William Faulkner, SANCTUARY â WordPress.com - literature save 2

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On the night of the nineteenth he telephoned her again. He had some trouble in getting in touch with her. " They're gone," she said. "Both of them. Dont you read no papers?" "What papers?" Horace said. "Hello. Hello!" "They aint here no more, I said," Miss Reba said. "I dont know nuttin about them and I dont want to know nuttin except who's going to pay me a week's room rent on--" "But cant you find where she went to? I may need her." "I dont know nuttin and I dont want to know nuttin," Miss Reba said. He heard the receiver click. Yet the disconnection was not made at once. He heard the receiver thud onto the table where the telephone sat, and he could hear Miss Reba shouting for Minnie: "Minnie. Minnie!" Then some hand lifted the receiver and set it onto the hook; the wire clicked in his ear. After a while a detached Delsarte-ish voice said: "Pine Bluff dizzent . . . Enkyew!" The trial opened the next day. On the table lay the sparse objects which the District Attorney was offering: the bullet from Tommy's skull, a stoneware jug containing corn whisky. "I will call Mrs. Goodwin to the stand," Horace said. He did not look back. He could feel Goodwin's eyes on his back as he helped the woman into the chair. She was sworn, the child lying on her lap. She repeated the story as she had told it to him on the day after the child was ill. Twice Goodwin tried to interrupt and was silenced by the Court. Horace would not look at him. The woman finished her story. She sat erect in the chair, in her neat, worn gray dress and hat with the darned veil, the purple ornament on her shoulder. The child lay on her lap, its eyes closed in that drugged immobility. For a while her hand hovered about its face, performing those needless maternal actions as though unawares. Horace went and sat down. Then only did he look at Goodwin. But the other sat quietly now, his arms folded and his head bent a little, but Horace could see that his nostrils were waxy white with rage against his dark face. He leaned toward him and whispered, but Goodwin did not move. The District Attorney now faced the woman. "Mrs. Goodwin," he said, "what was the date of your marriage to Mr. Goodwin?" "I object!" Horace said, on his feet. "Can the prosecution show this question is relevant?" the Court said. "I waive, your Honor," the District Attorney said, glancing at the jury. When court adjourned for the day Goodwin said bitterly: "Well, you've said you would kill me someday, but I didn't think you meant it. I didn't think that you--" "Dont be a fool," Horace said. "Dont you see your case is won? That they are reduced to trying to impugn the character of your witness?" But when they left the jail he found the woman still watching him from some deep reserve of foreboding. "You mustn't worry at all, I tell you. You may know more about making whiskey or love than I do, but I know more about criminal procedure than you, remember." "You dont think I made a mistake?" "I know you didn't. Dont you see how that explodes their case? The best they can hope for now is a hung jury. And the chances of that are not one in fifty. I tell you, he'll walk out of that jail tomorrow a free man."
"Then I guess it's time to think about paying you." "Yes," Horace said, "all right. I'll come out tonight." "Tonight?" "Yes. He may call you back to the stand tomorrow. We'd better prepare for it, anyway." At eight o'clock he entered the mad woman's yard. A single light burned in the crazy depths of the house, like a firefly caught in a brier patch, but the woman did not appear when he called. He went to the door and knocked. A shrill voice shouted something; he waited a moment. He was about to knock again when he heard the voice again, shrill and wild and faint, as though from a distance, like a reedy pipe buried by an avalanche. He circled the house in the rank, waist-high weeds. The kitchen door was open. The lamp was there, dim in a smutty chimney, filling the room-a jumble of looming shapes rank with old foul female flesh-not with light but with shadow. White eyeballs rolled in a high, tight bullet head in brown gleams above a torn singlet strapped into overalls. Beyond the negro the mad woman turned in an open cupboard, brushing her lank hair back with her forearm. "Your bitch has gone to jail," she said. "Go on with her." "Jail?" Horace said. "That's what I said. Where the good folks live. When you get a husband, keep him in jail where he cant bother you." She turned to the negro, a small flask in her hand. "Come on, dearie. Give me a dollar for it. You got plenty money." Horace returned to town, to the jail. They admitted him. He mounted the stairs; the jailer locked a door behind him. The woman admitted him to the cell. The child lay on the cot. Goodwin sat beside it, his arms crossed, his legs extended in the attitude of a man in the last stage of physical exhaustion. "Why are you sitting there, in front of that slit?" Horace said. "Why not get into the corner, and we'll put the mattress over you." "You come to see it done, did you?" Goodwin said. "Well, that's no more than right. It's your job. You promised I wouldn't hang, didn't you?" "You've got an hour yet," Horace said. "The Memphis train doesn't get here until eight-thirty. He's surely got better sense than to come here in that canary-colored car." He turned to the woman. "But you. I thought better of you. I know that he and I are fools, but I expected better of you." "You're doing her a favor," Goodwin said. "She might have hung on with me until she was too old to hustle a good man. If you'll just promise to get the kid a newspaper grift when he's old enough to make change, I'll be easy in my mind." The woman had returned to the cot. She lifted the child onto her lap. Horace went to her. He said: "You come on, now. Nothing's going to happen. He'll be all right here. He knows it. You've got to go home and get some sleep, because you'll both be leaving here tomorrow. Come, now." "I reckon I better stay," she said. "Damn it, dont you know that putting yourself in the position for disaster is the surest way in the world to bring it about? Hasn't your own experience shown you that? Lee knows it. Lee, make her stop this." "Go on, Ruby," Goodwin said. "Go home and go to bed."
