Sanctuary

cases. They opened them and set bottles on the table, while Gene, frankly

weeping now, opened them and decanted them into the bowl. "Come up, folks.

I couldn't a loved him no better ii he'd been my own son," he shouted

hoarsely, dragging his sleeve across his face.

A waiter edged up to the table with a bowl of ice and fruit and went to put

them into the punch bowl. "What the hell you doing?" Gene said, "putting

that slop in there? Get to hell away from here."

"Ra-a-a-a-y-y-y-yl" they shouted, clasping their cups, drowning all save

the pantomime as Gene knocked the bowl of fruit from the waiter's hand and

fell again to dumping liquor into the bowl, sploshing it into and upon the

extended hands and cups. The two youths opened bottles furiously.

As though swept there upon a brassy blare of music the proprietor appeared

in the door, his face harried, waving his arms. "Come on, folks," he

shouted, "let's finish the musical program. It's costing us money."

"Hell with it," they shouted.

"Costing who money?"

140 WILLIAM FAULKNER

"Who cares?"

"Costing who money?"

"Who begrudges it? I'll pay it. By God, I'll buy him two funerals."

"Folks! Folks!" the proprietor shouted. "Dont you realise there's a bier in

that room?"

"Costing who money?"

"Beer?" Gene said. "Beer?" he said in a broken voice. "Is anybody here

trying to insult me by-"

"He begrudges Red the money."

"Who does?"

"Joe does, the cheap son of a bitch."

"Is somebody here trying to insult me---2'

"Let's move the funeral, then. This is not the only place in town."

"Let's move Joe."

"Put the son of a bitch in a coffin. Let's have two funerals."

"Beer? Beer? Is somebody-"

"Put the son of a bitch in a coffin. See how he likes it."

"Put the son of a bitch in a coffin," the woman in red shrieked. They

rushed toward the door, where the proprietor stood waving his hand above

his head, his voice shrieking out of the uproar before he turned and fled.

In the main room a male quartet engaged from a vaudeville house was

singing. They were singing mother songs in close harmony; they sang Sonny

Boy. The weeping was general among the older women. Waiters were now

carrying cups of punch in to them and they sat holding the cups in their

fat, ringed hands, crying.

The orchestra played again. The woman in red staggered into the room. "Come

on, Joe," she shouted, "open the game. Get that damn stiff out of here and

open the game." A man tried to hold her; she turned upon him with a burst

of filthy language and went on to the shrouded crap table and hurled a

wreath to the floor. The proprietor rushed toward her, followed by the

bouncer. The proprietor grasped the woman as she lifted another floral

piece. The man who had tried to hold her intervened, the woman cursing

shrilly and striking at both of them impartially with the wreath. The

bouncer caught the man's arm; he whirled and struck at the bouncer, who

knocked him halfway across the room. Three more men entered. The fourth

rose from the floor and all four of them rushed at the bouncer.

He felled the first and whirled and sprang with an unbelievable celerity,

into the main room. The orchestra was playing. It was immediately drowned

in a sudden pandemonium of chairs and screams. The bouncer whirled again

and met the

SANCTUARY 141

rush of the four men. They mingled; a second man flew out and skittered

along the floor on his back; the bouncer sprang free. Then he whirled and

rushed them; in a whirling plunge they bore down upon the bier and crashed

into it. The orchestra had ceased and were now climbing onto their chairs

with their instruments. The floral offerings flew; the coffin teetered.

"Catch it!" a voice shouted. They sprang forward but the coffin crashed

heavily to the floor, coming open. The corpse tumbled slowly and sedately

out and came to rest with its face in the center of a wreath.

"Play something!" the proprietor bawled, waving his arms; .,play! Play!"

When they raised the corpse the wreath came too, attached to him by a

hidden end of a wire driven into his cheek. He had worn a cap which,

tumbling off, exposed a small blue hole in the center of his forehead. It

had been neatly plugged with wax and was painted, but the wax had been

jarred out and lost. They couldn't find it, but by unfastening the snap in

the peak, they could draw the cap down to his eyes.

As the cort~ge neared the downtown section more cars joined in. The hearse

was followed by six Packard touring cars with the tops back, driven by

liveried chauffeurs and filled with flowers. They looked exactly alike and

were of the type rented by the hour by the better class agencies. Next came

a nondescript line of taxis, roadsters, sedans, which increased as the

procession moved slowly through the restricted district where faces peered

from beneath lowered shades, toward the main artery that led back out of

town, toward the cemetery.

On the avenue the hearse increased its speed, the procession stretching out

at swift intervals. Presently the private cars and the cabs began to drop