Wo Theard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark. Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself asa creature driven and derided by vanity; and my‘eyes burned with anguish and anger: Fiction ww QUESTIONS ) L. Does the first-person narrator seem like a child, an adult, or both? Why? 2, Examine Joyce’s description of Dublin; especially in the first five paragraphs. What details stand out? What dominant irhpression emerges? What nationalist statement might Joyce be making? 3. What is the importance of Mangan’s sister? How does she’contrast with the boy's uncle? How does she contrast with the women whom the boy encounters at the bazaar? 4, The Irish fiction wiiter and ciitic Sean 'O'Faolain states that a story “must lead toward its point of illumination.” (Joyce' termed this'momént of illumination an epiphany.) What is the point of illumination in’ “Araby”? How does it dictate the theme? 5. Explore the “dreams” of the children in “Araby” and in “Up in the Tree.” How do they come in conflict with the realities of the adult world? Yasunati Kawabata UP IN THE TREE Keisuke's house was on the shore where the great river began to enter the sea. Although the river ran alongside the garden, becaiise of the somewhat élevated embankment it could not be seen from the house. The old shore; lined with pines and slightly lower than the embankment, seemed part of the garden, its pines the garden pines, This side of the pines, there wasia hedge of Chinese black pine. Michiko, forcing her way through the hedge, carne’to:play with Keisuke. No, she came just to be with him, Both Michiko and Keisuke were fourth graders. This diicking through the hedge, instead of coming in by the front gate or by the garden gate in back, wwas a secret between them. For a girl, it wasn’t easy. Shielding her head and face'with both arms, bent over from the waist, she would plunge into the hedge. Tumbling’out into the garden, she would often be caught up in Keisuke’s arms. » Shy about letting the people in the house know that Michiko came every day, Keisuke had taught her this way through the hedge. “| like it. My heart pounds and pounds like anything,” Michiko said. One day, Keisuke climbed up into a pine tree. While he was up there, along came Scanned with CamScannerAU 128 chitten& Famites Michiko. Looking neither right nor eft, she hurried along by the shore. Stopping at the hedge where she always went through, she looked all around her. Bringing her long, triple-braided pigtails in front of her face, she put them into her mouth halfway along their length. Bracing herself, she threw herself at the hedge. Up in the tree, Keisuke held his breath. When she'd popped out of the hedge into the garden, Michiko did not see Keisuke, whom she had thought would be there. Frightened, she shrank back into the shadow of the hedge, where Keisuke could not see her. y “Mitchan, Mitchan,” Keisuke called. Michiko, coming away from the hed, Tooked around the garden. “'Mitchan, I'm in the pine tre. I'm, up.in the pine tree.” Looking up toward Keisuke’s voice, Michiko did not say a word, Keisuke said, “Come, out. Come out of the garden.” ‘When Michiko had come back out through the hedge, she looked upiat Keiuke "You come down.” 1 “Mitchan, climb up here. It’s nice up here in the tree.” “can’t climb it. You're making fun of me; just like, boy. Come down.” “Come up here. The branches are big like'this, so even a gitl can do it.’ Michiko studied the branches. Then she said, “If fall, it's your fault, IFT die, I won't know anything about it” ‘ First dangling from.a lower branch, she began to:climb. By the time she'd gotten up to Keisuke's branch, Michiko was gasping for breath, “J climbed it, I climbed it.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s scary. Hold me.” “Hmm,” Keisuke firmly drew Michiko to him, Michiko, her arms around Keisuke’s neck, said, “You can see the ocean.” “You can see everything. Across the river, and even up the river . .. It's good you climbed up here.” “It is good. Keichan, let’s climb up here tomorrow.” ““Pimm.” Keisuke was silent a while. “Mitchan, it's a secret, Climbing up the tree and being up here in the tee—i's a sectet-I real books and do homework up here. I's no 00d if you tell anyone.” “[ won't tel.” Michiko bowed her head in assent. “Why have you become lke a bird?” ' H “Since it’s you, Mitchan, Tl tll you. Myrfather and mother had an afl quid My mother said she was going to take me and go back to her parents! house: I didn’t want to look'at.them, so I climbed’a tree in the garden and hid at the tép: Saying, “Where's Keisuke gone to?” they looked all over for me. But they couldn’tfind me. From the tre¢, I saw my father go-all the way to the ocean to look. This was last spting.” “What were they quarreling about?” “Don’t you know? My father has a woman,” Michiko said nothing. “Since then, P've been up inthis tré alot. My father and mother sill don't know. It’s secret,” Keisuke said again, just to make sure. “Mitchah, starting tomiorrow, bring your schoolbooks. We'll do our homework up here: We'll get good grades. The trees in the garden are all those big camellia trees with lots of leaves, so nobody can see ts from the ground or anywhere.” Scanned with CamScannerFiction ‘The “secret” of their being up in the tree had continued for almost two years now. Where the thick trunk bratiched out'near the top, the two could sit comfortably. Michiko, straddling one branch, leaned back against another. There were days when litte birds came and days wheh the wind sang through the pine needles. Although they ‘weren't that high off the ground, these two little lovers felt asif they were in a completely different world, far away’ froth the earth: ‘Translated by Lane Dunlop QUESTIONS 1. Kawabata, a Nobel Prize“winning writer, offers a clear description of setting: What #8 distinctive about the landscapé? How do Michiko and Keisuke relate to it? Why 6 they hide in the pine tree? 2. What words best deseribe the mei oF atmosphere ofthis tory? Point out pasages that convey'this mood. 3. Adults are in the background of both “Araby” and “Up in the Tree.” What is their function in’ both stories? How do they intensify certain conflicts? Jamaica Kincaid GIRL Wash the white clothes on Monday and put them on.the stone heap; wash the color clothes on Tuesday and put them on the clothes-line to dry; don’t walk barchead in the hot sun; cook pumpkin fritters in very hot sweet oil; soak your litle cloths right after you take them off; when buying cotton to make yourself a nice blouse, be sure that it doesn't have gum on it, because that way it won't hold up well after a wash; soak salt fish ‘overnight before you cook it; is it true that you sing benna in Sunday school?; always eat your food in such a way that it won’t turn someone else’s stomach; on Sundays try to walk like a lady and not like the slut you are so bent on becoming; don’t sing benna in Sunday school; you mustn't speak to wharf-rat boys, not even to give directions; don’t cat fruits on the street—flies will follow you; but J don’t sing benna on Sundays at all and never in Sunday school this is how to sew on a button; this is how to make a buttonhole for the button you have just sewed on; this is how to hem a dress when you see the hem coming down and so to prevent yourself from looking like the slut I know you are so bent on becoming; this is how you iron your father’s khaki shirt so that it doesn’t have'a crease} this is how you iron your father’s khaki pants so that they don’t have a crease; this'is how you grow okra~—far from the house, because okra tree harbors red ants; when you are growing dasheen, make sure it gets plenty of water or else it makes your throaviteh Scanned with CamScannerae Children & Families jpitee. “7774 when you are eating it; this is how you sweep a corner; this is how you sweep a whole house; this is how you sweep a yard; this is how you smile to someone, you don't like too much; this.is how you smile to someone you don’t like at all; this is how you smile to someone you like completely; this is how you set a table for tea; this is how you set a table for dinner; this is how you set a table for dinner with an important guest; this is how you set a table for lunch; this is how you set a table for breakfast; this is how to behave in the presence of men who don’t know you very well, and this way they won't recognize immediately the slut I have warned you against becoming; be sure to wash every day, even ifit is with your own spit; don’t squat down to play marbles—you are not a boy, you know; don’t pick people’s fowers—you might catch something; don’t throw stones at blackbirds, because it might not be a blackbird at all this is how to make a bread pudding; this is how to make doukona; this is how to,make pepper pot; this is how to make a good medicine for a cold; this is how to make a good medicine to throw away a child before it even becomes a child; this is how to catch a fish; this is how to throw back a fish you don’t like, and that way something bad won’t fall on you; this is how to bully a man; this is how a man bullies you; this is how to love a man, and if this doesn’t work there are other ways, and if they don’t work don’t feel too bad about giving up; this is how to spit up in the air if you feel like it, and this is how to, move, quick so that it doesn’t fall on you; this is how to make ends meet; always squeeze bread to make sure it’s fresh; but what if the baker won’t et me fel the bread?; you mean to say that after all you are really going to be the kind of woman who the baker won't let near the bread? QUESTIONS 1. Who is speaking in this sketch, and to whom? Does it matter that the girl has no name? What must the girl learn? What kind of person will she turn out to be? 2. The author was born in’Saint Johns, the capital of the West Indian island nation of Antigua, What do we learn in the story about the culture of this Caribbean island? 