit', who told him almost the same as the first had done
but put his 0uestions rather differentl', and the interiew with this celebrit' onl' increased /an
/l'ch#s doubts and fears" A friend of a friend of his, a er' &ood doctor, dia&nosed his illness a&ain
0uite differentl' from the others, and thou&h he predicted recoer', his 0uestions and suppositions
bewildered /an /l'ch still more and increased his doubts" A homeopathist dia&nosed the disease in
'et another wa', and prescribed medicine which /an /l'ch too) secretl' for a wee)" But after a wee),
not feelin& an' improement and hain& lost confidence both in the former doctor#s treatment and in
this one#s, he became still more despondent" 5ne da' a lad' ac0uaintance mentioned a cure effected
b' a wonder3wor)in& icon" /an /l'ch cau&ht himself listenin& attentiel' and be&innin& to beliee
that it had occurred" This incident alarmed him" *Has m' mind reall' wea)ened to such an e!tent6+
he as)ed himself" *NonsenseH /t#s all rubbish" / mustn#t &ie wa' to nerous fears but hain& chosen a
doctor must )eep strictl' to his treatment" That is what / will do" Now it#s all settled" / won#t thin)
about it, but will follow the treatment seriousl' till summer, and then we shall see" From now there
must be no more of this waerin&H+ This was eas' to sa' but impossible to carr' out" The pain in his
side oppressed him and seemed to &row worse and more incessant, while the taste in his mouth &rew
stran&er and stran&er" /t seemed to him that his breath had a dis&ustin& smell, and he was conscious
of a loss of appetite and stren&th" There was no deceiin& himself2 somethin& terrible, new, and more
important than an'thin& before in his life, was ta)in& place within him of which he alone was aware"
Those about him did not understand or would not understand it, but thou&ht eer'thin& in the world
was &oin& on as usual" That tormented /an /l'ch more than an'thin&" He saw that his household,
especiall' his wife and dau&hter who were in a perfect whirl of isitin&, did not understand an'thin&
of it and were anno'ed that he was so depressed and so e!actin&, as if he were to blame for it" Thou&h
the' tried to dis&uise it he saw that he was an obstacle in their path, and that his wife had adopted a
definite line in re&ard to his illness and )ept to it re&ardless of an'thin& he said or did" Her attitude
was this2 *Iou )now,+ she would sa' to her friends, */an /l'ch can#t do as other people do, and )eep
to the treatment prescribed for him" 5ne da' he#ll ta)e his drops and )eep strictl' to his diet and &o to
bed in &ood time, but the ne!t da' unless / watch him he#ll suddenl' for&et his medicine, eat stur&eon
Bwhich is forbiddenBand sit up pla'in& cards till one o#cloc) in the mornin&"+
*5h, come, when was that6+ /an /l'ch would as) in e!ation" *5nl' once at Aeter /anoich#s"+
*And 'esterda' with Shebe)"+
*4ell, een if / hadn#t sta'ed up, this pain would hae )ept me awa)e"+
*Be that as it ma' 'ou#ll neer &et well li)e that, but will alwa's ma)e us wretched"+
Aras)o'a FFdorona#s attitude to /an /l'ch#s illness, as she e!pressed it both to others and to
him, was that it was his own fault and was another of the anno'ances he caused her" /an /l'ch felt
that this opinion escaped her inoluntaril'Bbut that did not ma)e it easier for him"
At the law courts too, /an /l'ch noticed, or thou&ht he noticed, a stran&e attitude towards
himself" /t sometimes seemed to him that people were watchin& him in0uisitiel' as a man whose
place mi&ht soon be acant" Then a&ain, his friends would suddenl' be&in to chaff him in a friendl'
wa' about his low spirits, as if the awful, horrible, and unheard3of thin& that was &oin& on within
him, incessantl' &nawin& at him and irresistibl' drawin& him awa', was a er' a&reeable subCect for
Cests" Schwart% in particular irritated him b' his Cocularit', iacit', and savoirCfaire, which reminded
him of what he himself had been ten 'ears a&o"
Friends came to ma)e up a set and the' sat down to cards" The' dealt, bendin& the new cards to
soften them, and he sorted the diamonds in his hand and found he had seen" His partner said *No
trumps+ and supported him with two diamonds" 4hat more could be wished for6 /t ou&ht to be Coll'
and liel'" The' would ma)e a &rand slam" But suddenl' /an /l'ch was conscious of that &nawin&
pain, that taste in his mouth, and it seemed ridiculous that in such circumstances he should be pleased
to ma)e a &rand slam"
He loo)ed at his partner ,i)hail ,i)ha'loich, who rapped the table with his stron& hand and
instead of snatchin& up the tric)s pushed the cards courteousl' and indul&entl' towards /an /l'ch
that he mi&ht hae the pleasure of &atherin& them up without the trouble of stretchin& out his hand
for them" *Does he thin) / am too wea) to stretch out m' arm6+ thou&ht /an /l'ch, and for&ettin&
what he was doin& he oer3trumped his partner, missin& the &rand slam b' three tric)s" And what
was most awful of all was that he saw how upset ,i)hail ,i)ha'loich was about it but did not
himself care" And it was dreadful to reali%e wh' he did not care"
The' all saw that he was sufferin&, and said2 *4e can stop if 'ou are tired" Ta)e a rest"+ -ie
down6 No, he was not at all tired, and he finished the rubber" All were &loom' and silent" /an /l'ch
felt that he had diffused this &loom oer them and could not dispel it" The' had supper and went
awa', and /an /l'ch was left alone with the consciousness that his life was poisoned and was
poisonin& the lies of others, and that this poison did not wea)en but penetrated more and more
deepl' into his whole bein&"
4ith this consciousness, and with ph'sical pain besides the terror, he must &o to bed, often to lie
awa)e the &reater part of the ni&ht" Ne!t mornin& he had to &et up a&ain, dress, &o to the law courts,
spea), and write. or if he did not &o out, spend at home those twent'3four hours a da' each of which
was a torture" And he had to lie thus all alone on the brin) of an ab'ss, with no one who understood
or pitied him"
V
So one month passed and then another" Just before the New Iear his brother3in3law came to town and
sta'ed at their house" /an /l'ch was at the law courts and Aras)o'a FFdorona had &one shoppin&"
4hen /an /l'ch came home and entered his stud' he found his brother3in3law thereBa health',
florid manBunpac)in& his portmanteau himself" He raised his head on hearin& /an /l'ch#s footsteps
and loo)ed up at him for a moment without a word" That stare told /an /l'ch eer'thin&" His
brother3in3law opened his mouth to utter an e!clamation of surprise but chec)ed himself, and that
action confirmed it all"
*/ hae chan&ed, eh6+
*Ies, there is a chan&e"+
And after that, tr' as he would to &et his brother3in3law to return to the subCect of his loo)s, the
latter would sa' nothin& about it" Aras)o'a FFdorona came home and her brother went out to her"
/an /l'ch loc)ed the door and be&an to e!amine himself in the &lass, first full face, then in profile"
He too) up a portrait of himself ta)en with his wife, and compared it with what he saw in the &lass"
The chan&e in him was immense" Then he bared his arms to tihe elbow, loo)ed at them, drew the
sleees down a&ain, sat down on an ottoman, and &rew blac)er than ni&ht"
*No, no, this won#t doH+ he said to himself, and Cumped up, went to the table, too) up some law
papers, and be&an to read them, but could not continue" He unloc)ed the door and went into the
reception3room" The door leadin& to the drawin&3room was shut" He approached it on tiptoe and
listened"
*No, 'ou are e!a&&eratin&H+ Aras)o'a FFdorona was sa'in&"
*1!a&&eratin&H Don#t 'ou see it6 4h', he#s a dead manH -oo) at his e'esBthere#s no li&ht in
them" But what is it that is wron& with him6+
*No one )nows" Ni)olaeich said somethin&, but / don#t )now what" And -eshchetits)' said
0uite the contrar'" " " "+
/an /l'ch wal)ed awa', went to his own room, la' down, and be&an musin&2 *The )idne', a
floatin& )idne'"+ He recalled all the doctors had told him of how it detached itself and swa'ed about"
And b' an effort of ima&ination he tried to catch that )idne' and arrest it and support it" So little was
needed for this, it seemed to him" *No, /#ll &o to see Aeter /anoich a&ain"+ He ran&, ordered the
carria&e, and &ot read' to &o"
*4here are 'ou &oin&, Jean6+1@ as)ed his wife, with a speciall' sad and e!ceptionall' )ind loo)"
This e!ceptionall' )ind loo) irritated him" He loo)ed morosel' at her"
*/ must &o to see Aeter /anoich"+
He went to see Aeter /anoich, and to&ether the' went to see his friend, the doctor" He was in,
and /an /l'ch had a lon& tal) with him"
Reiewin& the anatomical and ph'siolo&ical details of what in the doctor#s opinion was &oin& on
inside him, he understood it all"
There was somethin&, a small thin&, in the ermiform appendi!" /t mi&ht all come ri&ht" 5nl'
stimulate the ener&' of one or&an and chec) the actiit' of another, then absorption would ta)e place
and eer'thin& would come ri&ht" He &ot home rather late for dinner, ate his dinner, and conersed
cheerfull', but could not for a lon& time brin& himself to &o bac) to wor) in his room" At last,
howeer, he went to his stud' and did what was necessar', but the consciousness that he had put
somethin& asideBan important, intimate matter which he would reert to when his wor) was doneB
neer left him" 4hen he had finished his wor) he remembered that this intimate matter was the
thou&ht of his ermiform appendi!" But he did not &ie himself up to it, and went to the drawin&3
room for tea" There were callers there, includin& the e!aminin& ma&istrate who was a desirable
match for his dau&hter, and the' were conersin&, pla'in& the piano, and sin&in&" /an /l'ch, as
Aras)o'a FFdorona remar)ed, spent that eenin& more cheerfull' than usual, but he neer for a
moment for&ot that he had postponed the important matter of the appendi!" At eleen o#cloc) he said
&ood3ni&ht and went to his bedroom" Since his illness he had slept alone in a small room ne!t to his
stud'" He undressed and too) up a noel b' Mola,1: but instead of readin& it he fell into thou&ht, and
in his ima&ination that desired improement in the ermiform appendi! occurred" There were the
absorption and eacuation and the re3establishment of normal actiit'" *Ies, that#s itH+ he said to
himself" *5ne need onl' assist nature, that#s all"+ He remembered his medicine, rose, too) it, and la'
down on his bac) watchin& for the beneficent action of the medicine and for it to lessen the pain" */
need onl' ta)e it re&ularl' and aoid all inCurious influences" / am alread' feelin& better, much
better"+ He be&an touchin& his side2 it was not painful to the touch" *There, / reall' don#t feel it" /t#s
much better alread'"+ He put out the li&ht and turned on his side" " " " *The appendi! is &ettin& better,
absorption is occurrin&"+ Suddenl' he felt the old, familiar, dull, &nawin& pain, stubborn and serious"
There was the same familiar loathsome taste in his mouth" His heart san) and he felt da%ed" *,'
8odH ,' 8odH+ he muttered" *A&ain, a&ainH and it will neer cease"+ And suddenl' the matter
presented itself in a 0uite different aspect" *Germiform appendi!H Eidne'H+ he said to himself" */t#s
not a 0uestion of appendi! or )idne', but of life and " " " death" Ies, life was there and now it is
&oin&, &oin& and / cannot stop it" Ies" 4h' deceie m'self6 /sn#t it obious to eer'one but me that
/#m d'in&, and that it#s onl' a 0uestion of wee)s, da's " " " it ma' happen this moment" There was
li&ht and now there is dar)ness" / was here and now /#m &oin& thereH 4here6+ A chill came oer
him, his breathin& ceased, and he felt onl' the throbbin& of his heart"
*4hen / am not, what will there be6 There will be nothin&" Then where shall / be when / am no
more6 Can this be d'in&6 No, / don#t want toH+ He Cumped up and tried to li&ht the candle, felt for it
with tremblin& hands, dropped candle and candlestic) on the floor, and fell bac) on his pillow"
*4hat#s the use6 /t ma)es no difference,+ he said to himself, starin& with wide3open e'es into the
dar)ness" *Death" Ies, death" And none of them )now or wish to )now it, and the' hae no pit' for
me" Now the' are pla'in&"+ $He heard throu&h the door the distant sound of a son& and its
accompaniment"( */t#s all the same to them, but the' will die tooH FoolsH / first, and the' later, but it
will be the same for them" And now the' are merr' " " " the beastsH+
An&er cho)ed him and he was a&oni%in&l', unbearabl' miserable" */t is impossible that all men
hae been doomed to suffer this awful horrorH+ He raised himself"
*Somethin& must be wron&" / must calm m'selfBmust thin) it all oer from the be&innin&"+
And he a&ain be&an thin)in&" *Ies, the be&innin& of m' illness2 / )noc)ed m' side, but / was still
0uite well that da' and the ne!t" /t hurt a little, then rather more" / saw the doctors, then followed
despondenc' and an&uish, more doctors, and / drew nearer to the ab'ss" ,' stren&th &rew less and /
)ept comin& nearer and nearer, and now / hae wasted awa' and there is no li&ht in m' e'es" / thin)
of the appendi!Bbut this is deathH / thin) of mendin& the appendi!, and all the while here is deathH
Can it reall' be death6+ A&ain terror sei%ed him and he &asped for breath" He leant down and be&an
feelin& for the matches, pressin& with his elbow on the stand beside the bed" /t was in his wa' and
hurt him, he &rew furious with it, pressed on it still harder, and upset it" Breathless and in despair he
fell on his bac), e!pectin& death to come immediatel'"
,eanwhile the isitors were leain&" Aras)o'a FFdorona was seein& them off" She heard
somethin& fall and came in"
*4hat has happened6+
*Nothin&" / )noc)ed it oer accidentall'"+
She went out and returned with a candle" He la' there pantin& heail', li)e a man who has run a
thousand 'ards, and stared upwards at her with a fi!ed loo)"
*4hat is it, Jean6+
*No " " " no " " " thin&" / upset it"+ $*4h' spea) of it6 She won#t understand,+ he thou&ht"(
And in truth she did not understand" She pic)ed up the stand, lit his candle, and hurried awa' to
see another isitor off" 4hen she came bac) he still la' on his bac), loo)in& upwards"
*4hat is it6 Do 'ou feel worse6+
*Ies"+
She shoo) her head and sat down"
*Do 'ou )now, Jean, / thin) we must as) -eshchetits)' to come and see 'ou here"+
This meant callin& in the famous specialist, re&ardless of e!pense" He smiled mali&nantl' and
said *No"+ She remained a little lon&er and then went up to him and )issed his forehead"
4hile she was )issin& him he hated her from the bottom of his soul and with difficult' refrained
from pushin& her awa'"
*8ood3ni&ht" Alease 8od 'ou#ll sleep"+
*Ies"+
VI
/an /l'ch saw that he was d'in&, and he was in continual despair"
/n the depth of his heart he )new he was d'in&, but not onl' was he not accustomed to the
thou&ht, he simpl' did not and could not &rasp it"
The s'llo&ism he had learnt from Eie%ewetter#s -o&ic21? *Caius is a man, men are mortal,
therefore Caius is mortal,+ had alwa's seemed to him correct as applied to Caius, but certainl' not as
applied to himself" That CaiusBman in the abstractBwas mortal, was perfectl' correct, but he was
not Caius, not an abstract man, but a creature 0uite, 0uite separate from all others" He had been little
Gan'a,1K with a mama and a papa, with ,it'a and Golod'a, with the to's, a coachman and a nurse,
afterwards with Eaten)a and with all the Co's, &riefs, and deli&hts of childhood, bo'hood, and 'outh"
4hat did Caius )now of the smell of that striped leather ball Gan'a had been so fond of6 Had Caius
)issed his mother#s hand li)e that, and did the sil) of her dress rustle so for Caius6 Had he rioted li)e
that at school when the pastr' was bad6 Had Caius been in loe li)e that6 Could Caius preside at a
session as he did6 *Caius reall' was mortal, and it was ri&ht for him to die. but for me, little Gan'a,
/an /l'ch, with all m' thou&hts and emotions, it#s alto&ether a different matter" /t cannot be that /
ou&ht to die" That would be too terrible"+
Such was his feelin&"
*/f / had to die li)e Caius / should hae )nown it was so" An inner oice would hae told me so,
but there was nothin& of the sort in me and / and all m' friends felt that our case was 0uite different
from that of Caius" And now here it isH+ he said to himself" */t can#t be" /t#s impossibleH But here it is"
How is this6 How is one to understand it6+
He could not understand it, and tried to drie this false, incorrect, morbid thou&ht awa' and to
replace it b' other proper and health' thou&hts" But that thou&ht, and not the thou&ht onl' but the
realit' itself, seemed to come and confront him"
And to replace that thou&ht he called up a succession of others, hopin& to find in them some
support" He tried to &et bac) into the former current of thou&hts that had once screened the thou&ht of
death from him" But stran&e to sa', all that had formerl' shut off, hidden, and destro'ed his
consciousness of death, no lon&er had that effect" /an /l'ch now spent most of his time in attemptin&
to re3establish that old current" He would sa' to himself2 */ will ta)e up m' duties a&ainBafter all /
used to lie b' them"+ And banishin& all doubts he would &o to the law courts, enter into conersation
with his collea&ues, and sit carelessl' as was his wont, scannin& the crowd with a thou&htful loo) and
leanin& both his emaciated arms on the arms of his oa) chair. bendin& oer as usual to a collea&ue
and drawin& his papers nearer he would interchan&e whispers with him, and then suddenl' raisin&
his e'es and sittin& erect would pronounce certain words and open the proceedin&s" But suddenl' in
the midst of those proceedin&s the pain in his side, re&ardless of the sta&e the proceedin&s had
reached, would be&in its own &nawin& wor)" /an /l'ch would turn his attention to it and tr' to drie
the thou&ht of it awa', but without success" 5t would come and stand before him and loo) at him, and
he would be petrified and the li&ht would die out of his e'es, and he would a&ain be&in as)in&
himself whether 5t alone was true" And his collea&ues and subordinates would see with surprise and
distress that he, the brilliant and subtle Cud&e, was becomin& confused and ma)in& mista)es" He
would sha)e himself, tr' to pull himself to&ether, mana&e somehow to brin& the sittin& to a close, and
return home with the sorrowful consciousness that his Cudicial labors could not as formerl' hide from
him what he wanted them to hide, and could not delier him from 5t' And what was worst of all was
that 5t drew his attention to itself not in order to ma)e him ta)e some action but onl' that he should
loo) at 5t, loo) it strai&ht in the face2 loo) at it and, without doin& an'thin&, suffer ine!pressibl'"
And to sae himself from this condition /an /l'ch loo)ed for consolationBnew screensBand
new screens were found and for a while seemed to sae him, but then the' immediatel' fell to pieces
or rather became transparent, as if 5t penetrated them and nothin& could eil 5t'
/n these latter da's he would &o into the drawin&3room he had arran&edBthat drawin&3room
where he had fallen and for the sa)e of which $how bitterl' ridiculous it seemed( he had sacrificed his
lifeBfor he )new that his illness ori&inated with that )noc)" He would enter and see that somethin&
had scratched the polished table" He would loo) for the cause of this and find that it was the bron%e
ornamentation of an album, that had &ot bent" He would ta)e up the e!pensie album which he had
loin&l' arran&ed, and feel e!ed with his dau&hter and her friends for their untidinessBfor the
album was torn here and there and some of the photo&raphs turned upside down" He would put it
carefull' in order and bend the ornamentation bac) into position" Then it would occur to him to place
all those thin&s in another corner of the room, near the plants" He could call the footman, but his
dau&hter or wife would come to help him" The' would not a&ree, and his wife would contradict him,
and he would dispute and &row an&r'" But that was all ri&ht, for then he did not thin) about 5t' 5t was
inisible"
But then, when he was moin& somethin& himself, his wife would sa'2 *-et the serants do it"
Iou will hurt 'ourself a&ain"+ And suddenl' 5t would flash throu&h the screen and he would see it" /t
was Cust a flash, and he hoped it would disappear, but he would inoluntaril' pa' attention to his side"
*/t sits there as before, &nawin& Cust the sameH+ And he could no lon&er for&et 5t, but could distinctl'
see it loo)in& at him from behind the flowers" *4hat is it all for6+
*/t reall' is soH / lost m' life oer that curtain as / mi&ht hae done when stormin& a fort" /s that
possible6 How terrible and how stupid" /t can#t be trueH /t can#t, but it is"+
He would &o to his stud', lie down, and a&ain be alone with 5t< face to face with 5t' And nothin&
could be done with 5t e!cept to loo) at it and shudder"
VII
How it happened it is impossible to sa' because it came about step b' step, unnoticed, but in the third
month of /an /l'ch#s illness, his wife, his dau&hter, his son, his ac0uaintances, the doctors, the
serants, and aboe all he himself, were aware that the whole interest he had for other people was
whether he would soon acate his place, and at last release the liin& from the discomfort caused b'
his presence and be himself released from his sufferin&s"
He slept less and less" He was &ien opium and h'podermic inCections of morphine, but this did
not reliee him" The dull depression he e!perienced in a somnolent condition at first &ae him a little
relief, but onl' as somethin& new, afterwards it became as distressin& as the pain itself or een more
so"
Special foods were prepared for him b' the doctors# orders, but all those foods became
increasin&l' distasteful and dis&ustin& to him"
For his e!cretions also special arran&ements had to be made, and this was a torment to him eer'
timeBa torment from the uncleanliness, the unseemliness, and the smell, and from )nowin& that
another person had to ta)e part in it"
But Cust throu&h this most unpleasant matter, /an /l'ch obtained comfort" 8erasim, the butler#s
'oun& assistant, alwa's came in to carr' the thin&s out" 8erasim was a clean, fresh peasant lad,
&rown stout on town food and alwa's cheerful and bri&ht" At first the si&ht of him, in his clean
Russian peasant costume, en&a&ed on that dis&ustin& tas) embarrassed /an /l'ch"
5nce when he &ot up from the commode too wea) to draw up his trousers, he dropped into a soft
armchair and loo)ed with horror at his bare, enfeebled thi&hs with the muscles so sharpl' mar)ed on
them"
8erasim with a firm li&ht tread, his hea' boots emittin& a pleasant smell of tar and fresh winter
air, came in wearin& a clean Hessian apron, the sleees of his print shirt tuc)ed up oer his stron&
bare 'oun& arms. and refrainin& from loo)in& at his sic) master out of consideration for his feelin&s,
and restrainin& the Co' of life that beamed from his face, he went up to the commode"
*8erasimH+ said /an /l'ch in a wea) oice"
8erasim started, eidentl' afraid he mi&ht hae committed some blunder, and with a rapid
moement turned his fresh, )ind, simple 'oun& face which Cust showed the first down' si&ns of a
beard"
*Ies, sir6+
*That must be er' unpleasant for 'ou" Iou must for&ie me" / am helpless"+
*5h, wh', sir,+ and 8erasim#s e'es beamed and he showed his &listenin& white teeth, *what#s a
little trouble6 /t#s a case of illness with 'ou, sir"+
And his deft stron& hands did their accustomed tas), and he went out of the room steppin&
li&htl'" Fie minutes later he as li&htl' returned"
/an /l'ch was still sittin& in the same position in the armchair"
*8erasim,+ he said when the latter had replaced the freshl'3washed utensil" *Alease come here
and help me"+ 8erasim went up to him" *-ift me up" /t is hard for me to &et up, and / hae sent
Dmitri awa'"+
8erasim went up to him, &rasped his master with his stron& arms deftl' but &entl', in the same
wa' that he steppedBlifted him, supported him with one hand, and with the other drew up his
trousers and would hae set him down a&ain, but /an /l'ch as)ed to be led to the sofa" 8erasim,
without an effort and without apparent pressure, led him, almost liftin& him, to the sofa, and placed
him on it"
*Than) 'ou" How easil' and well 'ou do it allH+
8erasim smiled a&ain and turned to leae the room" But /an /l'ch felt his presence such a
comfort that he did not want to let him &o"
*5ne thin& more, please moe up that chair" No, the other oneBunder m' feet" /t is easier for me
when m' feet are raised"+
8erasim brou&ht the chair, set it down &entl' in place, and raised /an /l'ch#s le&s on to it" /t
seemed to /an /l'ch that he felt better while 8erasim was holdin& up his le&s"
*/t#s better when m' le&s are hi&her,+ he said" *Alace that cushion under them"+
8erasim did so" He a&ain lifted the le&s and placed them, and a&ain /an /l'ch felt better while
8erasim held his le&s" 4hen he set them down /an /l'ch fancied he felt worse"
*8erasim,+ he said" *Are 'ou bus' now6+
*Not at all, sir,+ said 8erasim, who had learnt from the townsfol) how to spea) to &entlefol)"
*4hat hae 'ou still to do6+
*4hat hae / to do6 /#e done eer'thin& e!cept choppin& the lo&s for tomorrow"+
*Then hold m' le&s up a bit hi&her, can 'ou6+
*5f course / can" 4h' not6+ And 8erasim raised his master#s le&s hi&her and /an /l'ch thou&ht
that in that position he did not feel an' pain at all"
*And how about the lo&s6+
*Don#t trouble about that, sir" There#s plent' of time"+
/an /l'ch told 8erasim to sit down and hold his le&s, and be&an to tal) to him" And stran&e to
sa' it seemed to him that he felt better while 8erasim held his le&s up"
After that /an /l'ch would sometimes call 8erasim and &et him to hold his le&s on his
shoulders, and he li)ed tal)in& to him" 8erasim did it all easil', willin&l', simpl', and with a &ood
nature that touched /an /l'ch" Health, stren&th, and italit' in other people were offensie to him,
but 8erasim#s stren&th and italit' did not mortif' but soothed him"
4hat tormented /an /l'ch most was the deception, the lie, which for some reason the' all
accepted, that he was not d'in& but was simpl' ill, and that he onl' need )eep 0uiet and under&o a
treatment and then somethin& er' &ood would result" He howeer )new that do what the' would
nothin& would come of it, onl' still more a&oni%in& sufferin& and death" This deception tortured him
Btheir not wishin& to admit what the' all )new and what he )new, but wantin& to lie to him
concernin& his terrible condition, and wishin& and forcin& him to participate in that lie" Those liesB
lies enacted oer him on the ee of his death and destined to de&rade this awful, solemn act to the
leel of their isitin&s, their curtains, their stur&eon for dinnerBwere a terrible a&on' for /an /l'ch"
And stran&el' enou&h, man' times when the' were &oin& throu&h their antics oer him he had been
within a hairbreadth of callin& out to them2 *Stop l'in&H Iou )now and / )now that / am d'in&" Then
at least stop l'in& about itH+ But he had neer had the spirit to do it" The awful, terrible act of his
d'in& was, he could see, reduced b' those about him to the leel of a casual, unpleasant, and almost
indecorous incident $as if someone entered a drawin&3room diffusin& an unpleasant odor( and this
was done b' that er' decorum which he had sered all his life lon&" He saw that no one felt for him,
because no one een wished to &rasp his position" 5nl' 8erasim reco&ni%ed it and pitied him" And so
/an /l'ch felt at ease onl' with him" He felt comforted when 8erasim supported his le&s $sometimes
all ni&ht lon&( and refused to &o to bed, sa'in&2 *Don#t 'ou worr', /an /l'ch" /#ll &et sleep enou&h
later on,+ or when he suddenl' became familiar and e!claimed2 */f 'ou weren#t sic) it would be
another matter, but as it is, wh' should / &rud&e a little trouble6+ 8erasim alone did not lie.
eer'thin& showed that he alone understood the facts of the case and did not consider it necessar' to
dis&uise them, but simpl' felt sorr' for his emaciated and enfeebled master" 5nce when /an /l'ch
was sendin& him awa' he een said strai&ht out2 *4e shall all of us die, so wh' should / &rud&e a
little trouble6+Be!pressin& the fact that he did not thin) his wor) burdensome, because he was doin&
it for a d'in& man and hoped someone would do the same for him when his time came"
Apart from this l'in&, or because of it, what most tormented /an /l'ch was that no one pitied
him as he wished to be pitied" At certain moments after prolon&ed sufferin& he wished most of all
$thou&h he would hae been ashamed to confess it( for someone to pit' him as a sic) child is pitied"
He lon&ed to be petted and comforted" He )new he was an important functionar', that he had a beard
turnin& &re', and that therefore what he lon&ed for was impossible, but still he lon&ed for it" And in
8erasim#s attitude towards him there was somethin& a)in to what he wished for, and so that attitude
comforted him" /an /l'ch wanted to weep, wanted to be petted and cried oer, and then his collea&ue
Shebe) would come, and instead of weepin& and bein& petted, /an /l'ch would assume a serious,
seere, and profound air, and b' force of habit would e!press his opinion on a decision of the Court of
Cassation and would stubbornl' insist on that iew" This falsit' around him and within him did more
than an'thin& else to poison his last da's"
VIII
/t was mornin&" He )new it was mornin& because 8erasim had &one, and Aeter the footman had come
and put out the candles, drawn bac) one of the curtains, and be&un 0uietl' to tid' up" 4hether it was
mornin& or eenin&, Frida' or Sunda', made no difference, it was all Cust the same2 the &nawin&,
unmiti&ated, a&oni%in& pain, neer ceasin& for an instant, the consciousness of life ine!orabl' wanin&
but not 'et e!tin&uished, the approach of that eer dreaded and hateful Death which was the onl'
realit', and alwa's the same falsit'" 4hat were da's, wee)s, hours, in such a case6
*4ill 'ou hae some tea, sir6+
*He wants thin&s to be re&ular, and wishes the &entlefol) to drin) tea in the mornin&,+ thou&ht
/an /l'ch, and onl' said *No"+
*4ouldn#t 'ou li)e to moe onto the sofa, sir6+
*He wants to tid' up the room, and /#m in the wa'" / am uncleanliness and disorder,+ he thou&ht,
and said onl'2
*No, leae me alone"+
The man went on bustlin& about" /an /l'ch stretched out his hand" Aeter came up, read' to help"
*4hat is it, sir6+
*,' watch"+
Aeter too) the watch which was close at hand and &ae it to his master"
*Half3past ei&ht" Are the' up6+
*No, sir, e!cept Gasil' /anich+ $the son( *who has &one to school" Aras)o'a FFdorona ordered
me to wa)e her if 'ou as)ed for her" Shall / do so6+
*No, there#s no need to"+ *Aerhaps /#d better hae some tea,+ he thou&ht, and added aloud2 *Ies,
brin& me some tea"+
Aeter went to the door, but /an /l'ch dreaded bein& left alone" *How can / )eep him here6 5h
'es, m' medicine"+ *Aeter, &ie me m' medicine" 4h' not6 Aerhaps it ma' still do me some &ood"+
He too) a spoonful and swallowed it" *No, it won#t help" /t#s all tomfooler', all deception,+ he decided
as soon as he became aware of the familiar, sic)l', hopeless taste" *No, / can#t beliee in it an'
lon&er" But the pain, wh' this pain6 /f it would onl' cease Cust for a momentH+ And he moaned" Aeter
turned towards him" */t#s all ri&ht" 8o and fetch me some tea"+
Aeter went out" -eft alone /an /l'ch &roaned not so much with pain, terrible thou&h that was, as
from mental an&uish" Alwa's and for eer the same, alwa's these endless da's and ni&hts" /f onl' it
would come 0uic)erH /f onl' what would come 0uic)er6 Death, dar)ness6" " " No, noH An'thin& rather
than deathH
4hen Aeter returned with the tea on a tra', /an /l'ch stared at him for a time in perple!it', not
reali%in& who and what he was" Aeter was disconcerted b' that loo) and his embarrassment brou&ht
/an /l'ch to himself"
*5h, teaH All ri&ht, put it down" 5nl' help me to wash and put on a clean shirt"+
And /an /l'ch be&an to wash" 4ith pauses for rest, he washed his hands and then his face,
cleaned his teeth, brushed his hair, and loo)ed in the &lass" He was terrified b' what he saw,
especiall' b' the limp wa' in which his hair clun& to his pallid forehead"
4hile his shirt was bein& chan&ed he )new that he would be still more fri&htened at the si&ht of
his bod', so he aoided loo)in& at it" Finall' he was read'" He drew on a dressin&3&own, wrapped
himself in a plaid, and sat down in the armchair to ta)e his tea" For a moment he felt refreshed, but
soon as he be&an to drin) the tea he was a&ain aware of the same taste, and the pain also returned" He
finished it with an effort, and then la' down stretchin& out his le&s, and dismissed Aeter"
Alwa's the same" Now a spar) of hope flashes up, then a sea of despair ra&es, and alwa's pain.
