But he had been guide mentor and friend to unnumbered crops of innocent and lonely freshmen, and I suppose that with all his petty chicanery and hypocrisy he stank no higher in heaven’s nostrils than any other.
“Haven’t seen you in three-four days,” he said, staring at me from his still military aura. “You been sick?”
“No. I’ve been allright. Working, I reckon. I’ve seen you, though.” “Yes?”
“In the parade the other day.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I was there. I dont care nothing about that sort of thing, you understand, but the boys likes to have me with them, the vet’runs does. Ladies wants allthe old vet’runs to turn out, you know. So I has to oblige them.”
“And on that Wop holiday too,” I said. “You were obliging the W. C. T. U. then, I reckon.” “That? I was doing that for my son-in-law. He aims to get a job on the city forces. Street
cleaner. I tells himallhe wants is a broomto sleep on. You saw me, did you?” “Both times. Yes.”
“I mean, in uniform. How’d I look?”
“You looked fine. You looked better than any of them. They ought to make you a general, Deacon.”
He touched my arm, lightly, his hand that worn, gentle quality of niggers’ hands. “Listen. This aint for outside talking. I dont mind telling you because you and me’s the same folks, come long and short.” He leaned a little to me, speaking rapidly, his eyes not looking at me. “I’ve got strings out, right now. Wait till next year. Just wait. Then see where I’m marching. I wont need to tell you how I’mfixing it; I say, just wait and see, my boy.” He looked at me now and clapped me lightly on the shoulder and rocked back on his heels, nodding at me. “Yes, sir. I didnt turn Democrat three years ago for nothing. My son-in-law on the city; me—Yes, sir. If just turning Democrat’ll make that son of a bitch go to work. . . . And me: just you stand on that corner yonder a year fromtwo days ago, and see.”
“I hope so. You deserve it, Deacon. And while I think about it—” I took the letter from my pocket. “Take this around to my roomtomorrow and give it to Shreve. He’ll have something for you. But not tilltomorrow, mind.”
He took the letter and examined it. “It’s sealed up.” “Yes. And it’s written inside, Not good untiltomorrow.”
“H’m,” he said. He looked at the envelope, his mouth pursed. “Something for me, you say?” “Yes. A present I’mmaking you.”
He was looking at me now, the envelope white in his black hand, in the sun. His eyes were soft and irisless and brown, and suddenly I saw Roskus watching me frombehind all his white-folks’ claptrap of uniforms and politics and Harvard manner, diffident, secret, inarticulate and sad. “You aint playing a joke on the old nigger, is you?”
“You know I’mnot. Did any Southerner ever play a joke on you?” “You’re right. They’re fine folks. But you cant live with them.”
“Did you ever try?” I said. But Roskus was gone. Once more he was that self he had long since taught himself to wear in the world’s eye, pompous, spurious, not quite gross.
“I’llconfer to your wishes, my boy.” “Not untiltomorrow, remember.”
“Sure,” he said; “understood, my boy. Well—”
“I hope—” I said. He looked down at me, benignant, profound. Suddenly I held out my hand and we shook, he gravely, from the pompous height of his municipal and military dream. “You’re a good fellow, Deacon. I hope. . . . You’ve helped a lot of young fellows, here and there.”
“I’ve tried to treat all folks right,” he said. “I draw no petty social lines. A man to me is a man, wherever I find him.”
“I hope you’llalways find as many friends as you’ve made.”
“Young fellows. I get along with them. They dont forget me, neither,” he said, waving the envelope. He put it into his pocket and buttoned his coat. “Yes, sir,” he said, “I’ve had good friends.”
The chimes began again, the half hour. I stood in the belly of my shadow and listened to the strokes spaced and tranquil along the sunlight, among the thin, still little leaves. Spaced and peaceful and serene, with that quality of autumn always in bells even in the month of brides. Lying on the ground under the window bellowing He took one look at her and knew. Out of the mouths of babes. The street lamps The chimes ceased. I went back to the postoffice, treading my shadow into pavement. go down the hill then they rise toward town like lanterns hung one above another on a wall. Father said because she loves Caddy she loves people through their shortcomings. Uncle Maury straddling his legs before the fire must remove one hand long enough to drink Christmas.
Jason ran on, his hands in his pockets fell down and lay there like a trussed fowl until Versh set him up. Whyn’t you keep them hands outen your pockets when you running you could stand up then Rolling his head in the cradle rolling it flat across the back. Caddy told Jason Versh said that the reason Uncle Maury didn’t work was that he used to rollhis head in the cradle when he was little.
Shreve was coming up the walk, shambling, fatly earnest, his glasses glinting beneath the running leaves like little pools.
“I gave Deacon a note for some things. I may not be in this afternoon, so dont you let him have anything untiltomorrow, willyou?”
“All right.” He looked at me. “Say, what’re you doing today, anyhow? All dressed up and mooning around like the prologue to a suttee. Did you go to Psychology this morning?”
“I’mnot doing anything. Not untiltomorrow, now.” “What’s that you got there?”
“Nothing. Pair of shoes I had half-soled. Not untiltomorrow, you hear?”
“Sure. Allright. Oh, by the way, did you get a letter off the table this morning?” “No.”
“It’s there. FromSemiramis. Chauffeur brought it before ten o’clock.” “Allright. I’llget it. Wonder what she wants now.”
“Another band recital, I guess. Tumpty ta ta Gerald blah. ‘A little louder on the drum, Quentin.’ God, I’m glad I’m not a gentleman.” He went on, nursing a book, a little shapeless, fatly intent. The street lamps do you think so because one of our forefathers was a governor and three were generals and Mother’s weren’t any live man is better than any dead man but no live or dead man is very much better than any other live or dead man Done in Mother’s mind though. Finished. Finished. Then we were all poisoned you are confusing sin and morality women dont do that your Mother is thinking of morality whether it be sin or not has not occurred to her Jason I must go away you keep the others I’ll take Jason and go where nobody knows us so he’ll have a chance to grow up and forget all this the others dont love me they have never loved anything with that streak of Compson selfishness and false pride Jason was the only one my heart went out to without dread nonsense Jason is all right I was thinking that as soon as you feel better you and Caddy might go up to French Lick and leave Jason here with nobody but you and the darkies she willforget himthen allthe talk willdie away found not death at the salt licks maybe I could find a husband for her not death at the salt licks The car came up and stopped. The bells were still ringing the half hour. I got on and it went on again, blotting the half hour. No: the three quarters.
Then it would be ten minutes anyway. To leave Harvard your Mother’s dream for sold Benjy’s pasture for what have I done to have been given children like these Benjamin was punishment enough and now for her to have no more regard for me her own mother I’ve suffered for her dreamed and planned and sacrificed I went down into the valley yet never since she opened her eyes has she given me one unselfish thought at times I look at her I wonder if she can be my child except Jason he has never given me one moment’s sorrow since I first held him in my arms I knew then that he was to be my joy and my salvation I thought that Benjamin was punishment enough for any sins I have committed I thought he was my punishment for putting aside my pride and marrying a man who held himself above me I dont complain I loved him above all of them because of it because my duty though Jason pulling at my heart all the while but I see now that I have not suffered enough I see now that I must pay for your sins as well as mine what have you done what sins have your high and mighty people visited upon me but you’ll take up for themyou always have found excuses for your own blood only Jason can do wrong because he is more Bascomb than Compson while your own daughter my little daughter my baby girl she is she is no better than that when I was a girl I was unfortunate I was
