<h1 class="pgc-h-center-line" data-track="1" > burnt horse shed</h1>
William faulkner
Translated by Cai Hui
The sheriff borrowed the grocery store to sit in the hall and asked about the case, and there was a smell of cheese in the grocery store. The children sitting hunched over the crowded shop with hats in their hats felt that they smelled not only a smell of cheese, but also something else. As he sat there, he could see that the rows of shelves were densely packed with cans, all of which looked like low piers, sturdy, and full of energy, and he had secretly recognized the signboard paper attached to the can, but not the words on the signboard paper, and he could not read half a big word, he recognized the bright red spicy roast meat and the silver-white curved fish painted on it. Not only did he smell cheese, but he also felt as if he had smelled canned meat in his stomach, and these two smells came from time to time, but they were always short-lived, fleeting, so that there was only another smell that was always haunting, not only a smell, but also a feeling that made people feel a little afraid and uneasy, and more of a sad and desperate, and the heart mouth was the same as before, feeling that a cavity of hot blood was rushing upwards. He couldn't see the table where the sheriff was acting, where Dad and Dad's enemies were standing. (It was in that desperate mood that he secretly thought: That is our enemy, it is ours!) Not only his, but mine! He's my dad! Although he couldn't see them, he could hear them talking, in fact, he could only say that he could hear the two of them talking, because Dad hadn't opened his mouth yet.
"Mr. Harris, what evidence do you have?"
"I've already said that. His pigs came to eat my corn. The first time I was called to catch it, I gave it back to him. But his fence couldn't hold the pigs at all. I told him to be on guard. The second time I kept the pig in my pigsty. When he came to take it back, I gave him a big bundle of wire and asked him to go back and repair the pigsty. The third time I had to keep the pig and feed it for him. I rushed to his house to have a look, and the wire I had given him was not at all rolled on the tube and thrown in the yard. I told him that he could bring the pigs back for a dollar. At dusk that day, a took a piece of money and came to take the pig away. That I've never seen before. He said, 'He wants me to take care of you, saying it's wood and hay, and it's a little bit.' I said, 'What do you say?' The said, 'This is what he wants me to take care of you: Wood and hay, one point.' That night my stable caught fire. The cattle were rescued, but the stables were burned down. ”
Where is that? Did you find him? ”
That I've never seen before, yes. I don't know where he went. ”
"That's not evidence. Can't count as evidence, understand? ”
"Call the kid and say hello." He knew. The child at first only meant his brother, but Harris immediately continued, "Not him." Is the small one. It's the kid. The child who was curled up in the back, seeing that there was a path in the pile between him and the table, immediately cracked open, and two rows of iron faces on either side, and at the end of the road was a half-white-haired, bespectacled sheriff, who did not wear a hard collar, and had a shabby look, and was waving at him there. The child was too short to match his age, but he was as short and strong as his father, the patched faded overalls were too small to wear on him, the straight brown hair was fluffy and sparse, and the gray eyes were angry, like the wind before the thunderstorm. When he saw the beckoning call to him, he immediately felt as if there was no floor under the bare footboard; as he walked step by step, the faces of the two rows of iron plates that turned their heads together to look at him were clearly like a thousand pounds of weight on him. His dad, dressed in a decent black coat (not for the trial, but for the move), stood straight up, not looking at him. That terrible feeling of sadness and despair was in his heart again, and he thought to himself: He wants me to lie, and I can't help but tell this lie.
The sheriff asked, "Son, what's your name?" ”
The child replied in a low voice, "'Colonel Sartorius' Snowps." ”
"Huh?" The sheriff said, "Say it louder." 'Colonel Sartorius'? People in our local name using Colonel Sartorius' name, I guess we can't help but tell the truth, right? The child did not say a word, and thought in his heart: Enemy! foe! For a moment he couldn't see anything in his eyes, so he didn't see that the sheriff's look was actually very kind, nor did he hear the sheriff ask the man named Harris in an unhappy tone: "You want me to ask this child?" But he heard these words, and the next few seconds passed so slowly that there was no sound in this crowded little shop except for nervous whispered breathing, and he felt as if he had grabbed the tip of a vine, swung out like a swing, and flew above the mighty deep stream, and just when he reached this highest point, the center of the earth seemed to lose its suction, so he hung there all the time, unable to feel the passage of time.
"Forget it!" Harris thundered and said menacingly, "Hell! You send him away. So the child immediately felt that the fluid time was flowing fast under his feet again, the smell of cheese and canned meat, the fear and despair, the long-standing pain of hot blood, all coming and going, and in the midst of the chaos, there were voices:
"The case was closed. I can't convict you, Snopps, but I can give you advice. You still leave the local area and don't come back in the future. ”
Dad opened his mouth for the first time, and his voice was cold and harsh, flat and flat, without a hint of weight: "I'm going to move away." Honestly, there are some places where I really don't want to live, but I can't touch some..." The next words are really obscene, but they are not directed at any one.
"That's fine." The sheriff said, "Let's go in your cart before dark." It is hereby declared inadmissible in this case. ”
Dad turned around, and the boy followed the hard black coat. Although Dad was a lean man, he was not very able to walk, because when he stole a horse to escape thirty years ago, he had eaten a bullet from the Confederate pickets on his heels. In the blink of an eye, his front suddenly turned into two backs, and it turned out that his brother had come out of the pile of people out of nowhere, and his brother was only as tall as his father, but his physique was thicker, and he chewed the tobacco leaves that could not be chewed all day. They walked past the two rows of iron-faced men, out of the store, through the dilapidated front porch, across the sunken steps, only to be greeted by puppies and small children stepping in the soft dust of May. As he walked by, he heard a voice quietly cursing:
"The thief who burned the horse shed!"