alwa's pain, alwa's despair, and alwa's the same" 4hen alone he had a dreadful and distressin&
desire to call someone, but he )new beforehand that with others present it would be still worse"
*Another dose of morphineBto lose consciousness" / will tell him, the doctor, that he must thin) of
somethin& else" /t#s impossible, impossible, to &o on li)e this"+
An hour and another pass li)e that" But now there is a rin& at the door bell" Aerhaps it#s the
doctor6 /t is" He comes in fresh, heart', plump, and cheerful, with that loo) on his face that seems to
sa'2 *There now, 'ou#re in a panic about somethin&, but we#ll arran&e it all for 'ou directl'H+ The
doctor )nows this e!pression is out of place here, but he has put it on once for all and can#t ta)e it off
Bli)e a man who has put on a froc)3coat in the mornin& to pa' a round of calls"
The doctor rubs his hands i&orousl' and reassurin&l'"
*BrrH How cold it isH There#s such a sharp frost. Cust let me warm m'selfH+ he sa's, as if it were
onl' a matter of waitin& till he was warm, and then he would put eer'thin& ri&ht"
*4ell now, how are 'ou6+
/an /l'ch feels that the doctor would li)e to sa'2 *4ell, how are our affairs6+ but that een he
feels that this would not do, and sa's instead2 *4hat sort of a ni&ht hae 'ou had6+
/an /l'ch loo)s at him as much as to sa'2 *Are 'ou reall' neer ashamed of l'in&6+ But the
doctor does not wish to understand this 0uestion, and /an /l'ch sa's2 *Just as terrible as eer" The
pain neer leaes me and neer subsides" /f onl' somethin& " " "+
*Ies, 'ou sic) people are alwa's li)e that" " " " There, now / thin) / am warm enou&h" 1en
Aras)o'a FFdorona, who is so particular, could find no fault with m' temperature" 4ell, now / can
sa' &ood3mornin&,+ and the doctor presses his patient#s hand"
Then, droppin& his former pla'fulness, he be&ins with a most serious face to e!amine the patient,
feelin& his pulse and ta)in& his temperature, and then be&ins the soundin& and auscultation"19
/an /l'ch )nows 0uite well and definitel' that all this is nonsense and pure deception, but when
the doctor, &ettin& down on his )nee, leans oer him, puttin& his ear first hi&her then lower, and
performs arious &'mnastic moements oer him with a si&nificant e!pression on his face, /an /l'ch
submits to it all as he used to submit to the speeches of the law'ers, thou&h he )new er' well that
the' were all l'in& and wh' the' were l'in&"
The doctor, )neelin& on the sofa, is still soundin& him when Aras)o'a FFdorona#s sil) dress
rustles at the door and she is heard scoldin& Aeter for not hain& let her )now of the doctor#s arrial"
She comes in, )isses her husband, and at once proceeds to proe that she has been up a lon& time
alread', and onl' owin& to a misunderstandin& failed to be there when the doctor arried"
/an /l'ch loo)s at her, scans her all oer, sets a&ainst her the whiteness and plumpness and
cleanness of her hands and nec), the &loss of her hair, and the spar)le of her iacious e'es" He hates
her with his whole soul" And the thrill of hatred he feels for her ma)es him suffer from her touch"
Her attitude towards him and his disease is still the same" Just as the doctor had adopted a certain
relation to his patient which he could not abandon, so had she formed one towards himBthat he was
not doin& somethin& he ou&ht to do and was himself to blame, and that she reproached him loin&l'
for thisBand she could not now chan&e that attitude"
*Iou see he doesn#t listen to me and doesn#t ta)e his medicine at the proper time" And aboe all
he lies in a position that is no doubt bad for himBwith his le&s up"+
She described how he made 8erasim hold his le&s up"
The doctor smiled with a contemptuous affabilit' that said2 *4hat#s to be done6 These sic)
people do hae foolish fancies of that )ind, but we must for&ie them"+
4hen the e!amination was oer the doctor loo)ed at his watch, and then Aras)o'a FFdorona
announced to /an /l'ch that it was of course as he pleased, but she had sent toda' for a celebrated
specialist who would e!amine him and hae a consultation with ,ichael Daniloich $their re&ular
doctor("
*Alease don#t raise an' obCections" / am doin& this for m' own sa)e,+ she said ironicall', lettin& it
be felt that she was doin& it all for his sa)e and onl' said this to leae him no ri&ht to refuse" He
remained silent, )nittin& his brows" He felt that he was so surrounded and inoled in a mesh of
falsit' that it was hard to unrael an'thin&"
1er'thin& she did for him was entirel' for her own sa)e, and she told him she was doin& for
herself what she actuall' was doin& for herself, as if that was so incredible that he must understand
the opposite"
At half3past eleen the celebrated specialist arried" A&ain the soundin& be&an and the
si&nificant conersations in his presence and in another room, about the )idne's and the appendi!,
and the 0uestions and answers, with such an air of importance that a&ain, instead of the real 0uestion
of life and death which now alone confronted him, the 0uestion arose of the )idne' and appendi!
which were not behain& as the' ou&ht to and would now be attac)ed b' ,ichael Daniloich and the
specialist and forced to amend their wa's"
The celebrated specialist too) leae of him with a serious thou&h not hopeless loo), and in repl'
to the timid 0uestion /an /l'ch, with e'es &listenin& with fear and hope, put to him as to whether
there was a chance of recoer', said that he could not ouch for it but there was a possibilit'" The
loo) of hope with which /an /l'ch watched the doctor out was so pathetic that Aras)o'a FFdorona,
seein& it, een wept as she left the room to hand the doctor his fee"
The &leam of hope )indled b' the doctor#s encoura&ement did not last lon&" The same room, the
same pictures, curtains, wallpaper, medicine bottles, were all there, and the same achin& sufferin&
bod', and /an /l'ch be&an to moan" The' &ae him a subcutaneous inCection and he san) into
obliion"
/t was twili&ht when he came to" The' brou&ht him his dinner and he swallowed some beef tea
with difficult', and then eer'thin& was the same a&ain and ni&ht was comin& on"
After dinner, at seen o#cloc), Aras)o'a FFdorona came into the room in eenin& dress, her
full bosom pushed up b' her corset, and with traces of powder on her face" She had reminded him in
the mornin& that the' were &oin& to the theater" Sarah Bernhardt was isitin& the town and the' had
a bo!, which he had insisted on their ta)in&" Now he had for&otten about it and her toilet offended
him, but he concealed his e!ation when he remembered that he had himself insisted on their
securin& a bo! and &oin& because it would be an instructie and aesthetic pleasure for the children"
Aras)o'a FFdorona came in, self3satisfied but 'et with a rather &uilt' air" She sat down and
as)ed how he was, but, as he saw, onl' for the sa)e of as)in& and not in order to learn about it,
)nowin& that there was nothin& to learnBand then went on to what she reall' wanted to sa'2 that she
would not on an' account hae &one but that the bo! had been ta)en and Helen and their dau&hter
were &oin&, as well as Aetrishche $the e!aminin& ma&istrate, their dau&hter#s fiancJ(, and that it was
out of the 0uestion to let them &o alone. but that she would hae much preferred to sit with him for a
while. and he must be sure to follow the doctor#s orders while she was awa'"
*5h, and FFdor Aetroich+ $the fiancJ( *would li)e to come in" ,a' he6 And -isa6+
*All ri&ht"+
Their dau&hter came in in full eenin& dress, her fresh 'oun& flesh e!posed $ma)in& a show of
that er' flesh which in his own case caused so much sufferin&(, stron&, health', eidentl' in loe,
and impatient with illness, sufferin&, and death, because the' interfered with her happiness"
FFdor Aetroich came in too, in eenin& dress, his hair curled D la Capoul,1= a ti&ht stiff collar
round his lon& sinew' nec), an enormous white shirt3front, and narrow blac) trousers ti&htl'
stretched oer his stron& thi&hs" He had one white &loe ti&htl' drawn on, and was holdin& his opera
hat in his hand"
Followin& him the schoolbo' crept in unnoticed, in a new uniform, poor little fellow, and
wearin& &loes" Terribl' dar) shadows showed under his e'es, the meanin& of which /an /l'ch )new
well"
His son had alwa's seemed pathetic to him, and now it was dreadful to see the bo'#s fri&htened
loo) of pit'" /t seemed to /an /l'ch that Gas'a was the onl' one besides 8erasim who understood and
pitied him"
The' all sat down and a&ain as)ed how he was" A silence followed" -isa as)ed her mother about
the opera3&lasses, and there was an altercation between mother and dau&hter as to who had ta)en
them and where the' had been put" This occasioned some unpleasantness"
FFdor Aetroich in0uired of /an /l'ch whether he had eer seen Sarah Bernhardt" /an /l'ch did
not at first catch the 0uestion, but then replied2 *No, hae 'ou seen her before6+
*Ies, in 4drienne Lecouvreur'+7;
Aras)o'a FFdorona mentioned some rPles in which Sarah Bernhardt was particularl' &ood" Her
dau&hter disa&reed" Conersation spran& up as to the ele&ance and realism of her actin&Bthe sort of
conersation that is alwa's repeated and is alwa's the same"
/n the midst of the conersation FFdor Aetroich &lanced at /an /l'ch and became silent" The
others also loo)ed at him and &rew silent" /an /l'ch was starin& with &litterin& e'es strai&ht before
him, eidentl' indi&nant with them" This had to be rectified, but it was impossible to do so" The
silence had to be bro)en, but for a time no one dared to brea) it and the' all became afraid that the
conentional deception would suddenl' become obious and the truth become plain to all" -isa was
the first to pluc) up coura&e and brea) that silence, but b' tr'in& to hide what eer'bod' was feelin&,
she betra'ed it"
*4ell, if we are &oin& it#s time to start,+ she said, loo)in& at her watch, a present from her
father, and with a faint and si&nificant smile at FFdor Aetroich relatin& to somethin& )nown onl' to
them" She &ot up with a rustle of her dress"
The' all rose, said &ood3ni&ht, and went awa'"
4hen the' had &one it seemed to /an /l'ch that he felt better. the falsit' had &one with them"
But the pain remainedBthat same pain and that same fear that made eer'thin& monotonousl' ali)e,
nothin& harder and nothin& easier" 1er'thin& was worse"
A&ain minute followed minute and hour followed hour" 1er'thin& remained the same and there
was no cessation" And the ineitable end of it all became more and more terrible"
*Ies, send 8erasim here,+ he replied to a 0uestion Aeter as)ed"
IX
His wife returned late at ni&ht" She came in on tiptoe, but he heard her, opened his e'es, and made
haste to close them a&ain" She wished to send 8erasim awa' and to sit with him herself, but he
opened his e'es and said2 *No, &o awa'"+
*Are 'ou in &reat pain6+
*Alwa's the same"+
*Ta)e some opium"+
He a&reed and too) some" She went awa'"
Till about three in the mornin& he was in a state of stupefied miser'" /t seemed to him that he and
his pain were bein& thrust into a narrow, deep blac) sac), but thou&h the' were pushed further and
further in the' could not be pushed to the bottom" And this, terrible enou&h in itself, was
accompanied b' sufferin&" He was fri&htened 'et wanted to fall throu&h the sac), he stru&&led but 'et
cooperated" And suddenl' he bro)e throu&h, fell, and re&ained consciousness" 8erasim was sittin& at
the foot of the bed do%in& 0uietl' and patientl', while he himself la' with his emaciated stoc)in&ed
le&s restin& on 8erasim#s shoulders. the same shaded candle was there and the same unceasin& pain"
*8o awa', 8erasim,+ he whispered"
*/t#s all ri&ht, sir" /#ll sta' a while"+
*No" 8o awa'"+
He remoed his le&s from 8erasim#s shoulders, turned sidewa's onto his arm, and felt sorr' for
himself" He onl' waited till 8erasim had &one into the ne!t room and then restrained himself no
lon&er but wept li)e a child" He wept on account of his helplessness, his terrible loneliness, the cruelt'
of man, the cruelt' of 8od, and the absence of 8od"
*4h' hast Thou done all this6 4h' hast Thou brou&ht me here6 4h', wh' dost Thou torment
me so terribl'6+
He did not e!pect an answer and 'et wept because there was no answer and could be none" The
pain &rew more acute, but he did not stir and did not call" He said to himself2 *8o onH Stri)e meH But
what is it for6 4hat hae / done to Thee6 4hat is it for6+
Then he &rew 0uiet and not onl' ceased weepin& but een held his breath and became all
attention" /t was as thou&h he was listenin& not to an audible oice but to the oice of his soul, to the
current of thou&hts arisin& within him"
*4hat is it 'ou want6+ was the first clear conception capable of e!pression in words, that he
heard"
*4hat do 'ou want6 4hat do 'ou want6+ he repeated to himself"
*4hat do / want6 To lie and not to suffer,+ he answered"
And a&ain he listened with such concentrated attention that een his pain did not distract him"
*To lie6 How6+ as)ed his inner oice"
*4h', to lie as / used toBwell and pleasantl'"+
*As 'ou lied before, well and pleasantl'6+ the oice repeated"
And in ima&ination he be&an to recall the best moments of his pleasant life" But stran&e to sa'
none of those best moments of his pleasant life now seemed at all what the' had then seemedBnone
of them e!cept the first recollections of childhood" There, in childhood, there had been somethin&
reall' pleasant with which it would be possible to lie if it could return" But the child who had
e!perienced that happiness e!isted no lon&er, it was li)e a reminiscence of somebod' else"
As soon as the period be&an which had produced the present /an /l'ch, all that had then seemed
Co's now melted before his si&ht and turned into somethin& triial and often nast'"
And the further he departed from childhood and the nearer he came to the present the more
worthless and doubtful were the Co's" This be&an with the School of -aw" A little that was reall' &ood
was still found thereBthere was li&htheartedness, friendship, and hope" But in the upper classes there
had alread' been fewer of such &ood moments" Then durin& the first 'ears of his official career, when
he was in the serice of the 8oernor, some pleasant moments a&ain occurred2 the' were the
memories of loe for a woman" Then all became confused and there was still less of what was &ood.
later on a&ain there was still less that was &ood, and the further he went the less there was" His
marria&e, a mere accident, then the disenchantment that followed it, his wife#s bad breath and the
sensualit' and h'pocris'. then the deadl' official life and those preoccupations about mone', a 'ear of
it, and two, and ten, and twent', and alwa's the same thin&" And the lon&er it lasted the more deadl'
it became" */t is as if / had been &oin& downhill while / ima&ined / was &oin& up" And that is reall'
what it was" / was &oin& up in public opinion, but to the same e!tent life was ebbin& awa' from me"
And now it is all done and there is onl' death"+
*Then what does it mean6 4h'6 /t can#t be that life is so senseless and horrible" But if it reall'
has been so horrible and senseless, wh' must / die and die in a&on'6 There is somethin& wron&H+
*,a'be / did not lie as / ou&ht to hae done,+ it suddenl' occurred to him" *But how could that
be, when / did eer'thin& properl'6+ he replied, and immediatel' dismissed from his mind this, the
sole solution of all the riddles of life and death, as somethin& 0uite impossible"
*Then what do 'ou want now6 To lie6 -ie how6 -ie as 'ou lied in the law courts when the
usher proclaimed QThe Cud&e is comin&H# The Cud&e is comin&, the Cud&eH+ he repeated to himself"
*Here he is, the Cud&e" But / am not &uilt'H+ he e!claimed an&ril'" *4hat is it for6+ And he ceased
cr'in&, but turnin& his face to the wall continued to ponder on the same 0uestion2 4h', and for what
purpose, is there all this horror6 But howeer much he pondered he found no answer" And wheneer
the thou&ht occurred to him, as it often did, that it all resulted from his not hain& lied as he ou&ht
to hae done, he at once recalled the correctness of his whole life and dismissed so stran&e an idea"
X
Another fortni&ht passed" /an /l'ch now no lon&er left his sofa" He would not lie in bed but la' on
the sofa, facin& the wall nearl' all the time" He suffered eer the same unceasin& a&onies and in his
loneliness pondered alwa's on the same insoluble 0uestion2 *4hat is this6 Can it be that it is Death6+
And the inner oice answered2 *Ies, it is Death"+
*4h' these sufferin&s6+ And the oice answered, *For no reasonBthe' Cust are so"+ Be'ond and
besides this there was nothin&"
From the er' be&innin& of his illness, eer since he had first been to see the doctor, /an /l'ch#s
life had been diided between two contrar' and alternatin& moods2 now it was despair and the
e!pectation of this uncomprehended and terrible death, and now hope and an intentl' interested
obseration of the functionin& of his or&ans" Now before his e'es there was onl' a )idne' or an
intestine that temporaril' eaded its dut', and now onl' that incomprehensible and dreadful death
from which it was impossible to escape"
These two states of mind had alternated from the er' be&innin& of his illness, but the further it
pro&ressed the more doubtful and fantastic became the conception of the )idne', and the more real
the sense of impendin& death"
He had but to call to mind what he had been three months before and what he was now, to call to
mind with what re&ularit' he had been &oin& downhill, for eer' possibilit' of hope to be shattered"
-atterl' durin& that loneliness in which he found himself as he la' facin& the bac) of the sofa, a
loneliness in the midst of a populous town and surrounded b' numerous ac0uaintances and relations
but that 'et could not hae been more complete an'whereBeither at the bottom of the sea or under
the earthBdurin& that terrible loneliness /an /l'ch had lied onl' in memories of the past" Aictures
of his past rose before him one after another" The' alwa's be&an with what was nearest in time and
then went bac) to what was most remoteBto his childhoodBand rested there" /f he thou&ht of the
stewed prunes that had been offered him that da', his mind went bac) to the raw shrielled French
plums of his childhood, their peculiar flaor and the flow of salia when he suc)ed their stones, and
alon& with the memor' of that taste came a whole series of memories of those da's2 his nurse, his
brother, and their to's" *No, / mustn#t thin) of that" " " " /t is too painful,+ /an /l'ch said to himself,
and brou&ht himself bac) to the presentBto the button on the bac) of the sofa and the creases in its
morocco"71 *,orocco is e!pensie, but it does not wear well2 there had been a 0uarrel about it" /t was
a different )ind of 0uarrel and a different )ind of morocco that time when we tore father#s portfolio
and were punished, and mama brou&ht us some tarts" " " "+ And a&ain his thou&hts dwelt on his
childhood, and a&ain it was painful and he tried to banish them and fi! his mind on somethin& else"
Then a&ain to&ether with that chain of memories another series passed throu&h his mindBof
how his illness had pro&ressed and &rown worse" There also the further bac) he loo)ed the more life
there had been" There had been more of what was &ood in life and more of life itself" The two mer&ed
to&ether" *Just as the pain went on &ettin& worse and worse, so m' life &rew worse and worse,+ he
thou&ht" *There is one bri&ht spot there at the bac), at the be&innin& of life, and afterwards all
becomes blac)er and blac)er and proceeds more and more rapidl'Bin inerse ratio to the s0uare of
the distance from death,+ thou&ht /an /l'ch" And the e!ample of a stone fallin& downwards with
increasin& elocit' entered his mind" -ife, a series of increasin& sufferin&s, flies further and further
towards its endBthe most terrible sufferin&" */ am fl'in&" " " "+ He shuddered, shifted himself, and
tried to resist, but was alread' aware that resistance was impossible, and a&ain, with e'es wear' of
&a%in& but unable to cease seein& what was before them, he stared at the bac) of the sofa and waited
Bawaitin& that dreadful fall and shoc) and destruction"
*Resistance is impossibleH+ he said to himself" */f / could onl' understand what it is all forH But
that too is impossible" An e!planation would be possible if it could be said that / hae not lied as /
ou&ht to" But it is impossible to sa' that,+ and he remembered all the le&alit', correctitude, and
propriet' of his life" *That at an' rate can certainl' not be admitted,+ he thou&ht, and his lips smiled
ironicall' as if someone could see that smile and be ta)en in b' it" *There is no e!planationH A&on',
death" " " " 4hat for6+
XI
Another two wee)s went b' in this wa' and durin& that fortni&ht an eent occurred that /an /l'ch
and his wife had desired" Aetrishche formall' proposed" /t happened in the eenin&" The ne!t da'
Aras)o'a FFdorona came into her husband#s room considerin& how best to inform him of it, but
that er' ni&ht there had been a fresh chan&e for the worse in his condition" She found him still l'in&
on the sofa but in a different position" He la' on his bac), &roanin& and starin& fi!edl' strai&ht in
front of him"
She be&an to remind him of his medicines, but he turned his e'es towards her with such a loo)
that she did not finish what she was sa'in&. so &reat an animosit', to her in particular, did that loo)
e!press"
*For Christ#s sa)e let me die in peaceH+ he said"
She would hae &one awa', but Cust then their dau&hter came in and went up to sa' &ood
mornin&" He loo)ed at her as he had done at his wife, and in repl' to her in0uir' about his health said
dr'l' that he would soon free them all of himself" The' were both silent and after sittin& with him for
a while went awa'"
*/s it our fault6+ -isa said to her mother" */t#s as if we were to blameH / am sorr' for papa, but
wh' should we be tortured6+
The doctor came at his usual time" /an /l'ch answered *Ies+ and *No,+ neer ta)in& his an&r'
e'es from him, and at last said2 *Iou )now 'ou can do nothin& for me, so leae me alone"+
*4e can ease 'our sufferin&s"+
*Iou can#t een do that" -et me be"+
The doctor went into the drawin&3room and told Aras)o'a FFdorona that the case was er'
serious and that the onl' resource left was opium to alla' her husband#s sufferin&s, which must be
terrible"
/t was true, as the doctor said, that /an /l'ch#s ph'sical sufferin&s were terrible, but worse than
the ph'sical sufferin&s were his mental sufferin&s, which were his chief torture"
His mental sufferin&s were due to the fact that one ni&ht, as he loo)ed at 8erasim#s sleep', &ood3
natured face with its prominent chee)bones, the 0uestion suddenl' occurred to him2 *4hat if m'
whole life has reall' been wron&6+
/t occurred to him that what had appeared perfectl' impossible before, namel' that he had not
spent his life as he should hae done, mi&ht after all be true" /t occurred to him that his scarcel'
perceptible attempts to stru&&le a&ainst what was considered &ood b' the most hi&hl' placed people,
those scarcel' noticeable impulses which he had immediatel' suppressed, mi&ht hae been the real
thin&, and all the rest false" And his professional duties and the whole arran&ement of his life and of
his famil', and all his social and official interests, mi&ht all hae been false" He tried to defend all
those thin&s to himself and suddenl' felt the wea)ness of what he was defendin&" There was nothin&
to defend"
*But if that is so,+ he said to himself, *and / am leain& this life with the consciousness that /
hae lost all that was &ien me and it is impossible to rectif' itBwhat then6+
He la' on his bac) and be&an to pass his life in reiew in 0uite a new wa'" /n the mornin& when
he saw first his footman, then his wife, then his dau&hter, and then the doctor, their eer' word and
moement confirmed to him the awful truth that had been reealed to him durin& the ni&ht" /n them
he saw himselfBall that for which he had liedBand saw clearl' that it was not real at all, but a
terrible and hu&e deception which had hidden both life and death" This consciousness intensified his
ph'sical sufferin& tenfold" He &roaned and tossed about, and pulled at his clothin& which cho)ed and
stifled him" And he hated them on that account"
He was &ien a lar&e dose of opium and became unconscious, but at noon his sufferin&s be&an
a&ain" He droe eer'bod' awa' and tossed from side to side"
His wife came to him and said2
*Jean, m' dear, do this for me" /t can#t do an' harm and often helps" Health' people often do it"+
He opened his e'es wide"
*4hat6 Ta)e communion6 4h'6 /t#s unnecessar'H Howeer" " " "+
She be&an to cr'"
*Ies, do, m' dear" /#ll send for our priest" He is such a nice man"+
*All ri&ht" Ger' well,+ he muttered"
4hen the priest came and heard his confession, /an /l'ch was softened and seemed to feel a
relief from his doubts and conse0uentl' from his sufferin&s, and for a moment there came a ra' of
hope" He a&ain be&an to thin) of the ermiform appendi! and the possibilit' of correctin& it" He
receied the sacrament with tears in his e'es"
4hen the' laid him down a&ain afterwards he felt a moment#s ease, and the hope that he mi&ht
lie awo)e in him a&ain" He be&an to thin) of the operation that had been su&&ested to him" *To lieH
/ want to lieH+ he said to himself"
His wife came in to con&ratulate him after his communion, and when utterin& the usual
conentional words she added2
*Iou feel better, don#t 'ou6+
4ithout loo)in& at her he said *Ies"+
Her dress, her fi&ure, the e!pression of her face, the tone of her oice, all reealed the same
thin&" *This is wron&, it is not as it should be" All 'ou hae lied for and still lie for is falsehood and
deception, hidin& life and death from 'ou"+ And as soon as he admitted that thou&ht, his hatred and
his a&oni%in& ph'sical sufferin& a&ain spran& up, and with that sufferin& a consciousness of the
unaoidable, approachin& end" And to this was added a new sensation of &rindin& shootin& pain and
a feelin& of suffocation"
The e!pression of his face when he uttered that *'es+ was dreadful" Hain& uttered it, he loo)ed
her strai&ht in the e'es, turned on his face with a rapidit' e!traordinar' in his wea) state and shouted2
*8o awa'H 8o awa' and leae me aloneH+
XII
From that moment the screamin& be&an that continued for three da's, and was so terrible that one
could not hear it throu&h two closed doors without horror" At the moment he answered his wife he
reali%ed that he was lost, that there was no return, that the end had come, the er' end, and his doubts
were still unsoled and remained doubts"
*5hH 5hH 5hH+ he cried in arious intonations" He had be&un b' screamin& */ won#tH+ and
continued screamin& on the letter ('
For three whole da's, durin& which time did not e!ist for him, he stru&&led in that blac) sac)
into which he was bein& thrust b' an inisible, resistless force" He stru&&led as a man condemned to
death stru&&les in the hands of the e!ecutioner, )nowin& that he cannot sae himself" And eer'
moment he felt that despite all his efforts he was drawin& nearer and nearer to what terrified him" He
felt that his a&on' was due to his bein& thrust into that blac) hole and still more to his not bein& able
to &et ri&ht into it" He was hindered from &ettin& into it b' his coniction that his life had been a &ood
one" That er' Custification of his life held him fast and preented his moin& forward, and it caused
him most torment of all"
Suddenl' some force struc) him in the chest and side, ma)in& it still harder to breathe, and he
fell throu&h the hole and there at the bottom was a li&ht" 4hat had happened to him was li)e the
sensation one sometimes e!periences in a railwa' carria&e when one thin)s one is &oin& bac)wards
while one is reall' &oin& forwards and suddenl' becomes aware of the real direction"
*Ies, it was all not the ri&ht thin&,+ he said to himself, *but that#s no matter" /t can be done" But
what is the ri&ht thin&6+ he as)ed himself, and suddenl' &rew 0uiet"
This occurred at the end of the third da', two hours before his death" Just then his schoolbo' son
had crept softl' in and &one up to the bedside" The d'in& man was still screamin& desperatel' and
wain& his arms" His hand fell on the bo'#s head, and the bo' cau&ht it, pressed it to his lips, and
be&an to cr'"
At that er' moment /an /l'ch fell throu&h and cau&ht si&ht of the li&ht, and it was reealed to
him that thou&h his life had not been what it should hae been, this could still be rectified" He as)ed
himself, *4hat is the ri&ht thin&6+ and &rew still, listenin&" Then he felt that someone was )issin&
his hand" He opened his e'es, loo)ed at his son, and felt sorr' for him" His wife came up to him and
he &lanced at her" She was &a%in& at him open3mouthed, with undried tears on her nose and chee)
and a despairin& loo) on her face" He felt sorr' for her too"
*Ies, / am ma)in& them wretched,+ he thou&ht" *The' are sorr', but it will be better for them
when / die"+ He wished to sa' this but had not the stren&th to utter it" *Besides, wh' spea)6 / must
act,+ he thou&ht" 4ith a loo) at his wife he indicated his son and said2 *Ta)e him awa' " " " sorr' for
him " " " sorr' for 'ou too" " " "+ He tried to add, *for&ie me,+ but said *for&o+ and waed his hand,
)nowin& that He whose understandin& mattered would understand"
And suddenl' it &rew clear to him that what had been oppressin& him and would not leae him
was all droppin& awa' at once from two sides, from ten sides, and from all sides" He was sorr' for
them, he must act so as not to hurt them2 release them and free himself from these sufferin&s" *How
&ood and how simpleH+ he thou&ht" *And the pain6+ he as)ed himself" *4hat has become of it6
4here are 'ou, pain6+
He turned his attention to it"
*Ies, here it is" 4ell, what of it6 -et the pain be"+
*And death " " " where is it6+
He sou&ht his former accustomed fear of death and did not find it" *4here is it6 4hat death6+
There was no fear because there was no death"
/n place of death there was li&ht"
*So that#s what it isH+ he suddenl' e!claimed aloud" *4hat Co'H+
To him all this happened in a sin&le instant, and the meanin& of that instant did not chan&e" For
those present his a&on' continued for another two hours" Somethin& rattled in his throat, his
emaciated bod' twitched, then the &aspin& and rattle became less and less fre0uent"
*/t is finishedH+ said someone near him"
He heard these words and repeated them in his soul"
*Death is finished,+ he said to himself" */t is no moreH+
He drew in a breath, stopped in the midst of a si&h, stretched out, and died"
GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Eorn and raised in 8ormandy, the )rench novelist and shortCstory writer Auy de 0aupassant (!3%#
!$F& studied law in /aris, then served in the )rancoC/russian 2ar' 4fterward he wor1ed for a time as a
cler1 for the government until, with the support of the novelist Austave )laubert (a friend of
0aupassants mother& and later
G
Hmile Iola, he decided to pursue a career as a writer' 5ronic and
pointed, detached yet compassionate, 0aupassant e:plores human folly and its both grim and comic
conse@uences' -is first great success came in 4pril !!%, with the publication of the story =Eoule de
.uif> (=Eall of )at>&, about a prostitute traveling by coach, with a number of bourgeois companions,
through /russianCoccupied )rance during wartime' 0aupassant published si: novels, including EelC4mi
(!!3& and /ierre et Jean (!!!&, and a number of collections of stories, before his untimely death from
the effects of syphilis, a month short of his fortyCthird birthday' Li1e many of his stories, =The 8ec1lace>
uses realistic observation and 1eenly chosen detail to tell its story of a misunderstanding and the years of
hard labor that follow from it'
The Necklace [1885]
Translated by 0ar;orie Laurie
She was one of those prett' and charmin& &irls who are sometimes, as if b' a mista)e of destin', born
in a famil' of cler)s" She had no dowr', no e!pectations, no means of bein& )nown, understood,
loed, wedded b' an' rich and distin&uished man. and she let herself be married to a little cler) at the
,inistr' of Aublic /nstruction"
She dressed plainl' because she could not dress well, but she was as unhapp' as thou&h she had
reall' fallen from her proper station, since with women there is neither caste nor ran)2 and beaut',
&race and charm act instead of famil' and birth" Natural fineness, instinct for what is ele&ant,
suppleness of wit, are the sole hierarch', and ma)e from women of the people the e0uals of the er'
&reatest ladies"
She suffered ceaselessl', feelin& herself born for all the delicacies and all the lu!uries" She
suffered from the poert' of her dwellin&, from the wretched loo) of the walls, from the worn3out
chairs, from the u&liness of the curtains" All those thin&s, of which another woman of her ran) would
neer een hae been conscious, tortured her and made her an&r'" The si&ht of the little Breton
peasant who did her humble housewor) aroused in her re&rets which were despairin&, and distracted
dreams" She thou&ht of the silent antechambers hun& with 5riental tapestr', lit b' tall bron%e
candelabra, and of the two &reat footmen in )nee breeches who sleep in the bi& armchairs, made
drows' b' the hea' warmth of the hot3air stoe" She thou&ht of the lon& salons1 fitted up with
ancient sil), of the delicate furniture carr'in& priceless curiosities, and of the co0uettish perfumed
boudoirs made for tal)s at fie o#cloc) with intimate friends, with men famous and sou&ht after,
whom all women en' and whose attention the' all desire"
4hen she sat down to dinner, before the round table coered with a table3cloth three da's old,
opposite her husband, who uncoered the soup tureen and declared with an enchanted air, *Ah, the
&ood potCauCfeuK 7 / don#t )now an'thin& better than that,+ she thou&ht of daint' dinners, of shinin&
silerware, of tapestr' which peopled the walls with ancient persona&es and with stran&e birds fl'in&
in the midst of a fair' forest. and she thou&ht of delicious dishes sered on marelous plates, and of
the whispered &allantries which 'ou listen to with a sphin!li)e smile, while 'ou are eatin& the pin)
flesh of a trout or the win&s of a 0uail"
: She had no dresses, no Cewels, nothin&" And she loed nothin& but that. she felt made for that"
She would so hae li)ed to please, to be enied, to be charmin&, to be sou&ht after"
She had a friend, a former schoolmate at the conent, who was rich, and whom she did not li)e
to &o and see an' more, because she suffered so much when she came bac)"
But one eenin&, her husband returned home with a triumphant air, and holdin& a lar&e enelope
in his hand"
*There,+ said he" *Here is somethin& for 'ou"+
She tore the paper sharpl', and drew out a printed card which bore these words2
1; *The ,inister of Aublic /nstruction and ,me" 8eor&es Ramponneau re0uest the honor of ," and
,me" -oisel#s compan' at the palace of the ,inistr' on ,onda' eenin&, Januar' ei&hteenth"+
/nstead of bein& deli&hted, as her husband hoped, she threw the initation on the table with
disdain, murmurin&2
*4hat do 'ou want me to do with that6+
*But, m' dear, / thou&ht 'ou would be &lad" Iou neer &o out, and this is such a fine
opportunit'" / had awful trouble to &et it" 1er'one wants to &o. it is er' select, and the' are not
&iin& man' initations to cler)s" The whole official world will be there"+
She loo)ed at him with an irritated &lance, and said, impatientl'2
1: *And what do 'ou want me to put on m' bac)6+
He had not thou&ht of that. he stammered2
*4h', the dress 'ou &o to the theater in" /t loo)s er' well, to me"+
He stopped, distracted, seein& his wife was cr'in&" Two &reat tears descended slowl' from the
corners of her e'es toward the corners of her mouth" He stuttered2
*4hat#s the matter6 4hat#s the matter6+
7; But, b' iolent effort, she had con0uered her &rief, and she replied, with a calm oice, while she
wiped her wet chee)s2
*Nothin&" 5nl' / hae no dress and therefore / can#t &o to this ball" 8ie 'our card to some
collea&ue whose wife is better e0uipped than /"+
He was in despair" He resumed2
*Come, let us see, ,athilde" How much would it cost, a suitable dress, which 'ou could use on
other occasions, somethin& er' simple6+
She reflected seeral seconds, ma)in& her calculations and wonderin& also what sum she could
as) without drawin& on herself an immediate refusal and a fri&htened e!clamation from the
economical cler)"
7: Finall', she replied, hesitatin&l'2
*/ don#t )now e!actl', but / thin) / could mana&e it with four hundred francs"+
He had &rown a little pale, because he was la'in& aside Cust that amount to bu' a &un and treat
himself to a little shootin& ne!t summer on the plain of Nanterre, with seeral friends who went to
shoot lar)s down there, of a Sunda'"
But he said2
*All ri&ht" / will &ie 'ou four hundred francs" And tr' to hae a prett' dress"+
>; The da' of the ball drew near, and ,me" -oisel seemed sad, uneas', an!ious" Her dress was
read', howeer" Her husband said to her one eenin&2
*4hat is the matter6 Come, 'ou#e been so 0ueer these last three da's"+
And she answered2
*/t anno's me not to hae a sin&le Cewel, not a sin&le stone, nothin& to put on" / shall loo) li)e
distress" / should almost rather not &o at all"+
He resumed2
>: *Iou mi&ht wear natural flowers" /t#s er' st'lish at this time of the 'ear" For ten francs 'ou can
&et two or three ma&nificent roses"+
She was not coninced"
*No. there#s nothin& more humiliatin& than to loo) poor amon& other women who are rich"+
But her husband cried2
*How stupid 'ou areH 8o loo) up 'our friend ,me" Forestier, and as) her to lend 'ou some
Cewels" Iou#re 0uite thic) enou&h with her to do that"+
@; She uttered a cr' of Co'2
*/t#s true" / neer thou&ht of it"+
The ne!t da' she went to her friend and told of her distress"
,me" Forestier went to a wardrobe with a &lass door, too) out a lar&e Cewel3bo!, brou&ht it bac),
opened it, and said to ,me" -oisel2
*Choose, m' dear"+
@: She saw first of all some bracelets, then a pearl nec)lace, then a Genetian cross, &old and
precious stones of admirable wor)manship" She tried on the ornaments before the &lass, hesitated,
could not ma)e up her mind to part with them, to &ie them bac)" She )ept as)in&2
*Haen#t 'ou an' more6+
*4h', 'es" -oo)" / don#t )now what 'ou li)e"+
All of a sudden she discoered, in a blac) satin bo!, a superb nec)lace of diamonds, and her
heart be&an to beat with an immoderate desire" Her hands trembled as she too) it" She fastened it
around her throat, outside her hi&h3nec)ed dress, and remained lost in ecstas' at the si&ht of herself"
Then she as)ed, hesitatin&, filled with an&uish2
:; *Can 'ou lend me that, onl' that6+
*4h', 'es, certainl'"+
She spran& upon the nec) of her friend, )issed her passionatel', then fled with her treasure"
The da' of the ball arried" ,me" -oisel made a &reat success" She was prettier than them all,
ele&ant, &racious, smilin&, and cra%' with Co'" All the men loo)ed at her, as)ed her name, endeaored
to be introduced" All the attachJs of the Cabinet wanted to walt% with her" She was remar)ed b' the
minister himself"
She danced with into!ication, with passion, made drun) b' pleasure, for&ettin& all, in the
triumph of her beaut', in the &lor' of her success, in a sort of cloud of happiness composed of all this
homa&e, of all this admiration, of all these awa)ened desires, and of that sense of complete ictor'
which is so sweet to a woman#s heart"
:: She went awa' about four o#cloc) in the mornin&" Her husband had been sleepin& since
midni&ht, in a little deserted anteroom, with three other &entlemen whose wies were hain& a er'
&ood time" He threw oer her shoulders the wraps which he had brou&ht, modest wraps of common
life, whose poert' contrasted with the ele&ance of the ball dress" She felt this, and wanted to escape
so as not to be remar)ed b' the other women, who were enelopin& themseles in costl' furs"
-oisel held her bac)"
*4ait a bit" Iou will catch cold outside" / will &o and call a cab"+
But she did not listen to him, and rapidl' descended the stairs" 4hen the' were in the street the'
did not find a carria&e. and the' be&an to loo) for one, shoutin& after the cabmen whom the' saw
passin& b' at a distance"
The' went down toward the Seine, in despair, shierin& with cold" At last the' found on the 0ua'
one of those ancient noctambulant coupJs which, e!actl' as if the' were ashamed to show their
miser' durin& the da', are neer seen round Aaris until after ni&htfall"
?; /t too) them to their door in the Rue des ,art'rs, and once more, sadl', the' climbed up
homeward" All was ended, for her" And as to him, he reflected that he must be at the ,inistr' at ten
o#cloc)"
She remoed the wraps which coered her shoulders, before the &lass, so as once more to see
herself in all her &lor'" But suddenl' she uttered a cr'" She no lon&er had the nec)lace around her
nec)H
Her husband, alread' half undressed, demanded2
*4hat is the matter with 'ou6+
She turned madl' toward him2
?: */ haeB/ haeB/#e lost ,me" Forestier#s nec)lace"+
He stood up, distracted"
*4hatHBhow6BimpossibleH+
And the' loo)ed in the folds of her dress, in the folds of her cloa), in her poc)ets, eer'where"
The' did not find it"
He as)ed2
K; *Iou#re sure 'ou had it on when 'ou left the ball6+
*Ies, / felt it in the estibule of the palace"+
*But if 'ou had lost it in the street we should hae heard it fall" /t must be in the cab"+
*Ies" Arobabl'" Did 'ou ta)e his number6+
*No" And 'ou, didn#t 'ou notice it6+
K: *No"+
The' loo)ed, thunderstruc), at one another" At last -oisel put on his clothes"
*/ shall &o bac) on foot,+ said he, *oer the whole route which we hae ta)en to see if / can find
it"+
And he went out" She sat waitin& on a chair in her ball dress, without stren&th to &o to bed,
oerwhelmed, without fire, without a thou&ht"
Her husband came bac) about seen o#cloc)" He had found nothin&"
9; He went to Aolice Head0uarters, to the newspaper offices, to offer a reward2 he went to the cab
companiesBeer'where, in fact, whither he was ur&ed b' the least suspicion of hope"
She waited all da', in the same condition of mad fear before this terrible calamit'"
-oisel returned at ni&ht with a hollow, pale face. he had discoered nothin&"
*Iou must write to 'our friend,+ said he, *that 'ou hae bro)en the clasp of her nec)lace and that
'ou are hain& it mended" That will &ie us time to turn round"+
She wrote at his dictation"
9: At the end of a wee) the' had lost all hope"
And -oisel, who had a&ed fie 'ears, declared2
*4e must consider how to replace that ornament"+
The ne!t da' the' too) the bo! which had contained it, and the' went to the Ceweler whose name
was found within" He consulted his boo)s"
*/t was not /, madame, who sold that nec)lace. / must simpl' hae furnished the case"+
=; Then the' went from Ceweler to Ceweler, searchin& for a nec)lace li)e the other, consultin& their
memories, sic) both of them with cha&rin and an&uish"
The' found, in a shop at the Aalais Ro'al, a strin& of diamonds which seemed to them e!actl'
li)e the one the' loo)ed for" /t was worth fort' thousand francs" The' could hae it for thirt'3si!"
