The sound and the fury (16 page)

     "Oh, hell, sister." About half the paper hung limp. "That's not doing any good now." I tore it off and dropped it beside the road. "Come on. We'll have to go back to town. We'll go back along the river." 
     We left the road. Among the moss little pale flowers grew, and the sense of water mute and unseen.
I hold to use like this I mean I use to hold She stood in the door looking at us her hands on her hips
    
You pushed me it was your fault it hurt me too
    
We were dancing sitting down I bet Caddy cant dance sitting down
    
Stop that stop that
    
I was just brushing the trash off the back of your dress
    
You keep your nasty old hands off of me it was your fault you pushed me down I'm mad at you
    
I dont care she looked at us stay mad she went away
We began to hear the shouts, the splashings; I saw a brown body gleam for an instant. 
    
Stay mad. My shirt was getting wet and my hair. Across the roof hearing the roof loud now I could see Natalie going through the garden among the rain. Get wet I hope you catch pneumonia go on home Cowface. I jumped hard as I could into the hogwallow the mud yellowed up to my waist stinking I kept on plunging until I fell down and rolled over in it
    "Hear them in swimming, sister? I wouldn't mind doing that myself." If I had time. When I have time. I could hear my watch.
mud was warmer than the rain it smelled awful. She had her back turned I went around in front of her. You know what I was doing? She turned her back I went around in front of her the rain creeping into the mud flatting her bod ice through her dress it smelled horrible. I was hugging her that's what I was doing. She turned her back I went around in front of her. I was hugging her I tell you.
     
I dont give a damn what you were doing
    
You dont you dont I'll make you I'll make you give a damn. She hit my hands away I smeared mud on her with the other hand I couldn't feel the wet smacking of her hand I wiped mud from my legs smeared it on her wet hard turning body hearing her fingers going into my face but I couldn't feel it even when the rain began to taste sweet on my lips
      They saw us from the water first, heads and shoulders. They yelled and one rose squatting and sprang among them. They looked like beavers, the water ripping about their chins, yelling. 
     "Take that girl awayl What did you want to bring a girl here for? Go on awayl" 
     "She wont hurt you. We just want to watch you for a while." 
      They squatted in the water. Their heads drew into a clump, atching us, then they broke and rushed toward us, hurling water with their hands. We moved quick. 
     "Look out, boys; she wont hurt you." 
     "Go on away, Harvard!" It was the second boy, the one that thought the horse and wagon back there at the bridge. "Splash them, fellows!" 
      "Let's get out and throw them in," another said. "I aint afraid of any girl." 
     " Splash them! Splash them!" They rushed toward us, hurling water. We moved back. "Go on away!" they yelled. "Go on away!" 
      We went away. They huddled just under the bank, their slick heads in a row against the bright water. We went on. "That's not for us, is it." The sun slanted through to the moss here and there, leveller. "Poor kid, you're just a girl." Little flowers grew among the moss, littler than I had ever seen. "You're just a girl. Poor kid." There was a path, curving along beside the water. Then the water was still again, dark and still and swift. "Nothing but a girl. Poor sister."   
We lay in the wet grass panting the rain like cold shot on my back. Do you care now do you do you
     
My Lord we sure are in a mess get up. Where the rain touched my forehead it began to smart my hand came red away streaking off pink in the rain. Does it hurt
     
Of course it does what do you reckon
     
I tried to scratch your eyes out my Lord we sure do stink we better try to wash it off in the branch
   "There's town again, sister. You'll have to go home now. I've got to get back to school. Look how late it's getting. You'll go home now, wont you?" But she just looked at me with her black, secret, friendly gaze, the half-naked loaf clutched to her breast. "It's wet. I thought we jumped back in time." I took my handkerchief and tried to wipe the loaf, but the crust began to come off, so I stopped. "We'll just have to let it dry itself. Hold it like this." She held it like that. It looked kind of like rats had been eating it now.   
and the water building and building up the squatting back the sloughed mud stinking surfaceward pocking the pattering surface like grease on a hot stove. I told you I'd make you
     