He turned around sharply, but his eyes could not see things clearly; he only felt that there was a face in the red mist, like the moon, but it was bigger than the full moon, and the owner of that face was half shorter than himself, he aimed at that face and threw himself into the red fog, although his head hit a mouth to chew mud, he felt that he was not beaten, nor was he afraid, so he got up and threw himself again, this time he did not punch, nor did he taste the taste of blood, and when he got up again, he saw that the child had run away without a life. He pulled up his legs and chased after him, but Daddy's hand pulled him back, and the harsh cold voice above his head said, "Go, get to the big car." ”
The cart was parked in a thicket of locust and mulberry trees across the road. His two thick-waisted sisters were dressed in holiday clothes, while his mother and aunt were dressed in floral cloth and wearing sunhats, and they had already gotten into the big car and sat in the furniture clutter. Even the children remember that they have moved more than a dozen homes, and all that is left to move around is these poor things--the old stove, the broken bed and the broken chair, the clock with the shell, the clock is still the dowry of the mother, and I can't remember from what year, month, and day, it stopped at about 2:14 and never left again. The mother was in tears at this time, and when she saw the child, she quickly wiped her face with her sleeve and was about to climb out of the car. Dad stopped her, "Go up! ”
"He broke it. I've got to go get some water and wash him..."
Dad still said, "Go back to the car!" "The child climbed on the back baffle and got into the car. Dad climbed to the seat of the car, sat down next to his brother, picked up the peeled wicker, and jerked it twice at the skinny mule, but it wasn't that he had a fire in his heart, or even that he wanted to torture the livestock. This temper, just as many years later his descendants always had to let the engine idle before starting the car, he always waved a whip with one hand and strangled the animal with the other. The big car rushed forward, the grocery store, and the large number of people silently watching with their faces, all left behind, and after a while the road turned a corner, and all of them were gone. The child thought: I will never see it again. He should be satisfied with this, he is not already... Thinking of this, he immediately stopped, and he didn't dare to say the following words to himself. Mom's hand was on his shoulder.
"Does it hurt?" Mom asked.
"No," he said, "it doesn't hurt. Leave me alone. ”
"Seeing that the blood is all clumpy, why didn't you wipe it earlier?"
"Wait until you get a good shower tonight." He said, "Leave me alone, rest assured." ”
The big car just rushed forward. He didn't know where they were going. No one ever knew, no one ever asked, because the cart walked for a day or two, two or three days, and there was always a place where there was always a house of one kind or another waiting for them. Probably Dad had already arranged in advance to change to a farm to plant a ripe crop, so this is... Thinking of this, he had to stop again. Dad always came to this set. However, as long as there is more than half a certainty of the matter, Dad will be hot and assertive when he does things, and even has some courage. This is very touching to the stranger's heart, as if they saw this fierce force hidden in his chest, but did not feel very reliable, but felt that this person was determined that what he was doing could not be wrong, and whoever was in line with his interests could get some benefits.
That night they slept in a small forest, a field of oak trees and beech, and there was a clear spring next to it. It was still very cold at night, so they built a fire to block the cold, and there was a fence nearby, so they stole a horizontal strip and split it into several sections when firewood was burned--the fire was not big, it was very neatly stacked, it was a little bit of a small family, in short, the technique was quite shrewd; Dad's usual style was to only burn such a small fire, even in the dripping ice weather. When they are older, children may notice this and wonder: Why can't the fire burn bigger? Dad, this person, not only has he personally seen the destruction of war, but also has a profligate nature in his blood that loves to pamper others, so why is there something to burn in front of him but not to burn it? He might go on to think of a reason for this: during those four years of work (1), Dad had always led a herd of horses (which Dad called captured horses) to hide in the woods, hiding when he saw people (whether they were wearing blue or ashes), and that the fire of the little family was the fruit of his life for spending his long nights. When he is older, the child may see the real reason: it turns out that the father has such a source of motivation in the depths of his heart, and the most loved is the power of fire, just like some people love the power of knives and guns, and the father believes that only by relying on the power of fire can he maintain his own integrity, otherwise he will live in vain with this breath, so he should respect fire and be cautious in the use of fire.
But now he couldn't think of this layer, he only felt that since he was a child, he had always seen such a small and childish pile of fire. He just sat by the fire to eat his supper, and when his father came to call him, he was holding an iron plate, he was already confused and about to fall asleep, so he had to follow the straight back again, and with the stiff and severe limp steps, he went up the high slope and came to the star-studded road, and turned his head, only to see his father with his back to the starry sky, he could not see his face, and he could not distinguish the thickness -- it was such a black silhouette, wearing a large dress like iron armor (it was clearly not made by himself), Flattened and rigid like a humanoid shape cut from white iron, even the voice is as harsh as white iron, and there is no enthusiasm like white iron:
"You're going to say it in the hall. You almost said it to him. "The child did not answer. Dad slapped him the head, but he didn't mean to be angry, just as he whipped the two mules twice at the grocery store, just as he would pick up a stick and hit the mule in order to kill a horse fly. What Dad said next, he was still not excited at all, nor did he get angry at all: "You are about to grow into an adult." You've got to learn a little bit. You have to learn to cherish your own blood, or you will end up dripping with no blood left. Those two people this morning, and the group of people in the church, which one of you will take care of you? Don't you know, they would like to find a chance to me all of a sudden, because they know they can't get me. Get it? Twenty years later, the children thought about it: "If I had said that they just wanted to find out the truth and uphold justice, they would have been beaten by him again." "But at the time he didn't say anything or cry. He stood there silently. Dad said, "Ask you, do you understand?" ”
"Got it." He whispered. Dad then turned his face.