So the' be&&ed the Ceweler not to sell it for three da's 'et" And the' made a bar&ain that he
should bu' it bac) for thirt'3four thousand francs, in case the' found the other one before the end of
Februar'"
-oisel possessed ei&hteen thousand francs which his father had left him" He would borrow the
rest"
He did borrow, as)in& a thousand francs of one, fie hundred of another, fie louis here, three
louis> there" He &ae notes, too) up ruinous obli&ations, dealt with usurers and all the race of lenders"
He compromised all the rest of his life, ris)ed his si&nature without een )nowin& if he could meet it.
and, fri&htened b' the pains 'et to come, b' the blac) miser' which was about to fall upon him, b' the
prospect of all the ph'sical priation and of all the moral tortures which he was to suffer, he went to
&et the new nec)lace, puttin& down upon the merchant#s counter thirt'3si! thousand francs"
=: 4hen ,me" -oisel too) bac) the nec)lace, ,me" Forestier said to her, with a chill' manner2
*Iou should hae returned it sooner. / mi&ht hae needed it"+
She did not open the case, as her friend had so much feared" /f she had detected the substitution,
what would she hae thou&ht, what would she hae said6 4ould she not hae ta)en ,me" -oisel for
a thief6
,me" -oisel now )new the horrible e!istence of the need'" She too) her part, moreoer, all of a
sudden, with heroism" That dreadful debt must be paid" She would pa' it" The' dismissed their
serant. the' chan&ed their lod&in&s. the' rented a &arret under the roof"
She came to )now what hea' housewor) meant and the odious cares of the )itchen" She washed
the dishes, usin& her ros' nails on the &reas' pots and pans" She washed the dirt' linen, the shirts,
and the dishcloths, which she dried upon a line. she carried the slops down to the street eer'
mornin&, and carried up the water, stoppin& for breath at eer' landin&" And, dressed li)e a woman
of the people, she went to the fruiterer, the &rocer, the butcher, her bas)et on her arm, bar&ainin&,
insulted, defendin& her miserable mone' sou b' sou"
1;; 1ach month the' had to meet some notes, renew others, obtain more time"
Her husband wor)ed in the eenin& ma)in& a fair cop' of some tradesman#s accounts, and late at
ni&ht he often copied manuscript for fie sous a pa&e"
And this life lasted for ten 'ears"
At the end of ten 'ears, the' had paid eer'thin&, eer'thin&, with the rates of usur', and the
accumulations of the compound interest"
,me" -oisel loo)ed old now" She had become the woman of impoerished householdsBstron&
and hard and rou&h" 4ith frows' hair, s)irts as)ew, and red hands, she tal)ed loud while washin&
the floor with &reat swishes of water" But sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat
down near the window, and she thou&ht of that &a' eenin& of lon& a&o, of the ball where she had
been so beautiful and so fNted"
1;: 4hat would hae happened if she had not lost that nec)lace6 4ho )nows6 4ho )nows6 How life
is stran&e and chan&efulH How little a thin& is needed for us to be lost or to be saedH
But, one Sunda', hain& &one to ta)e a wal) in the Champs 1l'sJes to refresh herself from the
labor of the wee), she suddenl' perceied a woman who was leadin& a child" /t was ,me" Forestier,
still 'oun&, still beautiful, still charmin&"
,me" -oisel felt moed" 4as she &oin& to spea) to her6 Ies, certainl'" And now that she had
paid, she was &oin& to tell her all about it" 4h' not6
She went up"
*8ood da', Jeanne"+
11; The other, astonished to be familiarl' addressed b' this plain &oodwife, did not reco&ni%e her at
all, and stammered2
*ButBmadamHB/ do not )nowBIou must be mista)en"+
*No" / am ,athilde -oisel"+
Her friend uttered a cr'"
*5h, m' poor ,athildeH How 'ou are chan&edH+
11: *Ies, / hae had da's hard enou&h, since / hae seen 'ou, da's wretched enou&hBand that
because of 'ouH+
*5f meH How so6+
*Do 'ou remember that diamond nec)lace which 'ou lent me to wear at the ministerial ball6+
*Ies" 4ell6+
*4ell, / lost it"+
17; *4hat do 'ou mean6 Iou brou&ht it bac)"+
*/ brou&ht 'ou bac) another Cust li)e it" And for this we hae been ten 'ears pa'in&" Iou can
understand that it was not eas' for us, us who had nothin&" At last it is ended, and / am er' &lad"+
,me" Forestier had stopped"
*Iou sa' that 'ou bou&ht a nec)lace of diamonds to replace mine6+
*Ies" Iou neer noticed it, thenH The' were er' li)e"+
17: And she smiled with a Co' which was proud and naRe at once"
,me" Forestier, stron&l' moed, too) her two hands"
*5h, m' poor ,athildeH 4h', m' nec)lace was paste" /t was worth at most fie hundred francsH+
CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN
Charlotte /er1ins Ailman (!6%#$F3&, nBe Charlotte /er1ins, was born in -artford, Connecticut' -er
father deserted the family soon after Charlottes birthL she was brought up by her mother, who found it
difficult to ma1e ends meet' )or a while Charlotte wor1ed as an artist and teacher of art, and in !!M,
when she was twentyCfour, she married an artist' 5n !!3 she had a daughter, but soon after the birth of
the girl Charlotte had a nervous brea1down' 4t her husbands urging she spent a month in the sanitarium
of Dr' .' 2eir 0itchell, a physician who speciali,ed in treating women with nervous disorders' (0itchell
is specifically named in =The ?ellow 2allpaper'>& Eecause the treatment7isolation and total rest7
nearly drove her to insanity, she fled 0itchell and her husband' 5n California she began a career as a
lecturer and writer on feminist topics' (.he also supported herself by teaching school and by 1eeping a
boardinghouse'& 4mong her boo1s are 2omen and Hconomics (!$$& and The 0anC0ade 2orld ($&,
which have been revived by the feminist movement' 5n $%% she married a cousin, Aeorge Ailman' )rom
all available evidence, the marriage was successful' Certainly it did not restrict her activities as a
feminist' 5n $F3, suffering from inoperable cancer, she too1 her own life'
=The ?ellow 2allpaper,> written in !$"7that is, written after she had been treated by .' 2eir
0itchell for her nervous brea1down7was at first interpreted either as a ghost story or as a /oeCli1e
study of insanity' (nly in recent years has it been seen as a feminist story' ((ne might as1 oneself if these
interpretations are mutually e:clusive'&
The Iellow 4allpaper S19=7T
/t is er' seldom that mere ordinar' people li)e John and m'self secure ancestral halls for the
summer"
A colonial mansion, a hereditar' estate" / would sa' a haunted house, and reach the hei&ht of
romantic felicit'Bbut that would be as)in& too much of fateH
Still / will proudl' declare that there is somethin& 0ueer about it"
1lse, wh' should it be let so cheapl'6 And wh' hae stood so lon& untenanted6
: John lau&hs at me, of course, but one e!pects that in marria&e"
John is practical in the e!treme" He has no patience with faith, an intense horror of superstition,
and he scoffs openl' at an' tal) of thin&s not to be felt and seen and put down in fi&ures"
John is a ph'sician, and perhapsB$/ would not sa' it to a liin& soul, of course, but this is dead
paper and a &reat relief to m' mind(Bperhaps that is one reason / do not &et well faster"
Iou see he does not beliee / am sic)H
And what can one do6
1; /f a ph'sician of hi&h standin&, and one#s own husband, assures friends and relaties that there is
reall' nothin& the matter with one but temporar' nerous depressionBa sli&ht h'sterical tendenc'B
what is one to do6
,' brother is also a ph'sician, and also of hi&h standin&, and he sa's the same thin&"
So / ta)e phosphates or phosphitesBwhicheer it is, and tonics, and Courne's, and air, and
e!ercise, and am absolutel' forbidden to *wor)+ until / am well a&ain"
Aersonall', / disa&ree with their ideas"
Aersonall', / beliee that con&enial wor), with e!citement and chan&e, would do me &ood"
1: But what is one to do6
/ did write for a while in spite of them. but it does e!haust me a &ood dealBhain& to be so sl'
about it, or else meet with hea' opposition"
/ sometimes fanc' that in m' condition if / had less opposition and more societ' and stimulusB
but John sa's the er' worst thin& / can do is to thin) about m' condition, and / confess it alwa's
ma)es me feel bad"
So / will let it alone and tal) about the house"
The most beautiful placeH /t is 0uite alone, standin& well bac) from the road, 0uite three miles
from the illa&e" /t ma)es me thin) of 1n&lish places that 'ou read about, for there are hed&es and
walls and &ates that loc), and lots of separate little houses for the &ardeners and people"
7; There is a delicious &ardenH / neer saw such a &ardenBlar&e and shad', full of bo!3bordered
paths, and lined with lon& &rape3coered arbors with seats under them"
There were &reenhouses, too, but the' are all bro)en now" There was some le&al trouble, /
beliee, somethin& about the heirs and coheirs. an'how, the place has been empt' for 'ears"
That spoils m' &hostliness" / am afraid, but / don#t careBthere is somethin& stran&e about the
houseB/ can feel it"
/ een said so to John one moonli&ht eenin&, but he said what / felt was a draught, and shut the
window"
/ &et unreasonabl' an&r' with John sometimes" /#m sure / neer used to be so sensitie" / thin) it
is due to this nerous condition"
7: But John sa's if / feel so, / shall ne&lect proper self3control. so / ta)e pains to control m'selfB
before him, at least, and that ma)es me er' tired"
/ don#t li)e our room a bit" / wanted one downstairs that opened on the pia%%a and had roses all
oer the window, and such prett' old3fashioned chint% han&in&sH but John would not hear of it"
He said there was onl' one window and not room for two beds, and no near room for him if he
too) another"
He is er' careful and loin&, and hardl' lets me stir without special direction"
/ hae a schedule prescription for each hour in the da'. he ta)es all care from me, and so / feel
basel' un&rateful not to alue it more"
>; He said we came here solel' on m' account, that / was to hae perfect rest and all the air / could
&et" *Iour e!ercise depends on 'our stren&th, m' dear,+ said he, *and 'our food somewhat on 'our
appetite. but air 'ou can absorb all the time"+ So we too) the nurser' at the top of the house"
/t is a bi&, air' room, the whole floor nearl', with windows that loo) all wa's, and air and
sunshine &alore" /t was nurser' first and then pla'room and &'mnasium, / should Cud&e. for the
windows are barred for little children, and there are rin&s and thin&s in the walls"
The paint and paper loo) as if a bo's# school had used it" /t is stripped offBthe paperBin &reat
patches all around the head of m' bed, about as far as / can reach, and in a &reat place on the other
side of the room low down" / neer saw a worse paper in m' life"
5ne of those sprawlin& flambo'ant patterns committin& eer' artistic sin"
/t is dull enou&h to confuse the e'e in followin&, pronounced enou&h to constantl' irritate and
proo)e stud', and when 'ou follow the lame uncertain cures for a little distance the' suddenl'
commit suicideBplun&e off at outra&eous an&les, destro' themseles in unheard of contradictions"
>: The color is repellent, almost reoltin&. a smoulderin& unclean 'ellow, stran&el' faded b' the
slow3turnin& sunli&ht"
/t is a dull 'et lurid oran&e in some places, a sic)l' sulphur tint in others"
No wonder the children hated itH / should hate it m'self if / had to lie in this room lon&"
There comes John, and / must put this awa',Bhe hates to hae me write a word"
4e hae been here two wee)s, and / haen#t felt li)e writin& before, since that first da'"
@; / am sittin& b' the window now, up in this atrocious nurser', and there is nothin& to hinder m'
writin& as much as / please, sae lac) of stren&th"
John is awa' all da', and een some ni&hts when his cases are serious"
/ am &lad m' case is not seriousH
But these nerous troubles are dreadfull' depressin&"
John does not )now how much / reall' suffer" He )nows there is no reason to suffer, and that
satisfies him"
@: 5f course it is onl' nerousness" /t does wei&h on me so not to do m' dut' in an' wa'H
/ meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, and here / am a comparatie
burden alread'H
Nobod' would beliee what an effort it is to do what little / am able,Bto dress and entertain, and
order thin&s"
/t is fortunate ,ar' is so &ood with the bab'" Such a dear bab'H
And 'et / cannot be with him, it ma)es me so nerous"
:; / suppose John neer was nerous in his life" He lau&hs at me so about this wallpaperH
At first he meant to repaper the room, but afterwards he said that / was lettin& it &et the better of
me, and that nothin& was worse for a nerous patient than to &ie wa' to such fancies"
He said that after the wallpaper was chan&ed it would be the hea' bedstead, and then the barred
windows, and then that &ate at the head of the stairs, and so on"
*Iou )now the place is doin& 'ou &ood,+ he said, *and reall', dear, / don#t care to renoate the
house Cust for a three months# rental"+
*Then do let us &o downstairs"+ / said, *there are such prett' rooms there"+
:: Then he too) me in his arms and called me a blessed little &oose, and said he would &o down to
the cellar, if / wished, and hae it whitewashed into the bar&ain"
But he is ri&ht enou&h about the beds and windows and thin&s"
/t is an air' and comfortable room as an' one need wish, and, of course, / would not be so sill' as
to ma)e him uncomfortable Cust for a whim"
/#m reall' &ettin& 0uite fond of the bi& room, all but that horrid paper"
5ut of one window / can see the &arden, those m'sterious deep3shaded arbors, the riotous old3
fashioned flowers, and bushes and &narl' trees"
?; 5ut of another / &et a loel' iew of the ba' and a little priate wharf belon&in& to the estate"
There is a beautiful shaded lane that runs down there from the house" / alwa's fanc' / see people
wal)in& in these numerous paths and arbors, but John has cautioned me not to &ie wa' to fanc' in
the least" He sa's that with m' ima&inatie power and habit of stor'3ma)in&, a nerous wea)ness li)e
mine is sure to lead to all manner of e!cited fancies, and that / ou&ht to use m' will and &ood sense to
chec) the tendenc'" So / tr'"
/ thin) sometimes that if / were onl' well enou&h to write a little it would reliee the press of
ideas and rest me"
But / find / &et prett' tired when / tr'"
/t is so discoura&in& not to hae an' adice and companionship about m' wor)" 4hen / &et reall'
well, John sa's we will as) Cousin Henr' and Julia down for a lon& isit. but he sa's he would as
soon put firewor)s in m' pillow3case as to let me hae those stimulatin& people about now"
/ wish / could &et well faster"
?: But / must not thin) about that" This paper loo)s to me as if it 1new what a icious influence it
hadH
There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls li)e a bro)en nec) and two bulbous e'es stare at
'ou upside down"
/ &et positiel' an&r' with the impertinence of it and the eerlastin&ness" Lp and down and
sidewa's the' crawl, and those absurd, unblin)in& e'es are eer'where" There is one place where two
breadths didn#t match, and the e'es &o all up and down the line, one a little hi&her than the other"
/ neer saw so much e!pression in an inanimate thin& before, and we all )now how much
e!pression the' haeH / used to lie awa)e as a child and &et more entertainment and terror out of
blan) walls and plain furniture than most children could find in a to'store"
/ remember what a )indl' win) the )nobs of our bi&, old bureau used to hae, and there was one
chair that alwa's seemed li)e a stron& friend"
K; / used to feel that if an' of the other thin&s loo)ed too fierce / could alwa's hop into that chair
and be safe"
The furniture in this room is no worse than inharmonious, howeer, for we had to brin& it all
from downstairs" / suppose when this was used as a pla'room the' had to ta)e the nurser' thin&s out,
and no wonderH / neer saw such raa&es as the children hae made here"
The wallpaper, as / said before, is torn off in spots, and it stic)eth closer than a brotherBthe'
must hae had perseerance as well as hatred"
Then the floor is scratched and &ou&ed and splintered, the plaster itself is du& out here and there,
and this &reat hea' bed which is all we found in the room, loo)s as if it had been throu&h the wars"
But / don#t mind it a bitBonl' the paper"
K: There comes John#s sister" Such a dear &irl as she is, and so careful of meH / must not let her find
me writin&"
She is a perfect and enthusiastic house)eeper, and hopes for no better profession" / eril' beliee
she thin)s it is the writin& which made me sic)H
But / can write when she is out, and see her a lon& wa' off from these windows"
There is one that commands the road, a loel' shaded windin& road, and one that Cust loo)s off
oer the countr'" A loel' countr', too, full of &reat elms and elet meadows"
This wallpaper has a )ind of sub3pattern in a different shade, a particularl' irritatin& one, for 'ou
can onl' see it in certain li&hts, and not clearl' then"
9; But in the places where it isn#t faded and where the sun is Cust soB/ can see a stran&e,
proo)in&, formless sort of fi&ure, that seems to s)ul) about behind that sill' and conspicuous front
desi&n"
There#s sister on the stairsH
4ell, the Fourth of Jul' is oerH The people are all &one and / am tired out" John thou&ht it mi&ht
do me &ood to see a little compan', so we Cust had mother and Nellie and the children down for a
wee)"
5f course / didn#t do a thin&" Jennie sees to eer'thin& now" But it tired me all the same"
John sa's if / don#t pic) up faster he shall send me to 4eir ,itchell in the fall"
9: But / don#t want to &o there at all" / had a friend who was in his hands once, and she sa's he is
Cust li)e John and m' brother, onl' more soH
Besides, it is such an underta)in& to &o so far"
/ don#t feel as if it was worth while to turn m' hand oer for an'thin&, and /#m &ettin& dreadfull'
fretful and 0uerulous"
/ cr' at nothin&, and cr' most of the time"
5f course / don#t when John is here, or an'bod' else, but when / am alone"
=; And / am alone a &ood deal Cust now" John is )ept in town er' often b' serious cases, and Jennie
is &ood and lets me alone when / want her to"
So / wal) a little in the &arden or down that loel' lane, sit on the porch under the roses, and lie
down up here a &ood deal"
/#m &ettin& reall' fond of the room in spite of the wallpaper" Aerhaps because of the wallpaper"
/t dwells in m' mind soH
/ lie here on this &reat immoable bedBit is nailed down, / belieeBand follow that pattern
about b' the hour" /t is as &ood as &'mnastics, / assure 'ou" / start, we#ll sa', at the bottom, down in
the corner oer there where it has not been touched, and / determine for the thousandth time that /
will follow that pointless pattern to some sort of a conclusion"
=: / )now a little of the principle of desi&n, and / )now this thin& was not arran&ed on an' laws of
radiation, or alternation, or repetition, or s'mmetr', or an'thin& else that / eer heard of"
/t is repeated, of course, b' the breadths, but not otherwise"
-oo)ed at in one wa' each breadth stands alone, the bloated cures and flourishesBa )ind of
*debased Romanes0ue+ with delirium tremensB&o waddlin& up and down in isolated columns of
fatuit'"
But, on the other hand, the' connect dia&onall', and the sprawlin& outlines run off in &reat
slantin& waes of optic horror, li)e a lot of wallowin& seaweeds in full chase"
The whole thin& &oes hori%ontall', too, at least it seems so, and / e!haust m'self in tr'in& to
distin&uish the order of its &oin& in that direction"
1;; The' hae used a hori%ontal breadth for a frie%e, and that adds wonderfull' to the confusion"
There is one end of the room where it is almost intact, and there, when the crossli&hts fade and
the low sun shines directl' upon it, / can almost fanc' radiation after all,Bthe interminable
&rotes0ues seem to form around a common center and rush off in headlon& plun&es of e0ual
distraction"
/t ma)es me tired to follow it" / will ta)e a nap / &uess"
/ don#t )now wh' / should write this"
/ don#t want to"
1;: / don#t feel able"
And / )now John would thin) it absurd" But / must sa' what / feel and thin) in some wa'Bit is
such a relief"
But the effort is &ettin& to be &reater than the reliefH
Half the time now / am awfull' la%', and lie down eer so much"
John sa's / mustn#t lose m' stren&th, and has me ta)e cod lier oil and lots of tonics and thin&s,
to sa' nothin& of ale and wine and rare meat"
11; Dear JohnH He loes me er' dearl', and hates to hae me sic)" / tried to hae a real earnest
reasonable tal) with him the other da', and tell him how / wish he would let me &o and ma)e a isit
to Cousin Henr' and Julia"
But he said / wasn#t able to &o, nor able to stand it after / &ot there. and / did not ma)e out a er'
&ood case for m'self, for / was cr'in& before / had finished"
/t is &ettin& to be a &reat effort for me to thin) strai&ht" Just this nerous wea)ness / suppose"
And dear John &athered me up in his arms, and Cust carried me upstairs and laid me on the bed,
and sat b' me and read to me till it tired m' head"
He said / was his darlin& and his comfort and all he had, and that / must ta)e care of m'self for
his sa)e, and )eep well"
11: He sa's no one but m'self can help me out of it, that / must use m' will and self3control and not
let an' sill' fancies run awa' with me"
There#s one comfort, the bab' is well and happ', and does not hae to occup' this nurser' with
the horrid wallpaper"
/f we had not used it, that blessed child would haeH 4hat a fortunate escapeH 4h', / wouldn#t
hae a child of mine, an impressionable little thin&, lie in such a room for worlds"
/ neer thou&ht of it before, but it is luc)' that John )ept me here after all" / can stand it so much
easier than a bab', 'ou see"
5f course / neer mention it to them an' moreB/ am too wise,Bbut / )eep watch of it all the
same"
17; There are thin&s in that paper that nobod' )nows but me, or eer will"
Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes &et clearer eer' da'"
/t is alwa's the same shape, onl' er' numerous"
And it is li)e a woman stoopin& down and creepin& about behind that pattern" / don#t li)e it a bit"
/ wonderB/ be&in to thin)B/ wish John would ta)e me awa' from hereH
/t is so hard to tal) to John about m' case, because he is so wise, and because he loes me so"
17: But / tried last ni&ht"
/t was moonli&ht" The moon shines in all around Cust as the sun does"
/ hate to see it sometimes, it creeps so slowl', and alwa's comes in b' one window or another"
John was asleep and / hated to wa)en him, so / )ept still and watched the moonli&ht on that
undulatin& wallpaper till / felt creep'"
The faint fi&ure behind seemed to sha)e the pattern, Cust as if she wanted to &et out"
1>; / &ot up softl' and went to feel and see if the paper did moe, and when / came bac) John was
awa)e"
*4hat is it, little &irl6+ he said" *Don#t &o wal)in& about li)e thatB'ou#ll &et cold"+
/ thou&ht it was a &ood time to tal), so / told him that / reall' was not &ainin& here, and that /
wished he would ta)e me awa'"
*4h' darlin&H+ said he, *our lease will be up in three wee)s, and / can#t see how to leae before"
*The repairs are not done at home, and / cannot possibl' leae town Cust now" 5f course if 'ou
were in an' dan&er, / could and would, but 'ou reall' are better, dear, whether 'ou can see it or not" /
am a doctor, dear, and / )now" Iou are &ainin& flesh and color, 'our appetite is better, / feel reall'
much easier about 'ou"+
1>: */ don#t wei&h a bit more,+ said /, *nor as much. and m' appetite ma' be better in the eenin&
when 'ou are here, but it is worse in the mornin& when 'ou are awa'H+
*Bless her little heartH+ said he with a bi& hu&, *she shall be as sic) as she pleasesH But now let#s
improe the shinin& hours b' &oin& to sleep, and tal) about it in the mornin&H+
*And 'ou won#t &o awa'6+ / as)ed &loomil'"
*4h', how can /, dear6 /t is onl' three wee)s more and then we will ta)e a nice little trip of a
few da's while Jennie is &ettin& the house read'" Reall' dear 'ou are betterH+
*Better in bod' perhapsB+ / be&an, and stopped short, for he sat up strai&ht and loo)ed at me
with such a stern, reproachful loo) that / could not sa' another word"
1@; *,' darlin&,+ said he, */ be& of 'ou, for m' sa)e and for our child#s sa)e, as well as for 'our
own, that 'ou will neer for one instant let that idea enter 'our mindH There is nothin& so dan&erous,
so fascinatin&, to a temperament li)e 'ours" /t is a false and foolish fanc'" Can 'ou trust me as a
ph'sician when / tell 'ou so6+
So of course / said no more on that score, and we went to sleep before lon&" He thou&ht / was
asleep first, but / wasn#t and la' there for hours tr'in& to decide whether that front pattern and the
bac) pattern reall' did moe to&ether or separatel'"
5n a pattern li)e this, b' da'li&ht, there is a lac) of se0uence, a defiance of law, that is a constant
irritant to a normal mind"
The color is hideous enou&h, and unreliable enou&h, and infuriatin& enou&h, but the pattern is
torturin&"
Iou thin) 'ou hae mastered it, but Cust as 'ou &et well underwa' in followin&, it turns a bac)3
somersault and there 'ou are" /t slaps 'ou in the face, )noc)s 'ou down, and tramples upon 'ou" /t is
li)e a bad dream"
1@: The outside pattern is a florid arabes0ue, remindin& one of a fun&us" /f 'ou can ima&ine a
toadstool in Coints, an interminable strin& of toadstools, buddin& and sproutin& in endless
conolutionsBwh', that is somethin& li)e it"
That is, sometimesH
There is one mar)ed peculiarit' about this paper, a thin& nobod' seems to notice but m'self, and
that is that it chan&es as the li&ht chan&es"
4hen the sun shoots in throu&h the east windowB/ alwa's watch for that first lon&, strai&ht ra'
Bit chan&es so 0uic)l' that / neer can 0uite beliee it"
That is wh' / watch it alwa's"
1:; B' moonli&htBthe moon shines in all ni&ht when there is a moonB/ wouldn#t )now it was the
same paper"
At ni&ht in an' )ind of li&ht, in twili&ht, candle li&ht, lampli&ht, and worst of all b' moonli&ht,
it becomes barsH The outside pattern / mean, and the woman behind it as plain as can be"
/ didn#t reali%e for a lon& time what the thin& was that showed behind, that dim sub3pattern, but
now / am 0uite sure it is a woman"
B' da'li&ht she is subdued, 0uiet" / fanc' it is the pattern that )eeps her so still" /t is so pu%%lin&"
/t )eeps me 0uiet b' the hour"
/ lie down eer so much now" John sa's it is &ood for me, and to sleep all / can"
1:: /ndeed he started the habit b' ma)in& me lie down for an hour after each meal"
/t is a er' bad habit / am coninced, for 'ou see / don#t sleep"
And that cultiates deceit, for / don#t tell them /#m awa)eB5 noH
The fact is / am &ettin& a little afraid of John"
He seems er' 0ueer sometimes, and een Jennie has an ine!plicable loo)"
1?; /t stri)es me occasionall', Cust as a scientific h'pothesis,Bthat perhaps it is the paperH
/ hae watched John when he did not )now / was loo)in&, and come into the room suddenl' on
the most innocent e!cuses, and /#e cau&ht him seeral times loo1ing at the paperK And Jennie too" /
cau&ht Jennie with her hand on it once"
She didn#t )now / was in the room, and when / as)ed her in a 0uiet, a er' 0uiet oice, with the
most restrained manner possible, what she was doin& with the paperBshe turned around as if she had
been cau&ht stealin&, and loo)ed 0uite an&r'Bas)ed me wh' / should fri&hten her soH
Then she said that the paper stained eer'thin& it touched, that she had found 'ellow smooches
on all m' clothes and John#s, and she wished we would be more carefulH
Did not that sound innocent6 But / )now she was stud'in& that pattern, and / am determined that
nobod' shall find it out but m'selfH
1?: -ife is er' much more e!citin& now than it used to be" Iou see / hae somethin& more to e!pect,
to loo) forward to, to watch" / reall' do eat better, and am more 0uiet than / was"
John is so pleased to see me improeH He lau&hed a little the other da', and said / seemed to be
flourishin& in spite of m' wallpaper"
/ turned it off with a lau&h" / had no intention of tellin& him it was because of the wallpaperBhe
would ma)e fun of me" He mi&ht een want to ta)e me awa'"
/ don#t want to leae now until / hae found it out" There is a wee) more, and / thin) that will be
enou&h"
/#m feelin& eer so much betterH / don#t sleep much at ni&ht, for it is so interestin& to watch
deelopments. but / sleep a &ood deal in the da'time"
1K; /n the da'time it is tiresome and perple!in&"
There are alwa's new shoots on the fun&us, and new shades of 'ellow all oer it" / cannot )eep
count of them, thou&h / hae tried conscientiousl'"
/t is the stran&est 'ellow, that wallpaperH /t ma)es me thin) of all the 'ellow thin&s / eer sawB
not beautiful ones li)e buttercups, but old foul, bad 'ellow thin&s"
But there is somethin& else about that paperBthe smellH / noticed it the moment we came into
the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad" Now we hae had a wee) of fo& and rain, and
whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here"
/t creeps all oer the house"
1K: / find it hoerin& in the dinin&3room, s)ul)in& in the parlor, hidin& in the hall, l'in& in wait for
me on the stairs"
/t &ets into m' hair"
1en when / &o to ride, if / turn m' head suddenl' and surprise itBthere is that smellH
Such a peculiar odor, tooH / hae spent hours in tr'in& to anal'%e it, to find what it smelled li)e"
/t is not badBat first, and er' &entle, but 0uite the subtlest, most endurin& odor / eer met"
19; /n this damp weather it is awful, / wa)e up in the ni&ht and find it han&in& oer me"
/t used to disturb me at first" / thou&ht seriousl' of burnin& the houseBto reach the smell"
But now / am used to it" The onl' thin& / can thin) of that it is li)e is the color of the paperH A
'ellow smell"
There is a er' funn' mar) on this wall, low down, near the mopboard" A strea) that runs round
the room" /t &oes behind eer' piece of furniture, e!cept the bed, a lon&, strai&ht, een smooch, as if it
had been rubbed oer and oer"
/ wonder how it was done and who did it, and what the' did it for" Round and round and roundB
round and round and roundBit ma)es me di%%'H
19: / reall' hae discoered somethin& at last"
Throu&h watchin& so much at ni&ht, when it chan&es so, / hae finall' found out"
The front pattern does moeBand no wonderH The woman behind sha)es itH
Sometimes / thin) there are a &reat man' women behind, and sometimes onl' one, and she
crawls around fast, and her crawlin& sha)es it all oer"
Then in the er' bri&ht spots she )eeps still, and in the er' shad' spots she Cust ta)es hold of the
bars and sha)es them hard"
1=; And she is all the time tr'in& to climb throu&h" But nobod' could climb throu&h that patternBit
stran&les so. / thin) that is wh' it has so man' heads"
The' &et throu&h, and then the pattern stran&les them off and turns them upside down, and
ma)es their e'es whiteH
/f those heads were coered or ta)en off it would not be half so bad"
/ thin) that woman &ets out in the da'timeH
And /#ll tell 'ou wh'Bpriatel'B/#e seen herH
1=: / can see her out of eer' one of m' windowsH
/t is the same woman, / )now, for she is alwa's creepin&, and most women do not creep b'
da'li&ht"
/ see her on that lon& road under the trees, creepin& alon&, and when a carria&e comes she hides
under the blac)berr' ines"
/ don#t blame her a bit" /t must be er' humiliatin& to be cau&ht creepin& b' da'li&htH
/ alwa's loc) the door when / creep b' da'li&ht" / can#t do it at ni&ht, for / )now John would
suspect somethin& at once"
7;; And John is so 0ueer now, that / don#t want to irritate him" / wish he would ta)e another roomH
Besides, / don#t want an'bod' to &et that woman out at ni&ht but m'self"
/ often wonder if / could see her out of all the windows at once"
But, turn as fast as / can, / can onl' see out of one at one time" And thou&h / alwa's see her, she
may be able to creep faster than / can turnH
/ hae watched her sometimes awa' off in the open countr', creepin& as fast as a cloud shadow in
a hi&h wind"
/f onl' that top pattern could be &otten off from the under oneH / mean to tr' it, little b' little"
7;: / hae found out another funn' thin&, but / shan#t tell at this timeH /t does not do to trust people
too much"
There are onl' two more da's to &et this paper off, and / beliee John is be&innin& to notice" /
don#t li)e the loo) in his e'es"
And / heard him as) Jennie a lot of professional 0uestions about me" She had a er' &ood report
to &ie"
She said / slept a &ood deal in the da'time"
John )nows / don#t sleep er' well at ni&ht, for all /#m so 0uietH
71; He as)ed me all sorts of 0uestions, too, and pretended to be er' loin& and )ind"
As if / couldn#t see throu&h himH
Still, / don#t wonder he acts so, sleepin& under this paper for three months"
/t onl' interests me, but / feel sure John and Jennie are secretl' affected b' it"
HurrahH This is the last da', but it is enou&h" John is to sta' in town oer ni&ht, and won#t be out
until this eenin&"
71: Jennie wanted to sleep with meBthe sl' thin&H But / told her / should undoubtedl' rest better for
a ni&ht all alone"
That was cleer, for reall' / wasn#t alone a bitH As soon as it was moonli&ht and that poor thin&
be&an to crawl and sha)e the pattern, / &ot up and ran to help her"
/ pulled and she shoo), / shoo) and she pulled, and before mornin& we had peeled off 'ards of
that paper"
A strip about as hi&h as m' head and half round the room" And then when the sun came and that
awful pattern be&an to lau&h at me, / declared / would finish it to3da'H
4e &o awa' to3morrow, and the' are moin& all the furniture down a&ain to leae thin&s as the'
were before"
77; Jennie loo)ed at the wall in ama%ement, but / told her merril' that / did it out of pure spite at the
icious thin&"
She lau&hed and said she wouldn#t mind doin& it herself, but / must not &et tired"
How she betra'ed herself that timeH
But / am here, and no person touches this paper but meBnot aliveK
She tried to &et me out of the roomBit was too patentH But / said it was so 0uiet and empt' and
clean now that / belieed / would lie down a&ain and sleep all / could, and not to wa)e me een for
dinnerB/ would call when / wo)e"
77: So now she is &one, and the serants are &one, and the thin&s are &one, and there is nothin& left
but that &reat bedstead nailed down, with the canas mattress we found on it"
4e shall sleep downstairs to3ni&ht, and ta)e the boat home to3morrow"
/ 0uite enCo' the room, now it is bare a&ain"
How those children did tear about hereH
This bedstead is fairl' &nawedH
7>; But / must &et to wor)"
/ hae loc)ed the door and thrown the )e' down into the front path"
/ don#t want to &o out, and / don#t want to hae an'bod' come in, till John comes"
/ want to astonish him"
/#e &ot a rope up here that een Jennie did not find" /f that woman does &et out, and tries to &et
awa', / can tie herH
7>: But / for&ot / could not reach far without an'thin& to stand onH This bed will not moeH
/ tried to lift and push it until / was lame, and then / &ot so an&r' / bit off a little piece at one
cornerBbut it hurt m' teeth"
Then / peeled off all the paper / could reach standin& on the floor" /t stic)s horribl' and the
pattern Cust enCo's itH All those stran&led heads and bulbous e'es and waddlin& fun&us &rowths Cust
shrie) with derisionH
/ am &ettin& an&r' enou&h to do somethin& desperate" To Cump out of the window would be
admirable e!ercise, but the bars are too stron& een to tr'"
Besides / wouldn#t do it" 5f course not, / )now well enou&h that a step li)e that is improper and
mi&ht be misconstrued"
7@; / don#t li)e to loo1 out of the windows eenBthere are so man' of those creepin& women, and
the' creep so fast"
/ wonder if the' all come out of that wallpaper as / did6
But / am securel' fastened now b' m' well3hidden ropeB'ou don#t &et me out in the road thereH
/ suppose / shall hae to &et bac) behind the pattern when it comes ni&ht, and that is hardH
/t is so pleasant to be out in this &reat room and creep around as / pleaseH
7@: / don#t want to &o outside" / won#t, een if Jennie as)s me to"
For outside 'ou hae to creep on the &round, and eer'thin& is &reen instead of 'ellow"
But here / can creep smoothl' on the floor, and m' shoulder Cust fits in that lon& smooch around
the wall, so / cannot lose m' wa'"
4h' there#s John at the doorH
/t is no use, 'oun& man, 'ou can#t open itH
7:; How he does call and poundH
Now he#s cr'in& for an a!e"
/t would be a shame to brea) down that beautiful doorH
*John dearH+ said / in the &entlest oice, *the )e' is down b' the front steps, under a plantain
leafH+
That silenced him for a few moments"
7:: Then he saidBer' 0uietl' indeed, *5pen the door, m' darlin&H+
*/ can#t,+ said /" *The )e' is down b' the front door under a plantain leafH+