I dont give a goddam what you do
      Then we heard the running and we stopped and looked back and saw him coming up the path running, the level shadows flicking upon his legs. 
     "He's in a hurry. We'd--" then I saw another man, an oldish man running heavily, clutching a stick, and a boy naked from the waist up, clutching his pants as he ran. 
     " There's Julio," the little girl said, and then I saw his Italian face and his eyes as he sprang upon me. We went down. His hands were jabbing at my face and he was saying something and trying to bite me, I reckon, and then they hauled him off and held him heaving and thrashing and yelling and they held his arms and he tried to kick me until they dragged him back. The little girl was howling, holding the loaf in both arms. The half naked boy was darting and jumping up and down, clutching his trousers and someone pulled me up in time to see another stark naked figure come around the tranquil bend in the path running and change direction in midstride and leap into the woods, a couple of garments rigid as boards behind it. Julio still struggled. The man who had pulled me up said, "Whoa, now. We got you." He wore a vest but no coat. Upon it was a met shield In his other hand he clutched a knotted, polished stick. 
     " You're Anse, aren't you?" I said. "I was looking for you. What's the matter?" 
     "I warn you that anything you say will be used aganst you," he said. "You're under arrest." 
     " I killa heem," Julio said. He struggled. Two men held him. The little girl howled steadily, holding the bread. "You steala my seester," Julio said. "Let go, meesters." 
     " Steal his sister?" I said. "Why, I've been--" 
     "Shet up," Anse said. "You can tell that to Squire." 
     " Steal his sister?" I said. Julio broke from the men and sprang at me again, but the marshal met him and they struggled until the other two pinioned his arms again. Anse released him, panting. 
     "You durn furriner," he said. "I've a good mind to take you up too, for assault and battery." He turned to me again. "Will you come peaceable, or do I handcuff you?" "I'll come peaceable," I said. "Anything, just so I can find someone--do something with-- Stole his sister," I said. "Stole his--" 
     " I've warned you," Anse said. "He aims to charge you with meditated criminal assault. Here, you, make that gal shut up that noise." 
     "Oh," I said. Then I began to laugh. Two more boys with plastered heads and round eyes came out of the bushes, buttoning shirts that had already dampened onto their shoulders and arms, and I tried to stop the laughter, but I couldn't. 
     "Watch him, Anse, he's crazy, I believe." 
     "I'll h-have to qu-quit," I said. "It'll stop in a mu-minute. The other time it said ah ah ah," I said, laughing. "Let me sit down a while." I sat down, they watching me, and the little girl with her streaked face and the gnawed looking loaf, and the water swif and peaceful below the path. After a while the laughter ran out. But my throat wouldn't quit trying to laugh, like retching after your stomach is empty. 
     "Whoa, now," Anse said. "Get a grip on yourself." 
     "Yes," I said, tightening my throat. There was another yellow butterfly, like one of the sunflecks had come loose. After a while I didn't have to hold my throat so tight. I got up. "I'm ready. Which way?" 
      We followed the path, the two others watching Julio and the little girl and the boys somewhere in the rear. The path went along the river to the bridge. We crossed it and the tracks, people coming to the doors to look at us and more boys materialising from somewhere until when we turned into the main street we had quite a procession. Before the drug store stood an auto, a big one, but I didn't recognise them until Mrs Bland said, 
     " Why, Quentin! Quentin Compson!" Then I saw Gerald, and Spoade in the back seat, sitting on the back of his neck. And Shreve. I didn't know the two girls. 
     "Quentin Compson!" Mrs Bland said. 
     " Good afternoon," I said, raising my hat. "I'm under arrest. I'm sorry I didn't get your note. Did Shreve tell you?" 
     "Under arrest?" Shreve said. "Excuse me," he said. He heaved himself up and climbed over their feet and got out. He had on a pair of my flannel pants, like a glove. I didn't remember forgetting them. I didn't remember how many chins Mrs Bland had, either. The prettiest girl was with Gerald in front, too. They watched me through veils, with a kind of delicate horror. "Who's under arrest?" Shreve said. "What's this, mister?" 
     "Gerald," Mrs Bland said. "Send these people away. You get in this car, Quentin." 
      Gerald got out. Spoade hadn't moved. 
     "What's he done, Cap?" he said. "Robbed a hen house?" 
     "I warn you," Anse said. "Do you know the prisoner?" 
     "Know him," Shreve said. "Look here--" 
