The sound and the fury
“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
honour?”
The squire didn’t look at him. “How far’d you run him, Anse?”
“Two miles, at least. It was about two hours before we caught him.”
“H’m,” the squire said. He mused a while. We watched him, his stiff
crest, the spectacles riding low on his nose. The yellow shape of the
window grew slowly across the 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.
“Shut up,” Spoade said. “Give it to him, bud, and let’s get out of here.
The ladies are waiting for us. You got six dollars?”
“Yes,” I said. I gave him six dollars.
“Case dismissed,” he said.
“You get a receipt,” Shreve said. “You get a signed receipt for that
money.”
The squire looked at Shreve mildly. “Case dismissed,” he said without
raising his voice.
“I’ll be damned—” Shreve said.
“Come on here,” Spoade said, taking his arm. “Good afternoon, Judge.
Much obliged.” As we passed out the door Julio’s voice rose again,
violent, then ceased. Spoade was looking at me, his brown eyes
quizzical, a little cold. “Well, bud, I reckon you’ll do your girl
chasing in Boston after this.”
“You damned fool,” Shreve said, “What the hell do you mean anyway,
straggling off here, fooling with these damn wops?”
“Come on,” Spoade said, “They must be getting impatient.”
Mrs Bland was talking to them. They were Miss Holmes and Miss
Daingerfield and they quit listening to her and looked at me again with
that delicate and curious horror, their veils turned back upon their
little white noses and their eyes fleeing and mysterious beneath the
veils.
“Quentin Compson,” Mrs Bland said, “What would your mother say? A young
man naturally gets into scrapes, but to be arrested on foot by a country
policeman. What did they think he’d done, Gerald?”
“Nothing,” Gerald said.
“Nonsense. What was it, you, Spoade?”
“He was trying to kidnap that little dirty girl, but they caught him in
time,” Spoade said.
“Nonsense,” Mrs Bland said, but her voice sort of died away and she
stared at me for a moment, and the girls drew their breaths in with a
soft concerted sound. “Fiddlesticks,” Mrs Bland said briskly, “If that
isn’t just like these ignorant lowclass Yankees. Get in, Quentin.”
Shreve and I sat on two small collapsible seats. Gerald cranked the car
and got in and we started.
“Now, Quentin, you tell me what all this foolishness is about,” Mrs
Bland said. I told them, Shreve hunched and furious on his little seat
and Spoade sitting again on the back of his neck beside Miss
Daingerfield.
“And the joke is, all the time Quentin had us all fooled,” Spoade said.
“All the time we thought he was the model youth that anybody could trust
a daughter with, until the police showed him up at his nefarious work.”
“Hush up, Spoade,” Mrs Bland said. We drove down the street and crossed
the bridge and passed the house where the pink garment hung in the
window. “That’s what you get for not reading my note. Why didnt you come
and get it? Mr MacKenzie says he told you it was there.”
“Yessum. I intended to, but I never went back to the room.”
“You’d have let us sit there waiting I dont know how long, if it hadnt
been for Mr MacKenzie. When he said you hadnt come back, that left an
extra place, so we asked him to come. We’re very glad to have you
anyway, Mr MacKenzie.” Shreve said nothing. His arms were folded and he
glared straight ahead past Gerald’s cap. It was a cap for motoring in
England. Mrs Bland said so. We passed that house, and three others, and
another yard where the little girl stood by the gate. She didnt have the
bread now, and her face looked like it had been streaked with coaldust.
I waved my hand, but she made no reply, only her head turned slowly as
the car passed, following us with her unwinking gaze. Then we ran beside
the wall, our shadows running along the wall, and after a while we
passed a piece of torn newspaper lying beside the road and I began to
laugh again. I could feel it in my throat and I looked off into the
trees where the afternoon slanted, thinking of afternoon and of the bird
and the boys in swimming. But still I couldnt stop it and then I knew
that if I tried too hard to stop it I’d be crying and I thought about
how I’d thought about I could not be a virgin, with so many of them
walking along in the shadows and whispering with their soft girlvoices
lingering in the shadowy places and the words coming out and perfume and
eyes you could feel not see, but if it was that simple to do it wouldnt
be anything and if it wasnt anything, what was I and then Mrs Bland
said, “Quentin? Is he sick, Mr MacKenzie?” and then Shreve’s fat hand
touched my knee and Spoade began talking and I quit trying to stop it.
“If that hamper is in his way, Mr MacKenzie, move it over on your side.
I brought a hamper of wine because I think young gentlemen should drink
wine, although my father, Gerald’s grandfather” _ever do that Have you
ever done that In the grey darkness a little light her hands locked
about_
“They do, when they can get it,” Spoade said. “Hey, Shreve?” _her knees
her face looking at the sky the smell of honeysuckle upon her face and
throat_
“Beer, too,” Shreve said. His hand touched my knee again. I moved my
knee again. _like a thin wash of lilac coloured paint talking about him
bringing_
“You’re not a gentleman,” Spoade said. _him between us until the shape
of her blurred not with dark_
“No. I’m Canadian,” Shreve said. _talking about him the oar blades
winking him along winking the Cap made for motoring in England and all
time rushing beneath and they two blurred within the other forever more
he had been in the army had killed men_
“I adore Canada,” Miss Daingerfield said. “I think it’s marvellous.”