And then / said it a&ain, seeral times, er' &entl' and slowl', and said it so often that he had to
&o and see, and he &ot it of course, and came in" He stopped short b' the door"
*4hat is the matter6+ he cried" *For 8od#s sa)e, what are 'ou doin&H+
/ )ept on creepin& Cust the same, but / loo)ed at him oer m' shoulder"
7?; */#e &ot out at last,+ said /, *in spite of 'ou and Jane" And /#e pulled off most of the paper, so
'ou can#t put me bac)H+
Now wh' should that man hae fainted6 But he did, and ri&ht across m' path b' the wall, so that
/ had to creep oer him eer' timeH
WILLA CATHER
4illa Cather $19K><1=@K( was born in 4inchester, Gir&inia, but at the a&e of nine she moed with her
famil' to the Nebras)a prairie town of Red Cloud, which she later used and adapted for the settin&s,
characters, and eents of man' of her noels and short stories"
After &raduatin& from the Lniersit' of Nebras)a in 1=9: Cather wor)ed as a Cournalist and hi&h
school teacher in Aittsbur&h, and betinnin& in 1=;@ as a member of the editorial staff of ,c-ure#s
,a&a%ine in New Ior) Cit'" Her noels include 5 Aioneers $1=1>(, The Son& of the -ar) $1=1:(, and
Death Comes for the Archbishop $1=7K("
Pauls Case [195]
A Stud' in Temperament
/t was Aaul#s afternoon to appear before the facult' of the Aittsbur&h Hi&h School to account for his
arious misdemeanors" He had been suspended a wee) a&o, and his father had called at the
Arincipal#s office and confessed his perple!it' about his son" Aaul entered the facult' room suae and
smilin&" His clothes were a trifle out&rown and the tan elet on the collar of his open oercoat was
fra'ed and worn. but for all that there was somethin& of the dand' about him, and he wore an opal
pin in his neatl' )notted blac) four3in3hand, and a red carnation in his buttonhole" This latter
adornment the facult' somehow felt was not properl' si&nificant of the contrite spirit befittin& a bo'
under the ban of suspension"
Aaul was tall for his a&e and er' thin, with hi&h, cramped shoulders and a narrow chest" His
e'es were remar)able for a certain h'sterical brillianc', and he continuall' used them in a conscious,
theatrical sort of wa', peculiarl' offensie in a bo'" The pupils were abnormall' lar&e, as thou&h he
were addicted to belladonna, but there was a &lass' &litter about them which that dru& does not
produce"
4hen 0uestioned b' the Arincipal as to wh' he was there, Aaul stated, politel' enou&h, that he
wanted to come bac) to school" This was a lie, but Aaul was 0uite accustomed to l'in&. found it,
indeed, indispensable for oercomin& friction" His teachers were as)ed to state their respectie
char&es a&ainst him, which the' did with such a rancor and a&&rieedness as einced that this was
not a usual case" Disorder and impertinence were amon& the offenses named, 'et each of his
instructors felt that it was scarcel' possible to put into words the real cause of the trouble, which la'
in a sort of h'stericall' defiant manner of the bo'#s. in the contempt which the' all )new he felt for
them, and which he seemin&l' made not the least effort to conceal" 5nce, when he had been ma)in& a
s'nopsis of a para&raph at the blac)board, his 1n&lish teacher had stepped to his side and attempted
to &uide his hand" Aaul had started bac) with a shudder and thrust his hands iolentl' behind him"
The astonished woman could scarcel' hae been more hurt and embarrassed had he struc) at her" The
insult was so inoluntar' and definitel' personal as to be unfor&ettable" /n one wa' and another, he
had made all his teachers, men and women ali)e, conscious of the same feelin& of ph'sical aersion"
/n one class he habituall' sat with his hand shadin& his e'es. in another he alwa's loo)ed out of the
window durin& the recitation. in another he made a runnin& commentar' on the lecture, with
humorous intention"
His teachers felt this afternoon that his whole attitude was s'mboli%ed b' his shru& and his
flippantl' red carnation flower, and the' fell upon him without merc', his 1n&lish teacher leadin& the
pac)" He stood throu&h it smilin&, his pale lips parted oer his white teeth" $His lips were continuall'
twitchin&, and he had a habit of raisin& his e'ebrows that was contemptuous and irritatin& to the last
de&ree"( 5lder bo's than Aaul had bro)en down and shed tears under that baptism of fire, but his set
smile did not once desert him, and his onl' si&n of discomfort was the nerous tremblin& of the
fin&ers that to'ed with the buttons of his oercoat, and an occasional Cer)in& of the other hand that
held his hat" Aaul was alwa's smilin&, alwa's &lancin& about him, seemin& to feel that people mi&ht
be watchin& him and tr'in& to detect somethin&" This conscious e!pression, since it was as far as
possible from bo'ish mirthfulness, was usuall' attributed to insolence or *smartness"+
As the in0uisition proceeded, one of his instructors repeated an impertinent remar) of the bo'#s,
and the Arincipal as)ed him whether he thou&ht that a courteous speech to hae made a woman" Aaul
shru&&ed his shoulders sli&htl' and his e'ebrows twitched"
*/ don#t )now,+ he replied" */ didn#t mean to be polite or impolite, either" / &uess it#s a sort of
wa' / hae of sa'in& thin&s re&ardless"+
The Arincipal, who was a s'mpathetic man, as)ed him whether he didn#t thin) that a wa' it
would be well to &et rid of" Aaul &rinned and said he &uessed so" 4hen he was told that he could &o,
he bowed &racefull' and went out" His bow was but a repetition of the scandalous red carnation"
His teachers were in despair, and his drawin& master oiced the feelin& of them all when he
declared there was somethin& about the bo' which none of them understood" He added2 */ don#t reall'
beliee that smile of his comes alto&ether from insolence. there#s somethin& sort of haunted about it"
The bo' is not stron&, for one thin&" / happen to )now that he was born in Colorado, onl' a few
months before his mother died out there of a lon& illness" There is somethin& wron& about the
fellow"+
The drawin& master had come to reali%e that, in loo)in& at Aaul, one saw onl' his white teeth
and the forced animation of his e'es" 5ne warm afternoon the bo' had &one to sleep at his drawin&3
board, and his master had noted with ama%ement what a white, blue3eined face it was. drawn and
wrin)led li)e an old man#s about the e'es, the lips twitchin& een in his sleep, and stiff with a
nerous tension that drew them bac) from his teeth"
His teachers left the buildin& dissatisfied and unhapp'. humiliated to hae felt so indictie
toward a mere bo', to hae uttered this feelin& in cuttin& terms, and to hae set each other on, as it
were, in the &ruesome &ame of intemperate reproach" Some of them remembered hain& seen a
miserable street cat set at ba' b' a rin& of tormentors"
As for Aaul, he ran down the hill whistlin& the Soldiers# Chorus from )aust loo)in& wildl'
behind him now and then to see whether some of his teachers were not there to writhe under his
li&ht3heartedness" As it was now late in the afternoon and Aaul was on dut' that eenin& as usher at
Carne&ie Hall, he decided that he would not &o home to supper" 4hen he reached the concert hall the
doors were not 'et open and, as it was chill' outside, he decided to &o up into the picture &aller'B
alwa's deserted at this hourBwhere there were some of Raffaelli#s &a' studies of Aaris streets and an
air' blue Genetian scene or two that alwa's e!hilarated him" He was deli&hted to find no one in the
&aller' but the old &uard, who sat in one corner, a newspaper on his )nee, a blac) patch oer one e'e
and the other closed" Aaul possessed himself of the place and wal)ed confidentl' up and down,
whistlin& under his breath" After a while he sat down before a blue Rico and lost himself" 4hen he
bethou&ht him to loo) at his watch, it was after seen o#cloc), and he rose with a start and ran
downstairs, ma)in& a face at Au&ustus, peerin& out from the cast3room, and an eil &esture at the
Genus of ,ilo as he passed her on the stairwa'"
4hen Aaul reached the ushers# dressin&3room half3a3do%en bo's were there alread', and he
be&an e!citedl' to tumble into his uniform" /t was one of the few that at all approached fittin&, and
Aaul thou&ht it er' becomin&Bthou&h he )new that the ti&ht, strai&ht coat accentuated his narrow
chest, about which he was e!ceedin&l' sensitie" He was alwa's considerabl' e!cited while he
dressed, twan&in& all oer to the tunin& of the strin&s and the preliminar' flourishes of the horns in
the music3room. but to3ni&ht he seemed 0uite beside himself, and he teased and pla&ued the bo's
until, tellin& him that he was cra%', the' put him down on the floor and sat on him"
Somewhat calmed b' his suppression, Aaul dashed out to the front of the house to seat the earl'
comers" He was a model usher. &racious and smilin& he ran up and down the aisles. nothin& was too
much trouble for him. he carried messa&es and brou&ht pro&rammes as thou&h it were his &reatest
pleasure in life, and all the people in his section thou&ht him a charmin& bo', feelin& that he
remembered and admired them" As the house filled, he &rew more and more iacious and animated,
and the color came to his chee)s and lips" /t was er' much as thou&h this were a &reat reception and
Aaul were the host" Just as the musicians came out to ta)e their places, his 1n&lish teacher arried
with chec)s for the seats which a prominent manufacturer had ta)en for the season" She betra'ed
some embarrassment when she handed Aaul the tic)ets, and a hauteur which subse0uentl' made her
feel er' foolish" Aaul was startled for a moment, and had the feelin& of wantin& to put her out. what
business had she here amon& all these fine people and &a' colors6 He loo)ed her oer and decided
that she was not appropriatel' dressed and must be a fool to sit downstairs in such to&s" The tic)ets
had probabl' been sent her out of )indness, he reflected as he put down a seat for her, and she had
about as much ri&ht to sit there as he had"
4hen the s'mphon' be&an Aaul san) into one of the rear seats with a lon& si&h of relief, and lost
himself as he had done before the Rico" /t was not that s'mphonies, as such, meant an'thin& in
particular to Aaul, but the first si&h of the instruments seemed to free some hilarious and potent spirit
within him. somethin& that stru&&led there li)e the 8enius in the bottle found b' the Arab fisherman"
He felt a sudden %est of life. the li&hts danced before his e'es and the concert hall bla%ed into
unima&inable splendor" 4hen the soprano soloist came on, Aaul for&ot een the nastiness of his
teacher#s bein& there and &ae himself up to the peculiar stimulus such persona&es alwa's had for
him" The soloist chanced to be a 8erman woman, b' no means in her first 'outh, and the mother of
man' children. but she wore an elaborate &own and a tiara, and aboe all she had that indefinable air
of achieement, that world3shine upon her, which, in Aaul#s e'es, made her a eritable 0ueen of
Romance"
After a concert was oer Aaul was alwa's irritable and wretched until he &ot to sleep, and to3
ni&ht he was een more than usuall' restless" He had the feelin& of not bein& able to let down, of its
bein& impossible to &ie up this delicious e!citement which was the onl' thin& that could be called
liin& at all" Durin& the last number he withdrew and, after hastil' chan&in& his clothes in the
dressin&3room, slipped out to the side door where the soprano#s carria&e stood" Here he be&an pacin&
rapidl' up and down the wal), waitin& to see her come out"
5er 'onder the Schenle', in its acant stretch, loomed bi& and s0uare throu&h the fine rain, the
windows of its twele stories &lowin& li)e those of a li&hted card3board house under a Christmas tree"
All the actors and sin&ers of the better class sta'ed there when the' were in the cit', and a number of
the bi& manufacturers of the place lied there in the winter" Aaul had often hun& about the hotel,
watchin& the people &o in and out, lon&in& to enter and leae school3masters and dull care behind
him foreer"
At last the sin&er came out, accompanied b' the conductor, who helped her into her carria&e and
closed the door with a cordial auf wiedersehen, which set Aaul to wonderin& whether she were not an
old sweetheart of his" Aaul followed the carria&e oer to the hotel, wal)in& so rapidl' as not to be far
from the entrance when the sin&er ali&hted and disappeared behind the swin&in& &lass doors that
were opened b' a ne&ro in a tall hat and a lon& coat" /n the moment that the door was aCar, it seemed
to Aaul that he, too, entered" He seemed to feel himself &o after her up the steps, into the warm,
li&hted buildin&, into an e!otic, a tropical world of shin', &listenin& surfaces and bas)in& ease" He
reflected upon the m'sterious dishes that were brou&ht into the dinin&3room, the &reen bottles in
buc)ets of ice, as he had seen them in the supper part' pictures of the .unday 2orld supplement" A
0uic) &ust of wind brou&ht the rain down with sudden ehemence, and Aaul was startled to find that
he was still outside in the slush of the &rael driewa'. that his boots were lettin& in the water and his
scant' oercoat was clin&in& wet about him. that the li&hts in front of the concert hall were out, and
that the rain was driin& in sheets between him and the oran&e &low of the windows aboe him"
There it was, what he wantedBtan&ibl' before him, li)e the fair' world of a Christmas pantomime,
but moc)in& spirits stood &uard at the doors, and, as the rain beat in his face, Aaul wondered whether
he were destined alwa's to shier in the blac) ni&ht outside, loo)in& up at it"
He turned and wal)ed reluctantl' toward the car trac)s" The end had to come sometime. his
father in his ni&ht3clothes at the top of the stairs, e!planations that did not e!plain, hastil'
improised fictions that were foreer trippin& him up, his upstairs room and its horrible 'ellow wall3
paper. the crea)in& bureau with the &reas' plush collar3bo!, and oer his painted wooden bed the
pictures of 8eor&e 4ashin&ton and John Calin, and the framed motto, *Feed m' -ambs,+ which had
been wor)ed in red worsted b' his mother"
Half an hour later, Aaul ali&hted from his car and went slowl' down one of the side streets off the
main thorou&hfare" /t was a hi&hl' respectable street, where all the houses were e!actl' ali)e, and
where business men of moderate means be&ot and reared lar&e families of children, all of whom went
to Sabbath3school and learned the shorter catechism, and were interested in arithmetic. all of whom
were as e!actl' ali)e as their homes, and of a piece with the monoton' in which the' lied" Aaul
neer went up Cordelia Street without a shudder of loathin&" His home was ne!t the house of the
Cumberland minister" He approached it to3ni&ht with the nereless sense of defeat, the hopeless
feelin& of sin)in& bac) foreer into u&liness and commonness that he had alwa's had when he came
home" The moment he turned into Cordelia Street he felt the waters close aboe his head" After each
of these or&ies of liin&, he e!perienced all the ph'sical depression which follows a debauch. the
loathin& of respectable beds, of common food, of a house permeated b' )itchen odors. a shudderin&
repulsion for the flaourless, colourless mass of eer'da' e!istence. a morbid desire for cool thin&s
and soft li&hts and fresh flowers"
The nearer he approached the house, the more absolutel' une0ual Aaul felt to the si&ht of it all.
his u&l' sleepin& chamber. the cold bathroom with the &rim' %inc tub, the crac)ed mirror, the
drippin& spi&&ots. his father, at the top of the stairs, his hair' le&s stic)in& out from his ni&ht3shirt,
his feet thrust into carpet slippers" He was so much later than usual that there would certainl' be
in0uiries and reproaches" Aaul stopped short before the door" He felt that he could not be accosted b'
his father to3ni&ht. that he could not toss a&ain on that miserable bed" He would not &o in" He would
tell his father that he had no car fare, and it was rainin& so hard he had &one home with one of the
bo's and sta'ed all ni&ht"
,eanwhile, he was wet and cold" He went around to the bac) of the house and tried one of the
basement windows, found it open, raised it cautiousl', and scrambled down the cellar wall to the
floor" There he stood, holdin& his breath, terrified b' the noise he had made, but the floor aboe him
was silent, and there was no crea) on the stairs" He found a soap3bo!, and carried it oer to the soft
rin& of li&ht that streamed from the furnace door, and sat down" He was horribl' afraid of rats, so he
did not tr' to sleep, but sat loo)in& distrustfull' at the dar), still terrified lest he mi&ht hae awa)ened
his father" /n such reactions, after one of the e!periences which made da's and ni&hts out of the
drear' blan)s of the calendar, when his senses were deadened, Aaul#s head was alwa's sin&ularl'
clear" Suppose his father had heard him &ettin& in at the window and had come down and shot him
for a bur&lar6 Then, a&ain, suppose his father had come down, pistol in hand, and he had cried out in
time to sae himself, and his father had been horrified to thin) how nearl' he had )illed him6 Then,
a&ain, suppose a da' should come when his father would remember that ni&ht, and wish there had
been no warnin& cr' to sta' his hand6 4ith this last supposition Aaul entertained himself until
da'brea)"
The followin& Sunda' was fine. the sodden Noember chill was bro)en b' the last flash of
autumnal summer" /n the mornin& Aaul had to &o to church and Sabbath3school, as alwa's" 5n
seasonable Sunda' afternoons the bur&hers of Cordelia Street alwa's sat out on their front *stoops,+
and tal)ed to their nei&hbors on the ne!t stoop, or called to those across the street in nei&hbourl'
fashion" The men usuall' sat on &a' cushions placed upon the steps that led down to the sidewal),
while the women, in their Sunda' *waists,+ sat in roc)ers on the cramped porches, pretendin& to be
&reatl' at their ease" The children pla'ed in the streets. there were so man' of them that the place
resembled the recreation &rounds of a )inder&arten" The men on the stepsBall in their shirt sleees,
their ests unbuttonedBsat with their le&s well apart, their stomachs comfortabl' protrudin&, and
tal)ed of the prices of thin&s, or told anecdotes of the sa&acit' of their arious chiefs and oerlords"
The' occasionall' loo)ed oer the multitude of s0uabblin& children, listened affectionatel' to their
hi&h3pitched, nasal oices, smilin& to see their own procliities reproduced in their offsprin&, and
interspersed their le&ends of the iron )in&s with remar)s about their sons# pro&ress at school, their
&rades in arithmetic, and the amounts the' had saed in their to' ban)s"
5n this last Sunda' of Noember, Aaul sat all the afternoon on the lowest step of his *stoop,+
starin& into the street, while his sisters, in their roc)ers, were tal)in& to the minister#s dau&hters ne!t
door about how man' shirt3waists the' had made in the last wee), and how man' waffles some one
had eaten at the last church supper" 4hen the weather was warm, and his father was in a particularl'
Coial frame of mind, the &irls made lemonade, which was alwa's brou&ht out in a red3&lass pitcher,
ornamented with for&et3me3nots in blue enamel" This the &irls thou&ht er' fine, and the nei&hbors
alwa's Co)ed about the suspicious colour of the pitcher"
Toda' Aaul#s father sat on the top step, tal)in& to a 'oun& man who shifted a restless bab' from
)nee to )nee" He happened to be the 'oun& man who was dail' held up to Aaul as a model, and after
whom it was his father#s dearest hope that he would pattern" This 'oun& man was of a rudd'
comple!ion, with a compressed, red mouth, and faded, near3si&hted e'es, oer which he wore thic)
spectacles, with &old bows that cured about his ears" He was cler) to one of the ma&nates of a &reat
steel corporation, and was loo)ed upon in Cordelia Street as a 'oun& man with a future" There was a
stor' that, some fie 'ears a&oBhe was now barel' twent'3si!Bhe had been a trifle dissipated, but in
order to curb his appetites and sae the loss of time and stren&th that a sowin& of wild oats mi&ht
hae entailed, he had ta)en his chief#s adice, oft reiterated to his emplo'ees, and at twent'3one had
married the first woman whom he could persuade to share his fortunes" She happened to be an
an&ular school3mistress, much older than he, who also wore thic) &lasses, and who had now borne
him four children, all near3si&hted, li)e herself"
The 'oun& man was relatin& how his chief, now cruisin& in the ,editerranean, )ept in touch
with all the details of the business, arran&in& his office hours on his 'acht Cust as thou&h he were at
home, and *)noc)in& off wor) enou&h to )eep two steno&raphers bus'"+ His father told, in turn, the
plan his corporation was considerin&, of puttin& in an electric railwa' plant at Cairo" Aaul snapped
his teeth. he had an awful apprehension that the' mi&ht spoil it all before he &ot there" Iet he rather
li)ed to hear these le&ends of the iron )in&s, that were told and retold on Sunda's and holida's. these
stories of palaces in Genice, 'achts on the ,editerranean, and hi&h pla' at ,onte Carlo appealed to
his fanc', and he was interested in the triumphs of these cash bo's who had become famous, thou&h
he had no mind for the cash3bo' sta&e"
After supper was oer, and he had helped to dr' the dishes, Aaul nerousl' as)ed his father
whether he could &o to 8eor&e#s to &et some help in his &eometr', and still more nerousl' as)ed for
car fare" This latter re0uest he had to repeat, as his father on principle, did not li)e to hear re0uests
for mone', whether much or little" He as)ed Aaul whether he could not &o to some bo' who lied
nearer, and told him that he ou&ht not to leae his school wor) until Sunda'. but he &ae him the
dime" He was not a poor man, but he had a worth' ambition to come up in the world" His onl' reason
for allowin& Aaul to usher was, that he thou&ht a bo' ou&ht to be earnin& a little"
Aaul bounded upstairs, scrubbed the &reas' odor of the dish3water from his hands with the ill3
smellin& soap he hated, and then shoo) oer his fin&ers a few drops of iolet water from the bottle he
)ept hidden in his drawer" He left the house with his &eometr' conspicuousl' under his arm, and the
moment he &ot out of Cordelia Street and boarded a downtown car, he shoo) off the lethar&' of two
deadenin& da's, and be&an to lie a&ain"
The leadin& Cuenile of the permanent stoc) compan' which pla'ed at one of the downtown
theatres was an ac0uaintance of Aaul#s and the bo' had been inited to drop in at the Sunda'3ni&ht
rehearsals wheneer he could" For more than a 'ear Aaul had spent eer' aailable moment loiterin&
about Charle' 1dwards#s dressin&3room" He had won a place amon& 1dwards#s followin& not onl'
because the 'oun& actor, who could not afford to emplo' a dresser, often found him useful, but
because he reco&ni%ed in Aaul somethin& a)in to what churchmen term *ocation"+
/t was at the theatre and at Carne&ie Hall that Aaul reall' lied. the rest was but a sleep and a
for&ettin&" This was Aaul#s fair' tale, and it had for him all the allurement of a secret loe" The
moment he inhaled the &ass', paint', dust' odour behind the scenes, he breathed li)e a prisoner set
free, and felt within him the possibilit' of doin& or sa'in& splendid, brilliant, poetic thin&s" The
moment the crac)ed orchestra beat out the oerture from 0artha, or Cer)ed at the serenade from
Rigoletto, all stupid and u&l' thin&s slid from him, and his senses were deliciousl', 'et delicatel'
fired"
Aerhaps it was because, in Aaul#s world, the natural nearl' alwa's wore the &uise of u&liness, that
a certain element of artificialit' seemed to him necessar' in beaut'" Aerhaps it was because his
e!perience of life elsewhere was so full of Sabbath3school picnics, pett' economies, wholesome adice
as to how to succeed in life, and the unescapable odors of coo)in&, that he found this e!istence so
allurin&, these smartl'3clad men and women so attractie, that he was so moed b' these starr' apple
orchards that bloomed perenniall' under the limeli&ht"
/t would be difficult to put it stron&l' enou&h how conincin&l' the sta&e entrance of that theatre
was for Aaul the actual portal of Romance" Certainl' none of the compan' eer suspected it, least of
all Charle' 1dwards" /t was er' li)e the old stories that used to float about -ondon of fabulousl' rich
Jews, who had subterranean halls there, with palms, and fountains, and soft lamps and richl'
apparelled women who neer saw the disenchantin& li&ht of -ondon da'" So, in the midst of that
smo)e3palled cit', enamored of fi&ures and &rim' toil, Aaul had his secret temple, his wishin& carpet,
his bit of blue3and3white ,editerranean shore bathed in perpetual sunshine"
Seeral of Aaul#s teachers had a theor' that his ima&ination had been pererted b' &arish fiction,
but the truth was that he scarcel' eer read at all" The boo)s at home were not such as would either
tempt or corrupt a 'outhful mind, and as for readin& the noels that some of his friends ur&ed upon
himBwell, he &ot what he wanted much more 0uic)l' from music. an' sort of music, from an
orchestra to a barrel or&an" He needed onl' the spar), the indescribable thrill that made his
ima&ination master of his senses, and he could ma)e plots and pictures enou&h of his own" /t was
e0uall' true that he was not sta&e3struc)Bnot, at an' rate, in the usual acceptation of that e!pression"
He had no desire to become an actor, an' more than he had to become a musician" He felt no
necessit' to do an' of these thin&s. what he wanted was to see, to be in the atmosphere, float on the
wae of it, to be carried out, blue lea&ue after blue lea&ue, awa' from eer'thin&"
After a ni&ht behind the scenes, Aaul found the school3room more than eer repulsie. the bare
floors and na)ed walls. the pros' men who neer wore froc) coats, or iolets in their buttonholes. the
women with their dull &owns, shrill oices, and pitiful seriousness about prepositions that &oern the
datie" He could not bear to hae the other pupils thin), for a moment, that he too) these people
seriousl'. he must cone' to them that he considered it all triial, and was there onl' b' wa' of a Cest,
an'wa'" He had auto&raph pictures of all the members of the stoc) compan' which he showed his
classmates, tellin& them the most incredible stories of his familiarit' with these people, of his
ac0uaintance with the soloists who came to Carne&ie Hall, his suppers with them and the flowers he
sent them" 4hen these stories lost their effect, and his audience &rew listless, he became desperate
and would bid all the bo's &ood3b'e, announcin& that he was &oin& to trael for awhile. &oin& to
Naples, to Genice, to 1&'pt" Then, ne!t ,onda', he would slip bac), conscious and nerousl'
smilin&. his sister was ill, and he should hae to defer his o'a&e until sprin&"
,atters went steadil' worse with Aaul at school" /n the itch to let his instructors )now how
heartil' he despised them and their homilies, and how thorou&hl' he was appreciated elsewhere, he
mentioned once or twice that he had no time to fool with theorems. addin&Bwith a twitch of the
e'ebrows and a touch of that nerous braado which so perple!ed themBthat he was helpin& the
people down at the stoc) compan'. the' were old friends of his"
The upshot of the matter was, that the Arincipal went to Aaul#s father, and Aaul was ta)en out of
school and put to wor)" The mana&er at Carne&ie Hall was told to &et another usher in his stead. the
door)eeper at the theatre was warned not to admit him to the house. and Charle' 1dwards
remorsefull' promised the bo'#s father not to see him a&ain"
The members of the stoc) compan' were astl' amused when some of Aaul#s stories reached
themBespeciall' the women" The' were hardwor)in& women, most of them supportin& indi&ent
husbands or brothers, and the' lau&hed rather bitterl' at hain& stirred the bo' to such ferid and
florid inentions" The' a&reed with the facult' and with his father that Aaul#s was a bad case"
The east3bound train was plou&hin& throu&h a Januar' snow3storm. the dull dawn was be&innin& to
show &re' when the en&ine whistled a mile out of Newar)" Aaul started up from the seat where he had
lain curled in uneas' slumber, rubbed the breath3misted window &lass with his hand, and peered out"
The snow was whirlin& in curlin& eddies aboe the white bottom lands, and the drifts la' alread' deep
in the fields and alon& the fences, while here and there the lon& dead &rass and dried weed stal)s
protruded blac) aboe it" -i&hts shone from the scattered houses, and a &an& of labourers who stood
beside the trac) waed their lanterns"
Aaul had slept er' little, and he felt &rim' and uncomfortable" He had made the all3ni&ht
Courne' in a da' coach, partl' because he was ashamed, dressed as he was, to &o into a Aullman, and
partl' because he was afraid of bein& seen there b' some Aittsbur&h business man, who mi&ht hae
noticed him in Denn' U Carson#s office" 4hen the whistle awo)e him, he clutched 0uic)l' at his
breast poc)et, &lancin& about him with an uncertain smile" But the little, cla'3bespattered /talians
were still sleepin&, the slatternl' women across the aisle were in open3mouthed obliion, and een the
crumb', cr'in& babies were for the nonce stilled" Aaul settled bac) to stru&&le with his impatience as
best he could"
4hen he arried at the Jerse' Cit' station, he hurried throu&h his brea)fast, manifestl' ill at ease
and )eepin& a sharp e'e about him" After he reached the Twent'3third Street station, he consulted a
cabman, and had himself drien to a men#s furnishin& establishment that was Cust openin& for the
da'" He spent upward of two hours there, bu'in& with endless reconsiderin& and &reat care" His new
street suit he put on in the fittin&3room. the froc) coat and dress clothes he had bundled into the cab
with his linen" Then he droe to a hatter#s and a shoe house" His ne!t errand was at Tiffan'#s, where
he selected his siler and a new scarf3pin" He would not wait to hae his siler mar)ed, he said"
-astl', he stopped at a trun) shop on Broadwa', and had his purchases pac)ed into arious traelin&
ba&s"
/t was a little after one o#cloc) when he droe up to the 4aldorf, and after settlin& with the
cabman, went into the office" He re&istered from 4ashin&ton. said his mother and father had been
abroad, and that he had come down to await the arrial of their steamer" He told his stor' plausibl'
and had no trouble, since he olunteered to pa' for them in adance, in en&a&in& his rooms. a
sleepin&3room, sittin&3room and bath"
Not once, but a hundred times Aaul had planned this entr' into New Ior)" He had &one oer
eer' detail of it with Charle' 1dwards, and in his scrap boo) at home there were pa&es of
description about New Ior) hotels, cut from the Sunda' papers" 4hen he was shown to his sittin&3
room on the ei&hth floor, he saw at a &lance that eer'thin& was as it should be. there was but one
detail in his mental picture that the place did not reali%e, so he ran& for the bell bo' and sent him
down for flowers" He moed about nerousl' until the bo' returned, puttin& awa' his new linen and
fin&erin& it deli&htedl' as he did so" 4hen the flowers came, he put them hastil' into water, and then
tumbled into a hot bath" Aresentl' he came out of his white bathroom, resplendent in his new sil)
underwear, and pla'in& with the tassels of his red robe" The snow was whirlin& so fiercel' outside his
windows that he could scarcel' see across the street, but within the air was deliciousl' soft and
fra&rant" He put the iolets and Con0uils on the taboret beside the couch, and threw himself down,
with a lon& si&h, coerin& himself with a Roman blan)et" He was thorou&hl' tired. he had been in
such haste, he had stood up to such a strain, coered so much &round in the last twent'3four hours,
that he wanted to thin) how it had all come about" -ulled b' the sound of the wind, the warm air, and
the cool fra&rance of the flowers, he san) into deep, drows' retrospection"
/t had been wonderfull' simple. when the' had shut him out of the theatre and concert hall, when
the' had ta)en awa' his bone, the whole thin& was irtuall' determined" The rest was a mere matter
of opportunit'" The onl' thin& that at all surprised him was his own coura&eBfor he reali%ed well
enou&h that he had alwa's been tormented b' fear, a sort of apprehensie dread that, of late 'ears, as
the meshes of the lies he had told closed about him, had been pullin& the muscles of his bod' ti&hter
and ti&hter" Lntil now, he could not remember the time when he had not been dreadin& somethin&"
1en when he was a little bo', it was alwa's thereBbehind him, or before, or on either side" There
had alwa's been the shadowed corner, the dar) place into which he dared not loo), but from which
somethin& seemed alwa's to be watchin& himBand Aaul had done thin&s that were not prett' to
watch, he )new"
But now he had a curious sense of relief, as thou&h he had at last thrown down the &auntlet to the
thin& in the corner"
Iet it was but a da' since he had been sul)in& in the traces. but 'esterda' afternoon that he had
been sent to the ban) with Denn' U Carson#s deposit, as usualBbut this time he was instructed to
leae the boo) to be balanced" There was aboe two thousand dollars in chec)s, and nearl' a thousand
in the ban) notes which he had ta)en from the boo) and 0uietl' transferred to his poc)et" At the ban)
he had made out a new deposit slip" His neres had been stead' enou&h to permit of his returnin& to
the office, where he had finished his wor) and as)ed for a full da'#s holida' to3morrow, Saturda',
&iin& a perfectl' reasonable prete!t" The ban) boo), he )new, would not be returned before ,onda'
or Tuesda', and his father would be out of town for the ne!t wee)" From the time he slipped the ban)
notes into his poc)et until he boarded the ni&ht train for New Ior), he had not )nown a moment#s
hesitation" /t was not the first time Aaul had steered throu&h treacherous waters"
How astonishin&l' eas' it had all been. here he was, the thin& done. and this time there would be
no awa)enin&, no fi&ure at the top of the stairs" He watched the snow fla)es whirlin& b' his window
until he fell asleep"
4hen he awo)e, it was three o#cloc) in the afternoon" He bounded up with a start. half of one of
his precious da's &one alread'H He spent more than an hour in dressin&, watchin& eer' sta&e of his
toilet carefull' in the mirror" 1er'thin& was 0uite perfect. he was e!actl' the )ind of bo' he had
alwa's wanted to be"
4hen he went downstairs, Aaul too) a carria&e and droe up Fifth Aenue toward the Aar)" The
snow had somewhat abated. carria&es and tradesmen#s wa&ons were hurr'in& soundlessl' to and fro
in the winter twili&ht. bo's in woolen mufflers were shoellin& off the doorsteps. the aenue sta&es
made fine spots of colour a&ainst the white street" Here and there on the corners were stands, with
whole flower &ardens bloomin& under &lass cases, a&ainst the sides of which the snow fla)es stuc)
and melted. iolets, roses, carnations, lilies of the alle'Bsomehow astl' more loel' and allurin&
that the' blossomed thus unnaturall' in the snow" The Aar) itself was a wonderful sta&e winter3piece"
4hen he returned, the pause of the twili&ht had ceased, and the tune of the streets had chan&ed"
The snow was fallin& faster, li&hts streamed from the hotels that reared their do%en stories fearlessl'
up into the storm, def'in& the ra&in& Atlantic winds" A lon&, blac) stream of carria&es poured down
the aenue, intersected here and there b' other streams, tendin& hori%ontall'" There were a score of
cabs about the entrance of his hotel, and his drier had to wait" Bo's in lier' were runnin& in and
out of the awnin& stretched across the sidewal), up and down the red elet carpet laid from the door
to the street" Aboe, about, within it all was the rumble and roar, the hurr' and toss of thousands of
human bein&s as hot for pleasure as himself, and on eer' side of him towered the &larin& affirmation
of the omnipotence of wealth"
The bo' set his teeth and drew his shoulders to&ether in a spasm of reali%ation. the plot of all
dramas, the te!t of all romances, the nere3stuff of all sensations was whirlin& about him li)e the
snow fla)es" He burnt li)e a fa&&ot in a tempest"
4hen Aaul went down to dinner, the music of the orchestra came floatin& up the eleator shaft to
&reet him" His head whirled as he stepped into the thron&ed corridor, and he san) bac) into one of the
chairs a&ainst the wall to &et his breath" The li&hts, the chatter, the perfumes, the bewilderin& medle'
of colourBhe had, for a moment, the feelin& of not bein& able to stand it" But onl' for a moment.