"Go back to sleep." Tomorrow we'll be there. ”
The next day it arrived. Shortly after noon, the big car stopped in front of a double-open hut that had not been painted, the child was ten years old this year, and the big car had stopped more than ten times in front of this kind of cottage for ten years, and this time it was the same as the previous ten times, it was the mother and aunt who got out of the car and moved things out of the car, and the two sisters, father and brother were motionless.
"I'm afraid even pigs can't live in this house." A sister said.
"How can you not live, you live and like, you don't want to go anymore." Dad said, "Don't sit in the chair, help your mother move things." ”
Both sisters were fat, big fat, as stupid as cattle, and when they got out of the car, they were covered in cheap ribbons; one pulled out a broken lantern from the messy belly, and the other pulled out an old broom. The father handed the reins to the eldest son and climbed off the front of the car without hesitation. "When they're done unloading, you'll take the animals to the stable and feed them." After saying that, he shouted, and the child at first thought that it was still directed at his brother: "Follow me." ”
"Call me?" The child said.
"Yes, call you!" Dad said.
"Abner!" Mom this is calling Dad. Dad stopped and turned his head—under the fiery, graying eyebrows, two stern glances shot straight out.
"I'm going to be my master for eight months from tomorrow, and I think I'll have to talk to him first."
They turned back and walked down the main road. If only a week ago— or before last night — the child would have asked where to take him, but now he doesn't ask. It was not that Father had not beaten him before last night, but he had never beaten him before to explain the reasoning; that slap, the quiet and brutal voice after that slap, seemed to still echo in his ears, and the only revelation given to him was that people were small and unhelpful. His age is really insignificant, and even if he is lighter, he can obey the order to fly away from the world, but he can't fly and can't fly, saying that it is heavy and not heavy, and he can't firmly stand on his heel in the world, let alone rise up and resist, to reverse the development of things in the world.
Soon he saw a small grove of oak cedars, and some other large and small trees with flowers, and the house was supposed to be such a place, but it was not yet visible. They walked along a fence full of honeysuckle and wild roses, and came to a cave in front of a gate with two brick pillars on either side, and he saw that at the end of the road behind the door was the house. He forgot his father when he saw it, and he forgot all the horror and despair in his heart, and although he remembered his father again (his father did not stop), the feeling of terror and despair never came again. Because, although they have moved more than a dozen times, they have always lived in a poor place before, whether it is a farm, a field or a house, the scale is not large, and he has never seen such a house in front of him. It was so big that it was like an official government—he thought secretly, and his heart suddenly settled down, and he felt a burst of joy, for the reason that he could not organize into words, he was still too young to say. In fact, the reason for this is that Dad can't mess with them. A man who lives in such a peaceful and dignified world, he does not want to touch it; in front of them he is just a buzzing wasp, and it is not a big deal to sting people. This peaceful and dignified world has a magic of its own, and even if he tried his best to put a small fire, the large and small horse sheds here would never burn a single hair. ...... He looked again at the straight black back, saw the stiff and firm tossed and tortuous steps, and his feeling of peace and joy disappeared for a moment. Dad's figure did not appear three points shorter because he came to such a mansion, because he did not look tall anywhere, but now lining the quiet background of this school of columns, it showed more and more the kind of arrogance that I was indifferent to, as if it was a human figure cut from the white iron with an iron heart, a thin piece, and it was as if there would be no shadow when it was obliquely facing the sun. The child looked at it coldly and found that his father only cared about walking in one direction, and he would never deviate even a little under his feet. There was a pile of fresh horse dung on the roadway, and Dad obviously only needed to move his foot to let it go, but he saw that the immobile foot was not biased and stepped on the dung pile. But that feeling of peace and joy returned after a moment. He walked all the way, almost fascinated by this mansion, such a mansion to him if he also wanted, but if not, he was not red-eyed, not sad, and would not be like the previous one - he did not know that the person in front of him wearing a black coat like iron armor was jealous, and he really wanted to swallow it. The child's mood at this time, unfortunately, he can not use words to express: maybe the father will also feel this magic. He may have been involuntarily doing that number of things before, and perhaps this time he could be told to change it.
They crossed the porch, and now he heard his father's inflexible foot stomping on the floor like a clock, the sound was not at all commensurate with the movement of his body, and the snow-white door did not make His father's figure three points shorter, as if His Father had suppressed a fierce and vicious spirit, shrunk his body so much that he could not shrink any more, saying that he could not be shorter by a fraction of a minute—he did not care that the wide-brimmed black hat on his head had been deflated, and did not care that the original black tweed coat on his body had been polished to a greenish light Like a big fly in the winter, I don't care that the sleeve is too big when I raise my arm, nor do I care that when I raise my hand, I live like a fist and claw. The door opened so fast that the child knew that the negro must have been inside watching their every move. It was an old black man, his gray hair neatly combed, wearing a linen jacket, and as soon as he opened the door and came out, he blocked the door with his body and said, "White man, you wipe your feet before you come in." The Major is not at home now. ”
"Get out, nigger." Dad's tone was still not angry, and he said and pushed the black man in the door, and walked in without taking off his hat. The child saw that the inflexible foot had left footprints on the edge of the door frame, and saw that the machine-like lameness passed by, and there were footprints on the light-colored carpet, as if the weight of the foot (that is, the weight of a foot stepped on) was twice his weight. The negro shouted out behind his back, "Miss Lola! Miss Lola! The child saw that this smooth and elegant bend of the carpet back to the ladder, the dazzling chandelier on the top, the soft brilliance of this golden picture frame, had long been drowned out by a warm current, and with the shout he heard a rush of footsteps, and also saw this young lady. A noblewoman like this, he probably had never seen before: wearing a shiny and silky gray robe, embroidered with lace at the neckline, an apron tied around her waist, rolled up her sleeves, probably kneading dough to make cakes, so she took a towel to wipe the raw noodles on her hands, and came to the piercing hall, but when she came in, her eyes were not looking at her father, but staring directly at a series of footprints on the light-colored carpet, and she looked surprised as if she couldn't believe her eyes.