     "Then you can come along to the squire's. You'reobstructing justice. Come along." He shook my arm. 
     "Well, good afternoon," I said. "I'm glad to have seen you all. Sorry I couldn't be with you." 
     "You, Gerald," Mrs Bland said. 
     "Look here, constable," Gerald said. 
     "I warn you you're interfering with an officer of the law," Anse said. "If you've anything to say, you can come to the squire's and make cognizance of the prisoner." We went on. Quite a procession now, Anse and I leading. I could hear them telling them what it was, and Spoade asking questions, and then Julio said something violently in Italian and I looked back and saw the little girl standing at the curb, looking at me with her friendly, inscrutable regard. 
     "Git on home," Julio shouted at her. "I beat hell outa you." 
      We went down the street and turned into a bit of lawn in which, set back from the street, stood a one storey building of brick trimmed with white. We went up the rock path to the door, where Anse halted everyone except us and made them remain outside. We entered, a bare room smelling of stale tobacco. There was a sheet iron stove in the center of a wooden frame filled with sand, and a faded map on the wall and the dingy plat of a township. Behind a scarred littered table a man with a fierce roach of iron gray hair peered at us over steel spectacles. 
     "Got him, did ye, Anse?" he said. 
     "Got him, Squire." 
      He opened a huge dusty book and drew it to him and dipped a foul pen into an inkwell filled with what looked like coal dust. 
     "Look here, mister," Shreve said. 
     "The prisoner's name," the squire said. I told him. He wrote it slowly into the book, the pen scratching with excruciating deliberation. 
     "Look here, mister," Shreve said. "We know this fellow. We--" 
     "Order in the court," Anse said. 
     "Shut up, bud," Spoade said. "Let him do it his way. He's going to anyhow." 
     "Age," the squire said. I told him. He wrote that, his mouth moving as he wrote. "Occupation." I told him. "Harvard student, hey?" he said. He looked up at me, bowing his neck a little to see over the spectacles. His eyes were clear and cold, like a goat's. "What are you up to, coming out here kidnapping children?" 
     "They're crazy, Squire," Shreve said. "Whoever says this boy's kidnapping--" 
      Julio moved violently. "Crazy?" he said. "Dont I catcha heem, eh? Dont I see weetha my own eyes–-" 
     "You're a liar," Shreve said. "You never--" 
     "Order, order," Anse said, raising his voice. 
     "You fellers shet up," the squire said. "If they dont stay quiet, turn 'em out, Anse." They got quiet. The squire looked at Shreve, then at Spoade, then at Gerald. "You know this young man?" he said to Spoade. 
     "Yes, your honor," Spoade said. "He's just a country boy in school up there. He dont mean any harm. I think the marshal'll find it's a mistake. His father's a congregational minister." 
     "H'm," the squire said. "What was you doing, exactly?" I told him, he watching me with his cold, pale eyes. "How about it, Anse?" 
     "Might have been," Anse said. "Them durn furriners." 
     "I American," Julio said. "I gotta da pape'." 
     "Where's the gal?" 
     "He sent her home," Anse said. 
     "Was she scared or anything?" 
     "Not till Julio there jumped on the prisoner. They were just walking along the river path, towards town. Some boys swimming told us which way they went." 
     "It's a mistake, Squire," Spoade said. "Children and dogs are always taking up with him like that. He cant help it." 
     "H'm," the squire said. He looked out of the window for a while. We watched him. I could hear Julio scratching himself. The squire looked back. 
     "Air you satisfied the gal aint took any hurt, you, there?" 
     "No hurt now," Julio said sullenly. 
     "You quit work to hunt for her?" 
     "Sure I quit. I run. I run like hell. Looka here, looka there, then man tella me he seen him give her she eat. She go weetha." 
     "H'm," the squire said. "Well, son, I calculate you owe Julio something for taking him away from his work." 
     "Yes, sir," I said. "How much?" 
     "Dollar, I calculate." 
      I gave Julio a dollar. 
     "Well," Spoade said. "If that's all--I reckon he's discharged, your honor?" 
      The squire didn't look at him. "How far'd you run him, Anse?" 
     "Two miles, at least. It was about two hours before we caught him." 
     "H'm," the squire said. He mused a while. We watched him, his stiff crest, the spectacles riding low on his nose. The yellow shape of the window grew slowly across the floor, reached the wall, climbing. Dust motes whirled and slanted. "Six dollars." 
     "Six dollars?" Shreve said. "What's that for?" 
     "Six dollars," the squire said. He looked at Shreve a moment, then at me again. 
     "Look here," Shreve said.