these were his own people, he told himself" He went slowl' about the corridors, throu&h the writin&3
rooms, smo)in&3rooms, reception3rooms, as thou&h he were e!plorin& the chambers of an enchanted
palace, built and peopled for him alone"
4hen he reached the dinin&3room he sat down at a table near a window" The flowers, the white
linen, the man'3colored wine &lasses, the &a' toilettes of the women, the low poppin& of cor)s, the
undulatin& repetitions of the Elue Danube from the orchestra, all flooded Aaul#s dream with
bewilderin& radiance" 4hen the roseate tin&e of his champa&ne was addedBthat cold, precious
bubblin& stuff that creamed and foamed in his &lassBAaul wondered that there were honest men in
the world at all" This was what all the world was fi&htin& for, he reflected. this was what all the
stru&&le was about" He doubted the realit' of his past" Had he eer )nown a place called Cordelia
Street, a place where fa&&ed3loo)in& business men &ot on the earl' car. mere riets in a machine the'
seemed to AaulBsic)enin& men, with combin&s of children#s hair alwa's han&in& to their coats, and
the smell of coo)in& in their clothes" Cordelia StreetBAhH that belon&ed to another time and countr'.
had he not alwa's been thus, had he not sat here ni&ht after ni&ht, from as far bac) as he could
remember, loo)in& pensiel' oer Cust such shimmerin& te!tures, and slowl' twirlin& the stem of a
&lass li)e this one between his thumb and middle fin&er6 He rather thou&ht he had"
He was not in the least abashed or lonel'" He had no especial desire to meet or to )now an' of
these people. all he demanded was the ri&ht to loo) on and conCecture, to watch the pa&eant" The
mere sta&e properties were all he contended for" Nor was he lonel' later in the eenin&, in his lo&e at
the ,etropolitan" He was now entirel' rid of his nerous mis&iin&s, of his forced a&&ressieness, of
the imperatie desire to show himself different from his surroundin&s" He felt now that his
surroundin&s e!plained him" Nobod' 0uestioned the purple. he had onl' to wear it passiel'" He had
onl' to &lance down at his attire to reassure himself that here it would be impossible for an' one to
humiliate him"
He found it hard to leae his beautiful sittin&3room to &o to bed that ni&ht, and sat lon& watchin&
the ra&in& storm from his turret window" 4hen he went to sleep, it was with the li&hts turned on in
his bedroom. partl' because of his old timidit', and partl' so that, if he should wa)e in the ni&ht,
there would be no wretched moment of doubt, no horrible suspicion of 'ellow wall3paper, or of
4ashin&ton and Calin aboe his bed"
Sunda' mornin& the cit' was practicall' snow3bound" Aaul brea)fasted late, and in the afternoon
he fell in with a wild San Francisco bo', a freshman at Iale, who said he had run down for a *little
fl'er+ oer Sunda'" The 'oun& man offered to show Aaul the ni&ht side of the town, and the two bo's
went out to&ether after dinner, not returnin& to the hotel until seen o#cloc) the ne!t mornin&" The'
had started out in the confidin& warmth of a champa&ne friendship, but their partin& in the eleator
was sin&ularl' cool" The freshman pulled himself to&ether to ma)e his train, and Aaul went to bed"
He awo)e at two o#cloc) in the afternoon, er' thirst' and di%%', and ran& for ice3water, coffee, and
the Aittsbur&h papers"
5n the part of the hotel mana&ement, Aaul e!cited no suspicion" There was this to be said for
him, that he wore his spoils with di&nit' and in no wa' made himself conspicuous" 1en under the
&low of his wine he was neer boisterous, thou&h he found the stuff li)e a ma&ician#s wand for
wonder3buildin&" His chief &reediness la' in his ears and e'es, and his e!cesses were not offensie
ones" His dearest pleasures were the &re' winter twili&hts in his sittin&3room. his 0uiet enCo'ment of
his flowers, his clothes, his wide dian, his ci&arette and his sense of power" He could not remember a
time when he had felt so at peace with himself" The mere release from the necessit' of pett' l'in&,
l'in& eer' da' and eer' da', restored his self3respect" He had neer lied for pleasure, een at school.
but to be noticed and admired, to assert his difference from other Cordelia Street bo's. and he felt a
&ood deal more manl', more honest, een, now that he had no need for boastful pretensions, now that
he could, as his actor friends used to sa', *dress the part"+ /t was characteristic that remorse did not
occur to him" His &olden da's went b' without a shadow, and he made each as perfect as he could"
5n the ei&hth da' after his arrial in New Ior), he found the whole affair e!ploited in the
Aittsbur&h papers, e!ploited with a wealth of detail which indicated that local news of a sensational
nature was at a low ebb" The firm of Denn' U Carson announced that the bo'#s father had refunded
the full amount of the theft, and that the' had no intention of prosecutin&" The Cumberland minister
had been interiewed, and e!pressed his hope of 'et reclaimin& the motherless lad, and his Sabbath3
school teacher declared that she would spare no effort to that end" The rumor had reached Aittsbur&h
that the bo' had been seen in a New Ior) hotel, and his father had &one 1ast to find him and brin&
him home"
Aaul had Cust come in to dress for dinner. he san) into a chair, wea) to the )nees, and clasped his
head in his hands" /t was to be worse than Cail, een. the tepid waters of Cordelia Street were to close
oer him finall' and foreer" The &re' monoton' stretched before him in hopeless, unrelieed 'ears.
Sabbath3school, Ioun& Aeople#s ,eetin&, the 'ellow3papered room, the damp dish3towels. it all
rushed bac) upon him with a sic)enin& iidness" He had the old feelin& that the orchestra had
suddenl' stopped, the sin)in& sensation that the pla' was oer" The sweat bro)e out on his face, and
he spran& to his feet, loo)ed about him with his white, conscious smile, and win)ed at himself in the
mirror" 4ith somethin& of the old childish belief in miracles with which he had so often &one to
class, all his lessons unlearned, Aaul dressed and dashed whistlin& down the corridor to the eleator"
He had no sooner entered the dinin&3room and cau&ht the measure of the music than his
remembrance was li&htened b' his old elastic power of claimin& the moment, mountin& with it, and
findin& it all sufficient" The &lare and &litter about him, the mere scenic accessories had a&ain, and
for the last time, their old potenc'" He would show himself that he was &ame, he would finish the
thin& splendidl'" He doubted, more than eer, the e!istence of Cordelia Street, and for the first time
he dran) his wine rec)lessl'" 4as he not, after all, one of those fortunate bein&s born to the purple,
was he not still himself and in his own place6 He drummed a nerous accompaniment to the Aa&liacci
music and loo)ed about him, tellin& himself oer and oer that it had paid"
He reflected drowsil', to the swell of the music and the chill sweetness of his wine, that he mi&ht
hae done it more wisel'" He mi&ht hae cau&ht an outbound steamer and been well out of their
clutches before now" But the other side of the world had seemed too far awa' and too uncertain then.
he could not hae waited for it. his need had been too sharp" /f he had to choose oer a&ain, he would
do the same thin& tomorrow" He loo)ed affectionatel' about the dinin&3room, now &ilded with a soft
mist" Ah, it had paid indeedH
Aaul was awa)ened ne!t mornin& b' a painful throbbin& in his head and feet" He had thrown
himself across the bed without undressin&, and had slept with his shoes on" His limbs and hands were
lead hea', and his ton&ue and throat were parched and burnt" There came upon him one of those
fateful attac)s of clear3headedness that neer occurred e!cept when he was ph'sicall' e!hausted and
his neres hun& loose" He la' still and closed his e'es and let the tide of thin&s wash oer him"
His father was in New Ior). *stoppin& at some Coint or other,+ he told himself" The memor' of
successie summers on the front stoop fell upon him li)e a wei&ht of blac) water" He had not a
hundred dollars left. and he )new now, more than eer, that mone' was eer'thin&, the wall that
stood between all he loathed and all he wanted" The thin& was windin& itself up. he had thou&ht of
that on his first &lorious da' in New Ior), and had een proided a wa' to snap the thread" /t la' on
his dressin&3table now. he had &ot it out last ni&ht when he came blindl' up from dinner, but the
shin' metal hurt his e'es, and he disli)ed the loo)s of it"
He rose and moed about with a painful effort, succumbin& now and a&ain to attac)s of nausea" /t
was the old depression e!a&&erated. all the world had become Cordelia Street" Iet somehow he was
not afraid of an'thin&, was absolutel' calm. perhaps because he had loo)ed into the dar) corner at
last and )new" /t was bad enou&h, what he saw there, but somehow not so bad as his lon& fear of it
had been" He saw eer'thin& clearl' now" He had a feelin& that he had made the best of it, that he had
lied the sort of life he was meant to lie, and for half an hour he sat starin& at the reoler" But he
told himself that was not the wa', so he went downstairs and too) a cab to the ferr'"
4hen Aaul arried at Newar), he &ot off the train and too) another cab, directin& the drier to
follow the Aenns'lania trac)s out of the town" The snow la' hea' on the roadwa's and had drifted
deep in the open fields" 5nl' here and there the dead &rass or dried weed stal)s proCected, sin&ularl'
blac), aboe it" 5nce well into the countr', Aaul dismissed the carria&e and wal)ed, flounderin&
alon& the trac)s, his mind a medle' of irreleant thin&s" He seemed to hold in his brain an actual
picture of eer'thin& he had seen that mornin&" He remembered eer' feature of both his driers, of
the toothless old woman from whom he had bou&ht the red flowers in his coat, the a&ent from whom
he had &ot his tic)et, and all of his fellow3passen&ers on the ferr'" His mind, unable to cope with ital
matters near at hand, wor)ed feerishl' and deftl' at sortin& and &roupin& these ima&es" The' made
for him a part of the u&liness of the world, of the ache in his head, and the bitter burnin& on his
ton&ue" He stooped and put a handful of snow into his mouth as he wal)ed, but that, too, seemed hot"
4hen he reached a little hillside, where the trac)s ran throu&h a cut some twent' feet below him, he
stopped and sat down"
The carnations in his coat were droopin& with the cold, he noticed. their red &lor' all oer" /t
occurred to him that all the flowers he had seen in the &lass cases that first ni&ht must hae &one the
same wa', lon& before this" /t was onl' one splendid breath the' had, in spite of their brae moc)er'
at the winter outside the &lass. and it was a losin& &ame in the end, it seemed, this reolt a&ainst the
homilies b' which the world is run" Aaul too) one of the blossoms carefull' from his coat and scooped
a little hole in the snow, where he coered it up" Then he do%ed a while, from his wea) condition,
seemin& insensible to the cold"
The sound of an approachin& train awo)e him, and he started to his feet, rememberin& onl' his
resolution, and afraid lest he should be too late" He stood watchin& the approachin& locomotie, his
teeth chatterin&, his lips drawn awa' from them in a fri&htened smile. once or twice he &lanced
nerousl' sidewise, as thou&h he were bein& watched" 4hen the ri&ht moment came, he Cumped" As
he fell, the foll' of his haste occurred to him with merciless clearness, the astness of what he had left
undone" There flashed throu&h his brain, clearer than eer before, the blue of Adriatic water, the
'ellow of Al&erian sands"
He felt somethin& stri)e his chest, and that his bod' was bein& thrown swiftl' throu&h the air, on
and on, immeasurabl' far and fast, while his limbs were &entl' rela!ed" Then, because the picture
ma)in& mechanism was crushed, the disturbin& isions flashed into blac), and Aaul dropped bac)
into the immense desi&n of thin&s"
TH1 1ND
James Jo'ce
James Joyce (!!"#$M& was born into a middleCclass family in Dublin, 5reland' -is father dran1,
became increasingly irresponsible and unemployable, and the family san1 in the social order' .till, Joyce
received a strong classical education at e:cellent Jesuit schools and at *niversity College, Dublin, where
he studied modern languages' 5n $%", at the age of twenty, he left 5reland so that he might spend the rest
of his life writing about life in 5reland' (=The shortest way to Tara,> he said, =is via -olyhead,> i'e', the
shortest way to the heart of 5reland is to ta1e ship away'& 5n Trieste, Iurich, and /aris he supported his
family in a variety of ways, sometimes teaching Hnglish in a Eerlit, language school' -is fifteen stories,
collected under the title of Dubliners, were written between $%M and $%9, but he could not get them
published until $M' 8e:t came a highly autobiographical novel, 4 /ortrait of the 4rtist as a ?oung 0an
($6&' *lysses ($""&, a large novel covering eighteen hours in Dublin, was for some years banned by
the *nited .tates /ost (ffice, though few if any readers today find it offensive' Joyce spent most of his
remaining years wor1ing on )innegans 2a1e ($F$&'
8ine years before he succeeded in getting Dubliners published, Joyce described the manuscript in
these terms<
,' intention was to write a chapter of the moral histor' of m' countr' and / chose Dublin for the scene
because that cit' seemed to me the centre of paral'sis" " " " / hae written it for the most part in a st'le of
scrupulous meanness and with the coniction that he is a er' bold man who dares to alter in the
presentment, still more to deform, whateer he has seen and heard"
!"a#y [195]
North Richmond Street, bein& blind,1 was a 0uiet street e!cept at the hour when the Christian
Brothers# School set the bo's free" An uninhabited house of two stories stood at the blind end,
detached from its nei&hbors in a s0uare &round" The other houses of the street, conscious of decent
lies within them, &a%ed at one another with brown imperturbable faces"
The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the bac) drawin&3room" Air, must' from
hain& lon& been enclosed, hun& in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the )itchen was littered
with old useless papers" Amon& these / found a few papercoered boo)s, the pa&es of which were
curled and damp2 The 4bbot, b' 4alter Scott, The Devout Communicant and The 0emoirs of
Nidoc@'7 / li)ed the last best because its leaes were 'ellow" The wild &arden behind the house
contained a central apple3tree and a few stra&&lin& bushes under one of which / found the late
tenant#s rust' bic'cle3pump" He had been a er' charitable priest. in his will he had left all his mone'
to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister"
4hen the short da's of winter came dus) fell before we had well eaten our dinners" 4hen we
met in the street the houses had &rown sombre" The space of s)' aboe us was the colour of
eerchan&in& iolet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns" The cold air
stun& us and we pla'ed till our bodies &lowed" 5ur shouts echoed in the silent street" The career of
our pla' brou&ht us throu&h the dar) mudd' lanes behind the houses where we ran the &auntlet of the
rou&h tribes from the cotta&es, to the bac) doors of the dar) drippin& &ardens where odours arose
from the ashpits, to the dar) odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or
shoo) music from the buc)led harness" 4hen we returned to the street li&ht from the )itchen
windows had filled the area" /f m' uncle was seen turnin& the corner we hid in the shadow until we
had seen him safel' housed" 5r if ,an&an#s sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to
his tea we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street" 4e waited to see whether she
would remain or &o in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and wal)ed up to ,an&an#s steps
resi&nedl'" She was waitin& for us, her fi&ure defined b' the li&ht from the half3opened door" Her
brother alwa's teased her before he obe'ed and / stood b' the railin&s loo)in& at her" Her dress swun&
as she moed her bod' and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side"
1er' mornin& / la' on the floor in the front parlour watchin& her door" The blind was pulled
down to within an inch of the sash so that / could not be seen" 4hen she came out on the doorstep m'
heart leaped" / ran to the hall, sei%ed m' boo)s and followed her" / )ept her brown fi&ure alwa's in
m' e'e and, when we came near the point at which our wa's dier&ed, / 0uic)ened m' pace and
passed her" This happened mornin& after mornin&" / had neer spo)en to her, e!cept for a few casual
words, and 'et her name was li)e a summons to all m' foolish blood"
: Her ima&e accompanied me een in places the most hostile to romance" 5n
Saturda' eenin&s when m' aunt went mar)etin& / had to &o to carr' some of the parcels"
4e wal)ed throu&h the flarin& streets, Costled b' drun)en men and bar&ainin& women,
amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop3bo's who stood on &uard b' the
barrels of pi&s# chee)s, the nasal chantin& of street3sin&ers, who san& a comeCallCyou
about 5#Donoan Rossa,> or a ballad about the troubles in our natie land" These noises
coner&ed in a sin&le sensation of life for me2 / ima&ined that / bore m' chalice safel'
throu&h a thron& of foes" Her name spran& to m' lips at moments in stran&e pra'ers and
praises which / m'self did not understand" ,' e'es were often full of tears $/ could not
tell wh'( and at times a flood from m' heart seemed to pour itself out into m' bosom" /
thou&ht little of the future" / did not )now whether / would eer spea) to her or not or, if
/ spo)e to her, how / could tell her of m' confused adoration" But m' bod' was li)e a
harp and her words and &estures were li)e fin&ers runnin& upon the wires"
5ne eenin& / went into the bac) drawin&3room in which the priest had died" /t was a dar) rain'
eenin& and there was no sound in the house" Throu&h one of the bro)en panes / heard the rain
impin&e upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water pla'in& in the sodden beds" Some distant
lamp or li&hted window &leamed below me" / was than)ful that / could see so little" All m' senses
seemed to desire to eil themseles and, feelin& that / was about to slip from them, / pressed the
palms of m' hands to&ether until the' trembled, murmurin&2 ( loveK ( loveK man' times"
At last she spo)e to me" 4hen she addressed the first words to me / was so confused that / did
not )now what to answer" She as)ed me was / &oin& to Arab'"
/ for&et whether / answered 'es or no" /t would be a splendid ba%aar, she said. she would loe to
&o"
BAnd wh' can#t 'ou6 / as)ed"
1; 4hile she spo)e she turned a siler bracelet round and round her wrist" She
could not &o, she said, because there would be a retreat that wee) in her conent" Her
brother and two other bo's were fi&htin& for their caps and / was alone at the railin&s" She
held one of the spi)es, bowin& her head towards me" The li&ht from the lamp opposite our
door cau&ht the white cure of her nec), lit up her hair that rested there and, fallin&, lit up
the hand upon the railin&" /t fell oer one side of her dress and cau&ht the white border of
a petticoat, Cust isible as she stood at ease"
B/t#s well for 'ou, she said"
B/f / &o, / said, / will brin& 'ou somethin&"
4hat innumerable follies laid waste m' wa)in& and sleepin& thou&hts after that eenin&H /
wished to annihilate the tedious interenin& da's" / chafed a&ainst the wor) of school" At ni&ht in m'
bedroom and b' da' in the classroom her ima&e came between me and the pa&e / stroe to read" The
s'llables of the word 4raby were called to me throu&h the silence in which m' soul lu!uriated and
cast an 1astern enchantment oer me" / as)ed for leae to &o to the ba%aar on Saturda' ni&ht" ,'
aunt was surprised and hoped it was not some Freemason@ affair" / answered a few 0uestions in class,
/ watched m' master#s face pass from amiabilit' to sternness. he hoped / was not be&innin& to idle" /
could not call m' wanderin& thou&hts to&ether" / had hardl' an' patience with the serious wor) of life
which, now that it stood between me and m' desire, seemed to me child#s pla', u&l' monotonous
child#s pla'"
5n Saturda' mornin& / reminded m' uncle that / wished to &o to the ba%aar in the eenin&" He
was fussin& at the hallstand, loo)in& for the hat3brush, and answered me curtl'2
1: BIes, bo', / )now"
As he was in the hall / could not &o into the front parlour and lie at the window" / left the house
in bad humour and wal)ed slowl' towards the school" The air was pitilessl' raw and alread' m' heart
mis&ae me"
4hen / came home to dinner m' uncle had not 'et been home" Still it was earl'" / sat starin& at
the cloc) for some time and, when its tic)in& be&an to irritate me, / left the room" / mounted the
staircase and &ained the upper part of the house" The hi&h cold empt' &loom' rooms liberated me and
/ went from room to room sin&in&" From the front window / saw m' companions pla'in& below in the
street" Their cries reached me wea)ened and indistinct and, leanin& m' forehead a&ainst the cool
&lass, / loo)ed oer at the dar) house where she lied" / ma' hae stood there for an hour, seein&
nothin& but the brown3clad fi&ure cast b' m' ima&ination, touched discreetl' b' the lampli&ht at the
cured nec), at the hand upon the railin&s and at the border below the dress"
4hen / came downstairs a&ain / found ,rs" ,ercer sittin& at the fire" She was an old &arrulous
woman, a pawnbro)er#s widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose" / had to endure
the &ossip of the tea3table" The meal was prolon&ed be'ond an hour and still m' uncle did not come"
,rs" ,ercer stood up to &o2 she was sorr' she couldn#t wait an' lon&er, but it was after ei&ht o#cloc)
and she did not li)e to be out late, as the ni&ht air was bad for her" 4hen she had &one / be&an to
wal) up and down the room, clenchin& m' fists" ,' aunt said2
B/#m afraid 'ou ma' put off 'our ba%aar for this ni&ht of 5ur -ord"
7; At nine o#cloc) / heard m' uncle#s latch)e' in the halldoor" / heard him tal)in& to himself and
heard the hallstand roc)in& when it had receied the wei&ht of his oercoat" / could interpret these
si&ns" 4hen he was midwa' throu&h his dinner / as)ed him to &ie me the mone' to &o to the ba%aar"
He had for&otten"
BThe people are in bed and after their first sleep now, he said"
/ did not smile" ,' aunt said to him ener&eticall'2
BCan#t 'ou &ie him the mone' and let him &o6 Iou#e )ept him late enou&h as it is"
,' uncle said he was er' sorr' he had for&otten" He said he belieed in the old sa'in&2 4ll wor1
and no play ma1es Jac1 a dull boy' He as)ed me where / was &oin& and, when / had told him a
second time he as)ed me did / )now The 4rabs )arewell to -is .teed' : 4hen / left the )itchen he
was about to recite the openin& lines of the piece to m' aunt"
7: / held a florin ti&htl' in m' hand as / strode down Buc)in&ham Street towards the station" The
si&ht of the streets thron&ed with bu'ers and &larin& with &as recalled to me the purpose of m'
Courne'" / too) m' seat in a third3class carria&e of a deserted train" After an intolerable dela' the train
moed out of the station slowl'" /t crept onward amon& ruinous houses and oer the twin)lin& rier"
At 4estland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carria&e doors. but the porters moed them
bac), sa'in& that it was a special train for the ba%aar" / remained alone in the bare carria&e" /n a few
minutes the train drew up beside an improised wooden platform" / passed out on to the road and saw
b' the li&hted dial of a cloc) that it was ten minutes to ten" /n front of me was a lar&e buildin& which
displa'ed the ma&ical name"
/ could not find an' si!penn' entrance and, fearin& that the ba%aar would be closed, / passed in
0uic)l' throu&h a turnstile, handin& a shillin& to a wear'3loo)in& man" / found m'self in a bi& hall
&irdled at half its hei&ht b' a &aller'" Nearl' all the stalls were closed and the &reater part of the hall
was in dar)ness" / reco&nised a silence li)e that which perades a church after a serice" / wal)ed into
the center of the ba%aar timidl'" A few people were &athered about the stalls which were still open"
Before a curtain, oer which the words CafB Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were
countin& mone' on a saler" / listened to the fall of the coins"
Rememberin& with difficult' wh' / had come / went oer to one of the stalls and e!amined
porcelain ases and flowered tea3sets" At the door of the stall a 'oun& lad' was tal)in& and lau&hin&
with two 'oun& &entlemen" / remar)ed their 1n&lish accents and listened a&uel' to their
conersation"
B5, / neer said such a thin&H
B5, but 'ou didH
>; B5, but / didn#tH
BDidn#t she sa' that6
BIesH / heard her"
B5, there#s a " " " fibH
5bserin& me the 'oun& lad' came oer and as)ed me did / wish to bu' an'thin&" The tone of
her oice was not encoura&in&. she seemed to hae spo)en to me out of a sense of dut'" / loo)ed
humbl' at the &reat Cars that stood li)e eastern &uards at either side of the dar) entrance to the stall
and murmured2
>: BNo, than) 'ou"
The 'oun& lad' chan&ed the position of one of the ases and went bac) to the two 'oun& men"
The' be&an to tal) of the same subCect" 5nce or twice the 'oun& lad' &lanced at me oer her shoulder"
/ lin&ered before her stall, thou&h / )new m' sta' was useless, to ma)e m' interest in her wares
seem the more real" Then / turned awa' slowl' and wal)ed down the middle of the ba%aar" / allowed
the two pennies to fall a&ainst the si!pence in m' poc)et" / heard a oice call from one end of the
&aller' that the li&ht was out" The upper part of the hall was now completel' dar)"
8a%in& up into the dar)ness / saw m'self as a creature drien and derided b' anit'. and m' e'es
burned with an&uish and an&er"
WILLIAM FAULKNER
2illiam )aul1ner (!$9#$6"& was brought up in (:ford, 0ississippi' -is greatCgrandfather had been a
Civil 2ar hero, and his father was treasurer of the *niversity of 0ississippi in (:fordL the family was no
longer rich, but it was still respected' 5n $! he enrolled in the Royal Canadian 4ir )orce, though he
never saw overseas service' 4fter the war he returned to 0ississippi and went to the university for two
years' -e then moved to 8ew (rleans, where he became friendly with .herwood 4nderson, who was
already an established writer' 5n 8ew (rleans )aul1ner wor1ed for the TimesC/icayuneL still later, even
after he had established himself as a ma;or novelist with The .ound and the )ury ($"$&, he had to do
some wor1 in -ollywood in order to ma1e ends meet' 5n $3% he was awarded the 8obel /ri,e in
Literature'
4lmost all of )aul1ners writing is concerned with the people of ?o1napatawpha, an imaginary
county in 0ississippi' =5 discovered,> he said, =that my own little postage stamp of native soil was worth
writing about and that 5 would never live long enough to e:haust it'> Though he lived for brief periods in
Canada, 8ew (rleans, 8ew ?or1, -ollywood, and Nirginia (where he died&, he spent most of his life in
his native 0ississippi'
! $ose fo" %&'ly [19(]
I
4hen ,iss 1mil' 8rierson died, our whole town went to her funeral2 the men throu&h a sort of
respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostl' out of curiosit' to see the inside of her
house, which no one sae an old manserantBa combined &ardener and coo)Bhad seen in at least
ten 'ears"
/t was a bi&, s0uarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires
and scrolled balconies in the heail' li&htsome st'le of the seenties, set on what had once been our
most select street" But &ara&es and cotton &ins had encroached and obliterated een the au&ust names
of that nei&hborhood. onl' ,iss 1mil'#s house was left, liftin& its stubborn and co0uettish deca'
aboe the cotton wa&ons and the &asoline pumpsBan e'esore amon& e'esores" And now ,iss 1mil'
had &one to Coin the representaties of those au&ust names where the' la' in the cedar3bemused
cemeter' amon& the ran)ed and anon'mous &raes of Lnion and Confederate soldiers who fell at the
battle of Jefferson"
Alie, ,iss 1mil' had been a tradition, a dut', and a care. a sort of hereditar' obli&ation upon
the town, datin& from that da' in 19=@ when Colonel Sartoris, the ma'orBhe who fathered the edict
that no Ne&ro woman should appear on the streets without an apronBremitted her ta!es, the
dispensation datin& from the death of her father on into perpetuit'" Not that ,iss 1mil' would hae
accepted charit'" Colonel Sartoris inented an inoled tale to the effect that ,iss 1mil'#s father had
loaned mone' to the town, which the town, as a matter of business, preferred this wa' of repa'in&"
5nl' a man of Colonel Sartoris# &eneration and thou&ht could hae inented it, and onl' a woman
could hae belieed it"
4hen the ne!t &eneration, with its more modern ideas, became ma'ors and aldermen, this
arran&ement created some little dissatisfaction" 5n the first of the 'ear the' mailed her a ta! notice"
Februar' came, and there was no repl'" The' wrote her a formal letter, as)in& her to call at the
sheriff#s office at her conenience" A wee) later the ma'or wrote her himself, offerin& to call or to
send his car for her, and receied in repl' a note on paper of an archaic shape, in a thin, flowin&
calli&raph' in faded in), to the effect that she no lon&er went out at all" The ta! notice was also
enclosed, without comment"
: The' called a special meetin& of the Board of Aldermen" A deputation waited upon her, )noc)ed
at the door throu&h which no isitor had passed since she ceased &iin& china3paintin& lessons ei&ht
or ten 'ears earlier" The' were admitted b' the old Ne&ro into a dim hall from which a staircase
mounted into still more shadow" /t smelled of dust and disuseBa close, dan) smell" The Ne&ro led
them into the parlor" /t was furnished in hea', leather3coered furniture" 4hen the Ne&ro opened the
blinds of one window the' could see that the leather was crac)ed. and when the' sat down, a faint
dust rose slu&&ishl' about their thi&hs, spinnin& with slow motes in the sin&le sunra'" 5n a tarnished
&ilt easel before the fireplace stood a cra'on portrait of ,iss 1mil'#s father"
The' rose when she enteredBa small, fat woman in blac), with a thin &old chain descendin& to
her waist and anishin& into her belt, leanin& on an ebon' cane with a tarnished &old head" Her
s)eleton was small and spare. perhaps that was wh' what would hae been merel' plumpness in
another was obesit' in her" She loo)ed bloated, li)e a bod' lon& submer&ed in motionless water, and
of that pallid hue" Her e'es, lost in the fatt' rid&es of her face, loo)ed li)e two small pieces of coal
pressed into a lump of dou&h as the' moed from one face to another while the isitors stated their
errand"
She did not as) them to sit" She Cust stood in the door and listened 0uietl' until the spo)esman
came to a stumblin& halt" Then the' could hear the inisible watch tic)in& at the end of the &old
chain"
Her oice was dr' and cold" */ hae no ta!es in Jefferson" Colonel Sartoris e!plained it to me"
Aerhaps one of 'ou can &ain access to the cit' records and satisf' 'ourseles"+
*But we hae" 4e are the cit' authorities, ,iss 1mil'" Didn#t 'ou &et a notice from the sheriff,
si&ned b' him6+
1; */ receied a paper, 'es,+ ,iss 1mil' said" *Aerhaps he considers himself the sheriff" " " " / hae
no ta!es in Jefferson"+
*But there is nothin& on the boo)s to show that, 'ou see" 4e must &o b' theB+
*See Colonel Sartoris" / hae no ta!es in Jefferson"+
*But, ,iss 1mil'B+
*See Colonel Sartoris"+ $Colonel Sartoris had been dead almost ten 'ears"( */ hae no ta!es in
Jefferson" TobeH+ The Ne&ro appeared" *Show these &entlemen out"+
II
1: So she an0uished them, horse and foot, Cust as she had an0uished their fathers thirt' 'ears before
about the smell" That was two 'ears after her father#s death and a short time after her sweetheartBthe
one we belieed would marr' herBhad deserted her" After her father#s death she went out er' little.