“Did you ever drink perfume?” Spoade said. _with one hand he could lift
her to his shoulder and run with her running Running_
“No,” Shreve said. _running the beast with two backs and she blurred in
the winking oars running the swine of Euboeleus running coupled within
how many Caddy_
“Neither did I,” Spoade said. _I dont know too many there was
something terrible in me terrible in me Father I have committed Have you
ever done that We didnt we didnt do that did we do that_
“and Gerald’s grandfather always picked his own mint before breakfast,
while the dew was still on it. He wouldnt even let old Wilkie touch it
do you remember Gerald but always gathered it himself and made his own
julep. He was as crochety about his julep as an old maid, measuring
everything by a recipe in his head. There was only one man he ever gave
that recipe to; that was” _we did how can you not know it if youll just
wait I’ll tell you how it was it was a crime we did a terrible crime it
cannot be hid you think it can but wait Poor Quentin youve never done
that have you and I’ll tell you how it was I’ll tell Father then itll
have to be because you love Father then we’ll have to go away amid the
pointing and the horror the clean flame I’ll make you say we did I’m
stronger than you I’ll make you know we did you thought it was them but_
_it was me listen I fooled you all the time it was me you thought I was
in the house where that damn honeysuckle trying not to think the swing
the cedars the secret surges the breathing locked drinking the wild
breath the yes Yes Yes yes_ “never be got to drink wine himself, but he
always said that a hamper what book did you read that in the one where
Geralds rowing suit of wine was a necessary part of any gentlemen’s
picnic basket” _did you love them Caddy did you love them When they
touched me I died_
one minute she was standing there the next he was yelling and pulling at
her dress they went into the hall and up the stairs yelling and shoving
at her up the stairs to the bathroom door and stopped her back against
the door and her arm across her face yelling and trying to shove her
into the bathroom when she came in to supper T. P. was feeding him he
started again just whimpering at first until she touched him then he
yelled she stood there her eyes like cornered rats then I was running in
the grey darkness it smelled of rain and all flower scents the damp warm
air released and crickets sawing away in the grass pacing me with a
small travelling island of silence Fancy watched me across the fence
blotchy like a quilt on a line I thought damn that nigger he forgot to
feed her again I ran down the hill in that vacuum of crickets like a
breath travelling across a mirror she was lying in the water her head on
the sand spit the water flowing about her hips there was a little more
light in the water her skirt half saturated flopped along her flanks to
the waters motion in heavy ripples going nowhere renewed themselves of
their own movement I stood on the bank I could smell the honeysuckle on
the water gap the air seemed to drizzle with honeysuckle and with the
rasping of crickets a substance you could feel on the flesh
is Benjy still crying
I dont know yes I dont know
poor Benjy
I sat down on the bank the grass was damp a little then I found my shoes
wet
get out of that water are you crazy
but she didnt move her face was a white blur framed out of the blur of
the sand by her hair
get out now
she sat up then she rose her skirt flopped against her draining she
climbed the bank her clothes flopping sat down
why dont you wring it out do you want to catch cold
yes
the water sucked and gurgled across the sand spit and on in the dark
among the willows across the shallow the water rippled like a piece of
cloth holding still a little light as water does
he’s crossed all the oceans all around the world
then she talked about him clasping her wet knees her face tilted back in
the grey light the smell of honeysuckle there was a light in mothers
room and in Benjys where T. P. was putting him to bed
do you love him
her hand came out I didnt move it fumbled down my arm and she held my
hand flat against her chest her heart thudding
no no
did he make you then he made you do it let him he was stronger than you
and he tomorrow Ill kill him I swear I will father neednt know until
afterward and then you and I nobody need ever know we can take my school
money we can cancel my matriculation Caddy you hate him dont you dont
you
she held my hand against her chest her heart thudding I turned and
caught her arm
Caddy you hate him dont you
she moved my hand up against her throat her heart was hammering there
poor Quentin
her face looked at the sky it was low so low that all smells and sounds
of night seemed to have been crowded down like under a slack tent
especially the honeysuckle it had got into my breathing it was on her
face and throat like paint her blood pounded against my hand I was
leaning on my other arm it began to jerk and jump and I had to pant to
get any air at all out of that thick grey honeysuckle
yes I hate him I would die for him I’ve already died for him I die for
him over and over again everytime this goes
when I lifted my hand I could still feel crisscrossed twigs and grass
burning into the palm
poor Quentin
she leaned back on her arms her hands locked about her knees
youve never done that have you
what done what
that what I have what I did
yes yes lots of times with lots of girls
then I was crying her hand touched me again and I was crying against her
damp blouse then she lying on her back looking past my head into the sky
I could see a rim of white under her irises I opened my knife