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

illiantine which Popeye used on his hair. She did not see Popeye at all when he entered
and passed her; she did not know he had entered yet; she was waiting for him; until
Tommy entered, following Popeye. Tommy crept into the room, also soundless; she
would have been no more aware of his entrance than of Popeye's, if it hadn't been for his
eyes. They glowed, breast-high, with a profound interrogation, then they disappeared and
the woman could then feel him, squatting beside her; she knew that he too was looking
toward the bed over which Popeye stood in the darkness, upon which Temple and Gowan
lay, with Gowan snoring and choking and snoring. The woman stood just inside the door.
She could hear no sound from the shucks, so she remained motionless beside the
door, with Tommy squatting beside her, his face toward the invisible bed. Then she
smelled the brilliantine again. Or rather, she felt Tommy move from beside her, without a
sound, as though the stealthy evacuation of his position blew soft and cold upon her in
the black silence; without seeing or hearing him, she knew that he had crept again from
the room, following Popeye. She heard them go down the hall; the last sound died out of
the house. She went to the bed. Temple did not move until the woman touched her. Then
she began to struggle. The woman found Temple's mouth and put her hand over it,
though Temple had not attempted to scream. She lay on the shuck mattress, turning and
thrashing her body from side to side, rolling her head, holding the coat together across
her breast but making no sound.
"You fool!" the woman said in a thin, fierce whisper. "It's me. It's just me."
Temple ceased to roll her head, but she still thrashed from side to side beneath the
woman's hand. "I'll tell my father!" she said. "I'll tell my father!"
The woman held her. "Get up," she said. Temple ceased to struggle. She lay still,
rigid. The woman could hear her wild breathing. "Will you get up and walk quiet?" the
woman said.
"Yes!" Temple said. "Will you get me out of here? Will you? Will you?"
"Yes," the woman said. "Get up." Temple got up, the shucks whispering. In the
further darkness Gowan snored, savage and profound. At first Temple couldn't stand
alone. The woman held her up. "Stop it," the woman said. "You've got to stop it. You've
got to be quiet."
"I want my clothes," Temple whispered. "I haven't got anything on but . . ."
"Do you want your clothes," the woman said, "or do you want to get out of here?"
"Yes," Temple said. "Anything. If you'll just get me out of here."
On their bare feet they moved like ghosts. They left the house and crossed the
porch and went on toward the barn. When they were about fifty yards from the house the
woman stopped and turned and jerked Temple up to her, and gripping her by the
shoulders, their faces close together, she cursed Temple in a whisper, a sound no louder
than a sigh and filled with fury. Then she flung her away and they went on. They entered
the hallway. It was pitch black. Temple heard the woman fumbling at the wall. A door
creaked open; the woman took her arm and guided her up a single step into a floored
room where she could feel walls and smell a faint, dusty odor of grain, and closed the
door behind them. As she did so something rushed invisibly nearby in a scurrying
scrabble, a dying whisper of fairy feet. Temple whirled, treading on something that rolled
under her foot, and sprang toward the woman.
"It's just a rat," the woman said, but Temple hurled herself upon the other,
flinging her arms about her, trying to snatch both feet from the floor.