3. This is a very short story. Does a theme emerge? Why or why not? David Leavitt GRAVITY. Theo had a choice between a drug that would save his sight and a drug that would keep him alive, so he chose not to go blind, He stopped the pills and started the injections— these required the implantation of an unpleasant and painful catheter just above his heart—-and within a few days the clouds in his eyes started to clear up; he could see Scanned with CamScannerChildren & Families Doris Lessing FLIGHT Above the old man’s head was the dovecote, a tall wire-netted shelf on stilts, full of strutting, preening birds. The sunlight broke on their gray breasts into small rainbows, His ears were lulled by their crooning; his hands stretched up toward his favorite, a homing pigcon, a young plump-bodied bird, which stood still whem it saw him’ and cocked a shrewd bright eye. “Pretty, pretty, pretty,” he said, as he grasped the bird anid drew it down, feeling the cold coral claws tighten around his finger. Content, he rested the bird lightly on his chest and leaned against a tree, gazing out beyond the dovecote into the landscape of a late afternoon. In folds and hollows of sunlight and shade, the dark red soil, which was broken into great dusty clods, stretched wide'to.a tall horizon. Trees marked the course of the valley; a stream of rich green grass the road. His eyes traveled homeward along this road until he saw his granddaughter swinging on the gate underneath a frangipani tree. Her hair fell down her back’ in a-wave of sunlight; and her long bare. legs repeated the angles.of the frangipani stems,:bare, shining brown stems among pattems of pale blossoms. ‘She was gazing past the pink flowers, past the railway cottage where they lived, along the road to the village. tia i His mood shifted. He deliberately held outshis wrist for the bird to take flight, and caught it again at the moment it spread its wings. He felt the plump shape strive and strain under his fingers; and, in a sudden access of troubled spite, shut the bird into a small box and fastened the bolt. “Now you stay there,” he muttered and turned his back on the shelf of birds. He moved warily along the hedge, stalking his granddaughter, who was now looped over the. gate, her head loose on. her arms, singing. The light happy sound mingled with the crooning of the birds, and his anger mounted. “Hey!” he shouted, and saw her jump; look back,-and abandon the gate. Her eyes veiled themselves, and she said in a peit, neutral voice, “Hullo, Grandad.” Politely she moyed toward him, after a lingering backward,glance at the road. “Waiting for Steven, hey?” he said, his fingers, curling like claws into his palm, “Any objection?” she asked lightly, refusing to look at him. He confronted her, his eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched, tight inja.hard knot of pain that included the preening birds, the sunlight, the flowers, herself. He said, “Think you're old enough to go courting, hey?” ‘The girl tossed her head at the old-fashioned phrase and sulked, “Oh, Grandad!” “Think you want to leave home, hey? Think you can go running around the fields at night?” Her smile made him see her, as he had every evening of this warm end-of-summer ‘month, swinging hand in hand along the road to the village with that red-handed, red-throated, violent-bodied youth, the son of the postmaster. Misery went to his head and he shouted angrily: “T'l tell your mother!” “Tell away!” she said, laughing, and went back to the gate, Scanned with CamScannerHe heard her singing, for him to hear: “L've got you under my skin, Trve got you deep in the heart of...” “Rubbish,” he shouted. “Rubbish. Impudent litle bit of rubbish!” Growling under his, breath, he turned toward the dovecote, which was his refuge from the house he shared with his daughter and her husband and their children. But now the house would be empty. Gone all the young girls with their laughter and their squabbling and their teasing. He would be left, uncherished and alone, with that square-fronted, calm-eyed woman, his daughter. He stopped muttering, before the doveeote, resenting the absorbed, cooing birds. From the gate the girl shouted: “Go and tell! Go on, what are you waiting for?” Obstinately he made his way to the house, with quick, pathetic, persistent glances of appeal back at her. But she never looked around. Her defiant but anxious young body stung him into love and repentance. He stopped. “But I never meant. ...” he muttered, waiting for her to turn and run to him. “I didn’t mean. . 5 .” She did not tum, She had forgotten him. Along the road came the young man Steven, with something in his hand. A present for her? The old man stiffened as he watched the gate swing back and the couple embrace. In the brittle shadows of the frangipani tree his granddaughter, his darling, lay’in the arms of the postmaster’s son, and her hair, flowed back over his shoulder. “T see you!” shouted the old man spitefully. They did not move. He stumped into the little whitewashed house, hearing the wooden veranda creak angrily under his feet. His daughter was sewing in the front room, threading a needle held to the light: He stopped again, looking back into the garden. The couple were now sauntering among the bushes, laughing. As he watched he saw the girl escape from the youth with a sudden mischievous movement and run off through the flowers with him in pursuit: He heard shouts, laughter, a scream, silence. But it's not Hike that a all.” he mattered miserably. “Ies not lke that. Why ean‘ you see? Running and giggling, and kissing and kissing. You'll come to something quite different.” He looked at his daughter with sardonic hatred, hating himself. They were caught and finished, both of them, but the git] was still running free. “Can't you see?” he demanded of his invisible granddaughter, who was, at that moment lying in the thick green grass with the postmaster’s son. His daughter looked at him and her eyebrows went up in tired forbearance. “Put your birds to bed?” she asked, humoring him. ‘ “Lucy,” he said urgently. “Lucy. . . .” ’ “Well, what is it now?” ‘ f “She's in the garden with Steven.” “Now you just sit down and have your tea.” He stumped his feet altemately, thump, thump, on the hollow wooden floor and shouted:-“She'll marry him. I'm telling you, she'll be marrying him next!” His daughter rose swiftly, brought him a cup, set him a plate, “J don't want any tea. I don’t want it, I tell you.” “Now, now,” she crooned. “What's wrong with it? Why not?” Scanned with CamScannerWe Children & Families Syzit" “She's eighteen, Eighteen!” “Iwas married at seventeen, and I never regretted it.” “Liar,” he sid. “Liar. Then you should regret its Why do you make you girs marry? It’s you who do it. What do you do it for? Why?” “The other three have done fine. They've three fine husbands. Why not Alice?” “She's the last,” he moumed, “Can't we keep her a bit longer?” “Come, now, Dad, Shell be down the road, tha’ all Shel be here every day to see you.” “But it’s not the same.” He thought of the other three girls, transformed inside a few months from charming, petulant, spoiled children into serious young’ miatrons. “You never did like it when we married,” she’said, “Why not? Every tithe, it’s the same. When I got married you made me feel like it was something wrong: And my girls the same. You get them all crying arid miserable the way you go'on. Leave Alice alone, She'shappy.” She sighed letting her ees linger onthe suit garden. “Shel marry next month, There’s no reason to wait.” i “You've said they can marry?” he said incredulously.’ >< “Yes, Dad. Why not?” she said coldly and took up her sewing. His eyes stung, and he went out on to the verarida. Wet spread down over his chin, and he took out a handkerchief and mopped his whole face. ‘The garden was empty. From around the comer came the young couple; but their faces were no longer set against him, On the wrist of the postmaster’ son balanced yoting pigeon, the light gleaming on its breast. ’ “For me?” said the ld man, letting the drops shake off his‘chin. “For we? “Do you like it2” The girl grabbed his hand and swung on it. “It's for you, Grandad, ‘Steven brought it for you.” ‘They hung about him, ‘affectionate, concerned, trying to charm away his wet eyes and his misery. They took his arms and directed him to the shelf of birds, one on each side, enclosing him, petting himy saying wordlessly that nothing would be changed; nothing could change, and that they would be with him always. The bird was proof oft they said, from their lying happy eyes a they thrist it on him. “There, Grandad, it’s yours. It’s for you.” ‘They watched him as he held it on his wrist, stroking its soft, sun-warmed Back, watching the wings lift and balance “You mus shut it up fora bit,” said the gil intimately, “uti itlknows this ists home.” “Teach your grandmother to suck eggs” growled the old man, Released by his half-deliberate anger, they fell back, laughing at him, “We're glad you like it.” They moved off, now serious and full of purpose, to the gate, where they hhung, backs to him, talking quietly. More than anything could, their grown-up serious- ness shut him out, making him alone; also, it quietened him, took the sting out of their tumbling like puppies on the grass, They had forgotten him again. Well, so they should, the old man reassured himself, feeling his throat clotted with tears, his lips trembling. He held the new bird to his face, forthe cares ofits silken feathers, Then he shut in a box and took out his favorite. “Now you can go,” he said aloud. He held it poised, ready for fight, while he looked down the garden toward the boy and the girl. Then, clenched in the pain of loss, he Scanned with CamScannerlifted theibird on his wrist and watched it soar. A whirr and a cloud of birds rose into the evening from the dovecote. ‘At the gate Alice and Steven forgot their talk and watched the bir On the veranda, that woman, his daughter, stood gazing, her eyes hand that still held her sewing. woah by It seemed to the old man that the whole afternoon had stilled to watch! his of self-commangd, that even the leaves of the treeshad stopped shakingsn! ‘0 Dry-eyed and calm, he let his hands fll to his sides and stood cre ng the sky. The cloud of shining silver birds flew up and up, with a shrill ie the dark ploughed land and the darker belts of trees and the bright foldsvof' grads, until they floated high in.the sunlight, like a cloud of motes of dusts» W itsnteien ‘They wheeled in a wide circle, tilting their wings so there was flash afftt flash-of light, and one after another they dropped from the sunshine of the upper sky to'shadow one after another, returning to the shadowed earth over trees and grass and field, réti to the valley andthe shelter of night. eoqqe 9 ‘The garden was all a fluster anil a flurry of: retin birds.'Then ae sky was empty. ‘The old man turned, slowly, taking his time; he lied his eyes to smile a y the garden at his granddaughter. She was staring at him. She did not smiled ‘wide-eyed and'pale in the cold shadow, and he saw the tears run shivering QUESTIONS 1. How does the relationship between the grandLaier, bis daughte and his daughter define the many conflicts in this story? 2. Why does Lessing devote so such attention to a description of the setting especially'to the’birds? What do the birds symbolize? inn 3, Compare the final episode in “Flight” with the last scene'in' “Gravity.” ° R. K. Narayan MOTHER AND a , and so she brought out her favourite points one ter was getting on to fourteen, the girl was good-looking and her brat give a handsome dowry; she (Ramu’s mother) was getting old Scanned with CamScannerKay Boyle ASTRONOMER’S WIFE ‘There is an evil moment,on awakening when all things seem to pause. But for: women, they only falter,and may be set,in,action by a single.move:.a lifted hand and the pendulum will swing, or the voice raised and through every. room the pulse takes up its beating, The astronomer’s wife felt the interval gaping and at once filled it to the brim, She fetched up her gentle voice and sent it warily down the stairs for coffee, swung her feet out upon the oval mat, and hailed the morning with her bare arms’ quivering flesh drawn taut in rhythmic exercise: left, eft, left my wife and fourteen children, right, right, right in the middle of the dusty road. ‘The day would proceed from this, beat by beat, without reflection, like every other day. The astronomer was still asleep, or feigning it, and she, once out of bed, had come into her. own possession. Although scarcely eyer out of sight ofthe impenetrable silence of his brow, she would be absent from him all the day in being clean, busy, kind. He was a man of other things, a dreamer, At times he lay still for hours, at others, he sat upon the roof behind his telescope, or wandered down the pathway to the road and ut across the mountains. This day, like any other, would govon from the removal of the spot left there from dinner on the astronomer’s, vest, to the severe thrashing, of the mayonnaise for unch. That man might be each time the new arching wave, and woman the undertow that sucked him back, were things she had been sith his silence were so. In spite ofthe earliness of the hour, the git had heard her mistres’s voice and was 189 Scanned with CamScannerlta. $( 190 8 Women & Men coming up the stairs, At the threshold of the bedroom she paused, and said: “Madame, the plumber is here.” ‘The astronomer’s wife put on her white and scarlet smock very quickly and buttoned it at the neck, Then she stepped carefully around the motionless spread of water in the hall. “Tell him to come right up,” she said, She laid her hands on the bannisters and stood ooking down the wooden stairway. “Ah, I am Mrs. Ames,” she said softly as she saw him mounting, “Iam Mrs. Ames,” she said sofily, sofily down the fight of stairs. “Tam Mrs. Ames,” spoken soft as a willow weeping. “The professor is still sleeping. Just step this way.” ‘The plumber himself looked up and saw Mrs. Ames with her voice hushed, speaking to him, She was a youngish woman, but this she had forgotten. The mystery and silence of her husband's mind lay like a chiding finger on her lips. Her eyes were gray, for the light had been extinguished in them. The strange dim halo of her yellow hair was still uncombed and sideways on her head. For all of his heavy boots, the plumber quieted the sound of his feet, and together they went down the hall, picking their way around the still lake of water that spread as far as the landing and lay docile there. The plumber was a tough, hardy man; but he took off his hat when he spoke to her and looked her fully, almost insolently in the eye, “Does it come from the wash-basin,” he said, “or from the other . . . 2” “Ob, from the other,” said Mrs. Ames without hesitation. In this place the villas were scattered out few and primitive, and although beauty lay without there was no reflection of her face Within’ Here all was awkward and unfit; a sense of wrestling with uncouth forces gave everything an austere countenance. Even the plumber, dealing as does a woman with matters under hand, was grave and stately. ‘The mountains roufid about seemed to have cast them into the shiadow of great dignity. "Mrs. Ames began speaking of their arrival that summer in the litde Willa, mourning each event as it followed on'the other. es “Then, just before going'to bed last night,” she said, “I noticed somicthinig wis unusual.” bug ow f The plumber cast down’a folded square of sack-cloth ott the brimming floor arid laid his leather apron on it: Then he stepped boldly onto the heart of the island it shaped and looked long into the overflowing bowl. “The water should be stopped from the meter i the garden,"/he said at last. “Oh, | did that,” said Mrs. Ames, “the very first thing last night! I turned it off at ‘once, in my nightgown, as soon as I saw what was happening. But all this had already run in.” . 