All the King's Men - Robert Penn Warren [106]
“She entered the summerhouse and sank upon one of the benches, not more than a few feet from my own location. For a long time I stood there, peering at her. She sat perfectly upright and rigid. At last I whispered her name, as low as might be. If she heard it, she gave no sign. So I repeated her name, in the same fashion, and again. Upon the third utterance, she whispered, ‘Yes,’ but she did not change her posture or turn her head. Then I spoke more loudly, again uttering her name, and instantly, with a motion of wild alarm she rose, with a strangled cry and her hands lifted toward her face. She reeled, and it seemed that she would collapse to the floor, but she gained control of herself and stood there staring at me. Stammeringly, I made my apology, saying that I had not wanted to startle her, that I had understood her to answer yes to my whisper before I spoke, and I asked her, ‘Did you not answer to my whisper?’
“She replied that she had.
“ ‘Then why were you distressed when I spoke again?’ I asked her.
“ ‘Because I did not know that you were here,’ she said
“ ‘But,’ I said, ‘you say that you had just heard my whisper and had answered to it, and now you say that you did not know I was here.’
“ ‘I did not know that you were here,’ she repeated, in a low voice, and the import of what she was saying dawned upon me.
“ ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘when you heard the whisper–did you recognize it as my voice?’
“She stared at me, not answering.
“ ‘Answer me,’ I demanded, for I had to know.
“She continued to stare, and finally replied hesitantly, ‘I do not know.’
“ ‘You thought it was–’ I began, but before I could utter the words she had flung herself upon me, clasping me in desperation like a person frantic with drowning, and ejaculating, ‘No, no, it does not matter what I thought, you are here, you are here!’ And she drew my face down and pressed her lips against mine to stop my words. Her lips were cold, but they hung upon mine.
“I too was perfectly cold, as of a mortal chill. And the coldness was the final horror of the act which we performed, as though two dolls should parody the shame and filth of man to make it doubly shameful.
“After, she said to me, ‘Had I not found you here tonight, it could never have been between us again.’
“ ‘Why?’ I demanded
“ ‘It was a sign,’ she said.
“ ‘A sign?’ I demanded.
“ ‘A sign that we cannot escape, that we–’ and she interrupted herself, to resume, whispering fiercely in the dark–‘I do not want to escape–it is a sign–whatever I have done is done.’ She grew quiet for a moment, then she said, ‘Give me your hand.’
“I gave her my right hand. She grasped it, dropped it, and said, ‘The other, the other hand.’
“I held it out, across my own body, for I was sitting on her left. She seized it with her own left hand, bringing her hand upward from below to press my hand flat against her bosom. Then, fumblingly, she slipped a ring upon my finger, the finger next to the smallest.
“ ‘What id that?’ I asked.
“ ‘A ring,’ she answered, paused, and added, ‘It is his ring.’
“Then I recalled that he, my friend, had always worn a wedding ring, and I felt the metal cold upon my flesh. ‘Did you take it off of his finger?’ I asked, and the thought shook me.
“ ‘No,’ she said.
“ ‘No?’ I questioned.
“ ‘No,’ she said, ‘ he took it off. It was the only time he ever took it off.’
“I sat beside her, waiting for what, I did not know, while she held my hand pressed against her bosom. I could feel it rise and fall. I could say nothing.
“Then she said, ‘Do you want to know how–how he took it off?’
“ ‘Yes,’ I said in the dark, and waiting for her to speak, I moved my tongue out upon my dry lips.
“ ‘Listen,’ she commanded me in an imperious whisper, ‘that evening after–after it happened–after the house was quiet again, I sat in my room, in the little chair by the dressing table, where I always sit for Phebe to let down my hair. I had sat there out of habit, I suppose, for I was numb all over. I watched Phebe preparing the bed for the night.