"I stopped him and didn't stop him." The black man cried out urgently, "I call him..."
"Would you please go out?" The lady's voice trembled. "Major DeSban is not at home. Would you please go out? ”
Dad didn't open his mouth again. He didn't speak anymore. He didn't even glance at the lady. He was wearing a hat like that, standing straight in the middle of the carpet, only to see the cobblestone eyes above, and the two gray thick eyebrows twitched slightly, as if he had only been cautious at this moment, and had carefully examined the room. Then he turned around equally cautiously; the child saw that he had drawn a laborious arc with that inflexible foot with that good leg as a fulcrum, and only then did he turn around, leaving a long faint stain on the carpet at last. Dad didn't look at the footprints he had left behind, and he never looked down at the carpet. The negro pulled the door open. As soon as they stepped out of the door, the back door closed, and there was a woman's hysterical cry, but I couldn't hear it. Dad stopped at the steps and wiped his boots clean on the edge of the steps. When he reached the gate, he stopped again, and stood there for a while, one foot was not flexible, and he stood stiff and stiff. He looked back at the mansion and said, "Snow-white, beautiful, isn't it?" It was poured with sweat, by the sweat of. Maybe he's not white enough to like it. Maybe he still wanted to pour some white sweat on it. ”
Two hours later, the child was chopping firewood at the back of the hut, and the mother, aunt, and two sisters were cooking on the fire in the house (he knew that it was probably his mother and aunt's job, and where the two big girls were willing to do it; so far away, still across the stacked wall, they still felt that their boring loud noise emitted an incorrigible smell of laziness). The child was chopping firewood when he suddenly heard the sound of horses' hooves, saw a superb maroon mare, and immediately sat a man in a shirt--he understood as soon as he saw this man, and sure enough, he immediately saw a fat reddish-brown pulling horse behind him, and the young black man on the horse had a carpet in front of his legs. He saw the man in front of him furious, his face flushed, and he galloped straight in, and disappeared in front of the house at once, and his father and brother just moved two crooked chairs to rest in front of the house; in the blink of an eye, before he could even put down the axe, he heard the sound of the horse's hooves again, and saw the maroon mare retreat from the yard, and he had already spread out its four hooves and galloped like a fly. Then Dad shouted the name of a sister, and in a moment the sister grabbed one end of the carpet and dragged it all the way out of the kitchen door, and the other sister followed behind the carpet.
"If you don't want to carry it, go and set up the laundry pot." The sister in front of me said.
"Hi, Charti (2)!" The sister in the back immediately shouted, "Put the laundry pot on the shelf!" Dad heard the sound and came to the door, and now his back was completely in ruins, which was not the same as the rich and noble scene in front of him just now, but none of this could affect him anyway. Behind his shoulders appeared his mother's anxious face.
"Go and lift yourself up." Dad said. The two sisters bent down, bloated and weak; they bent down, looking like a huge white cloth, tied with a strip of bells and whistles, floating into one piece.
"I really want to treat a carpet as a treasure, and if I get it from France, I will never lay it in a place that gets in the way of my feet, so that people will step on it as soon as they enter the door." The sister in front of me said. They finally lifted the carpet.
Mom said, "Abner, let me get it." ”
"You go back and cook," Dad said, "and I'll watch." ”
The children watched them like this for an afternoon while chopping firewood, only to see the carpet spread out in the dust on the ground, next to the foam tumbling laundry pot, the two sisters and the eldest unwillingly lazily crouched on the carpet, and the father did not tolerate the subway board face, sometimes staring at this, sometimes staring at that, although there was no more sound, but staring very tightly. The child smelled the pungent smell of earthy lye in their pot, saw that her mother once came to the door, and looked at them, and her mother's expression was not anxious, but very much like despair. He saw his father turn around, and when he picked up the axe again, he also caught a glimpse of his father picking up a flat piece of rubble on the ground, looked at it carefully, and returned to the pot, this time his mother said: "Abner, Abner, please don't do this." I beg you, Abner. ”
Later, his work was also finished. It was already twilight, and the Nighthawk had already cried several times. He smelled a smell of coffee wafting from the house, and at this time on weekdays they often ate some cold dishes and cold rice left over from lunch, but when they entered the house today, they saw that they were drinking coffee again, probably because there was a fire in the stove. There were two chairs in front of the stove, and the spread carpet was on the back of the two chairs. Dad's footprints were no longer visible on the carpet. The place that used to be stained with dirt is now a long pool of water-soaked residues, as if a small lawn mower had cut a piece of it in the east and a piece in the west.