1 a ‘The plumber looked for a moment at her'red kid slippers. She was standing just at the edge of the clear, pure-secming tide. “It’s no doubt the sol lines,” he said severely. “It may be thiat something has stopped them, but my opinion is that the water seals aren’t working. ‘That's the trouble often ‘entough it such cases. If you had a valve you wouldn't be cauight like this.” ‘Mrs. Ames did not know how to meet this rebuke, She stood, swaying a little, looking into the plumber's blue relentless eye. Scanned with CamScanner“P'm sorry—I'm sorry that my husband,” she said, “is still—resting and cannot go into this with you. I'm sure it must be very interesting. :. .” “You'll probably have to have the traps sealed,” said the plumber grimly, and at the sound of this Mrs. Ames’ hand flew in dismay to the side of her face. The plumber made no move, but the set of his mouth as he looked at her seemed to soften. “Anyway, I'll have a look from the garden énd,” he said. “Oh, do,” said the astronomer’s wife in relief: Here was a man who spoke of action and object as simply as women did! But however hushed her voice had been, it carried clearly to Professor Ames who lay, dreaming and solitary, upon his bed. He heard their footsteps come down the hall, pause, and skip across the pool of overflow. “Katherine!” said the astronomer in a ringing tone. “There's a problem worthy of your mettle!” Mrs. Ames did not turn her head, but led the plumber swifly down the stairs, When the sun in the garden struck her face, he saw there was a wave of colorn it, but this may have been anything but shame, “You see how itis,” said the plumber, as ifleading her mind away. “The drains run from these houses right down the hill, big enough for a man to stand upright in them, and clean asa whistle too.” There they stood in the garden with the vegetation flowering in disorder all about. The plumber looked at the astronomer’s wife. “They come out at the torrent on the other side of the forest beyond there,” he said. But the words the astronomer had spoken still sounded in her in despair. The mind of main, she knew, made steep and sprightly flights, pursued illusion, took foothold in the nameless things that cannot pass between the thumb and finger. But whenever the astronomer gave voice to the thoughts that soared within him, she retuned in gratitude to the long ‘expanses of his silence. Desert-like they stretched behind and before the articulation of his scorn. i Life, lifes an open sea, she sought to explain itin sorrow, and to survive women cling to the floating débris on the tide. But the plumber had suddenly fallen upon his knees, in the grass and had crooked his fingers through the ring of the drains’ trap-door. When she looked down she saw that he was looking up into her face, and she saw too that his hair was as light as gold. “Perhaps Mri Ames,” he said rather bitterly, “would like to come down with me and have a look around?” “Down?” said Mrs. Ames in wonder. “nto the drains,” said the plumber brutally. “They're a study for a man who likes to know what’s what.” “Oh, Mr. Ames,” said Mrs. Ames in confusion, “He's still—still in bed, you see.” ‘The plumber lifted his strong, weathered face and looked curiously at her. Surely it seemed to him strange for a man to linger in bed, with the sun pouring yellow as wine all over the place. ‘The astronomer’s wife saw his lean checks, his high, rugged bones, and the deep seams in his brow. His flesh was as firm and clean as wood, stained richly tan with the climate’s rigor. His fingers were blunt, but comprehensible to her, gripped in the ring and holding the iron door wide. The backs of his hands were bound round and round with ripe blue veins ‘of blood. Scanned with CamScannerWomen & Men “At any rate,” said the astronomer’ wife, and the thought of it moved her lips to smile a litle, “Mr, Ames would never go down there alive. He likes going up,” shé said, ‘And she,in her turn, pointed, but impudently, towards the heavens. “On the roof, Or on the mountains. He’s been up on the tops of them many times.” [es a matter of habit,” said the plumber, and suddenly he went down the trap, Mrs, ‘Ames saw a bright little piece of his hair stil shining, like a star, long after the rest of him had gone. Out of the depths, his voice, hollow and dark with foreboding, returned to her. “I think something has stopped the elbow,” was what he said. This was speech that touched her flesh and bone and made her wonder. When her husband spoke of height, having no sense ofit, she could hot picture it nor hear, Depth ‘or magic passed her by unless a name was given. But madness in'a daily shape, as elbow stopped, she saw clearly and wll She sat down onthe grases, bewildered thatitshould be a man who'had spoken to her s6. She saw the weeds springing up, and she did not move to tear them up from life. She sat powerless, her senses veiled, with no action taking shape beneath her hands. In this way some men’ sat for hours on end, she knew, tracking a single thought back to its origin, The mind of man could balance and divide) weed out, destroy. She sat on the full, burdened grasses, seeking to think, and dimly waiting for the plumber to return. Whereas Hér husband had always gone up, as the dead go, she knew now that there were others who went dovin, like the corporeal being of the dead. ‘That men were then divided ito two bodies now seemed clear to Mrs. Ames. This knowledge stunned her ‘with its simplicity and took the uneasy motion from her limbs. She could not stir, but sat facing the mountains’ rocky flanks, and harking in silence to lucidity Her husband was the mind, this other man the meat, of all' mankind. +" "Afraid, the phimber emerged from the earth: fs the light top of his head then the bumt brow, and then the blue eyes fringed with whitest lash. He: btaced his thick hands at on the pavings ofthe garden-path and sting himself completely foi the pit. “v's the sol lines,” he said pleasantly. "The gases,” he said as he looked down upon her lifted face, “are backing up the drains.” y “What in the world are we going to do?” said the astronomer’s wife sofly. There was 1a young and strange delight in putting questions to which true answers would be given. Everything the astronomer had ever said to her was a continuous query to which there could be no response. “Ah, come, now,” said the plumber, looking'down and smiling. ““There’s a remedy for every ill, you know. Sometimes it may be that,” he said as if speaking toa child, “or sometimes the other thing. But there's always a help for everything a-mis.” "Things come out of herbs ad make you young again he might have been saying to her; or the first good rain will quench any drought; or time of itself will put a broken bone together. “Lm going to follow the ground pipe out right to the torent,” the plumber was saying. "The trouble's between here and there’and Tl find it on the way, There's nothing at all that can’t be done over for the caring,” he was saying, and his eyes were fastened on her face in insolence, or geniteness, or love. The astronomer’ wife stood up, fixed a pin in her hair, and tumed around towards Scanned with CamScanner. ¥ i. / the kitchen. Even while she was calling the servant’s name, the plumber began speaking again, ol once had a cow that lst her cud,” the plumber was saying. The gil came out on the kitchen-step and Mrs. Ames stood smiling’ at her in the:sun. “The trouble is very serious, very serious,” she said across the garden. “When Mr. ‘Ames gets up, please tell him I've gone down.” k She pointed briefly to the open door inthe pathway, andthe plumber hoisted his kit on his arm and put out his hand:to help her down, “But I made her nother inno time" he wat ivng; “tof ower and things and whatnot.” soul ait Ohslsaid the astrononie’s wife in wonier a hesteiped into the heart of the earth. She took his am, Imowing that what he said was trie. QUESTIONS ct I‘ f When dove get the fit inkling of Mrs. Afni esting tovaid fe Misband? What \ are they? What significance does water have'as a ayn the sae this sia eo through varioits transformations)'and iso, what are’ they? Is'the astronomer portrayed sympathetically of unsympathetically? Explain: . What types of observations does Mrs: Ames make about the plumber? How afe they similar to'what the phimber notices'about Mrs. Ames?!" 5 How are images of height and depth used inthe story? How do they eontibuté to the storys theme? ae Anton Chekhov et THE'LADY WITH THE: ne : PET DOG... 1 1 _ aap Anew person, it was said, had appeared on the esplanade: a lddy'with a pet dog. Dmitry Dmitrich Gurov,.who had spent a fortnight at Yalta and had got used to the place, had also begun to take an interest in new aftivals: As he sat in Vernet’s confectionery shop, be saw, walking on the esplanade a fared young womnan of medium height, wearing a beret; a white Pomeranian was trotting behind her. ‘And afterwards he met her in the public garden and in'the square several tinies a Scanned with CamScanneryltee Fiction {=} ‘ Sa Does the story end on an optimistic note, a pessimistic one, or a combination of the two? Explain, 4, What is Gurov’s general attitude toward women? Does it change or remain the same during the course of the story? ‘Compare the love affair described in the story with one of your own or with a friend's that you have petsonal knowledge off tis often said that Chekhov's work foreshadowed the emotional complexity of much twentieth-century wring. Dohis characters have the confit we find in today’s men and women? Explain! s 2 Kate Chopin A RESPECTABLE’ ‘WOMAN. - ‘Mrs: Baroda’was a little provoked to'leam that’her husband pei his'friend, Gouvernail; up'to spend a'week or two on the plantation: ‘They had entertained a good deal during the winter; much of the time had also been passed in New Orleans ini various forms of mild dissipation. She was looking fotward toa period of unbroken'rest; now, and undisturbed tété-a-téte with her husband; when he informed her that Gouvernail was coming up to'stay a week or two. ‘This was a man she had heard