after her sweetheart went awa', people hardl' saw her at all" A few of the ladies had the temerit' to
call, but were not receied, and the onl' si&n of life about the place was the Ne&ro manBa 'oun&
man thenB&oin& in and out with a mar)et bas)et"
*Just as if a manBan' manBcould )eep a )itchen properl',+ the ladies said. so the' were not
surprised when the smell deeloped" /t was another lin) between the &ross, teemin& world and the
hi&h and mi&ht' 8riersons"
A nei&hbor, a woman, complained to the ma'or, Jud&e Steens, ei&ht' 'ears old"
*But what will 'ou hae me do about it, madam6+ he said"
*4h', send her word to stop it,+ the woman said" */sn#t there a law6+
7; */#m sure that won#t be necessar',+ Jud&e Steens said" */t#s probabl' Cust a sna)e or a rat that
ni&&er of hers )illed in the 'ard" /#ll spea) to him about it"+
The ne!t da' he receied two more complaints, one from a man who came in diffident
deprecation" *4e reall' must do somethin& about it, Jud&e, /#d be the last one in the world to bother
,iss 1mil', but we#e &ot to do somethin&"+ That ni&ht the Board of Aldermen metBthree &ra'3
beards and one 'oun&er man, a member of the risin& &eneration"
*/t#s simple enou&h,+ he said" *Send her word to hae her place cleaned up" 8ien her a certain
time to do it in, and if she don#t " " "+
*Dammit, sir,+ Jud&e Steens said, *will 'ou accuse a lad' to her face of smellin& bad6+
So the ne!t ni&ht, after midni&ht, four men crossed ,iss 1mil'#s lawn and slun) about the house
li)e bur&lars, sniffin& alon& the base of the bric)wor) and at the cellar openin&s while one of them
performed a re&ular sowin& motion with his hand out of a sac) slun& from his shoulder" The' bro)e
open the cellar door and sprin)led lime there, and in all the out3buildin&s" As the' recrossed the
lawn, a window that had been dar) was li&hted and ,iss 1mil' sat in it, the li&ht behind her, and her
upri&ht torso motionless as that of an idol" The' crept 0uietl' across the lawn and into the shadow of
the locusts that lined the street" After a wee) or two the smell went awa'"
7: That was when people had be&un to feel reall' sorr' for her" Aeople in our town rememberin&
how old lad' 4'att, her &reat3aunt, had &one completel' cra%' at last, belieed that the 8riersons
held themseles a little too hi&h for what the' reall' were" None of the 'oun& men were 0uite &ood
enou&h for ,iss 1mil' and such" 4e had lon& thou&ht of them as a tableau. ,iss 1mil' a slender
fi&ure in white in the bac)&round, her father a spraddled silhouette in the fore&round, his bac) to her
and clutchin& a horsewhip, the two of them framed b' the bac)3flun& front door" So when she &ot to
be thirt' and was still sin&le, we were not pleased e!actl', but indicated. een with insanit' in the
famil' she wouldn#t hae turned down all of her chances if the' had reall' materiali%ed"
4hen her father died, it &ot about that the house was all that was left to her. and in a wa', people
were &lad" At last the' could pit' ,iss 1mil'" Bein& left alone, and a pauper, she had become
humani%ed" Now she too would )now the old thrill and the old despair of a penn' more or less"
The da' after his death all the ladies prepared to call at the house and offer condolence and aid,
as is our custom" ,iss 1mil' met them at the door, dressed as usual and with no trace of &rief on her
face" She told them that her father was not dead" She did that for three da's, with the ministers
callin& on her, and the doctors, tr'in& to persuade her to let them dispose of the bod'" Just as the'
were about to resort to law and force, she bro)e down, and the' buried her father 0uic)l'"
4e did not sa' she was cra%' then" 4e belieed she had to do that" 4e remembered all the
'oun& men her father had drien awa', and we )new that with nothin& left, she would hae to clin&
to that which had robbed her, as people will"
III
She was sic) for a lon& time" 4hen we saw her a&ain, her hair was cut short, ma)in& her loo) li)e a
&irl, with a a&ue resemblance to those an&els in colored church windowsBsort of tra&ic and serene"
>; The town had Cust let the contracts for pain& the sidewal)s, and in the summer after her father#s
death the' be&an to wor)" The construction compan' came with ni&&ers and mules and machiner',
and a foreman named Homer Barron, a Ian)eeBa bi&, dar), read' man, with a bi& oice and e'es
li&hter than his face" The little bo's would follow in &roups to hear him cuss the ni&&ers, and the
ni&&ers sin&in& in time to the rise and fall of pic)s" Arett' soon he )new eer'bod' in town"
4heneer 'ou heard a lot of lau&hin& an'where about the s0uare, Homer Barron would be in the
center of the &roup" Aresentl' we be&an to see him and ,iss 1mil' on Sunda' afternoons driin& in
the 'ellow3wheeled bu&&' and the matched team of ba's from the lier' stable"
At first we were &lad that ,iss 1mil' would hae an interest, because the ladies all said" *5f
course a 8rierson would not thin) seriousl' of a Northerner, a da' laborer"+ But there were still
others, older people, who said that een &rief could not cause a real lad' to for&et noblesse obligeB
without callin& it noblesse oblige' The' Cust said, *Aoor 1mil'" Her )insfol) should come to her"+ She
had some )in in Alabama. but 'ears a&o her father had fallen out with them oer the estate of old lad'
4'att, the cra%' woman, and there was no communication between the two families" The' had not
een been represented at the funeral"
And as soon as the old people said, *Aoor 1mil',+ the whisperin& be&an" *Do 'ou suppose it#s
reall' so6+ the' said to one another" *5f course it is" " " "+ This behind their hands. rustlin& of craned
sil) and satin behind Calousies closed upon the sun of Sunda' afternoon as the thin, swift clop3clop3
clop of the matched team passed2 *Aoor 1mil'"+
She carried her head hi&h enou&hBeen when we belieed that she was fallen" /t was as if she
demanded more than eer the reco&nition of her di&nit' as the last 8rierson. as if it had wanted that
touch of earthiness to reaffirm her imperiousness" -i)e when she bou&ht the rat poison, the arsenic"
That was oer a 'ear after the' had be&un to sa' *Aoor 1mil',+ and while the two female cousins
were isitin& her"
*/ want some poison,+ she said to the dru&&ist" She was oer thirt' then, still a sli&ht woman,
thou&h thinner than usual, with cold, hau&ht' blac) e'es in a face the flesh of which was strained
across the temples and about the e'esoc)ets as 'ou ima&ine a li&hthouse3)eeper#s face ou&ht to loo)"
*/ want some poison,+ she said"
>: *Ies, ,iss 1mil'" 4hat )ind6 For rats and such6 /#d recomB+
*/ want the best 'ou hae" / don#t care what )ind"+
The dru&&ist named seeral" *The'#ll )ill an'thin& up to an elephant" But what 'ou want isB+
*Arsenic"+ ,iss 1mil' said" */s that a &ood one6+
*/s " " " arsenic6 Ies ma#am" But what 'ou wantB+
@; */ want arsenic"+
The dru&&ist loo)ed down at her" She loo)ed bac) at him, erect, her face li)e a strained fla&"
*4h', of course,+ the dru&&ist said" */f that#s what 'ou want" But the law re0uires 'ou to tell what
'ou are &oin& to use it for"+
,iss 1mil' Cust stared at him, her head tilted bac) in order to loo) him e'e for e'e, until he
loo)ed awa' and went and &ot the arsenic and wrapped it up" The Ne&ro delier' bo' brou&ht her the
pac)a&e. the dru&&ist didn#t come bac)" 4hen she opened the pac)a&e at home there was written on
the bo!, under the s)ull and bones2 *For rats"+
IV
So the ne!t da' we all said, *She will )ill herself+. and we said it would be the best thin&" 4hen she
had first be&un to be seen with Homer Barron, we had said, *She will marr' him"+ Then we said,
*She will persuade him 'et,+ because Homer himself had remar)edBhe li)ed men, and it was )nown
that he dran) with the 'oun&er men in the 1l)s# ClubBthat he was not a marr'in& man" -ater we
said, *Aoor 1mil',+ behind the Calousies as the' passed on Sunda' afternoon in the &litterin& bu&&',
,iss 1mil' with her head hi&h and Homer Barron with his hat coc)ed and a ci&ar in his teeth, reins
and whip in a 'ellow &loe"
Then some of the ladies be&an to sa' that it was a dis&race to the town and a bad e!ample to the
'oun& people" The men did not want to interfere, but at last the ladies forced the Baptist ministerB
,iss 1mil'#s people were 1piscopalBto call upon her" He would neer diul&e what happened
durin& that interiew, but he refused to &o bac) a&ain" The ne!t Sunda' the' a&ain droe about the
streets, and the followin& da' the minister#s wife wrote to ,iss 1mil'#s relations in Alabama"
@: So she had blood3)in under her roof a&ain and we sat bac) to watch deelopments" At first
nothin& happened" Then we were sure that the' were to be married" 4e learned that ,iss 1mil' had
been to the Ceweler#s and ordered a man#s toilet set in siler, with the letters H"B" on each piece" Two
da's later we learned that she had bou&ht a complete outfit of men#s clothin&, includin& a ni&htshirt,
and we said, *The' are married"+ 4e were reall' &lad" 4e were &lad because the two female cousins
were een more 8rierson than ,iss 1mil' had eer been"
So we were surprised when Homer BarronBthe streets had been finished some time sinceBwas
&one" 4e were a little disappointed that there was not a public blowin&3off but we belieed that he
had &one on to prepare for ,iss 1mil'#s comin&, or to &ie a chance to &et rid of the cousins" $B' that
time it was a cabal, and we were all ,iss 1mil'#s allies to help circument the cousins"( Sure enou&h,
after another wee) the' departed" And, as we had e!pected all alon&, within three da's Homer Barron
was bac) in town" A nei&hbor saw the Ne&ro man admit him at the )itchen door at dus) one eenin&"
And that was the last we saw of Homer Barron" And of ,iss 1mil' for some time" The Ne&ro
man went in and out with the mar)et bas)et, but the front door remained closed" Now and then we
would see her at a window for a moment, as the men did that ni&ht when the' sprin)led the lime, but
for almost si! months she did not appear on the streets" Then we )new that this was to be e!pected
too. as if that 0ualit' of her father which had thwarted her woman#s life so man' times had been too
irulent and too furious to die"
4hen we ne!t saw ,iss 1mil', she had &rown fat and her hair was turnin& &ra'" Durin& the
ne!t few 'ears it &rew &ra'er and &ra'er until it attained an een pepper3and3salt iron3&ra', when it
ceased turnin&" Lp to the da' of her death at seent'3four it was still that i&orous iron3&ra', li)e the
hair of an actie man"
From that time on her front door remained closed, sae for a period of si! or seen 'ears, when
she was about fort', durin& which she &ae lessons in china3paintin&" She fitted up a studio in one of
the downstairs rooms, where the dau&hters and &randdau&hters of Colonel Sartoris# contemporaries
were sent to her with the same re&ularit' and in the same spirit that the' were sent on Sunda's with a
twent'3fie cent piece for the collection plate" ,eanwhile her ta!es had been remitted"
:; Then the newer &eneration became the bac)bone and the spirit of the town, and the paintin&
pupils &rew up and fell awa' and did not send their children to her with bo!es of color and tedious
brushes and pictures cut from the ladies# ma&a%ines" The front door closed upon the last one and
remained closed for &ood" 4hen the town &ot free postal delier' ,iss 1mil' alone refused to let
them fasten the metal numbers aboe her door and attach a mailbo! to it" She would not listen to
them"
Dail', monthl', 'earl' we watched the Ne&ro &row &ra'er and more stooped, &oin& in and out
with the mar)et bas)et" 1ach December we sent her a ta! notice, which would be returned b' the post
office a wee) later, unclaimed" Now and then we could see her in one of the downstairs windowsB
she had eidentl' shut up the top floor of the houseBli)e the caren torso of an idol in a niche,
loo)in& or not loo)in& at us, we could neer tell which" Thus she passed from &eneration to
&enerationBdear, inescapable, imperious, tran0uil, and pererse"
And so she died" Fell ill in the house filled with dust and shadows, with onl' a dodderin& Ne&ro
man to wait on her" 4e did not een )now she was sic). we had lon& since &ien up tr'in& to &et an'
information from the Ne&ro" He tal)ed to no one, probabl' not een to her, for his oice had &rown
harsh and rust', as if from disuse"
She died in one of the downstairs rooms, in a hea' walnut bed with a curtain, her &ra' head
propped on a pillow 'ellow and mold' with a&e and lac) of sunli&ht"
V
The Ne&ro met the first of the ladies at the front door and let them in, with their hushed, sibilant
oices and their 0uic), curious &lances, and then he disappeared" He wal)ed ri&ht throu&h the house
and out the bac) and was not seen a&ain"
:: The two female cousins came at once" The' held the funeral on the second da', with the town
comin& to loo) at ,iss 1mil' beneath a mass of bou&ht flowers, with the cra'on face of her father
musin& profoundl' aboe the bier and the ladies sibilant and macabre. and the er' old menBsome
in their brushed Confederate uniformsBon the porch and the lawn, tal)in& of ,iss 1mil' as if she
had been a contemporar' of theirs, beliein& that the' had danced with her and courted her perhaps,
confusin& time with its mathematical pro&ression, as the old do, to whom all the past is not a
diminishin& road, but, instead, a hu&e meadow which no winter eer 0uite touches, diided from
them now b' the narrow bottlenec) of the most recent decade of 'ears"
Alread' we )new that there was one room in that re&ion aboe stairs which no one had seen in
fort' 'ears, and which would hae to be forced" The' waited until ,iss 1mil' was decentl' in the
&round before the' opened it"
The iolence of brea)in& down the door seemed to fill this room with peradin& dust" A thin,
acrid pall as of the tomb seemed to lie eer'where upon this room dec)ed and furnished as for a
bridal2 upon the alance curtains of faded rose color, upon the rose3shaded li&hts, upon the dressin&
table, upon the delicate arra' of cr'stal and the man#s toilet thin&s bac)ed with tarnished siler, siler
so tarnished that the mono&ram was obscured" Amon& them la' a collar and tie, as if the' had Cust
been remoed, which, lifted, left upon the surface a pale crescent in the dust" Lpon a chair hun& the
suit, carefull' folded. beneath it the two mute shoes and the discarded soc)s"
The man himself la' in the bed"
For a lon& while we Cust stood there, loo)in& down at the profound and fleshless &rin" The bod'
had apparentl' once lain in the attitude of an embrace, but now the lon& sleep that outlasts loe, that
con0uers een the &rimace of loe, had cuc)olded him" 4hat was left of him, rotted beneath what
was left of the ni&htshirt, had become ine!tricable from the bed in which he la'. and upon him and
upon the pillow beside him la' that een coatin& of the patient and bidin& dust"
?; Then we noticed that in the second pillow was the indentation of a head" 5ne of us lifted
somethin& from it, and leanin& forward, that faint and inisible dust dr' and acrid in the nostrils, we
saw a lon& strand of iron3&ra' hair"
)a"n )u"n'n* [19(9]
The store in which the Justice of the Aeace#s court was sittin& smelled of cheese" The bo', crouched
on his nail )e& at the bac) of the crowded room, )new he smelled cheese, and more2 from where he
sat he could see the ran)ed sheles close3pac)ed with the solid, s0uat, d'namic shapes of tin cans
whose labels his stomach read, not from the letterin& which mean nothin& to his mind but from the
scarlet deils and the siler cure of fishBthis, the cheese which he )new he smelled and the
hermetic meat which his intestines belieed he smelled comin& in intermittent &usts momentar' and
brief between the other constant one, the smell and sense Cust a little of fear because mostl' of despair
and &rief, the old fierce pull of blood" He could not see the table where the Justice sat and before
which his father and his father#s enem' $our enemy he thou&ht in that despair. ournK mine and hisn
bothK -es my fatherK( stood, but he could hear them, the two of them that is, because his father had
said no word 'et2
*But what proof hae 'ou, ,r" Harris6+
*/ told 'ou" The ho& &ot into m' corn" / cau&ht it up and sent it bac) to him" He had no fence that
would hold it" / told him so, warned him" The ne!t time / put the ho& in m' pen" 4hen he came to
&et it / &ae him enou&h wire to patch up his pen" The ne!t time / put the ho& up and )ept it" / rode
down to his house and saw the wire / &ae him still rolled on to the spool in his 'ard" / told him he
could hae the ho& when he paid me a dollar pound fee" That eenin& a ni&&er came with the dollar
and &ot the ho&" He was a stran&e ni&&er" He said, QHe sa' to tell 'ou wood and ha' )in burn"# / said,
Q4hat6# QThat whut he sa' to tell 'ou,# the ni&&er said" Q4ood and ha' )in burn"# That ni&ht m' barn
burned" / &ot the stoc) out but / lost the barn"+
*4here is the ni&&er6 Hae 'ou &ot him6+
: *He was a stran&e ni&&er, / tell 'ou" / don#t )now what became of him"+
*But that#s not proof" Don#t 'ou see that#s not proof6+
*8et that bo' up here" He )nows"+ For a moment the bo' thou&ht too that the man meant his
older brother until Harris said, *Not him" The little one" The bo',+ and, crouchin&, small for his a&e,
small and wir' li)e his father, in patched and faded Ceans een too small for him, with strai&ht,
uncombed, brown hair and e'es &ra' and wild as storm scud, he saw the men between himself and the
table part and become a lane of &rim faces, at the end of which he saw the Justice, a shabb',
collarless, &ra'in& man in spectacles, bec)onin& him" He felt no floor under his bare feet. he seemed
to wal) beneath the palpable wei&ht of the &rim turnin& faces" His father, stiff in his blac) Sunda'
coat donned not for the trial but for the moin&, did not een loo) at him" -e aims for me to lie, he
thou&ht, a&ain with that frantic &rief and despair" 4nd 5 will have to do hit'
*4hat#s 'our name, bo'6+ the Justice said"
*Colonel Sartoris Snopes,+ the bo' whispered"
1; *He'6+ the Justice said" *Tal) louder" Colonel Sartoris6 / rec)on an'bod' named for Colonel
Sartoris in this countr' can#t help but tell the truth, can the'6+ The bo' said nothin&" HnemyK HnemyK
he thou&ht. for a moment he could not een see, could not see that the Justice#s face was )indl' nor
discern that his oice was troubled when he spo)e to the man named Harris2 *Do 'ou want me to
0uestion this bo'6+ But he could hear, and durin& those subse0uent lon& seconds while there was
absolutel' no sound in the crowded little room sae that of 0uiet and intent breathin& it was as if he
had swun& outward at the end of a &rape ine, oer a raine, and at the top of the swin& had been
cau&ht in a prolon&ed instant of mesmeri%ed &rait', wei&htless in time"
*NoH+ Harris said iolentl', e!plosiel'" *DamnationH Send him out of hereH+ Now time, the fluid
world, rushed beneath him a&ain, the oices comin& to him a&ain throu&h the smell of cheese and
sealed meat, the fear and despair and the old &rief of blood2
*This case is closed" / can#t find a&ainst 'ou, Snopes, but / can &ie 'ou adice" -eae this
countr' and don#t come bac) to it"+
His father spo)e for the first time, his oice cold and harsh, leel, without emphasis2 */ aim to" /
don#t fi&ure to sta' in a countr' amon& people who " " "+ he said somethin& unprintable and ile,
addressed to no one"
*That#ll do,+ the Justice said" *Ta)e 'our wa&on and &et out of this countr' before dar)" Case
dismissed"+
1: His father turned, and he followed the stiff blac) coat, the wir' fi&ure wal)in& a little stiffl' from
where a Confederate proost#s man#s mus)et ball had ta)en him in the heel on a stolen horse thirt'
'ears a&o, followed the two bac)s now, since his older brother had appeared from somewhere in the
crowd, no taller than the father but thic)er, chewin& tobacco steadil', between the two lines of &rim3
faced men and out of the store and across the worn &aller' and down the sa&&in& steps and amon& the
do&s and half3&rown bo's in the mild ,a' dust, where as he passed a oice hissed2
*Barn burnerH+
A&ain he could not see, whirlin&. there was a face in a red ha%e, moonli)e, bi&&er than the full
moon, the owner of it half a&ain his si%e, he leapin& in the red ha%e toward the face, feelin& no blow,
feelin& no shoc) when his head struc) the earth, scrabblin& up and leapin& a&ain, feelin& no blow this
time either and tastin& no blood, scrabblin& up to see the other bo' in full fli&ht and himself alread'
leapin& into pursuit as his father#s hand Cer)ed him bac), the harsh, cold oice spea)in& aboe him2
*8o &et in the wa&on"+
/t stood in a &roe of locusts and mulberries across the road" His two hul)in& sisters in their
Sunda' dresses and his mother and her sister in calico and sunbonnets were alread' in it, sittin& on
and amon& the sorr' residue of the do%en and more moin&s which een the bo' could rememberB
the battered stoe, the bro)en beds and chairs, the cloc) inlaid with mother3of3pearl, which would not
run, stopped at some fourteen minutes past two o#cloc) of a dead and for&otten da' and time, which
had been his mother#s dowr'" She was cr'in&, thou&h when she saw him she drew her sleee across
her face and be&an to descend from the wa&on" *8et bac),+ the father said"
*He#s hurt" / &ot to &et some water and wash his " " "+
7; *8et bac) in the wa&on,+ his father said" He &ot in too, oer the tail3&ate" His father mounted to
the seat where the older brother alread' sat and struc) the &aunt mules two saa&e blows with the
peeled willow, but without heat" /t was not een sadistic. it was e!actl' that same 0ualit' which in
later 'ears would cause his descendants to oer3run the en&ine before puttin& a motor car into motion,
stri)in& and reinin& bac) in the same moement" The wa&on went on, the store with its 0uiet crowd
of &riml' watchin& men dropped behind. a cure in the road hid it" )orever he thou&ht" 0aybe hes
done satisfied now, now that he has ' ' ' stoppin& himself, not to sa' it aloud een to himself" His
mother#s hand touched his shoulder"
*Does hit hurt6+ she said"
*Naw,+ he said" *Hit don#t hurt" -emme be"+
*Can#t 'ou wipe some of the blood off before hit dries6+
*/#ll wash to3ni&ht,+ he said" *-emme be, / tell 'ou"+
7: The wa&on went on" He did not )now where the' were &oin&" None of them eer did or eer
as)ed, because it was alwa's somewhere, alwa's a house of sorts waitin& for them a da' or two da's
or een three da's awa'" -i)el' his father had alread' arran&ed to ma)e a crop on another farm
before he " " " A&ain he had to stop himself" He $the father( alwa's did" There was somethin& about
his wolfli)e independence and een coura&e when the adanta&e was at least neutral which impressed
stran&ers, as if the' &ot from his latent raenin& ferocit' not so much a sense of dependabilit' as a
feelin& that his ferocious coniction in the ri&htness of his own actions would be of adanta&e to all
whose interest la' with his"
That ni&ht the' camped, in a &roe of oa)s and beeches where a sprin& ran" The ni&hts were still
cool and the' had a fire a&ainst it, of a rail lifted from a nearb' fence and cut into len&thsBa small
fire, neat, ni&&ard almost, a shrewd fire. such fires were his father#s habit and custom alwa's, een in
free%in& weather" 5lder, the bo' mi&ht hae remar)ed this and wondered wh' not a bi& one. wh'
should not a man who had not onl' seen the waste and e!traa&ance of war, but who had in his blood
an inherent oracious prodi&alit' with material not his own, hae burned eer'thin& in si&ht6 Then
he mi&ht hae &one a step farther and thou&ht that that was the reason2 that ni&&ard bla%e was the
liin& fruit of ni&hts passed durin& those four 'ears in the woods hidin& from all men, blue or &ra',
with his strin&s of horses $captured horses, he called them(" And older still, he mi&ht hae diined the
true reason2 that the element of fire spo)e to some deep mainsprin& of his father#s bein&, as the
element of steel or of powder spo)e to other men, as the one weapon for the preseration of inte&rit',
else breath were not worth the breathin&, and hence to be re&arded with respect and used with
discretion"
But he did not thin) this now and he had seen those same ni&&ard bla%es all his life" He merel'
ate his supper beside it and was alread' half asleep oer his iron plate when his father called him, and
once more he followed the stiff bac), the stiff and ruthless limp, up the slope and on to the starlit road
where, turnin&, he could see his father a&ainst the stars but without face or depthBa shape blac), flat,
and bloodless as thou&h cut from tin in the iron folds of the froc)coat which had not been made for
him, the oice harsh li)e tin and without heat li)e tin2
*Iou were fi!in& to tell them" Iou would hae told him"+ He didn#t answer" His father struc)
him with the flat of his hand on the side of the head, hard but without heat, e!actl' as he had struc)
the two mules at the store, e!actl' as he would stri)e either of them with an' stic) in order to )ill a
horse fl', his oice still without heat or an&er2 *Iou#re &ettin& to be a man" Iou &ot to learn" Iou &ot
to learn to stic) to 'our own blood or 'ou ain#t &oin& to hae an' blood to stic) to 'ou" Do 'ou thin)
either of them, an' man there this mornin&, would6 Don#t 'ou )now all the' wanted was a chance to
&et at me because the' )new / had them beat6 1h6+ -ater, twent' 'ears later, he was to tell himself,
*/f / had said the' wanted onl' truth, Custice, he would hae hit me a&ain"+ But now he said nothin&"
He was not cr'in&" He Cust stood there" *Answer me,+ his father said"
*Ies,+ he whispered" His father turned"
>; *8et on to bed" 4e#ll be there to3morrow"+
To3morrow the' were there" /n the earl' afternoon the wa&on stopped before a paintless two3
room house identical almost with the do%en others it had stopped before een in the bo'#s ten 'ears,
and a&ain, as on the other do%en occasions, his mother and aunt &ot down and be&an to unload the
wa&on, althou&h his two sisters and his father and brother had not moed"
*-i)el' hit ain#t fitten for haw&s,+ one of the sisters said"
*Neertheless, fit it will and 'ou#ll ho& it and li)e it,+ his father said" *8et out of them chairs and
help 'our ,a unload"+
The two sisters &ot down, bi&, boine, in a flutter of cheap ribbons. one of them drew from the
Cumbled wa&on bed a battered lantern, the other a worn broom" His father handed the reins to the
older son and be&an to climb stiffl' oer the wheel" *4hen the' &et unloaded, ta)e the team to the
barn and feed them"+ Then he said, and at first the bo' thou&ht he was still spea)in& to his brother2
*Come with me"+
>: *,e6+ he said"
*Ies,+ his father said" *Iou"+
*Abner,+ his mother said" His father paused and loo)ed bac)Bthe harsh leel stare beneath the
sha&&', &ra'in&, irascible brows"
*/ rec)on /#ll hae a word with the man that aims to be&in to3morrow ownin& me bod' and soul
for the ne!t ei&ht months"+
The' went bac) up the road" A wee) a&oBor before last ni&ht, that isBhe would hae as)ed
where the' were &oin&, but not now" His father had struc) him before last ni&ht but neer before had
he paused afterward to e!plain wh'. it was as if the blow and the followin& calm, outra&eous oice
still ran&, repercussed, diul&in& nothin& to him sae the terrible handicap of bein& 'oun&, the li&ht
wei&ht of his few 'ears, Cust hea' enou&h to preent his soarin& free of the world as it seemed to be
ordered but not hea' enou&h to )eep him footed solid in it, to resist it and tr' to chan&e the course of
its eents"
@; Aresentl' he could see the &roe of oa)s and cedars and the other flowerin& trees and shrubs
where the house would be, thou&h not the house 'et" The' wal)ed beside a fence massed with
hone'suc)le and Chero)ee roses and came to a &ate swin&in& open between two bric) pillars, and
now, be'ond a sweep of drie, he saw the house for the first time and at that instant he for&ot his
father and the terror and despair both, and een when he remembered his father a&ain $who had not
stopped( the terror and despair did not return" Because, for all the twele moin&s, the' had soCourned
until now in a poor countr', a land of small farms and fields and houses, and he had neer seen a
house li)e this before" -its big as a courthouse he thou&ht 0uietl', with a sur&e of peace and Co'
whose reason he could not hae thou&ht into words, bein& too 'oun& for that2 They are safe from him'
/eople whose lives are a part of this peace and dignity are beyond his touch, he no more to them
than a bu,,ing wasp< capable of stinging for a little moment but thats allL the spell of this peace and
dignity rendering even the barns and stable and cribs which belong to it impervious to the puny
flames he might contrive ' ' ' this, the peace and Co', ebbin& for an instant as he loo)ed a&ain at the
stiff blac) bac), the stiff and implacable limp of the fi&ure which was not dwarfed b' the house, for
the reason that it had neer loo)ed bi& an'where and which now, a&ainst the serene columned
bac)drop, had more than eer that imperious 0ualit' of somethin& cut ruthlessl' from tin, depthless,
as thou&h, sidewise to the sun, it would cast no shadow" 4atchin& him, the bo' remar)ed the
absolutel' undeiatin& course which his father held and saw the stiff foot come s0uarel' down in a
pile of fresh droppin&s where a horse had stood in the drie and which his father could hae aoided
b' a simple chan&e of stride" But it ebbed onl' for a moment, thou&h he could not hae thou&ht this
into words either, wal)in& on in the spell of the house, which he could een want but without en',
without sorrow, certainl' neer with that raenin& and Cealous ra&e which un)nown to him wal)ed in
the ironli)e blac) coat before him2 0aybe he will feel it too' 0aybe it will even change him now from
what maybe he couldnt help but be'