When they ate cold meals, the carpet was still there, and then everyone went to sleep, and the carpet was still there. The two rooms were full of horizontal and vertical beds, there was no order, and the beds did not have a certain master. Mom slept in one bed, where Dad slept for a while, and in the other bed was my brother, and he, his aunt and two older sisters slept on the floor. But Dad hadn't gone to sleep yet. Before the child went to bed, he saw the piercing silhouette of his father in the hat and the thick coat lying on the carpet; he vaguely felt that his blindfolded eyes had not yet closed, but the dark shadow had already stood beside him, and the fire behind him had almost been extinguished, and the inflexible foot had come to wake him up. "Go lead the mules." Dad said.
The child returned with a mule and saw his father standing in the dark doorway, the rolled carpet on his shoulder. The child said, "Don't you ride?" ”
"Don't ride. Put your feet up. ”
The child bent his knees and let his father hold it with his hand, only to feel a surprisingly strong force slowly penetrate his body, carry him up, and send him to the saddleless mule (he remembered that they had also had a saddle in the past, but he couldn't remember when or where it happened). Then the father picked up the carpet with the same ease and threw it up, and at once it was delivered to the child's leg. By the starlight, they walked along the old road of the day, walked through the winter-covered, dusty road, entered the gate, and followed the black tunnel-like lane to the dark mansion above and below. The child sat on the mule and felt that the furry carpet was gone when it was wiped on the thigh.
He whispered, "Do you want me to help?" Dad didn't answer, so he heard the unknowing foot slamming against the empty porch, still so unhurried but so rigid, still so strong that it was almost arrogant. The child could also see in the black field that the carpet on His father's shoulder was not thrown down, but pushed down, and the carpet fell to the floor in the corner of the wall, and the sound was so loud that people couldn't believe it, as if there was a thunderclap, and then there was the footsteps, calmly and unexpectedly. The house immediately lit up a light, the child sat on the mule, nervous, breathing evenly and calmly, just a little faster. But the sound of the footsteps did not increase the rhythm—the footsteps had already come down the steps by this time; and in a moment the child saw his father come to him.
He whispered, "Don't you ride up?" Both of them can ride. As he was speaking, the lights in the house moved: first the ground lit up, and then it dimmed again. He thought to himself: The man has come downstairs. He had already driven the mule to the stepping platform (3); in a moment Papa came up and sat down on his back, and he folded the reins together and jerked them toward the mule's neck, but before the cattle could spread their paces, the thin and strong arms had already reached out from him, only to feel the scarred strong hand pull the reins, and the mule immediately walked slowly again.
As soon as the sky spat out a fiery red glow, they had already ploughed the mules in the ground. This time the maroon mare came to the ground, but the child did not hear a sound; the horseman did not wear a hard collar, not even a hat, and his body was trembling, and his voice was trembling, just like the woman in the mansion yesterday; Father was clasping the yoke stick, only looking up, and bent down to him, so the horseman was talking to his bent back:
"You have to be clear, the carpet has been broken." Is there no one here? Not even a woman? ”...... He stopped, his body still shaking, the child just looked at him, and the brother also leaned out of the horse shed door at this time, chewing tobacco leaves in his mouth, blinking slowly and slowly, obviously not because of anything that surprised him. "This carpet is worth a hundred dollars, but you haven't had a hundred dollars since you were born." You will never want to have a hundred dollars, so I will deduct twenty bushels (4) of corn from your harvest as compensation. This article should be made up in the wenqi, and when you go to the grain depot, you will sign it. This will not dispel Mrs. Desban's anger, but it will teach you a lesson: the next time you go to her mansion, you must wipe your feet clean. ”
After saying that he was gone. The child looked at his father, who still did not say a word, and did not even raise his head again, he was there at the moment to bury his head in the pin, to make the yoke stick set strong.
The child cried out, "Daddy! Dad glanced at him—still that unpredictable and profound face, and the gray eyes under the two thick eyebrows flashed a cold light. The child suddenly rushed to his father, but he also suddenly stopped. He shouted, "You washed it with care!" If he didn't like to wash it this way, why didn't he explain how to wash it last time? These twenty bushel corns cannot be compensated to him! Farts can't be compensated to him either! When the time comes, the crops will be hidden! I'll keep it..."
"I told you to put the lawn mower with the pile of guys who were sorted out, and did you put it away?"
"Not yet, Dad." He said.
"So go put it away."
That was Wednesday. From this day on he worked hard, non-stop until the weekend; he did the same work, some of the work he couldn't do, didn't have to force him, didn't need to urge him, he did it so diligently; he was a mother of learning, but he was also a little different from his mother: he did at least some of the work he liked, for example, he liked to take the little axe to chop wood - this little axe or his mother and aunt earned money (and may also have saved money from somewhere), Bought as a Christmas gift for him. Together with two old ladies (and one afternoon even a sister came to attend), he set up the pigsty and the bullpen, because the wenqi that dad had made with the landlord also had two articles for raising pigs and cattle. One afternoon, Dad rode a mule out of nowhere, and when the child saw that Dad was not there, he went to work in the field.
This time they made a double-walled plow, and my brother held the handle of the plow, and he took the reins. He followed the mules that had fought hard, and the fertile black soil that had been broken fell on the barefoot, feeling cold and wet, and he thought to himself: Maybe this can be completely solved. It seems a little uncomfortable to lose twenty bushels for such a carpet, but as long as he can get rid of that old temper from now on, it is no longer like before, and twenty bushels may still be able to draw it. Thinking about it, he didn't feel like it was wrong, so his brother had to scream at him and tell him to beware of mules. He fantasized: Maybe when the time comes to settle the account, it will be a fine light, and then the play will be over - what corn, what carpet, just a fire! Horrible! What a pain! It's like being tied up on both sides of two four-trailer trucks, pulling both ends out together! - No hope! It's over, it's over forever!