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William Faulkner SANCTUARY First pu
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"Through all them trees?" Popeye sa
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and stooped above an open packing c
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somebody else's wife, you start off
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Tommy guffawed, in undertone. The r
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"Some women want a man to marry a c
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slanted against the glare. The brok
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small clouds rosy with sunlight dro
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"Putty hard walkin', aint it?" he s
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stand fer nobody drinkin' hyer cep
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They went on in the path. Popeye wa
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we stopped at Dumfries and he went
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worth, and all the rest of it you t
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"Here," Gowan said across the table
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there, he said, stopping, then he s
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They swung Gowan onto the bed. His
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at her with a quality furious and q
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"A rat?" she wailed, "a rat? Open t
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The blind man's stick clattered aga
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Temple sprang back into the kitchen
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house. Instead he went on across th
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she was about halfway back to the h
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"Goodwin and I were both talking. H
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him who was already dead singing ab
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"And go on back to Kinston until th
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"You dont think I am lawyer enough,
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kept on talking, sitting there in h
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"No," he said, "I didn't. I didn't
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together, listening to the hot minu
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They reached Memphis in mid-afterno
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glared with choleric ferocity, thei
Page 63 and 64: and hurled the covers over her head
Page 65 and 66: owl and pitcher and a row of towels
Page 67 and 68: "But that girl," Horace said. "she
Page 69 and 70: "Yes; Gowan. And, by the Lord, he'd
Page 71 and 72: Horace. He could hear them breathin
Page 73 and 74: delicate paradox, as though the Cre
Page 75 and 76: shoulders and his gestures. The tra
Page 77 and 78: She took shape vaguely, approaching
Page 79 and 80: As the train neared Memphis Virgil
Page 81 and 82: "Caint be her husband," Fonzo said.
Page 83 and 84: When they reached home Fonzo stoppe
Page 85 and 86: "This is Snopes," he said. "How're
Page 87 and 88: "And what's your price?" Horace sai
Page 89 and 90: special bed made and sent down here
Page 91 and 92: to herself sitting on the bed, list
Page 93 and 94: teacher in school and it was a litt
Page 95 and 96: Temple turned from the door and sto
Page 97 and 98: she smoked swiftly, moving about th
Page 99 and 100: toward his armpit. He caught her wr
Page 101 and 102: still alive; she felt long shudderi
Page 103 and 104: and black and navy blue, and glitte
Page 105 and 106: "Beer? Beer? Is somebody--" "Put th
Page 107 and 108: They began to talk politely, in dec
Page 109 and 110: "I knew it all the time," Miss Reba
Page 111 and 112: "Going down to Jackson for a couple
Page 113: Two days before it opened Snopes em
Page 117 and 118: "Yes," she said. She held the bon-b
Page 119 and 120: man is going to let me walk out of
Page 121 and 122: "Sustained," the Court said. "Strik
Page 123 and 124: "He had the pistol in his hand. Wha
Page 125 and 126: loomed. In the yard, beneath the ba
Page 127 and 128: he said, when Horace descended from
Page 129 and 130: "The strikers. I dont care a damn w
Page 131 and 132: "What's your name? Calvin Coolidge?
Page 133 and 134: "Sure. Tell it to them. I dont know
Page 135: he quit jerking his neck and stood
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