much of but never seen: He tad been her husband’? college friend; was now a journalist, and in no sense a society man or'a man‘about town,” which were, perhaps, some of the reasons she had never miet him, Bit she had unconsciously formed an image of him in her mind. She pictured him tall, slim, cynical; with eye-glasses, and his hands in his pockets; and she did not like him. Gouvernail was slim enough, but he'wasn’t very tall nor very cynical; neither did he wear eye-glasses nor carry his hands in his pockets. And she rather liked him when he first presentéd himself, But why she liked him she could not explain satisfactorily to herself when she partly attempted to do so. She could discover in him none of those brilliant and promising traits which Gaston, her husband, had often assured'her that he possessed, On ‘the contrary, he sat rather mute and receptive before her chatty eagerness to make him feel at home and in face’ of Gaston's frank and wordy hospitality. His| manner was as courteous toward her as the most exacting woman could require; but he made no direct appeal to her approval or even esteem. ‘Once settled at the plantation he seemed to like to sit upon the wide poitico in the shade of one of the big Corinthian pillars, smoking his cigar lazily and listening attentively to Gaston’s experience’as a sugar planter. «! “This is what I call living,” he would utter with deep satisfaction, as the air that swept across the sugar field caréssed him with its warm and scented velvety touch. It pleased Scanned with CamScanner‘Women & Men him also to get on familiar terms with the big dogs that-came about him, rubbing themselves sociably against his legs. He did not care to fish, and displayed no eagerness to go out and kill grosbecs when Gaston proposed doing so. Gouvernail’s personality puzzled Mrs. Baroda, but she liked him. Indeed, he was a lovable, inoffensive fellow. After a few days, when she could understand him no better than at first, she gave over being puzzled and remained piqued. In this mood she left her husband and her guest, for the most part, alone together. Then finding that Gouvernail took no manner of exception to her action, she imposed her society upon him, accompanying him in his idle strolls to the mill and walks along the batture. She persistently sought to penetrate the reserve in which he had unconsciously enveloped himself. “When is he going—your friend?” she one day asked her husband, “For my part, he tires me frightfully.” “Not for a week yet, dear. I can’t understand; he gives you no trouble.” “No. I should like him better if he did; ifhe were more like others, and I had to plan somewhat for his comfort and enjoyment.” Gaston took his wife’s pretty’ face between his hands and looked tenderly and laughingly into her troubled eyes. They were making a bit of toilet sociably together in ‘Mrs. Baroda’s dressing-room. “You are full of surprises, ma belle,” he said to her. “Even I'can never count upon how you are going to act under given conditions.” He kissed her and turned to fasten his cravat before the mirror. “Here you.are,” he went on, “taking poor Gouvernail seriously: and making a commotion over him, the last thing he woulld desire or expect.” “Commotion!” she hotly resented. “Nonsense! How can you say such a thing? Commotion, indeed! But, you know, you said he was clever.”” “So he is. But the poor fellow is run down by overwork now. That’s why I asked him here to take a rest.” “You used to say he was a man of ideas,” she retorted, unconciliated. “I expected him to be interesting, at least. I'm going to the city in the morning to have my spring gowns fitted. Let me know when Mr. Gouvernail is gone; I shall be at my Aunt Octavie’s.” That night she went and sat alone upon a bench that stood beneath a live oak tree at the edge of the gravel walk. She had never known her thoughts or her intentions to be so confused. She could gather nothing from them but the feeling of a distinct necessity to quit her home inthe morning, Mrs. Baroda heard footsteps crunching the gravel; but could discern in the darkness only the approaching red point of a lighted cigar. She knew it was Gouvernail, for her husband did not smoke. She hoped to remain unnoticed, but her white gown revealed her to him. He threw away his cigar and seated himself upon the bench beside her; without a suspicion that she might object to his presence. “Your husband told me to bring this to you, Mrs, Baroda,” he said, handing her a filmy, white scarf with which she sometimes enveloped her head and shoulders. She accepted the scarf from him with a murmur of thanks, and let it lie in her lap. Scanned with CamScannerWo. Fiction { 207 a Cs) He made some commonplace observation upon the baneful effect of the night air at that season. Then as his gaze reached out into the darkness, he murmured, half to himself: , 3 “Night of south winds—night of the large few stars! Still nodding night—' She made no reply to this apostrophe thahe night; which indeed, was not addressed to her. Gouverail was in no sense a difident man, for he was nota sel-conscious one. His periods of reserve were not constitutional,:but:the result of moods. Sitting there beside Mrs. Baroda; his silence:melted for the times 3 i He talked freely and intimately in a low, hesitating dravsl that was not unpleasant to hear. He talked of the old college days when he and Gaston had been a good deal to each other; of the days of keen and blind ambitions and large intentions. Now there was left with him, at least, a philosophic acquiescence to the existing order—only a desire to be permitted to exist, with now and then a little whiff of genuine life, such as he was breathing now. Her mind only vaguely grasped what he was saying. Her physical being was for the moment predominant. She was not thinking of his words, only drinking in the tones of his voice. She wanted to reachi gut)het hand ia thesdarkness and touch him with the sensitive tips of her fingers upon the face o the lips. She wanted to draw close to him and whisper against his cheek—she dd not care wat—as she might have done if she had not been a respectable woman. ‘Tpulemonieg rib deppddegpborey iring Merieinenr hinkathe ietiinsindact Bikale draw away from him.’As soon as she could do so without an appearance of too great rudeness, she rose and left him there alone. i Before she reached the house, Gouvernail had lighted a fresh cigar and endled his apostrophe to the night: int ‘MrsiBaroda was greatly tempted that night to tell her husband—who was also her friend—of this folly that had seized her. But she did not yield to the temptation. Beside being a'respectable woman she was a very sensible one; and she knew there are some battles in life which ai human being must fight alone. When Gaston arose in the moming, hs wife had already departed She had taken an early morning train to the éity. She did not return till Gouvernail was gone from under her roof. ‘There was some talk of having him back during the summer that followed. That is, Gaston greatly desired it; but this desire yielded to his wife's strenuous’ opposition. However, béfore the year ended, she proposed, wholly from herself, to have Gouver nail visit them agairi. Her husband was surprised and delighted with the suggestion coming from her. “Lam glad, chére amie, to know that you have finally overcome your sik for him truly he did not deserve it.” “Oh,” she told him, laughingly, after pressing a long, tender kiss upom his lips, “I have overcome everything! you will see: This time 1 shall be very nice to him,” Scanned with CamScannerWomen & Men QUESTIONS 1. Of Mrs. Baroda’s feelings toward Gouvernail, the author states, “But why she liked him she could not explain satisfactorily to herself when she partly attempted to do so.” At what point do Mrs, Baroda’s feelings toward Gouvernail change? ‘What causes this change? 2. The mood of the story is sedate, understated, and enigmatic. How does the physical description of the setting complement this mood? . How does the tile of the story prove to be an ironic one? 4, Compare and contrast the attraction of Mrs. Ames to the plumber in “‘Astronomer’s Wife” with that of Mrs. Baroda to Gouvermail. 