Fast forward to Saturday. He was burying his head in the mule's plow, and looked up from under the mule's belly to see that dad had put on a black coat and hat. Dad said, "Don't set the plow, set the car!" After two hours, Dad and brother sat in front of the car, and he sat in the carriage, and when the car finally turned a corner, he saw the rain-beaten-down painted grocery store, with tattered cigarette advertisements and drug advertisements on the walls, and a carriage parked under the porch, with a mount. He followed his father and brother up the steps that had stepped out of the valley, and then he met the two rows of faces that could not look at each other, and gave way in the middle for the three of them to walk. He saw the man with glasses sitting behind the wooden table, and he did not say that he also knew that it was a sheriff; and there was another man in front of him, the one he had only seen twice in his life, riding a fast horse twice, but this time he had put on a hard collar and a tie, and the expression on his face was not angry, but he could not believe that the child could not believe that there was such a thing in the world: his tenant dared to sue him. The child gave him a look of invariance, glared at him fiercely and triumphantly, stepped forward, stood next to his father, and shouted to the sheriff, "He didn't do it!" He didn't burn..."
"Go back to the car." Dad said.
"Burn?" The sheriff said, "You mean this carpet is already burning?" ”
"Who said it was burning?" Dad said, "Go back to the big car." But the child did not go, he just retreated to the back of the store, which was as crowded as the last time, and today there was no place to sit, so he had to stand in the middle of the motionless crowd and listen to the questions and answers in the hall:
"So you think it's too much to ask you to compensate him for the loss of the carpet with twenty bushel corns?"
"He brought me the carpet and asked me to wash off the footprints on it. I washed the footprints off and sent them back to him. ”
"But the carpet you sent him back is not what it was before you stepped on the footprints."
Dad didn't say a word, and there was no noise in the room, which lasted for half a minute. The only sound is the breath—the kind of deep, slight, even breath that listens intently to the ear.
"Do you refuse to answer, Mr. Snopps?" Dad still didn't say a word. "I'll judge you to lose, Mr. Snowps. I rule that major Desban's carpet was damaged by you and that you should be responsible for compensation. But based on your current situation, it seems too harsh to ask you to compensate twenty bushel corn. Major DeSban said his carpet was worth a hundred dollars. By October, the price of corn is estimated to be around fifty cents. I see that Major de Sban bought things in the past, and the loss of ninety-five dollars is borne by him, and if your money has not yet been earned, then let you bear the loss of five dollars. I rule that by the harvest season you should pay ten bushels of corn from the harvest to Major de Sban as compensation, in addition to the provisions of the contract. Retire! ”
There was not much work in this lawsuit in total, and it was only early in the morning to see if it was dark. The child thought to himself that it was time for them to go home, and perhaps it was time to go back to ploughing the fields, for the crops had already been laid, and they were already late. But Dad did not get into the car, but walked from the back of the car, just with a gesture of his hand, asked his brother to lead the car to follow behind, and he himself crossed the road and walked towards the blacksmith shop opposite. The child followed his father, chased him to his side, looked up at the calm and stern face under the faded old hat, and chirped and said, "Ten bushels are also given to him." Don't even give one. Let's..." Dad glanced down at him, the expression on his face was still indifferent, two white eyebrows were unkemptly covered on the calm eyes, and the tone of his speech was very kind and gentle:
"Really? Well, I'll talk about it in October anyway. ”
It didn't take long to repair the big car, except for one or two spokes to be corrected, and the wheel hoops were tightened, and when the wheel hoops were ready, the big car was driven to the small stream behind the blacksmith's shop, and the car was parked there. From time to time, the mule stuck its nose into the water, and the child sat on the seat in front of the car with the reins in his hand, looking up at the black chimney-like wrench on the top of the slope, only listening to the hammer there, and without a hurry, The father sat on a erected cypress tree pier over there, so uncomfortable, sometimes two sentences, sometimes listening to people talking, until the child pulled the wet cart out of the stream, stopped in front of the blacksmith shop, and the father still sat there without moving.
"Lead it to the shade." Dad said. The child was tied up and came back. It turned out that Dad and the blacksmith, and a man crouched in the doorway, were chatting there, talking about crops, about livestock; the child also squatted down in the stinking dust, hooves, and rust on the ground, listening to Dad's original, slowly and leisurely telling a story of his time as a professional horse dealer, when even his brother was not yet born. Later, the child went to the end of the grocery store and saw a broken poster of last year's circus on the wall, the jujube red horses, the thrilling posture and circling skills of the cicada gauze girls and the tights, and the grimace of the red-nosed and white-faced clown, who was silently seeing God, but his father came to him and said, "It's time to eat." ”
But this day's meal was not eaten at home. He leaned against the street wall, crouched next to his brother, watched his father come out of the grocery store, pulled a piece of dry cheese from a paper bag, carefully divided it into three with a knife, and took out a few biscuits from the paper bag. The three of them squatted under the porch, without making a sound, and ate slowly; after eating, they went to the shop and borrowed a long-handled tin spoon to drink some non-hot water, and there was a smell of cedar barrels in the water, and a smell of beech trees. After drinking water, I still didn't come home. This time I went to a horse farm again, and I saw only a high fence, and there were people sitting on the fence, and there were people standing outside the fence, and one after another horses were pulled out of the fence, and when they first walked and ran on the road, they first walked and ran, and then they ran back and forth, so they talked slowly and methodically about the trade of buying horses and changing horses, and talked about the sun gradually rising, while the three of them kept watching and listening, the brother was blindfolded, the tobacco in his mouth chewed as usual, and Dad commented on some cattle from time to time, but it was not for anyone.
