Sanctuary

his shoulder at the woman. "Get the lamp," he said. The woman did not

move. Her head was bent a little; she appeared to muse upon them. Goodwin

swept his other arm under Temple's knees. She felt herself swooping, then

she was lying on the bed beside Gowan, on her back, jouncing to the dying

chatter of the shucks. She watched him cross the room and lift the lamp

from the mantel. The woman had turned her head, following him also, her

face sharpening out of the approaching lamp in profile. "Go on," he said.

She turned, her face turning into shadow, the lamp now on her back and

on his hand on her shoulder. His shadow blotted the room completely; his

arm in silhouette back-reaching, drew to the door. Gowan snored, each

respiration choking to a huddle fall, as though he would never breathe

again.

Tommy was outside the door, in the hall.

"They gone down to the truck yet?" Goodwin said.

"Not yit," Tommy said.

"Better go and see about it," Goodwin said. They went on. Tommy watched

them enter another door. Then he went to the kitchen, silent on his bare

feet, his neck craned a little

46 WILLIAM FAULKNER

with listening. In the kitchen Popeye sat, straddling a chair, smoking.

Van stood at the table, before a fragment of mirror, combing his hair with

a pocket comb. Upon the table lay a damp, blood-stained cloth and a

burning cigarette. Tommy

squatted outside the door, in the darkness.

He was there when Goodwin came out with the raincoat. Goodwin critered

the kitchen without seeing him. "Where's Tommy?" he said. Tommy heard

Popeye say something, then Goodwin emerged with Van following him, the

raincoat on his arm now. "Come on, now," Goodwin said. "Let's get that

stuff out of here."

Tommy's pale eyes began to glow faintly, like those of a cat. The woman

could see them in the darkness when he crept into the room after Popeye,

and while Popeye stood over the bed where Temple lay. They glowed

suddenly out of the darkness at her, then they went away and she could

hear him breathing beside her; again they glowed up at her with a quality

furious and questioning and sad and went away again and he crept behind

Popeye from the room.

He saw Popeye return to the kitchen, but he did not follow at once. He

stopped at the hall door and squatted there. His body began to writhe

again in shocked indecision, his bare feet whispering on the floor with

a faint, rocking movement as he swayed from side to side, his hands

wringing slowly against his flanks. And Lee too, he said. And Lee too.

Durn them fellers. Durn them fellers. Twice he stole along the porch

until he could see the shadow of Popeye's hat on the kitchen floor, then

returned to the hall and the door beyond which Temple lay and where Gowan

snored. The third time he smelled Popeye's cigarette. Ef he'll jest keep

that up, he said. And Lee too, he said, rocking from side to side in a

dull, excruciating agony, And Lee too.

When Goodwin came up the slope and onto the back porch Tommy was

squatting just outside the door again. "What in hell . . ." Goodwin said.

"Why didn't you come on? I've been looking for you for ten minutes." He

glared at Tommy, then he looked into the kitchen. "You ready?" he said.

Popeye came to the door. Goodwin looked at Tommy again. "What have you

been doing?"

Popeye looked at Tommy. Tommy stood now, rubbing his instep with the

other foot, looking at Popeye.

"What're you doing here?" Popeye said.

"Aint doin nothin," Tommy said.

"Are you following me around?"

"I aint trailin nobody," Tommy said sullenly.

"Well, dont, then," Popeye said.

"Come on," Goodwin said. "Van's waiting." They went on.

SANCTUARY 47

Tommy followed them. Once he looked back at the house, then he shambled on

behind them. From time to time he would feel that acute surge go over him,

like his blood was too hot all of a sudden, dying away into that warm

unhappy feeling that fiddle music gave them. Durn them fellers, he

whispered, Durn them fellers.

ix

THE ROOM WAS DARK. THE WOMAN STOOD INSIDE THE DOOR, against the wall, in the

cheap coat, the lace-trimmed crepe nightgown, just inside the lockless door.

She could hear Gowan snoring in the bed, and the other men moving about, on

the porch and in the hall and in the kitchen, talking, their voices

indistinguishable through the door. After a while they got quiet. Then she

could hear nothing at all save Gowan as he choked and snored and moaned

through his battered nose and face.

She heard the door open. The man came in, without trying to be silent. He

entered, passing within a foot of her. She knew it was Goodwin before he

spoke. He went to the bed. "I want the raincoat," he said. "Sit up and take

it off." The woman could hear the shucks in the mattress as Temple sat up

and Goodwin took the raincoat off of her. He returned across the floor and

went out.

She stood just inside the door. She could tell all of them by the way they

breathed. Then, without having heard, felt, the door open, she began to

smell something: the brilliantine which Popeye used on his hair. She did