5. Kate Chopin is often viewed as an early feminist writer. From what you know:of feminism, explain what therhes in the story support this chadractetization, Isak Dinesen THE BLUE JAR ‘There was once an immensely rich old Englishman who had been’a courtier and a councillor to the Queen and who now, in his old age, cared for nothing but collecting ancient blue china, To that end he travelled to Peisia, Japan, and China, and he-was everywhere accompanied by his daughter, the Lady Helena. It happened, as they sailed in the Chinese Sea, that the ship caught fire on a still night, and everybody went into the lifeboats and left her. In the dark and the confusion the old peet was separated from his daughter. Lady Helena gov up on deck late, and found the ship quite deserted. In the lait moment a young English sailor carried het dow into a lifeHoat that had been forgotten. To the two fugitives it seemed as if fire was following them from al sides, for the phosphorescence played in the dark sea, and, as they looked up, a falling star ran across the sky, as ifit was going to drop into the boat. They sailed for nine days, tll they weré picked up by a Dutch merchantman, and came home to England, The old lord had believed his daughter to be dead, He now wept with joy, and at ‘once took her'off to a fashionable watering-place so that she right recover from the hardships she had gone through, And'as he thought it must be unpleasant to her that a young sailor, who made.his bread in the merchant service, should tell the world that he had sailed for nine days alone with a peer’s daughter, he paid the boy a fine sum; and made him promise to go shipping in the other hemisphere and never come back. ‘For what,” said the old nobleman, “would be the good of that?” When Lady Helena recovered, and they gave her the niews of the Court and.of her family, and in the end also told her how the young sailor had been sent away never to come back, they found that her mind had suffered from her trials, and that she cared for nothing in all the world. She would not go back to her father’s castle in its park, nor Scanned with CamScannerFiction go to Court, nor travel to any gay town of the continent. The only thing which she now wanted to do was to go, like her father before her, to colléct rare’ blue china! So she began to sail, from one country to the other, and her father went with her. In her search she told the people, with whom she dealt, that she was looking for a particular blue color, and would pay any price for it, But although she bought many hundred blue jars and bowls, she would, always/after a time put them aside and.say: “Alas, alas, it is not the right blue.” Her father, when they had sailed for manly years, suggested to her that perhaps the color which she sought did not exist. “O God, Papa,” said she, “how can you speak so wickedly? Surely there must be some of it left from the time when all the world was blue.” Her two old aunts in England implored her to come back, still to make a great match, But she answered them: “Nay, I have got to sail. For you must know, dear aunts, that it is all nonsense when learned people tell you that the seas have got a bottom to them. On the contrary, the water, which is the noblest of the elements, does, of course, go all through the earth, so that our planet really floats in the ether, like a soapbubble. And there, on the other hemisphere, a ship sails, with which I have got to keep pace. We two are like the reflection of one another, in the deep sea, and the ship of which I speak is always.exactly’ beneath my.own ship, upori the opposite side of the globe: You have never seen a big fish swimming underneath a boat, following it like a’ darkblue shade in the water. But in that way this ship goes; like the shadow of my ship, and I draw it to and fro wherever I go, as the moon draws the tides, all through the bulk of the earth. If stopped sailing, what would these poor sailors whio makeitheir bread in the merchant service do? But shall tell you a secret;” she said, “In'the end my ship will go down, tothe center of the globe, and atthe very same hour the other ship will sink as well—for people call it sinking, although I can assure you that there.is no up anddown in the sea—and there, in the midst of the world, we two shall.meet.” Manyiyeara pasts, the ld lord did anil Lady Hela became ldiand!deaffbut she still. sailed, Then it happened, after. the: plunder of the) sumimer palace .of:the ‘Emperor of China, that a merchant brought her a very old blue jar.,‘The moment she set eyes on it she gave a terrible shriek. “There itis!” she cried. “I have found itat last. This is the true blue. Oh, how light it makes one. Ohyjit is as fresh as.a breeze, as'deep asia deep secret, as full as I say not whiat.”, With trembling hands she held the jar to her bosom, and sat for six hours sunk in contemplation of it. Then she said.to her doctor and her lady-companion: “Now I can die. And when: am dead you-will cut out my heart and lay it in the blue jar.:For then everything will be as it was then.'AUl shall be blue round me, and in the midst of the blue world my heart‘will be innocent and free, and will beat gently, ike a wake that sings, like the drops that fall from an ‘oar blade.” A litde later she asked them: “Is it not a sweet thing to think that, if only you have patience, all that hhas‘ever been, will.come back to st Shortly!afterwards the old lady died. QUESTIONS 1 wt 1. What stylistic conventions does the author use to signal that this story has similarities toa fairy tale? Scanned with CamScanner2 Does the lack of description ofthe young slo help or hinder our sympathizing with the loss felt by Lady Helena? 3. What social strictures exist in the story that doom therelationship between Lady Helena and the sailor? 4 4. How does the direct,'spare diction of the story contribute to its emotional’ tenor?, 5, Does this story seem hopelessly outdated given contemporary mores, or does it carry a relevant message about romantic relationships today? Explain. ‘ Louise Erdrich | SNARES “i os It began after church with Margaret and her small granddaughter, up aids se to end until the long days of Lent’and a hard-packed snow: There were factions on:the reservation, a treaty settlement in the Agent's hands. There were Chippewa who signed their names in the year 1924,iand there were Chippewa who saiw'the ‘cash offered as aa flimsy bait. I was one and Fleur Pillaget, Lulu’s mother, was another who would hot lift her hand to sign. It was said that all the power to witch, harm; or curé lay im’Fleur, the lone survivor of the old Pillager clan. But'as miuch as people feared Fleur;'they listened to Margaret Kashpavi, She was the ringleader of the:holdouts, a fierce, one- minded widow with a' vinegaé tongue. 4 Margaret Kashpaw had knots of muscles ii her arms. Her‘braids were thin, gay as iron, and usually tied strictly behind her back so they wouldn’t swing. She was plump asa basket below and tough as roots on top. Her face was gnarled arourid’a beautiful sharp nose. Two shell earrings caught the light and flashed whenever she turned’ her head. She had become increasingly religious in the’years after her loss) arid finally sucoceded in dragging me tothe Benediction Mass, where I was greeted by Rather Darien, from whorh Toccasionally won small sums at dice. “Grandfather Nanapush,” he smiled,“at last.” m0 nib “These benches are.a hardship for an old man,”s1 complained. “If you spread them with soft pine-needle cushions I'd have come before.” mit Father Damien stared thoughtfully at the rough’ pews, folded his hands inside the sleeves of his robe. “You must think of their unyielding surfaces as helpful,” he offered. Gd sometimes centers the soul through the humblest parts of our anatomies, if they are sensitized to suffering.” “A god who enters through the rear door,” I countered, “is no better than a thief.” Father Damien was used to me, and smiled as he walked to the altar. T adjusted my old bones, longing for some relief, trying not to rustle for fear of Margaret's jabbing elbow. The time was long: Lulu probed all my pockets with her fingers until she! found Scanned with CamScannerFiction apiece of hard candy. I felt no great presence in this cold place and decided, as my back end ached and my shoulders stiffened, that our original gods were better, the Chippewa characters who were not exactly perfect but at least did not require sitting on hard boards. ‘When Mass was over and the smell of incense was thick in all our clothes, Margaret, Lalu, and I-went out into the starry cold, the snow and stubble fields, and began the long walk to our homes. It was dusk. On either side of us the heavy trees stood motionless and blue. Our footsteps squeaked against the dry snow, the only sound to hear, We spoke very little, and even Lulu ceased her singing when the moon rose to half, poised like a balanced cup. We knew the very moment someone else stepped upon the road. We had turned a bend and the footfalls came unevenly, just out of sight. There were two men, one mixed-blood or white, from the drop of his hard boot soles, and the other ‘one quiet, an Indian. Not long and I heard them talking close behind us. From the rough, quick tension of the Indian’s language, I recognized Lazarre. And the mixed- blood must be Clarence Morrissey. The two had signed the treaty and spoke in its favor to anyone they could collar at the store. They even came to people's houses to beg and argue that this was our oneichance, our godd chance, that the government would withdraw the offer. But wherever Margaret was, she slapped down their words like ‘mosquitoes and said the only thing that lasts life to lif¢ is land. Money burns like tinder, flows like water. And as for promises, the wind is steadier. It is no wonder