They didn't get home until after the sun went down. After dinner under the lights, the child sat on the steps in front of the door and watched as the night was finally fully covered. He was listening to the nighthawk's cry and the frog drum when he suddenly heard his mother's voice: "Abner! Can't do it! Can't do it! Oops, oh my God! Oh, my God! Abner! He hurriedly stood up and turned his head to look at it, and saw through the door that the light in the room had changed, and now there was a candle head in the neck of a bottle on the table. Dad was still wearing a hat and wearing a coat, looking serious and funny, as if he was dressed neatly, politely going to do evil deeds; he poured all the oil in the lamp into the five-gallon oil barrel where the oil was stored, and his mother desperately pulled his arm, he had to hand the lamp to the other hand, and the arm was thrown, not rough and not fierce, but the momentum was very fierce, and she fell to the wall at once, and she threw her hands on the wall with open hands, so easy that she did not fall, and her mouth was wide open. Her face was full of the look of despair and desperation, which was completely the same as the tone she had just had. At this moment, the father saw the child standing in the doorway.
"Go to the stable and bring the can of oil that the cart used to refuel." Dad said. The child did not move, and it took half a moment to open the exit.
"You... What are you doing......? He shouted.
"Go get that can of oil." Dad said, "Go! ”
The child finally moved his legs, and as soon as he reached the outside of the house, he pulled out his feet and ran toward the stable, daring to feel that the old temper came again, and the ancient blood gushed up again. This ancient blood, which he could not choose himself, whether he liked it or not, was passed on to him; this ancient blood had been passed down to him for so many generations long before it was transmitted to him—who knows how it came about? How much resentment, cruelty, and longing has fed such a blood? The child thought to himself: If only I could run forward with all my might. I wish I could run, run, never look back, never look at his face again. But no! No, you can't! He ran home carrying the rusted oil can, and the oil in the tank was pouring all the way; as soon as he arrived at the house, he heard the cries of his mother in the house. He handed the oil canister to his father and shouted:
Didn't you even send a? Last time you at least sent a nigger! ”
This time Dad didn't hit him. But faster than the last slap was a claw: Dad's hand had just carefully placed the oil can on the table, and suddenly it was like an electric light flashing at him, so fast that he couldn't see it clearly; he hadn't seen His father's hand leave the jar, and Dad's hand had already grabbed the hem of his shirt, and grabbed him off the ground. The face that was leaning over him was fierce, cold and forced, and the cold and gloomy voice said to his brother leaning on the table behind him (the brother was still like an ox, strange-looking, chewing left and right, chewing non-stop):
"Pour this can of oil into the oil drum, you go first, I'll come right away."
The brother said, "It's better to tie him to the bed frame." ”
"Do whatever you want." Dad said. As soon as the words fell out, the child's body was already moving, only to feel the lean and strong hand tugging at his shirt between his two shoulder blades, carrying him almost without touching his feet from the outside to the inside, wiping over the two sisters who were swinging their thick thighs and sitting in the chair against the fireless stove, and dragging it straight to the mother and aunt. The aunt was wrapping her arms around her mother's shoulders, and the two of them were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed.
Dad said, "Catch him!" My aunt was startled and her hand moved. Dad said, "Don't call you." Lenny, you grabbed him. You must catch him. "The mother grabbed the child's wrist." No, we have to grasp it firmly. If you let him run, you know what he's going to do? He's going to go over there! "Say swing your head toward the end of the road." I'm afraid it's better to tie him up and be safe. ”
"I'll just grab him." Mom whispered.
"That's up to you." Dad finished speaking and left, and the unknowing foot stepped heavily on the floor, not hurriedly, and disappeared for a while.
The child struggled. Mom's two arms held him tightly, and he bumped and twisted mom's arms again. He knew that when he turned his head, his mother would never be able to get him. But he didn't have time to grind his work. He shouted, "Let me go!" Otherwise, I won't care if I hurt you! ”
"Let him go!" My aunt said, "Honestly, he just won't go and I'm going!" ”
"How can I let him go?" Mom cried out, "Shalty! Charti! Don't do this! Don't do this! Come and help me! Lizzie! ”
Suddenly he broke free. It was too late for his aunt to come and arrest him. He turned his head and ran, and his mother stumbled after him, bending her knees and falling behind the child's heels, and she shouted to a nearby sister, "Catch him, Nate!" Get him! But it was too late, the sister had no intention of getting up from the chair at all, just turned her head and turned her face sideways, and the child had already flown past. At this moment he only felt that he saw the face of a young woman who was incomparably large, and there was not a hint of surprise on her face, but only a look of little interest (the two sisters were twins born at the same time, although the two large piles of meat covered a large and heavy weight, and one person could reach two people in the family, but at this moment, the sisters did not seem to exist at all). The child rushed out of the room, rushed out of the house, and ran to the main road sprinkled with starlight, covered with soft dust, and dense layers of honeysuckle. He ran all the way, only to hate that the pale white belt under his feet was pulled open too slowly, so easy to reach the gate, and immediately turned a corner, and ran down the lane in a panic to the big house with the lights on, to the lighted door. Without even knocking on the door, he burst in, gasping for breath and unable to exit; he saw the startled face of the black man in linen jacket, and he did not know when the man came out.