The' crossed the portico" Now he could hear his father#s stiff foot as it came down on the boards
with cloc)li)e finalit', a sound out of all proportion to the displacement of the bod' it bore and which
was not dwarfed either b' the white door before it, as thou&h it had attained to a sort of icious and
raenin& minimum not to be dwarfed b' an'thin&Bthe flat, wide, blac) hat, the formal coat of
broadcloth which had once been blac) but which had now that friction3&la%ed &reenish cast of the
bodies of old house flies, the lifted sleee which was too lar&e, the lifted hand li)e a curled claw" The
door opened so promptl' that the bo' )new the Ne&ro must hae been watchin& them all the time, an
old man with neat &ri%%led hair, in a linen Cac)et, who stood barrin& the door with his bod', sa'in&,
*4ipe 'o foots, white man, fo 'ou come in here" ,aCor ain#t home nohow"+
*8et out of m' wa', ni&&er,+ his father said, without heat too, flin&in& the door bac) and the
Ne&ro also and enterin&, his hat still on his head" And now the bo' saw the prints of the stiff foot on
the doorCamb and saw them appear on the pale ru& behind the machineli)e deliberation of the foot
which seemed to bear $or transmit( twice the wei&ht which the bod' compassed" The Ne&ro was
shoutin& *,iss -ulaH ,iss -ulaH+ somewhere behind them, then the bo', delu&ed as thou&h b' a
warm wae b' a suae turn of carpeted stair and a pendant &litter of chandeliers and a mute &leam of
&old frames, heard the swift feet and saw her too, a lad'Bperhaps he had neer seen her li)e before
eitherBin a &ra', smooth &own with lace at the throat and an apron tied at the waist and the sleees
turned bac), wipin& ca)e or biscuit dou&h from her hands with a towel as she came up the hall,
loo)in& not at his father at all but at the trac)s on the blond ru& with an e!pression of incredulous
ama%ement"
*/ tried,+ the Ne&ro cried" */ tole him to " " "+
*4ill 'ou please &o awa'6+ she said in a sha)in& oice" *,aCor de Spain is not at home" 4ill 'ou
please &o awa'6+
@: His father had not spo)en a&ain" He did not spea) a&ain" He did not een loo) at her" He Cust
stood stiff in the center of the ru&, in his hat, the sha&&' iron3&ra' brows twitchin& sli&htl' aboe the
pebble3colored e'es as he appeared to e!amine the house with brief deliberation" Then with the same
deliberation he turned. the bo' watched him piot on the &ood le& and saw the stiff foot dra& round
the arc of the turnin&, leain& a final lon& and fadin& smear" His father neer loo)ed at it, he neer
once loo)ed down at the ru&" The Ne&ro held the door" /t closed behind them, upon the h'steric and
indistin&uishable woman3wail" His father stopped at the top of the steps and scraped his boot clean on
the ed&e of it" At the &ate he stopped a&ain" He stood for a moment, planted stiffl' on the stiff foot,
loo)in& bac) at the house" *Arett' and white, ain#t it6+ he said" *That#s sweat" Ni&&er sweat" ,a'be it
ain#t white enou&h 'et to suit him" ,a'be he wants to mi! some white sweat with it"+
Two hours later the bo' was choppin& wood behind the house within which his mother and aunt
and the two sisters $the mother and aunt, not the two &irls, he )new that. een at this distance and
muffled b' walls the flat loud oices of the two &irls emanated an incorri&ible idle inertia( were
settin& up the stoe to prepare a meal, when he heard the hooes and saw the linen3clad man on a
fine sorrel mare, whom he reco&ni%ed een before he saw the rolled ru& in front of the Ne&ro 'outh
followin& on a fat ba' carria&e horseBa suffused, an&r' face anishin&, still at full &allop, behind the
corner of the house where his father and brother were sittin& in the two tilted chairs. and a moment
later, almost before he could hae put the a!e down, he heard the hooes a&ain and watched the sorrel
mare &o bac) out of the 'ard, alread' &allopin& a&ain" Then his father be&an to shout one of the
sisters# names, who presentl' emer&ed bac)ward from the )itchen door dra&&in& the rolled ru& alon&
the &round b' one end while the other sister wal)ed behind it"
*/f 'ou ain#t &oin& to tote, &o on and set up the wash pot,+ the first said"
*Iou, Sart'H+ the second shouted" *Set up the wash potH+ His father appeared at the door, framed
a&ainst that shabbiness, as he had been a&ainst that other bland perfection, imperious to either, the
mother#s an!ious face at his shoulder"
*8o on,+ the father said" *Aic) it up"+ The two sisters stooped, broad, lethar&ic. stoopin&, the'
presented an incredible e!panse of pale cloth and a flutter of tawdr' ribbons"
:; */f / thou&ht enou&h of a ru& to hae to &it hit all the wa' from France / wouldn#t )eep hit where
fol)s comin& in would hae to tromp on hit,+ the first said" The' raised the ru&"
*Abner,+ the mother said" *-et me do it"+
*Iou &o bac) and &it dinner,+ his father said" */#ll tend to this"+
From the woodpile throu&h the rest of the afternoon the bo' watched them, the ru& spread flat in
the dust beside the bubblin& wash3pot, the two sisters stoopin& oer it with that profound and
lethar&ic reluctance, while the father stood oer them in turn, implacable and &rim, driin& them
thou&h neer raisin& his oice a&ain" He could smell the harsh homemade l'e the' were usin&. he
saw his mother come to the door once and loo) toward them with an e!pression not an!ious now but
er' li)e despair. he saw his father turn, and he fell to with the a!e and saw from the corner of his e'e
his father raise from the &round a flattish fra&ment of field stone and e!amine it and return to the pot,
and this time his mother actuall' spo)e2 *Abner" Abner" Alease don#t" Alease, Abner"+
Then he was done too" /t was dus). the whippoorwills had alread' be&un" He could smell coffee
from the room where the' would presentl' eat the cold food remainin& from the midafternoon meal,
thou&h when he entered the house he reali%ed the' were hain& coffee a&ain probabl' because there
was a fire on the hearth, before which the ru& now la' spread oer the bac)s of the two chairs" The
trac)s of his father#s foot were &one" 4here the' had been were now lon&, water3cloud' scoriations
resemblin& the sporadic course of a liliputian mowin& machine"
:: /t still hun& there while the' ate the cold food and then went to bed, scattered without order or
claim up and down the two rooms, his mother in one bed, where his father would later lie, the older
brother in the other, himself, the aunt, and the two sisters on pallets on the floor" But his father was
not in bed 'et" The last thin& the bo' remembered was the depthless, harsh silhouette of the hat and
coat bendin& oer the ru& and it seemed to him that he had not een closed his e'es when the
silhouette was standin& oer him, the fire almost dead behind it, the stiff foot proddin& him awa)e"
*Catch up the mule,+ his father said"
4hen he returned with the mule his father was standin& in the blac) door, the rolled ru& oer his
shoulder" *Ain#t 'ou &oin& to ride6+ he said"
*No" 8ie me 'our foot"+
He bent his )nee into his father#s hand, the wir', surprisin& power flowed smoothl', risin&, he
risin& with it, on to the mule#s bare bac) $the' had owned a saddle once. the bo' could remember it
thou&h not when or where( and with the same effortlessness his father swun& the ru& up in front of
him" Now in the starli&ht the' retraced the afternoon#s path, up the dust' road rife with hone'suc)le,
throu&h the &ate and up the blac) tunnel of the drie to the li&htless house, where he sat on the mule
and felt the rou&h warp of the ru& dra& across his thi&hs and anish"
*Don#t 'ou want me to help6+ he whispered" His father did not answer and now he heard a&ain
that stiff foot stri)in& the hollow portico with that wooden and cloc)li)e deliberation, that outra&eous
oerstatement of the wei&ht it carried" The ru&, hunched, not flun& $the bo' could tell that een in the
dar)ness( from his father#s shoulder struc) the an&le of wall and floor with a sound unbelieabl'
loud, thunderous, then the foot a&ain, unhurried and enormous. a li&ht came on in the house and the
bo' sat, tense, breathin& steadil' and 0uietl' and Cust a little fast, thou&h the foot itself did not
increase its beat at all, descendin& the steps now. now the bo' could see him"
?; *Don#t 'ou want to ride now6+ he whispered" *4e )in both ride now,+ the li&ht within the house
alterin& now, flarin& up and sin)in&" -es coming down the stairs now, he thou&ht" He had alread'
ridden the mule up beside the horse bloc). presentl' his father was up behind him and he doubled the
reins oer and slashed the mule across the nec), but before the animal could be&in to trot the hard,
thin arm came round him, the hard, )notted hand Cer)in& the mule bac) to a wal)"
/n the first red ra's of the sun the' were in the lot, puttin& plow &ear on the mules" This time the
sorrel mare was in the lot before he heard it at all, the rider collarless and een bareheaded,
tremblin&, spea)in& in a sha)in& oice as the woman in the house had done" His father merel'
loo)in& up once before stoopin& a&ain to the hame he was buc)lin&, so that the man on the mare
spo)e to his stoopin& bac)2
*Iou must reali%e 'ou hae ruined that ru&" 4asn#t there an'bod' here, an' of 'our women " " "+
he ceased, sha)in&, the bo' watchin& him, the older brother leanin& now in the stable door, chewin&,
blin)in& slowl' and steadil' at nothin& apparentl'" */t cost a hundred dollars" But 'ou neer had a
hundred dollars" Iou neer will" So /#m &oin& to char&e 'ou twent' bushels of corn a&ainst 'our crop"
/#ll add it in 'our contract and when 'ou come to the commissar' 'ou can si&n it" That won#t )eep
,rs" de Spain 0uiet but ma'be it will teach 'ou to wipe 'our feet off before 'ou enter her house
a&ain"+
Then he was &one" The bo' loo)ed at his father, who still had not spo)en or een loo)ed up
a&ain, who was now adCustin& the lo&&erhead in the hame"
*Aap,+ he said" His father loo)ed at himBthe inscrutable face, the sha&&' brows beneath which
the &ra' e'es &linted coldl'" Suddenl' the bo' went toward him, fast, stoppin& as suddenl'" *Iou
done the best 'ou couldH+ he cried" */f he wanted hit done different wh' didn#t he wait and tell 'ou
how6 He won#t &it no twent' bushelsH He won#t &it noneH 4e#ll &ether hit and hide hitH / )in watch " "
"+
?: *Did 'ou put the cutter bac) in that strai&ht stoc) li)e / told 'ou6+
*No, sir,+ he said"
*Then &o do it"+
That was 4ednesda'" Durin& the rest of that wee) he wor)ed steadil', at what was within his
scope and some which was be'ond it, with an industr' that did not need to be drien nor een
commanded twice. he had this from his mother, with the difference that some at least of what he did
he li)ed to do, such as splittin& wood with the half3si%e a!e which his mother and aunt had earned, or
saed mone' somehow, to present him with at Christmas" /n compan' with the two older women $and
on one afternoon, een one of the sisters(, he built pens for the shoat and the cow which were a part of
his father#s contract with the landlord, and one afternoon, his father bein& absent, &one somewhere
on one of the mules, he went to the field"
The' were runnin& a middle buster now, his brother holdin& the plow strai&ht while he handled
the reins, and wal)in& beside the strainin& mule, the ric) blac) soil shearin& cool and damp a&ainst
his bare an)les, he thou&ht 0aybe this is the end of it' 0aybe even that twenty bushels that seems
hard to have to pay for ;ust a rug will be a cheap price for him to stop forever and always from being
what he used to beL thin)in&, dreamin& now, so that his brother had to spea) sharpl' to him to mind
the mule2 0aybe he even wont collect the twenty bushels' 0aybe it will all add up and balance and
vanish7corn, rug, fireL the terror and grief, the being pulled two ways li1e between two teams of
horses7gone, done with for ever and ever'
K; Then it was Saturda'. he loo)ed up from beneath the mule he was harnessin& and saw his father
in the blac) coat and hat" *Not that,+ his father said" *The wa&on &ear"+ And then, two hours later,
sittin& in the wa&on bed behind his father and brother on the seat, the wa&on accomplished a final
cure, and he saw the weathered paintless store with its tattered tobacco3 and patent3medicine posters
and the tethered wa&ons and saddle animals below the &aller'" He mounted the &nawed steps behind
his father and brother, and there a&ain was the lane of 0uiet, watchin& faces for the three of them to
wal) throu&h" He saw the man in spectacles sittin& at the plan) table and he did not need to be told
this was a Justice of the Aeace. he sent one &lare of fierce, e!ultant, partisan defiance at the man in
collar and craat now, whom he had seen but twice before in his life, and that on a &allopin& horse,
who now wore on his face an e!pression not of ra&e but of ama%ed unbelief which the bo' could not
hae )nown was at the incredible circumstance of bein& sued b' one of his own tenants, and came
and stood a&ainst his father and cried at the Justice2 *He ain#t done itH He ain#t burnt " " "+
*8o bac) to the wa&on,+ his father said"
*Burnt6+ the Justice said" *Do / understand this ru& was burned too6+
*Does an'bod' here claim it was6+ his father said" *8o bac) to the wa&on"+ But he did not, he
merel' retreated to the rear of the room, crowded as that other had been, but not to sit down this time,
instead, to stand pressin& amon& the motionless bodies, listenin& to the oices2
*And 'ou claim twent' bushels of corn is too hi&h for the dama&e 'ou did to the ru&6+
K: *He brou&ht the ru& to me and said he wanted the trac)s washed out of it" / washed the trac)s out
and too) the ru& bac) to him"+
*But 'ou didn#t carr' the ru& bac) to him in the same condition it was in before 'ou made the
trac)s on it"+
His father did not answer, and now for perhaps half a minute there was no sound at all sae that
of breathin&, the faint, stead' suspiration of complete and intent listenin&"
*Iou decline to answer that, ,r" Snopes6+ A&ain his father did not answer" */#m &oin& to find
a&ainst 'ou, ,r" Snopes" /#m &oin& to find that 'ou were responsible for the inCur' to ,aCor de
Spain#s ru& and hold 'ou liable for it" But twent' bushels of corn seems a little hi&h for a man in 'our
circumstances to hae to pa'" ,aCor de Spain claims it costs a hundred dollars" 5ctober corn will be
worth about fift' cents" / fi&ure that if ,aCor de Spain can stand a ninet'3fie3dollar loss on
somethin& he paid cash for, 'ou can stand a fie3dollar loss 'ou haen#t earned 'et" / hold 'ou in
dama&es to ,aCor de Spain to the amount of ten bushels of corn oer and aboe 'our contract with
him, to be paid to him out of 'our crop at &atherin& time" Court adCourned"+
/t had ta)en no time hardl', the mornin& was but half be&un" He thou&ht the' would return home
and perhaps bac) to the field, since the' were late, far behind all other farmers" But instead his father
passed on behind the wa&on, merel' indicatin& with his hand for the older brother to follow with it,
and crossed the road toward the blac)smith shop opposite, pressin& on after his father, oerta)in&
him, spea)in&, whisperin& up at the harsh, calm face beneath the weathered hat2 *He won#t &it no ten
bushels neither" He won#t &it one" 4e#ll " " "+ until his father &lanced for an instant down at him, the
face absolutel' calm, the &ri%%led e'ebrows tan&led aboe the cold e'es, the oice almost pleasant,
almost &entle2
9; *Iou thin) so6 4ell, we#ll wait till 5ctober an'wa'"+
The matter of the wa&onBthe settin& of a spo)e or two and the ti&htenin& of the tiresBdid not
ta)e lon& either, the business of the tires accomplished b' driin& the wa&on into the sprin& branch
behind the shop and lettin& it stand there, the mules nu%%lin& into the water from time to time, and
the bo' on the seat with the idle reins, loo)in& up the slope and throu&h the soot' tunnel of the shed
where the slow hammer ran& and where his father sat on an upended c'press bolt, easil', either
tal)in& or listenin&, still sittin& there when the bo' brou&ht the drippin& wa&on up out of the branch
and halted it before the door"
*Ta)e them on to the shade and hitch,+ his father said" He did so and returned" His father and the
smith and a third man s0uattin& on his heels inside the door were tal)in&, about crops and animals.
the bo', s0uattin& too in the ammoniac dust and hoof3parin&s and scales of rust, heard his father tell a
lon& and unhurried stor' out of the time before the birth of the older brother een when he had been a
professional horsetrader" And then his father came up beside him where he stood before a tattered last
'ear#s circus poster on the other side of the store, &a%in& rapt and 0uiet at the scarlet horses, the
incredible poisin&s and conolutions of tulle and ti&hts and the painted leers of comedians, and said,
*/t#s time to eat"+
But not at home" S0uattin& beside his brother a&ainst the front wall, he watched his father
emer&e from the store and produce from a paper sac) a se&ment of cheese and diide it carefull' and
deliberatel' into three with his poc)et )nife and produce crac)ers from the same sac)" The' all three
s0uatted on the &aller' and ate, slowl', without tal)in&. then in the store a&ain, the' dran) from a tin
dipper tepid water smellin& of the cedar buc)et and of liin& beech trees" And still the' did not &o
home" /t was a horse lot this time, a tall rail fence upon and alon& which men stood and sat and out of
which one b' one horses were led, to be tal)ed and trotted and then cantered bac) and forth alon& the
road while the slow swappin& and bu'in& went on and the sun be&an to slant westward, the'Bthe
three of themBwatchin& and listenin&, the older brother with his mudd' e'es and his stead',
ineitable tobacco, the father commentin& now and then on certain of the animals, to no one in
particular"
/t was after sundown when the' reached home" The' ate supper b' lampli&ht, then, sittin& on the
doorstep, the bo' watched the ni&ht full' accomplish, listenin& to the whippoorwills and the fro&s,
when he heard his mother#s oice2 *AbnerH NoH NoH 5h, 8od" 5h, 8od" AbnerH+ and he rose,
whirled, and saw the altered li&ht throu&h the door where a candle stub now burned in a bottle nec)
on the table and his father, still in the hat and coat, at once formal and burles0ue as thou&h dressed
carefull' for some shabb' and ceremonial iolence, empt'in& the reseroir of the lamp bac) into the
fie3&allon )erosene can from which it had been filled, while the mother tu&&ed at his arm until he
shifted the lamp to the other hand and flun& her bac), not saa&el' or iciousl', Cust hard, into the
wall, her hands flun& out a&ainst the wall for balance, her mouth open and in her face the same
0ualit' of hopeless despair as had been in her oice" Then his father saw him standin& in the door"
9: *8o to the barn and &et that can of oil we were oilin& the wa&on with,+ he said" The bo' did not
moe" Then he could spea)"
*4hat " " "+ he cried" *4hat are 'ou " " "+
*8o &et that oil,+ his father said" *8o"+
Then he was moin&, runnin&, outside the house, toward the stable2 this the old habit, the old
blood which he had not been permitted to choose for himself, which had been be0ueathed him will'
nill' and which had run for so lon& $and who )new where, battenin& on what of outra&e and saa&er'
and lust( before it came to him" 5 could 1eep on, he thou&ht" 5 could run on and on and never loo1
bac1, never need to see his face again' (nly 5 cant' 5 cant, the rusted can in his hand now, the
li0uid sploshin& in it as he ran bac) to the house and into it, into the sound of his mother#s weepin&
in the ne!t room, and handed the can to his father"
*Ain#t 'ou &oin& to een send a ni&&er6+ he cried" *At least 'ou sent a ni&&er beforeH+
=; This time his father didn#t stri)e him" The hand came een faster than the blow had, the same
hand which had set the can on the table with almost e!cruciatin& care flashin& from the can to ward
him too 0uic) for him to follow it, &rippin& him b' the bac) of his shirt and on to tiptoe before he had
seen it 0uit the can, the face stoopin& at him in breathless and fro%en ferocit', the cold, dead oice
spea)in& oer him to the older brother who leaned a&ainst the table, chewin& with that stead',
curious, sidewise motion of cows2
*1mpt' the can into the bi& one and &o on" /#ll catch up with 'ou"+
*Better tie him up to the bedpost,+ the brother said"
*Do li)e / told 'ou,+ the father said" Then the bo' was moin&, his bunched shirt and the hard,
bon' hand between his shoulderblades, his toes Cust touchin& the floor, across the room and into the
other one, past the sisters sittin& with spread hea' thi&hs in the two chairs oer the cold hearth, and
to where his mother and aunt sat side b' side on the bed, the aunt#s arms about his mother#s
shoulders"
*Hold him,+ the father said" The aunt made a startled moement" *Not 'ou,+ the father said"
*-ennie" Ta)e hold of him" / want to see 'ou do it"+ His mother too) him b' the wrist" *Iou#ll hold
him better than that" /f he &ets loose don#t 'ou )now what he is &oin& to do6 He will &o up 'onder"+
He Cer)ed his head toward the road" *,a'be /#d better tie him"+
=: */#ll hold him,+ his mother whispered"
*See 'ou do then"+ Then his father was &one, the stiff foot hea' and measured upon the boards,
ceasin& at last"
Then he be&an to stru&&le" His mother cau&ht him in both arms, he Cer)in& and wrenchin& at
them" He would be stron&er in the end, he )new that" But he had no time to wait for it" *-emme &oH+
he cried" */ don#t want to hae to hit 'ouH+
*-et him &oH+ the aunt said" */f he don#t &o, before 8od, / am &oin& up there m'selfH+
*Don#t 'ou see / can#t6+ his mother cried" *Sart'H Sart'H NoH NoH Help me, -i%%ieH+
1;; Then he was free" His aunt &rasped at him but it was too late" He whirled, runnin&, his mother
stumbled forward on to her )nees behind him, cr'in& to the nearer sister2 *Catch him, NetH Catch
himH+ But that was too late too, the sister $the sisters were twins, born at the same time, 'et either of
them now &ae the impression of bein&, encompassin& as much liin& meat and olume and wei&ht
as an' other two of the famil'( not 'et hain& be&un to rise from the chair, her head, face, alone
merel' turned, presentin& to him in the fl'in& instant an astonishin& e!panse of 'oun& female
features untroubled b' an' surprise een, wearin& onl' an e!pression of boine interest" Then he was
out of the room, out of the house, in the mild dust of the starlit road and the hea' rifeness of
hone'suc)le, the pale ribbon unspoolin& with terrific slowness under his runnin& feet, reachin& the
&ate at last and turnin& in, runnin&, his heart and lun&s drummin&, on up the drie toward the li&hted
house, the li&hted door" He did not )noc), he burst in, sobbin& for breath, incapable for the moment
of speech. he saw the astonished face of the Ne&ro in the linen Cac)et without )nowin& when the
Ne&ro had appeared"
*De SpainH+ he cried, panted" *4here#s " " "+ then he saw the white man too emer&in& from a
white door down the hall" *BarnH+ he cried" *BarnH+
*4hat6+ the white man said" *Barn6+
*IesH+ the bo' cried" *BarnH+
1;: *Catch himH+ the white man shouted"
But it was too late this time too" The Ne&ro &rasped his shirt, but the entire sleee, rotten with
washin&, carried awa', and he was out that door too and in the drie a&ain, and had actuall' neer
ceased to run een while he was screamin& into the white man#s face"
Behind him the white man was shoutin&, *,' horseH Fetch m' horseH+ and he thou&ht for an
instant of cuttin& across the par) and climbin& the fence into the road, but he did not )now the par)
nor how hi&h the ine3massed fence mi&ht be and he dared not ris) it" So he ran on down the drie,
blood and breath roarin&. presentl' he was in the road a&ain thou&h he could not see it" He could not
hear either2 the &allopin& mare was almost upon him before he heard her, and een then he held his
course, as if the er' ur&enc' of his wild &rief and need must in a moment more find him win&s,
waitin& until the ultimate instant to hurl himself aside and into the weed3cho)ed roadside ditch as the
horse thundered past and on, for an instant in furious silhouette a&ainst the stars, the tran0uil earl'
summer ni&ht s)' which, een before the shape of the horse and rider anished, strained abruptl' and
iolentl' upward2 a lon&, swirlin& roar incredible and soundless, blottin& the stars, and he sprin&in&
up and into the road a&ain, runnin& a&ain, )nowin& it was too late 'et still runnin& een after he
heard the shot and, an instant later, two shots, pausin& now without )nowin& he had ceased to run,
cr'in& *AapH AapH,+ runnin& a&ain before he )new he had be&un to run, stumblin&, trippin& oer
somethin& and scrabblin& up a&ain without ceasin& to run, loo)in& bac)ward oer his shoulder at the
&lares as he &ot up, runnin& on amon& the inisible trees, pantin&, sobbin&, *FatherH FatherH+
At midni&ht he was sittin& on the crest of a hill" He did not )now it was midni&ht and he did not
)now how far he had come" But there was no &lare behind him now and he sat now, his bac) toward
what he had called home for four da's an'how, his face toward the dar) woods which he would enter
when breath was stron& a&ain, small, sha)in& steadil' in the chill dar)ness, hu&&in& himself into the
remainder of his thin, rotten shirt, the &rief and despair now no lon&er terror and fear but Cust &rief
and despair" )ather' 0y father, he thou&ht" *He was braeH+ He cried suddenl', aloud but not loud,
no more than a whisper2 *He wasH He was in the warH He was in Colonel Sartoris# ca#r'H+ not
)nowin& that his father had &one to that war a priate in the fine old 1uropean sense, wearin& no
uniform, admittin& the authorit' of and &iin& fidelit' to no man or arm' or fla&, &oin& to war as
,albrouc) himself did2 for boot'Bit meant nothin& and less than nothin& to him if it were enem'
boot' or his own"
The slow constellations wheeled on" /t would be dawn and then sun3up after a while and he
would be hun&r'" But that would be to3morrow and now he was onl' cold, and wal)in& would cure
that" His breathin& was easier now and he decided to &et up and &o on, and then he found that he had
been asleep because he )new it was almost dawn, the ni&ht almost oer" He could tell that from the
whippoorwills" The' were eer'where now amon& the dar) trees below him, constant and
inflectioned and ceaseless, so that, as the instant for &iin& oer to the da' birds drew nearer and
nearer, there was no interal at all between them" He &ot up" He was a little stiff, but wal)in& would
cure that too as it would the cold, and soon there would be the sun" He went on down the hill, toward
the dar) woods within which the li0uid siler oices of the birds called unceasin&Bthe rapid and
ur&ent beatin& of the ur&ent and 0uirin& heart of the late sprin& ni&ht" He did not loo) bac)"
JORGE LUIS BORGES
Jorge Luis Eorges (!$$#$!6&, one of the first writers in .panish to achieve an international reputation,
was born in Euenos 4ires' -is paternal grandfather was Hnglish, and Eorges learned Hnglish before he
learned .panish' 2hen his family went to Aeneva before the )irst 2orld 2ar, he became fluent in
Aerman and )rench' 4fter the war the family spent two years in .pain, in $" Eorges returned to
4rgentina, and in $"3 he published his first boo1, a collection of poems' 5n $F! he accepted a post as a
municipal librarian in Euenos 4ires, but in $M67by which time Eorgess fiction had won him an
international reputation7the dictator Juan /erOn removed him from the post' 5n $33, after /erOn was
deposed, Eorges7already blind from a congenital disease7was made the director of the 8ational
Library of Euenos 4ires, and in $36 he was appointed /rofessor of Hnglish at the *niversity of Euenos
4ires'
Eorges, widely regarded as the greatest contemporary writer in .panish, is 1nown for his poetry,
literary criticism, and especially his highly innovative and immensely influential short fiction' )or him,
stories are not representations of the surface of life but are reCcreations of the cultural myths that human
beings have devised'
The +os,el !cco"-'n* to .a"k [19/]
These eents too) place at -a Colorada ranch, in the southern part of the township of JunVn, durin&
the last da's of ,arch, 1=79" The prota&onist was a medical student named Baltasar 1spinosa" 4e
ma' describe him, for now, as one of the common run of 'oun& men from Buenos Aires, with nothin&
more noteworth' about him than an almost unlimited )indness and a capacit' for public spea)in& that
had earned him seeral pri%es at the 1n&lish school in Ramos ,eCVa" He did not li)e ar&uin&, and
preferred hain& his listener rather than himself in the ri&ht" Althou&h he was fascinated b' the
probabilities of chance in an' &ame he pla'ed, he was a bad pla'er because it &ae him no pleasure to
win" His wide intelli&ence was undirected. at the a&e of thirt'3three, he still lac)ed credit for
&raduation, b' one courseBthe course to which he was most drawn" His father, who was a freethin)er
$li)e all the &entlemen of his da'(, had introduced him to the lessons of Herbert Spencer,1 but his
mother, before leain& on a trip for ,onteideo, once as)ed him to sa' the -ord#s Ara'er7 and ma)e
the si&n of the cross eer' ni&ht" Throu&h the 'ears, he had neer &one bac) on that promise"
1spinosa was not lac)in& in spirit. one da', with more indifference than an&er, he had
e!chan&ed two or three punches with a &roup of fellow3students who were tr'in& to force him to ta)e
part in a uniersit' demonstration" 5win& to an ac0uiescent nature, he was full of opinions, or habits
of mind, that were 0uestionable2 Ar&entina mattered less to him than a fear that in other parts of the
world people mi&ht thin) of us as /ndians. he worshiped France but despised the French. he thou&ht
little of Americans but approed the fact that there were tall buildin&s, li)e theirs, in Buenos Aires.