that, because she spoke so well, Lazarre and Clarence Morrissey wished to silence her. I sensed their bad intent as they passed us, an unpleasant edge of excitement in their looks and greetings. : They went on, disappeared in the dark brush. “Margaret,” I'said; “we are going to cut back.” My house was close, but Margaret kept walking forward as if she hadn’t heard. took her arm, caught the little git! closé, and started to turn, but Margaret would have none of this and called:me a coward. She grabbed the git! to hers Lulu, who'did not mind getting tossed between us, laughed, tucked her hand into her grandma's pocket, and never missed a step. ‘Two years ago she had tired.of being carried, got up, walked. She had the balaitce.of a little mink, She was slippery arid clever, too, which was good because when the men jumped from the darkest area of brush and grappled with us half'a mile on, Lulu slipped free and scrambled into the trees. ‘They were occupied with Margaret and me, at any rate: We were old enough to snap in two, our limbs dry as dead branches, but we fought as though our enemies were the Nadouissouix kidnappers of our childhood. Margaret uttered a war ery that had not been heard for fifty years, and bit Lazarre’s hand to the bone, giving a wound which ‘would later prove the death of him: As for Clarence, he had all he could do to'wrestle me to the ground and knock me half unconscious. When he’d accomplished that, he tied ‘me and tossed me into a wheelbarrow, which was hidden néar the road for the purpose of lugging us to the Morrissey barn. I came to my senses trussed to a manger, sitting on a bale. Margaret was roped to another bale across from me, staring straight forward in a rage, a line of froth caught Scanned with CamScanner2 Women & Men ‘ 4 between her lips. On either side of her, shaggy cows chewed and! shifted their thumping hooves. I rose and staggered, the weight of the manger on my back. I'planned on Margaret biting through my ropes with her strong teeth, but then the two men entered, Tima talker, a fast-mouth who can’t keep his thoughts straight, but lets fly with words and marvels at what he hears from his own mouth, I'm a smart one. I always was a devil for convincing women, And I wasn’t too bad a shot, in other ways, at convincing men, But I had never been tied up before. “Booshoo,” 1 said, “Children, let us loose, your game is too rough!” They stood between us, puffed with their secrets. “Empty old windbag,” said Clarence. “[ have a bargain for you,” I said, looking for an opening. “Let us go and we won’t tell Pukwan.” Edgar Pukwan was the tribal police. “Boys get drunk sometimes and dén’t know what they're doing.” Lazarre laughed once, hard and loud. “We're not drunk,” he said. “Just wanting what's coming to us, some justice, money out of it” “Kill us,” said Margaret. “We won't sign.” “Wait,” I said. “My cousin Pukwan will find you boys, and have no mercy. Let us go. I'll sign and get it over with, and I'll persuade the’ old widow.” I signaled Margaret to keep her mouth shut, She blew air into her checks. Clatence looked expectantly at Lazarre,'as if the show were over, but Lazarre folded his arms and was convinced of nothing. “You lie when it suits, skinny old dog,” he said, wiping at his lips as ifin hunger. “It’s her we want, anyway. We'll shame her so she shuts her mouth.” “Basy enough,” I said, smooth, “now that you've got her tied. She’s plump and good looking. Eyes like a doe! But you forget that we're together, almost man and wife.” This wasn’t true at all, and Margaret’s face went rigid with tumbling fury and confusion. I kept talking. “So of course if you do what you're thinking of doing youll have to kill me afterward, and that will make my cousin Pukwan twice as angry, since T owe him a fat payment for a gun which he lent me and I never returned. All the same,” I went on—their heads \were spinning—‘T'll forget you bad boys ever considered such a crime, something so terrible that Father Damien would nail you on boards just like in the example on the wall in church.” “Quit jabbering.” Lazarre stopped me in a deadly voice. It was throwing pebbles in a dry lake. My words left no ripple. I saw in his eyes that he intended us great harm, I saw his greed, It was like watching an ugly design of bruises come clear for a moment and reconstructing the evil blows that made them, Iplayed my last card. “Whatever you do to Margaret you are doing to the Pillager woman!” I dropped my voice. “The witch, Fleur Pillager, is her own son’s wife.” Clarence was too young to be frightened, but his mouth hung in interested puzzle- ment, My words had a different effect on Lazarre, as a sudden light shone, a conse- quence he hadn't considered, I cried out, seeing this, “Don’t you know she can think about you hard enough to stop your heart?” Lazarre was still deciding. He raised his fist and swung it casually and tapped my face, It was worse not to be hit full on. Scanned with CamScanner“Come near!” crooned Margaret in the old language. “Let me teach you how to dic.” But she was trapped like a fox. Her earrings glinted and spun as she hissed her death song over and over, which signaled something to Lazarre, for he shook himself angrily and drew a razor from his jacket. He stropped it with fast, vicious movements while “Margaret sang shriller, so full of hate that the ropes should have burned, shriveled, fallen from her body. My struggle set the manger cracking against the barn walls and further confused the cows, who bumped each other and complained. At a sign from Lazarre, Clarence sighed, rose, and smashed me. The last I saw before I blacked out, through the tiny closing pinhole of light, was Lazarre approaching Margaret with the blade. When. woke, minutes later, it was to worse shock. For Lazarre had sliced Margaret's long braids off and was now, carefully, shaving her scalp. He started almost tenderly at the wide part, and then pulled the edge down each side of her skull. He did a clean job. He shed not one drop of her blood. And I could not even spéak to curse them. Fot pressing my jaw down, thick above ‘my tongue, her braids, never cut in this life till now, were tied to silence me. Powerless, I tasted their flat, animal perfume: It wasn’t much later, oF else it was forever, that we walked out into the night again. Speechless, we made our way in fierce pain down the road, Iwas damaged in spirit, more so than Margaret. For now she tucked her shatsl over her naked head and forgot her own bad treatinent, She called out in dread each foot of the way, for Lulu. But the smart, bold girl had hidden till all was clear and then’ run to Margaret’s house. We ‘opened the door and found her sitting by the stove in a litter of scorched matches and kindling. She had not the skill to start a fire, but she was dry-eyed. Though very cold, she was dlert and thei captured with wonder when Margaret slipped off her shawl. “Where is your hair?” she asked. took my hand from my pocket: “Here’s what’ left oft. I grabbed this when they cut me loose.” I was shamed by how pitiful I had been, relieved when Margaret snatched;the thin gray braids from me and coiled them round her fist: “J knew you would save them, clever man!” There was satisfaction in her voice. Iiset the fire blazing, It was: strange how generous this woman was to me; ‘never blaming me or mentioning my failure, Margaret stowed her braids inside a birchbark box and merely instructed me to layiit in Ker grave, when that time occurred, Then she came near the stove with a broken mirror from beside her washstaid and looked at her own image. “My,” she pondered, “my.” She put the mirror down, “' take a knife to them.” ‘And I was thinking too. I was thinking I wold have to kill them. But how does an aching and halfstarved grandfather attack a young; well-fed Morrissey and a tall, sly Lazarre? Later, I rolled up in blankets in the comer by ‘Margaret's stove, and I put my mind to this question throughout that night until, exhausted, I slept. And J thought of it first thing next morning, too, and still nothing came. It was only after we had some hot gaulette and walked Lulu back to her mother that an idea began to grow. Fleur let us in, hugged Lulu into her arms, and looked at Margaret, who took off het scarf and stood bald, face burning again with smoldered fire. She told Fleur all of what Scanned with CamScannerhappened, sparing no detail, The two women’s eyes held, but Fleur said nothing: She put Lulu down, smoothed the front of her calico shirt, flipped her heavy braids over her shoulders, tapped one finger on her perfect lips. And then; calm, she went tothe wwashstand and scraped the edge of her hunting knife keen as glass, Margaret and Lulu and I watched as Fleur cut her braids off, shaved her own head, and folded the hair into a quilled skin pouch. Then she went out, hunting, and didn’t bother to wait for night to cover her tracks. I would have to go out hunting too. Thad no gun, but anyway that was a white man’s revenge. I-knew