"Desban!" He gasped and shouted, "I'm looking..." Before he could finish speaking, he saw the white man also come out of a white door at the end of the hall. He shouted, "Horse shed! stable! ”
"What?" The white man said, "Horse shed? ”
"Yes!" The child cried out, "Horse shed! ”
"Catch him!" The white man gave a loud cry.
But this time he still didn't catch him. The negro grabbed his shirt, but the sleeves of his shirt had already been washed and crispy, and they were torn off as soon as they were pulled. He escaped the door again, and ran into the driveway again, in fact he did not stop even when he shouted at the white man.
He heard the white man shouting behind him, "Prepare the horse! Prepare me a horse! At first he wanted to cut a short path, through the garden, and climb over the fence to the main road, but he did not know the path of the garden, nor did he know how high the fence full of vines was, and he did not dare to take this risk. So he just ran down the driveway, only to feel the blood rushing and the gas rushing; in a moment he was on the main road again, but he couldn't see the road. Nor could he hear the sound; the galloping mare was about to step on him before he heard it, but he ran forward as usual, as if he had suffered at such a critical juncture that in a few moments he would be told to fly high. He didn't jump to the side until the last second, jumping into the ditch full of weeds on the side of the road, and the horse behind him rushed over with a roar, galloping away, reflecting the quiet night sky of early summer, reflecting the starry sky, and leaving a thunderous figure, which disappeared in the blink of an eye. However, at the moment when the shadow of the figure and the shadow had not yet disappeared, the night sky seemed to be suddenly sprinkled with a pool of ink stains, constantly expanding upwards--it was a cloud of smoke that kept rising into the sky, thrilling, but silent, erasing the stars in the sky. The child jumped up, he quickly climbed to the main road, and then ran on his legs, he knew that it was too late, but he still ran forward with all his strength, and when he heard the gunshots, he still ran forward, and after a while there were two gunshots, and he unconsciously stopped and shouted twice: "Daddy! father! Unconsciously, he ran up again. He stumbled, tripped something, and quickly got up from the ground with a running belt. After getting up, he hurriedly looked back at the fire behind him, and then ran between the invisible trees, gasping and sobbing all the way: "Daddy! Oh Dad! ”
At midnight, the child sits on top of a small mountain. He didn't know it was midnight, or how far he had been. But now there was no fire behind him, and now he was sitting here, behind his home, where he had lived for four days, and in front of him was a dark and heavy forest, and he planned to go to this wood after resting. This little child, clutching the thin and brittle shirt with few sleeves, shrunk into a ball, shivering in the cool darkness, and now the sad and desperate mood was no longer sandwiched with panic and worry, and there was only a sad and desperate left. He was thinking in his heart: Daddy, my daddy! He suddenly cried out, "He's good!" "He said this loudly, but his voice was not loud, it was just a whisper." Nice! There have been battles in the end! Worthy of Colonel Sartorius' riding team! But he did not know that in that war his father was not actually a soldier, but could only be said to be a "good man", his father did not wear a uniform at all, did not have any loyalty to any one, which army, which government, and did not recognize anyone's authority at all; his father's purpose in going to war was exactly the same as that of Maelbruk (5), to hunt for the spoils of war -- whether he captured the enemy or robbed himself, it did not matter to him anyway, it did not matter at all.
Gradually the stars in the sky shifted. It will be light when the day comes back, and some time the sun will come out, and he will feel hungry. But that was tomorrow anyway, and now he only felt cold, but he wouldn't feel cold when he walked around. He couldn't breathe now, so he decided to get up and go any further, and only then did he realize that he had taken a nap, because he saw that the sky was about to light, and the night was about to pass. He could tell from the nighthawk's cry. Now the dark and heavy woods under the mountain are full of nighthawks chirping, pulling the tune, one after another, one after another, and the moment to give way to the morning birds is getting closer and closer, and the nighthawks' cries are getting louder and louder. He stood up. He felt a little stiff, but it would be good to walk, just as it would be cold to walk away. Besides, the sun is about to come out. He went down the hill, toward the dark and dull woods, and from the woods came a crisp cry of a silver bell-like nighthawk—the loud and urgent heart of the late spring night was beating rapidly and nervously there. He didn't even look back.
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(1) The Civil War lasted four years from the outbreak of April 1861 to the end of April 1865. The Northern Army is a blue uniform, the Confederate Army is a gray uniform, and the following "those who wear blue" and "wear gray" refer to this.
(2) Sartorius' affectionate name.
(3) A small platform made of wood or stone for stepping on the feet when getting on and off the horse.
(4) Twenty bushels is about seven hundred litres.
(5) A character in a French song from the early eighteenth century. The first line of the song is "Maelbruk goes to war".
William Faulkner (September 25, 1897 – July 6, 1962), one of the most influential writers in the history of American literature, a representative of stream-of-consciousness literature in the United States, and a 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature, was awarded for "his powerful and artistically unparalleled contributions to contemporary American fiction."
He wrote 19 novels and more than 120 short stories during his lifetime, of which 15 novels and the vast majority of short stories took place in Yorknapatafa County, known as the "York Napatafa Lineage". The main thread is the story of generations of families belonging to different social classes in the town of Jefferson and its suburbs, from 1800 until after World War II. A total of more than 600 famous and surnamed characters appear alternately in various long and short stories. The most representative work is "Noise and Commotion".