he belieed the &auchos of the plains to be better riders than those of hill or mountain countr'" 4hen
his cousin Daniel inited him to spend the summer months out at -a Colorada, he said 'es at onceB
not because he was reall' fond of the countr', but more out of his natural complacenc' and also
because it was easier to sa' 'es than to dream up reasons for sa'in& no"
The ranch#s main house was bi& and sli&htl' run3down. the 0uarters of the foreman, whose name
was 8utre, were close b'" The 8utres were three2 the father, an unusuall' uncouth son, and a
dau&hter of uncertain paternit'" The' were tall, stron&, and bon', and had hair that was on the
reddish side and faces that showed traces of /ndian blood" The' were barel' articulate" The foreman#s
wife had died 'ears before"
There in the countr', 1spinosa be&an learnin& thin&s he neer )new, or een suspectedBfor
e!ample, that 'ou do not &allop a horse when approachin& settlements, and that 'ou neer &o out
ridin& e!cept for some special purpose" /n time, he was to come to tell the birds apart b' their calls"
: After a few da's, Daniel had to leae for Buenos Aires to close a deal on
some cattle" At most, this bit of business mi&ht ta)e him a wee)" 1spinosa, who was
alread' somewhat wear' of hearin& about his cousin#s incessant luc) with women and his
tireless interest in the minute details of men#s fashion, preferred sta'in& on at the ranch
with his te!tboo)s" But the heat was unbearable, and een the ni&ht brou&ht no relief" 5ne
mornin& at da'brea), thunder wo)e him" 5utside, the wind was roc)in& the Australian
pines" -istenin& to the first hea' drops of rain, 1spinosa than)ed 8od" All at once, cold
air rolled in" That afternoon, the Salado oerflowed its ban)s"
The ne!t da', loo)in& out oer the flooded fields from the &aller' of the main house, Baltasar
1spinosa thou&ht that the stoc) metaphor comparin& the pampa to the sea was not alto&ether falseB
at least, not that mornin&Bthou&h 4" H" Hudson> had remar)ed that the sea seems wider because we
iew it from a ship#s dec) and not from a horse or from e'e leel"
The rain did not let up" The 8utres, helped or hindered b' 1spinosa, the town dweller, rescued a
&ood part of the liestoc), but man' animals were drowned" There were four roads leadin& to -a
Colorada. all of them were under water" 5n the third da', when a lea) threatened the foreman#s
house, 1spinosa &ae the 8utres a room near the tool shed, at the bac) of the main house" This drew
them all closer. the' ate to&ether in the bi& dinin& room" Conersation turned out to be difficult" The
8utres, who )new so much about countr' thin&s, were hard put to it to e!plain them"
5ne ni&ht, 1spinosa as)ed them if people still remembered the /ndian raids from bac) when the
frontier command was located there in JunVn" The' told him 'es, but the' would hae &ien the same
answer to a 0uestion about the beheadin& of Charles /" 1spinosa recalled his father#s sa'in& that
almost eer' case of lon&eit' that was cited in the countr' was reall' a case of bad memor' or of a
dim notion of dates" 8auchos are apt to be i&norant of the 'ear of their birth or of the name of the
man who be&ot them"
/n the whole house, there was apparentl' no other readin& matter than a set of the )arm Journal,
a handboo) of eterinar' medicine, a delu!e edition of the Lru&ua'an epic TabarB, a -istory of
.horthorn Cattle in 4rgentina, a number of erotic or detectie stories, and a recent noel called Don
.egundo .ombra' 1spinosa, tr'in& in some wa' to brid&e the ineitable after3dinner &ap, read a
couple of chapters of this noel to the 8utres, none of whom could read or write" Lnfortunatel', the
foreman had been a cattle droer, and the doin&s of the hero, another cattle droer, failed to whet his
interest" He said that the wor) was li&ht, that droers alwa's traeled with a pac)horse that carried
eer'thin& the' needed, and that, had he not been a droer, he would neer hae seen such far3flun&
places as the -a&una de 8Wme%, the town of Bra&ado, and the spread of the NXYe% famil' in
Chacabuco" There was a &uitar in the )itchen. the ranch hands, before the time of the eents / am
describin&, used to sit around in a circle" Someone would tune the instrument without eer &ettin&
around to pla'in& it" This was )nown as a &uitarfest"
1; 1spinosa, who had &rown a beard, be&an dall'in& in front of the mirror to stud' his new face,
and he smiled to thin) how, bac) in Buenos Aires, he would bore his friends b' tellin& them the stor'
of the Salado flood" Stran&el' enou&h, he missed places he neer fre0uented and neer would2 a
corner of Cabrera Street on which there was a mailbo!. one of the cement lions of a &atewa' on JuCu'
Street, a few bloc)s from the Ala%a del 5nce. an old barroom with a tiled floor, whose e!act
whereabouts he was unsure of" As for his brothers and his father, the' would alread' hae learned
from Daniel that he was isolatedBet'molo&icall', the word was perfectBb' the floodwaters"
1!plorin& the house, still hemmed in b' the water' waste, 1spinosa came across an 1n&lish
Bible" Amon& the blan) pa&es at the end, the 8uthriesBsuch was their ori&inal nameBhad left a
handwritten record of their linea&e" The' were naties of /nerness.@ had reached the New 4orld, no
doubt as common laborers, in the earl' part of the nineteenth centur'. and had intermarried with
/ndians" The chronicle bro)e off sometime durin& the ei&hteen3seenties, when the' no lon&er )new
how to write" After a few &enerations, the' had for&otten 1n&lish. their Spanish, at the time 1spinosa
)new them, &ae them trouble" The' lac)ed an' reli&ious faith, but there suried in their blood, li)e
faint trac)s, the ri&id fanaticism of the Calinist and the superstitions of the pampa /ndian" 1spinosa
later told them of his find, but the' barel' too) notice"
-eafin& throu&h the olume, his fin&ers opened it at the be&innin& of the 8ospel accordin& to St"
,ar)" As an e!ercise in translation, and ma'be to find out whether the 8utres understood an' of it,
1spinosa decided to be&in readin& them that te!t after their eenin& meal" /t surprised him that the'
listened attentiel', absorbed" ,a'be the &old letters on the coer lent the boo) authorit'" /t#s still
there in their blood, 1spinosa thou&ht" /t also occurred to him that the &enerations of men, throu&hout
recorded time, hae alwa's told and retold two storiesBthat of a lost ship which searches the
,editerranean seas for a dearl' loed island, and that of a &od who is crucified on 8ol&otha":
Rememberin& his lessons in elocution from his school3da's in Ramos ,eCVa, 1spinosa &ot to his feet
when he came to the parables"
The 8utres too) to boltin& their barbecued meat and their sardines so as not to dela' the 8ospel"
A pet lamb that the &irl adorned with a small blue ribbon had inCured itself on a strand of barbed
wire" To stop the bleedin&, the three had wanted to appl' a cobweb to the wound, but 1spinosa treated
the animal with some pills" The &ratitude that this treatment awa)ened in them too) him abac)" $Not
trustin& the 8utres at first, he#d hidden awa' in one of his boo)s the two hundred and fort' pesos he
had brou&ht with him"( Now, the owner of the place awa', 1spinosa too) oer and &ae timid orders,
which were immediatel' obe'ed" The 8utres, as if lost without him, li)ed followin& him from room to
room and alon& the &aller' that ran around the house" 4hile he read to them, he noticed that the'
were secretl' stealin& the crumbs he had dropped on the table" 5ne eenin&, he cau&ht them
unawares, tal)in& about him respectfull', in er' few words"
Hain& finished the 8ospel accordin& to St" ,ar), he wanted to read another of the three 8ospels
that remained, but the father as)ed him to repeat the one he had Cust read, so that the' could
understand it better" 1spinosa felt that the' were li)e children, to whom repetition is more pleasin&
than ariations or noelt'" That ni&htBthis is not to be wondered atBhe dreamed of the Flood. the
hammer blows of the buildin& of the Ar) wo)e him up, and he thou&ht that perhaps the' were
thunder" /n fact, the rain, which had let up, started a&ain" The cold was bitter" The 8utres had told
him that the storm had dama&ed the roof of the tool shed, and that the' would show it to him when
the beams were fi!ed" No lon&er a stran&er now, he was treated b' them with special attention, almost
to the point of spoilin& him" None of them li)ed coffee, but for him there was alwa's a small cup into
which the' heaped su&ar"
1: The new storm had bro)en out on a Tuesda'" Thursda' ni&ht, 1spinosa was awa)ened b' a soft
)noc) at his door, whichBCust in caseBhe alwa's )ept loc)ed" He &ot out of bed and opened it. there
was the &irl" /n the dar) he could hardl' ma)e her out, but b' her footsteps he could tell she was
barefoot, and moments later, in bed, that she must hae come all the wa' from the other end of the
house na)ed" She did not embrace him or spea) a sin&le word. she la' beside him, tremblin&" /t was
the first time she had )nown a man" 4hen she left, she did not )iss him. 1spinosa reali%ed that he
didn#t een )now her name" For some reason that he did not want to pr' into, he made up his mind
that upon returnin& to Buenos Aires he would tell no one about what had ta)en place"
The ne!t da' be&an li)e the preious ones, e!cept that the father spo)e to 1spinosa and as)ed
him if Christ had let Himself be )illed so as to sae all other men on earth" 1spinosa, who was a
freethin)er but who felt committed to what he had read to the 8utres, answered, *Ies, to sae
eer'one from Hell"+
8utre then as)ed, *4hat#s Hell6+
*A place under the &round where souls burn and burn"+
*And the Roman soldiers who hammered in the nailsBwere the' saed, too6+
7; *Ies,+ said 1spinosa, whose theolo&' was rather dim"
All alon&, he was afraid that the foreman mi&ht as) him about what had &one on the ni&ht before
with his dau&hter" After lunch, the' as)ed him to read the last chapters oer a&ain"
1spinosa slept a lon& nap that afternoon" /t was a li&ht sleep, disturbed b' persistent hammerin&
and b' a&ue premonitions" Toward eenin&, he &ot up and went out onto the &aller'" He said, as if
thin)in& aloud, *The waters hae dropped" /t won#t be lon& now"+
*/t won#t be lon& now,+ 8utre repeated, li)e an echo"
The three had been followin& him" Bowin& their )nees to the stone paement, the' as)ed his
blessin&" Then the' moc)ed at him, spat on him, and shoed him toward the bac) part of the house"
The &irl wept" 1spinosa understood what awaited him on the other side of the door" 4hen the'
opened it, he saw a patch of s)'" A bird san& out" A &oldfinch,? he thou&ht" The shed was without a
roof. the' had pulled down the beams to ma)e the cross"
LANGSTON HUGHES
Langston -ughes ($%"#$69&, an 4fricanC4merican writer, was born in Joplin, 0issouri, lived part of
his youth in 0e:ico, spent a year at Columbia *niversity, served as a merchant seaman, and wor1ed in a
/aris nightclub, where he showed some of his poems to Dr' 4lain Loc1e, a strong advocate of 4fricanC
4merican literature' Hncouraged by Loc1e, when -ughes returned to the *nited .tates he continued to
write, publishing fiction, plays, essays, and biographiesL he also founded theaters, gave public readings,
and was, in short, a highly visible presence'
0ne 1"'-ay .o"n'n*
[1921]
The thrillin& news did not come directl' to Nanc' -ee, but it came in little indirections that finall'
added themseles up to one tremendous fact2 she had won the pri%eH But bein& a calm and 0uiet
'oun& lad', she did not sa' an'thin&, althou&h the whole hi&h school bu%%ed with rumors, &uesses,
reportedl' authentic announcements on the part of students who had no ri&ht to be ma)in&
announcements at allBsince no student reall' )new 'et who had won this 'ear#s art scholarship"
But Nanc' -ee#s drawin& was so &ood, her lines so sure, her colors so bri&ht and harmonious,
that certainl' no other student in the senior art class at 8eor&e 4ashin&ton Hi&h was thou&ht to hae
er' much of a chance" Iet 'ou neer could tell" -ast 'ear nobod' had e!pected Joe 4illiams to win
the Artist Club scholarship with that funn' modernistic water color he had done of the hi&h3leel
brid&e" /n fact, it was hard to ma)e out there was a brid&e until 'ou had loo)ed at the picture a lon&
time" Still, Joe 4illiams &ot the pri%e, was feted b' the communit'#s leadin& painters, club women,
and societ' fol)s at a bi& ban0uet at the Aar)3Rose Hotel, and was now an award student at the Art
SchoolBthe cit'#s onl' art school"
Nanc' -ee Johnson was a colored &irl, a few 'ears out of the South" But seldom did her hi&h3
school classmates thin) of her as colored" She was smart, prett', and brown, and fitted in well with
the life of the school" She stood hi&h in scholarship, pla'ed a swell &ame of bas)etball, had ta)en part
in the senior musical in a soft, elet' oice, and had neer seemed to intrude or stand out, e!cept in
pleasant wa's, so it was seldom een mentionedBher color"
Nanc' -ee sometimes for&ot she was colored herself" She li)ed her classmates and her school"
Aarticularl' she li)ed her art teacher, ,iss Dietrich, the tall red3haired woman who tau&ht her law
and order in doin& thin&s. and the beaut' of wor)in& step b' step until a Cob is done. a picture
finished. a desi&n created. or a bloc) print cared out of nothin& but an idea and a smooth s0uare of
linoleum, in)ed, proofs made, and finall' put down on paperBclean, sharp, beautiful, indiidual,
unli)e an' other in the world, thus ma)in& the paper hae a meanin& nobod' else could &ie it e!cept
Nanc' -ee" That was the wonderful thin& about true creation" Iou made somethin& nobod' else on
earth could ma)eBbut 'ou"
:
,iss Dietrich was the )ind of teacher who brou&ht out the best in her studentsBbut their own
best, not an'bod' else#s copied best" For an'bod' else#s best, &reat thou&h it mi&ht be, een
,ichelan&elo#s, wasn#t enou&h to please ,iss Dietrich, dealin& with the creatie impulses of 'oun&
men and women liin& in an American cit' in the ,iddle 4est, and bein& American"
Nanc' -ee was proud of bein& American, a Ne&ro American with blood out of Africa a lon& time
a&o, too man' &enerations bac) to count" But her parents had tau&ht her the beauties of Africa, its
stren&th, its son&, its mi&ht' riers, its earl' smeltin& of iron, its buildin& of the p'ramids, and its
ancient and important ciili%ations" And ,iss Dietrich had discoered for her the sharp and
humorous lines of African sculpture, Benin, Con&o, ,a)onde" Nanc' -ee#s father was a mail carrier,
her mother a social wor)er in a cit' settlement house" Both parents had been to Ne&ro colle&es in the
South" And her mother had &otten a further de&ree in social wor) from a Northern uniersit'" Her
parents were, li)e most Americans, simple, ordinar' people who had wor)ed hard and steadil' for
their education" Now the' were tr'in& to ma)e it easier for Nanc' -ee to achiee learnin& than it had
been for them" The' would be er' happ' when the' heard of the award to their dau&hterB'et Nanc'
did not tell them" To surprise them would be better" Besides, there had been a promise"
Casuall', one da', ,iss Dietrich as)ed Nanc' -ee what color frame she thou&ht would be best on
her picture" That had been the first in)lin&"
*Blue,+ Nanc' -ee said" Althou&h the picture had been entered in the Artist Club contest a
month a&o, Nanc' -ee did not hesitate in her choice of a color for the possible frame, since she could
still see her picture clearl' in her mind#s e'eBfor that picture waitin& for the blue frame had come
out of her soul, her own life, and had bloomed into miraculous bein& with ,iss Dietrich#s help" /t
was, she )new, the best water color she had painted in her four 'ears as a hi&h3school art student, and
she was &lad she had made somethin& ,iss Dietrich li)ed well enou&h to permit her to enter in the
contest before she &raduated"
/t was not a modernistic picture in the sense that 'ou had to loo) at it a lon& time to understand
what it meant" /t was Cust a simple scene in the cit' par) on a sprin& da', with the trees still leaflessl'
lac' a&ainst the s)', the new &rass fresh and &reen, a fla& on a tall pole in the center, children
pla'in&, and an old Ne&ro woman sittin& on a bench with her head turned" A lot for one picture, to be
sure, but it was not there in hea' and final detail li)e a calendar" /ts charm was that eer'thin& was
li&ht and air', happ' li)e sprin&, with a lot of blue s)'. paper3white clouds, and air showin& throu&h"
Iou could tell that the old Ne&ro woman was loo)in& at the fla&, and that the fla& was proud in the
sprin& bree%e, and that the bree%e helped to ma)e the children#s dresses billow as the' pla'ed"
1; ,iss Dietrich had tau&ht Nanc' -ee how to paint sprin&, people, and a bree%e on what was onl'
a plain white piece of paper from the suppl' closet" But ,iss Dietrich had not said ma)e it li)e an'
other sprin&3people3bree%e eer seen before" She let it remain Nanc' -ee#s own" That is how the old
Ne&ro woman happened to be there loo)in& at the fla&Bfor in her mind the fla&, the sprin&, and the
woman formed a )ind of trian&le holdin& a dream Nanc' -ee wanted to e!press" 4hite stars on a
blue field, sprin&, children, eer3&rowin& life, and an old woman" 4ould the Cud&es at the Artist Club
li)e it6
5ne wet, rain' April afternoon ,iss 5#Sha', the &irls# ice3principal, sent for Nanc' -ee to stop
b' her office as school closed" Aupils without umbrellas or raincoats were clustered in doorwa's,
hopin& to ma)e it home between showers" 5utside the s)ies were &ra'" Nanc' -ee#s thou&hts were
suddenl' &ra', too"
She did not thin) she had done an'thin& wron&, 'et that ti&ht little )not came in her throat Cust
the same as she approached ,iss 5#Sha'#s door" Aerhaps she had ban&ed her loc)er too often and too
hard" Aerhaps the note in French she had written to Sallie halfwa' across the stud' hall Cust for fun
had neer &otten to Sallie but into ,iss 5#Sha'#s hands instead" 5r ma'be she was failin& in some
subCect and wouldn#t be allowed to &raduate" Chemistr'H A pan& went throu&h the pit of her stomach"
She )noc)ed on ,iss 5#Sha'#s door" That familiarl' solid and competent oice said, *Come in"+
,iss 5#Sha' had a wa' of ma)in& 'ou feel welcome, een if 'ou came to be e!pelled"
1: *Sit down, Nanc' -ee Johnson,+ said ,iss 5#Sha'" */ hae somethin& to tell 'ou"+ Nanc' -ee sat
down" *But / must as) 'ou to promise not to tell an'one 'et"+
*/ won#t, ,iss 5#Sha',+ Nanc' -ee said, wonderin& what on earth the principal had to sa' to
her"
*Iou are about to &raduate,+ ,iss 5#Sha' Zsaid" *And we shall miss 'ou" Iou hae been an
e!cellent student, Nanc', and 'ou will not be without honors on the senior list, as / am sure 'ou
)now"+
At that point there was a li&ht )noc) on the door" ,iss 5#Sha' called out, *Come in,+ and ,iss
Dietrich entered" *,a' / be a part of this, too6+ she as)ed, tall and smilin&"
*5f course,+ ,iss 5#Sha' said" */ was Cust tellin& Nanc' -ee what we thou&ht of her" But /
hadn#t &otten around to &iin& her the news" Aerhaps, ,iss Dietrich, 'ou#d li)e to tell her 'ourself"+
7; ,iss Dietrich was alwa's direct" *Nanc' -ee,+ she said, *'our picture has won the Artist Club
scholarship"+
The slender brown &irl#s e'es widened, her heart Cumped, then her throat ti&htened a&ain" She
tried to smile, but instead tears came to her e'es"
*Dear Nanc' -ee,+ ,iss 5#Sha' said, *we are so happ' for 'ou"+ The elderl' white woman too)
her hand and shoo) it warml' while ,iss Dietrich beamed with pride"
Nanc' -ee must hae danced all the wa' home" She neer remembered 0uite how she &ot there
throu&h the rain" She hoped she had been di&nified" But certainl' she hadn#t stopped to tell an'bod'
her secret on the wa'" Raindrops, smiles, and tears min&led on her brown chee)s" She hoped her
mother hadn#t 'et &otten home and that the house was empt'" She wanted to hae time to calm down
and loo) natural before she had to see an'one" She didn#t want to be burstin& with e!citementB
hain& a secret to contain"
,iss 5#Sha'#s callin& her to the office had been in the nature of a preparation and a warnin&"
The )ind, elderl' ice3principal said she did not beliee in catchin& 'oun& ladies unawares, een with
honors, so she wished her to )now about the comin& award" /n ma)in& acceptance speeches she
wanted her to be calm, prepared, not nerous, oercome, and fri&htened" So Nanc' -ee was as)ed to
thin) what she would sa' when the scholarship was conferred upon her a few da's hence, both at the
Frida' mornin& hi&h3school assembl' hour, when the announcement would be made, and at the
eenin& ban0uet of the Artist Club" Nanc' -ee promised the ice3principal to thin) calml' about what
she would sa'"
7: ,iss Dietrich had then as)ed for some facts about her parents, her bac)&round, and her life,
since such material would probabl' be desired for the papers" Nanc' -ee had told her how, si! 'ears
before, the' had come up from the Deep South, her father hain& been successful in achiein& a
transfer from the one post office to another, a thin& he had lon& sou&ht in order to &ie Nanc' -ee a
chance to &o to school in the North" Now the' lied in a modest Ne&ro nei&hborhood, went to see the
best pla's when the' came to town, and had been sain& to send Nanc' -ee to art school, in case she
were permitted to enter" But the scholarship would help a &reat deal, for the' were not rich people"
*Now ,other can hae a new coat ne!t winter,+ Nanc' -ee thou&ht, *because m' tuition will all
be coered for the first 'ear" And once in art school, there are other scholarships / can win"+
Dreams be&an to dance throu&h her head, plans and ambitions, beauties she would create for
herself, her parents, and the Ne&ro peopleBfor Nanc' -ee possessed a deep and reerent race pride"
She could see the old woman in her picture $reall' her &randmother in the South( liftin& her head to
the bri&ht stars on the fla& in the distance" A Ne&ro in AmericaH 5ften hurt, discriminated a&ainst,
sometimes l'nchedBbut alwa's there were the stars on the blue bod' of the fla&" 4as there an' other
fla& in the world that had so man' stars6 Nanc' -ee thou&ht deepl', but she could remember none in
all the enc'clopedias or &eo&raphies she had eer loo)ed into"
*Hitch 'our wa&on to a star,+ Nanc' -ee thou&ht, dancin& home in the rain" *4ho were our fla&3
ma)ers6+
Frida' mornin& came, the mornin& when the world would )nowBher hi&h3school world, the
newspaper world, her mother and dad" Dad could not be there at the assembl' to hear the
announcement, nor see her pri%e picture displa'ed on the sta&e, nor to listen to Nanc' -ee#s little
speech of acceptance, but ,other would be able to come, althou&h ,other was much pu%%led as to
wh' Nanc' -ee was so insistent she be at school on that particular Frida' mornin&"
>; 4hen somethin& is happenin&, somethin& new and fine, somethin& that will chan&e 'our er'
life, it is hard to &o to sleep at ni&ht for thin)in& about it, and hard to )eep 'our heart from poundin&,
or a stran&e little )not of Co' from &atherin& in 'our throat" Nanc' -ee had ta)en her bath, brushed
her hair until it &lowed, and had &one to bed thin)in& about the ne!t da', the bi& da', when before
three thousand students, she would be the one student honored, her paintin& the one paintin& to be
acclaimed as the best of the 'ear from all the art classes of the cit'" Her short speech of &ratitude was
read'" She went oer it in her mind, not word for word $because she didn#t want it to sound as if she
had learned it b' heart(, but she let the thou&hts flow simpl' and sincerel' throu&h her consciousness
man' times"
4hen the president of the Artist Club presented her with the medal and scroll of the scholarship
award, she would sa'2
*Jud&es and members of the Artist Club" / want to than) 'ou for this award that means so much
to me personall' and throu&h me to m' people, the colored people of this cit', who, sometimes, are
discoura&ed and bewildered, thin)in& that color and poert' are a&ainst them" / accept this award
with &ratitude and pride, not for m'self alone, but for m' race that beliees in American opportunit'
and American fairnessBand the bri&ht stars in our fla&" / than) ,iss Dietrich and the teachers who
made it possible for me to hae the )nowled&e and trainin& that lie behind this honor 'ou hae
conferred upon m' paintin&" 4hen / came here from the South a few 'ears a&o, / was not sure how
'ou would receie me" Iou receied me well" Iou hae &ien me a chance and helped me alon& the
road / wanted to follow" / suppose the Cud&es )now that eer' wee) here at assembl' the students of
this school pled&e alle&iance to the fla&" / shall tr' to be worth' of that pled&e, and of the help and
friendship and understandin& of m' fellow citi%ens of whateer race or creed, and of our American
dream of Q-ibert' and Custice for allH#+
That would be her response before the students in the mornin&" How proud and happ' the Ne&ro
pupils would be, perhaps almost as proud as the' were of the one colored star on the football team"
Her mother would probabl' cr' with happiness" Thus Nanc' -ee went to sleep dreamin& of a
wonderful tomorrow"
The bri&ht sunli&ht of an April mornin& wo)e her" There was brea)fast with her parentsBtheir
half3amused and pu%%led faces across the table, wonderin& what could be this secret that made her
e'es so bri&ht" The swift wal) to school. the cloc) in the tower almost nine. hundreds of pupils
streamin& into the lon&, ramblin& old buildin& that was the cit'#s lar&est hi&h school. the sudden
0uiet of the homeroom after the bell ran&. then the teacher openin& her record boo) to call the roll"
But Cust before she be&an, she loo)ed across the room until her e'es located Nanc' -ee"
>: *Nanc',+ she said, *,iss 5#Sha' would li)e to see 'ou in her office, please"+
Nanc' -ee rose and went out while the names were bein& called and the word present added its
period to each name" Aerhaps, Nanc' -ee thou&ht, the reporters from the papers had alread' come"
,a'be the' wanted to ta)e her picture before assembl', which wasn#t until ten o#cloc)" $-ast 'ear
the' had had the photo&raph of the winner of the award in the mornin& papers as soon as the
announcement had been made"(
Nanc' -ee )noc)ed at ,iss 5#Sha'#s door"
*Come in"+
The ice3principal stood at her des)" There was no one else in the room" /t was er' 0uiet"
@; *Sit down, Nanc' -ee,+ she said" ,iss 5#Sha' did not smile" There was a lon& pause" The
seconds went b' slowl'" */ do not )now how to tell 'ou what / hae to sa',+ the elderl' woman be&an,
her e'es on the papers on her des)" */ am indi&nant and ashamed for m'self and for this cit'"+ Then
she lifted her e'es and loo)ed at Nanc' -ee in the neat blue dress, sittin& there before her" *Iou are
not to receie the scholarship this mornin&"+
5utside in the hall the electric bells announcin& the first period ran&, loud and interminabl'
lon&" ,iss 5#Sha' remained silent" To the brown &irl there in the chair, the room, &rew suddenl'
smaller, smaller, smaller, and there was no air" She could not spea)"
,iss 5#Sha' said, *4hen the committee learned that 'ou were colored, the' chan&ed their
plans"+
Still Nanc' -ee said nothin&, for there was no air to &ie breath to her lun&s"
*Here is the letter from the committee, Nanc' -ee"+ ,iss 5#Sha' pic)ed it up and read the final
para&raph to her"
@: *Q/t seems to us wiser to arbitraril' rotate the award amon& the arious hi&h schools of the cit'
from now on" And especiall' in this case since the student chosen happens to be colored, a
circumstance which unfortunatel', had we )nown, mi&ht hae preented this embarrassment" But
there hae neer been an' Ne&ro students in the local art school, and the presence of one there mi&ht
create difficulties for all concerned" 4e hae hi&h re&ard for the 0ualit' of Nanc' -ee Johnson#s
talent, but we do not feel it would be fair to honor it with the Artist Club award"#+ ,iss 5#Sha'
paused" She put the letter down"
*Nanc' -ee, / am er' sorr' to hae to &ie 'ou this messa&e"+
*But m' speech,+ Nanc' -ee said, *was about" " " "+ The words stuc) in her throat" *" " "about
America" " " "+
,iss 5#Sha' had risen. she turned her bac) and stood loo)in& out the window at the sprin&
tulips in the school 'ard"
*/ thou&ht, since the award would be made at assembl' ri&ht after our oath of alle&iance,+ the
words tumbled almost h'stericall' from Nanc' -ee#s throat now, */ would put part of the fla& salute
in m' speech" Iou )now, ,iss 5#Sha', that part about Qlibert' and Custice for all"#+
:; */ )now,+ said ,iss 5#Sha', slowl' facin& the room a&ain" *But America is onl' what we who
beliee in it ma)e it" / am /rish" Iou ma' not )now, Nanc' -ee, but 'ears a&o we were called the
dirt' /rish, and mobs rioted a&ainst us in the bi& cities, and we were inited to &o bac) where we
came from" But we didn#t &o" And we didn#t &ie up, because we belieed in the American dream,
and in our power to ma)e that dream come true" Difficulties, 'es" ,ountains to climb, 'es"
Discoura&ements to face, 'es" Democrac' to ma)e, 'es" That is it, Nanc' -eeH 4e still hae in this
world of ours democrac' to ma1e' Iou and /, Nanc' -ee" But the premise and the base are here, the
lines of the Declaration of /ndependence and the words of -incoln are here, and the stars in our fla&"
Those who den' 'ou this scholarship do not )now the meanin& of those stars, but it#s up to us to
ma)e them )now" As a teacher in the public schools of this cit', / m'self will &o before the school
board and as) them to remoe from our s'stem the offer of an' pri%es or awards denied to an' student
because of race or color"+
Suddenl' ,iss 5#Sha' stopped spea)in&" Her clear, clear blue e'es loo)ed li)e those of the &irl
before her" The woman#s e'es were full of stren&th and coura&e" *-ift up 'our head, Nanc' -ee, and
smile at me"+
,iss 5#Sha' stood a&ainst the open window with the &reen lawn and the tulips be'ond, the
sunli&ht tan&led in her &ra' hair, her oice an electric flow of stren&th to the hurt spirit of Nanc' -ee"
The Abolitionists who belieed in freedom when there was slaer' must hae been li)e that" The first
white teachers who went into the Deep South to teach the freed slaes must hae been li)e that" All
those who stand a&ainst i&norance, narrowness, hate, and mud on stars must be li)e that"
Nanc' -ee lifted her head and smiled" The bell for assembl' ran&" She went throu&h the lon&
hall filled with students, toward the auditorium"
*There will be other awards,+ Nanc' -ee thou&ht" *There#re schools in other cities" This won#t
)eep me down" But when /#m a woman, /#ll fi&ht to see that these thin&s don#t happen to other &irls
as this has happened to me" And men and women li)e ,iss 5#Sha' will help me"+
:: She too) her seat amon& the seniors" The doors of the auditorium closed" As the principal came
onto the platform, the students rose and turned their e'es to the fla& on the sta&e"
5ne hand went to the heart, the other outstretched toward the fla&" Three thousand oices spo)e"
Amon& them was the oice of a dar) &irl whose chee)s were suddenl' wet with tears, *" " "one nation
indiisible, with libert' and Custice for all"+
*That is the land we must ma)e,+ she thou&ht"

Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
A Collection of Short Fiction
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
-eo Tolsto'
:
1;
1:
7;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
7:
1Piccadilly whi!"# 1n&lish3st'le sideburns" 7ic$% reli&ious ima&es, usuall' painted on small
wooden panels"
-eo Tolsto'
>;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
>:
@;
-eo Tolsto'
@:
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
:;
::
>P"&"#'(#) the capital of Russia and its social and intellectual center from the ei&hteenth centur' until
1=19" /t was named for Aeter the 8reat, who built it" @le ,hen34 -e la fa&'lle French $members of the upper
class often spo)e French, a si&n of their sophistication(, literall' meanin& *the phoeni! of the famil'+
$i"e", the prodi&' of the famil'("
-eo Tolsto'
?;
:"es,'ce f'ne& -atin, *Consider the end+ $i"e", )eep death in mind(" ?"c&a#ia% 5ld Belieers, a sect that in
the seenteenth centur' had bro)en with the 5rthodo! Church" K#on enfant French, literall' *&ood child,+
here *well3behaed"+ 9Il faut 5ue 6eunesse se ,asse French, *Iouth will hae its flin&"+
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
?:
= co&&e 'l faut French, *proper"+ 1; C$d" $* +,-. bod' of statutes &oernin& Cudicial processes"
-eo Tolsto'
K;
11v'nt a card &ame similar to brid&e" 17-e *a'et7 -e coeu" French, *from sheer whim"+
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
K:
9;
-eo Tolsto'
9:
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
=;
=:
-eo Tolsto'
1;;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
1;:
-eo Tolsto'
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
11;
11:
-eo Tolsto'
17;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
17:
1>ch"/i&0 pharmacist#s"
-eo Tolsto'
1>;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
1>:
1@;
-eo Tolsto'
1@:
1:;
1@J"a% French form of /an" 1:1/il" 2$la French noelist and social critic"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
1::
1?;
-eo Tolsto'
1?:
1K;
1K:
1?Ki"3"w"&&"#0 L$)ic The (utline of Logic 4ccording to +antian /rinciples, a widel' used te!t in
Russia, written b' Elaus Eie%ewetter and based on the philosoph' of /mmanuel Eant $1K77<
19;@(" 1K4a%ya diminutie of /an"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
19;
-eo Tolsto'
19:
1=;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
1=:
7;;
7;:
71;
71:
-eo Tolsto'
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
77;
77:
7>;
7>:
-eo Tolsto'
7@;
7@:
19a(c(l&a&i$% dia&nosin& the sounds made b' internal or&ans"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
7:;
7::
-eo Tolsto'
7?;
7?:
7K;
1=hai# c(#l"d 8 la Ca,oul an elaborate hairst'le for men, named after a French sin&er"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
7K:
79;
79:
7;!-"'enne 9ecouv"eu" tra&ed' $19@=( b' the French dramatist 1u&Jne Scribe"
-eo Tolsto'
7=;
7=:
>;;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
>;:
>1;
-eo Tolsto'
71/$#$cc$ soft, fine leather made of &oats)in"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
>1:
>7;
>7:
-eo Tolsto'
>>;
>>:
>@;
>@:
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
>:;
>::
>?;
8u' de ,aupassant
1salons drawin& rooms"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
7,ot:au:feu stew"
8u' de ,aupassant
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
8u' de ,aupassant
>l$(i a &old coin worth 7; francs"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
Charlotte Aer)ins 8ilman

Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
Charlotte Aer)ins 8ilman
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
Charlotte Aer)ins 8ilman
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
Charlotte Aer)ins 8ilman
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
Charlotte Aer)ins 8ilman
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
Charlotte Aer)ins 8ilman
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illa Cather
:
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
1;
4illa Cather
1:
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
7;
4illa Cather
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
7:
4illa Cather
>;
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
>:
@;
4illa Cather
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
@:
:;
4illa Cather
::
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
?;
4illa Cather
?:
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
1'li%d a dead- end street.
James Jo'ce
7The !##ot was one of Scott#s popular historical romances. The Devout Co&&un'cant was a Catholic reli&ious
manual. The .e&o'"s of V'-oc5 were the memoirs of the chief of the French detectie force" >J"#"/iah
O0D$%$5a% $19>1<1=1:(, a popular /rish leader who was Cailed b' the British for adocatin& iolent
rebellion" A c$/"6all6y$( was a topical son& that be&an *Come all 'ou &allant /rishmen"+
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
@/rish Catholics iewed the ,asons as their Arotestant enemies"
James Jo'ce
:*The Arab to His Faorite Steed+ was a popular sentimental poem b' Caroline Norton $19;9<19KK("
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
The printed ersion of Faul)ner#s *A Rose for 1mil'+ omitted seeral passa&es of dialo&ue, shown here in
the t'ped manuscript of pa&es 1> to 1:, between ,iss 1mil' and her lon&3time manserant" $continued(
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction

4illiam Faul)ner

Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
The final para&raph of the t'ped manuscript was reworded and made into two para&raphs in the published
ersion"
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
4illiam Faul)ner
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
Jor&e -uis Bor&es
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
1H"#'"#& S7"%c"# British philosopher and sociolo&ist $197;<1=;>(" 7&h" L$#d0 P#ay"# the pra'er Jesus tau&ht
to his disciples $,atthew ?"=<1>("
Jor&e -uis Bor&es
>W8 H8 H(d$% 4illiam Henr' Hudson $19@1<1=7;(, born of American parents in Ar&entina, went to
1n&land in 19?= and spent most of the rest of his life there" Seeral of his boo)s are about Ar&entina"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
@I%5"#%" a count' in northwest Scotland" :two stori es . . . Golgotha the first stor' is Homer#s
(dyssey, in which Homer tells of the wanderin&s of 5d'sseus. the second stor' is of Jesus# crucifi!ion at
8ol&otha, *Alace of the S)ull+ $the Semitic name for Calar'("
Jor&e -uis Bor&es
?)$ld*i%ch in art the infant Jesus is often shown holdin& a &oldfinch" -e&end sa's that at Calar' a
&oldfinch drew a thorn from Christ#s brow"
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
-an&ston Hu&hes
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
-an&ston Hu&hes
Chapter 11 [ A Collection of Short Fiction
-an&ston Hu&hes