You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
Falconer 100<br />
beaches and graves and other matters he had unearthed in seeking<br />
the meaning of his friendship, he had completely overlooked the<br />
conspiratorial thrill of seeing his beloved escape.<br />
Tiny called the lockup for eight and made the usual jokes about<br />
beauty sleep and meat-beating. He said, of course, that he wanted<br />
his men to look beautiful for the cardinal. He pulled the light<br />
switch at nine. The only light was the television. Farragut went to<br />
bed and to sleep. The roar of the toilet woke him and then he<br />
heard thunder. At first the noise pleased and excited him. The<br />
random explosions of thunder seemed to explain that heaven was<br />
not an infinity but a solid construction of domes, rotundas and<br />
arches. Then he remembered that the flier had said that in case of<br />
rain the ceremony would be canceled. The thought of a<br />
thunderstorm inaugurating a rainy day deeply disturbed him.<br />
Naked, he went to the window. This naked man was worried. If it<br />
rained there would be no escape, no cardinal, no nothing. Have<br />
pity upon him, then; try to understand his fears. He was lonely.<br />
His love, his world, his everything, was gone. He wanted to see a<br />
cardinal in a helicopter. Thunderstorms, he thought hopefully,<br />
could bring in anything. They could bring in a cold front, a hot<br />
front, a day when the clearness of the light would seem to carry<br />
one from hour to hour. Then the rain began. It poured into the<br />
prison and that part of the world. But it lasted only ten minutes.<br />
Then the rain, the storm, swept mercifully off to the north and just<br />
as swiftly and just as briefly that rank and vigorous odor that is<br />
detonated by the rain flew up to and above where Farragut stood<br />
at his barred window. He had, with his long, long nose, responded<br />
to this cutting fragrance wherever he had been—shouting,<br />
throwing out his arms, pouring a drink. Now there was a trace, a<br />
memory, of this primitive excitement, but it had been cruelly<br />
eclipsed by the bars. He got back into bed and fell asleep, listening<br />
to the rain dripping from the gun towers.