the awakening and selected short stories(苏醒)-第37部分
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instant； then sank again。 Edna heard her father's voice and her sister
Margaret's。 She heard the barking of an old dog that was chained to the
sycamore tree。 The spurs of the cavalry officer clanged as he walked
across the porch。 There was the hum of bees； and the musky odor of
pinks filled the air。
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Beyond the Bayou
The bayou curved like a crescent around the point of land on which La
Folle's cabin stood。 Between the stream and the hut lay a big abandoned
field； where cattle were pastured when the bayou supplied them with water
enough。 Through the woods that spread back into unknown regions the
woman had drawn an imaginary line； and past this circle she never stepped。
This was the form of her only mania。
She was now a large； gaunt black woman； past thirty…five。 Her real
name was Jacqueline； but every one on the plantation called her La Folle；
because in childhood she had been frightened literally 〃out of her senses；〃
and had never wholly regained them。
It was when there had been skirmishing and sharpshooting all day in
the woods。 Evening was near when P'tit Maitre； black with powder and
crimson with blood； had staggered into the cabin of Jacqueline's mother；
his pursuers close at his heels。 The sight had stunned her childish reason。
She dwelt alone in her solitary cabin； for the rest of the quarters had
long since been removed beyond her sight and knowledge。 She had more
physical strength than most men； and made her patch of cotton and corn
and tobacco like the best of them。 But of the world beyond the bayou she
had long known nothing； save what her morbid fancy conceived。
People at Bellissime had grown used to her and her way； and they
thought nothing of it。 Even when 〃Old Mis'〃 died； they did not wonder
that La Folle had not crossed the bayou； but had stood upon her side of it；
wailing and lamenting。
P'tit Maitre was now the owner of Bellissime。 He was a middle…aged
man； with a family of beautiful daughters about him； and a little son whom
La Folle loved as if he had been her own。 She called him Cheri； and so did
every one else because she did。
None of the girls had ever been to her what Cheri was。 They had
each and all loved to be with her； and to listen to her wondrous stories of
things that always happened 〃yonda； beyon' de bayou。〃
But none of them had stroked her black hand quite as Cheri did； nor
rested their heads against her knee so confidingly； nor fallen asleep in her
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arms as he used to do。 For Cheri hardly did such things now； since he had
become the proud possessor of a gun； and had had his black curls cut off。
That summerthe summer Cheri gave La Folle two black curls tied
with a knot of red ribbonthe water ran so low in the bayou that even the
little children at Bellissime were able to cross it on foot； and the cattle
were sent to pasture down by the river。 La Folle was sorry when they
were gone； for she loved these dumb companions well； and liked to feel
that they were there； and to hear them browsing by night up to her own
enclosure。
It was Saturday afternoon； when the fields were deserted。 The men
had flocked to a neighboring village to do their week's trading； and the
women were occupied with household affairs；La Folle as well as the
others。 It was then she mended and washed her handful of clothes；
scoured her house； and did her baking。
In this last employment she never forgot Cheri。 To…day she had
fashioned croquignoles of the most fantastic and alluring shapes for him。
So when she saw the boy come trudging across the old field with his
gleaming little new rifle on his shoulder； she called out gayly to him；
〃Cheri！ Cheri！〃
But Cheri did not need the summons； for he was coming straight to her。
His pockets all bulged out with almonds and raisins and an orange that he
had secured for her from the very fine dinner which had been given that
day up at his father's house。
He was a sunny…faced youngster of ten。 When he had emptied his
pockets； La Folle patted his round red cheek； wiped his soiled hands on
her apron； and smoothed his hair。 Then she watched him as； with his
cakes in his hand； he crossed her strip of cotton back of the cabin； and
disappeared into the wood。
He had boasted of the things he was going to do with his gun out there。
〃You think they got plenty deer in the wood； La Folle？〃 he had
inquired； with the calculating air of an experienced hunter。
〃Non； non！〃 the woman laughed。 〃Don't you look fo' no deer； Cheri。
Dat's too big。 But you bring La Folle one good fat squirrel fo' her dinner
to…morrow； an' she goin' be satisfi'。〃
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〃One squirrel ain't a bite。 I'll bring you mo' 'an one； La Folle；〃 he had
boasted pompously as he went away。
When the woman； an hour later； heard the report of the boy's rifle
close to the wood's edge； she would have thought nothing of it if a sharp
cry of distress had not followed the sound。
She withdrew her arms from the tub of suds in which they had been
plunged； dried them upon her apron； and as quickly as her trembling limbs
would bear her； hurried to the spot whence the ominous report had come。
It was as she feared。 There she found Cheri stretched upon the
ground； with his rifle beside him。 He moaned piteously： 〃I'm dead； La
Folle！ I'm dead！ I'm gone！〃
〃Non； non！〃 she exclaimed resolutely； as she knelt beside him。 〃Put
you' arm 'roun' La Folle's nake； Cheri。 Dat's nuttin'； dat goin' be nuttin'。〃
She lifted him in her powerful arms。
Cheri had carried his gun muzzle…downward。 He had stumbled；he
did not know how。 He only knew that he had a ball lodged somewhere in
his leg； and he thought that his end was at hand。 Now； with his head upon
the woman's shoulder； he moaned and wept with pain and fright。
〃Oh； La Folle！ La Folle！ it hurt so bad！ I can' stan' it； La Folle！〃
〃Don't cry； mon bebe； mon bebe； mon Cheri！〃 the woman spoke
soothingly as she covered the ground with long strides。 〃La Folle goin'
mine you； Doctor Bonfils goin' come make mon Cheri well agin。〃
She had reached the abandoned field。 As she crossed it with her
precious burden； she looked constantly and restlessly from side to side。
A terrible fear was upon her； the fear of the world beyond the bayou； the
morbid and insane dread she had been under since childhood。
When she was at the bayou's edge she stood there； and shouted for
help as if a life depended upon it： 〃Oh； P'tit Maitre！ P'tit Maitre！
Venez donc！ Au secours！ Au secours！〃
No voice responded。 Cheri's hot tears were scalding her neck。 She
called for each and every one upon the place； and still no answer came。
She shouted； she wailed； but whether her voice remained unheard or
unheeded； no reply came to her frenzied cries。 And all the while Cheri
moaned and wept and entreated to be taken home to his mother。
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La Folle gave a last despairing look around her。 Extreme terror was
upon her。 She clasped the child close against her breast； where he could
feel her heart beat like a muffled hammer。 Then shutting her eyes； she ran
suddenly down the shallow bank of the bayou； and never stopped till she
had climbed the opposite shore。
She stood there quivering an instant as she opened her eyes。 Then she
plunged into the footpath through the trees。
She spoke no more to Cheri； but muttered constantly； 〃Bon Dieu； ayez
pitie La Folle！ Bon Dieu； ayez pitie moi！〃
Instinct seemed to guide her。 When the pathway spread clear and
smooth enough before her； she again closed her eyes tightly against the
sight of that unknown and terrifying world。
A child； playing in some weeds； caught sight of her as she neared the
quarters。 The little one uttered a cry of dismay。
〃La Folle！〃 she screamed； in her piercing treble。 〃La Folle done
cross de bayer！〃
Quickly the cry passed down the line of cabins。
〃Yonda； La Folle done cross de bayou！〃
Children； old men； old women； young ones with infants in their arms；
flocked to doors and windows to see this awe…inspiring spectacle。 Most
of them shuddered with superstitious dread of what it might portend。
〃She totin' Cheri！〃 some of them shouted