how to wound with barbs of words, but had never wielded a skirining knife against a human, much less two young men. Whomever I missed would kill me, and I did not want to die by their lowly hands. In fact, I didn’t think that after Margaret's interesting kindness I'wanted to leave this life at all. Her head, smooth as an egg, was ridged delicately!with bone, and gleamed as if it had been buffed with a flannel cloth. Maybe it was the strangeness that attracted me. She looked forbidding, but the absence of hair also set off her eyes, so black and, {ull of lights. She reminded me of that queen from England of a water snake or a shrewd young bird. The earrings, which scemed part of her, mirrored her moods like water, and when they were still rounds of green lights against her throat I seemed, again, to tasté her smooth, smoky braids in my mouth. I had better things to do than fight. So I decided to accomplish revenge as quickly as possible. I was a talker who used my brains as my, weapon. When I hunted, J preferred to let my game catch itself 4 Snares demand clever fingers and a scheming mind, and snares had-never failed me. Snares are quiet, and best ofall snares are slow. I wanted to.give Lazarre and Morrissey time to consider why they had to strangle. I thought hard: One-or two-foot deadfalls are required beneath a snaré'so that a man can't put his hand'up and loosen the knot. ‘The snares I had in mind also required something stronger than a cord, which could be broken, and finer than a:rope, which even Lazarre might see and avoid. I pondered this closely, yet'even so I might never have found the solution had I not gone té Mass with Margaret and grown curious about the workings of Father Damien’s pride and joy, the piano in the back of the church, the instrument whose keys he breathed on, polished, then played after services, and sometimes aloné. I had noticed that his hands usually stayed near the middle of the keyboard, so. took the wires from either end. In the meantime, I was not the only oné concerned with punishing Lazarre and Clarence Morrissey. Fleur was seen’ in town. Her thick skirts brushed the snow into ‘louds behind her. Though it was cold she left her head bare so everyone could see'the frigid sun glare off her skull. The light reflected in the eyes of Lazarre and Clarence, who were standing at the door of the pool hall. They dropped their cue sticks in the slush and ran back to Morrissey land, Fleur walked the four streets, once in each direction, then followed. The two men told of her visit, how she passed through the Morrissey house touching here, touching there, sprinkling powders that ignited and stank on the hot stove. How Scanned with CamScannerFiction Clarence swayed on his feet, blinked hard, and chewed his fingers. How Fleur stepped up to him, drew her knife, He smiled foolishly and asked her for supper. She reached forward and trimmed off'a hank of his hair. Then she stalked from the house, leaving a taste of cold wind, and then chased Lazarre to the barn. She made a black silhouette against the light from the door. Lazarre pressed against the wood of the walls, watching, hypnotized by the sight of Fleur’s head and the quiet blade. He did not defend himself when she approached, reached for him, gently and efficiently cut bits of his hair,\held his hands, one at a time, and trimmed the mails. She waved the razor-edged knife before his eyes and swept a few eyelashes into a white square of flour sacking that she thient carefully folded into her blouse. For days after, Lazarre babbled and wept. Fleur was murdering him by use of bad medicine, he said: He showed his hand, the bite that Margaret had dealt him, and the dark streak from the wound, along his wrist and inching up his arm, He even used that bound hand to scratch his name from the treaty, but it did no good. I figured that the twoimen were doomed at least three ways now, Margaret won the debate with her Catholic training and decided to damn her soul by taking up the ax, since no one else had destroyed her enemies. I begged her to wait for.another week, all during which it snowed and thawed and snowed again. It took me thatlong to arrange the snare to my satisfaction, near Lazarre’s shack, on a path both men took to town. Iset it out one morning before anyone stirred, and watched from an old pine twisted along the ground. I waited while the smoke rose in a silky feather from the tiny tin spout on Lazarre’s roof. I had to sit half a day before Lazarre came outside, and even then it was just for wood, nowhere near the path: [had a hard time to keep my blood flowing, my stomach still. I ate a handful of dry berries Margaret had givent me, and a bit of pounded meat. I doled it to myself and waited until finally Clarence showed. He walked the trail like a blind ghost and stepped straight into my.noose! Tewas perfect, or would have been if I had made the deadfall two inches wider, for in falling Clarence somehow managed to spread his legs and straddle the deep hole I'd cut. It had been invisible, covered with snow, and yet in one foot-pedaling instant, the certain knowledge of its construction sprang into Clarence’s brain and told his legs to reach for the sides. I don’t know how he did it, but there he was poised. I waited, did not show myself. The noose jerked enough to cut slightly into the fool's neck, a too-smug fit. He was spread-cagled and on tiptoe, his arms straight outoIf he twitched a finger, lost the least control, even tried to yell, one foot would go; the noose constrict. But Clarence did not move. I could see from behind my braiches that he didn’t even dare to change the expression on his face. His mouth stayed frozen in shock, Only his eyes shifted, darted fiercely and wildly, side:to side, showing all the agitation he must not release, searching desperately for a means of escape. They focused only when I finally stepped toward him, quiet, fromthe pine. | We were in full view of Lazarre’s house, face to face. I stood before the boy. Just a touch, a sudden kick, perhaps no more than a word, was all that it would take, But looked into his eyes and saw the knowledge of his situation, Pity entered me, Even for Margaret's shame, I couldn’t do the thing I might have done. I tumed away and.left Morrissey still balanced on the ledge of snow: Scanned with CamScanner‘Women & Men What money I did have, I took to the trading store next day. I bought the best bonnet on the reservation. It was black as a coal scuttle, large, and shaped the same. “Tt sets off my doe eyes,” Margaret said and stared me down. She wore it every day, and always to Mass, Not long before Lent and voices could be heard: “There goes Old Lady Goalbucket.” Nonetheless, she was proud, and soften- ing day by day, I could tell. By the time we got our foreheads crossed with ashes, she consented to be married. “Thear you're thinking of exchanging the vows,” said Father Damien as I shook his hand on our way out the door. “Pm having relations with Margaret already,” I told him, “that’s the way we do things.” ‘This had happened to him before, so he was not even stumped as to what remedy he should use. “Make a confession, at any rate,” he said) motioning us back into the church. So I stepped into the little box and knelt. Father Damien slid aside the shadowy door. told him what I had been doing with Margaret and he stopped me partway through. “No more details. Pray to Our Lady.” “There is one more thing.” “Yes?” “Clarence Morrissey, he wears a scarf to church around his neck each week. I snared him like a rabbit.” Father Damien let the silence fill him. “And the last thing,” I went on, “I stole the wire from your piano.” The silence spilled over into my stall, and I was held in its grip until the priest spoke, “Discord is hateful to God. You have offended his ear.” Almost as an afterthought, Damien added, “And his commandment, The violence among you must cease.” “You can have the wire back,” I said. I had used only one long strand. I also agreed that I would never use my snares on humans, an easy. promise. Lazarre was already caught. Just two days later, while Margaret and I stood with Lulu and her mother inside the trading store, Lazarre entered, gesturing, his eyes rolled to the skull. He stretched forth his arm and pointed along its deepest black vein and dropped his jaw wide. Then he stepped backward into a row of traps that the trader had set to show us how they worked, Fleur’s eye lit, her white scarf caught the sun as she turned. All the whispers were true, Fleur had scratched Lazarre’s figure into a piece of birchbark, drawn his insides, and rubbed a bit of rouge up his arm until the red stain reached his heart. There ‘was no sound as he fell, no cry, no word, and the traps of all types that clattered down around his body jumped and met for a long time, snapping air QUESTIONS 1. How would you summarize Grandfather Nanapush’s personality? What aspects of his personality do you ascribe to his cultural heritage as a Native American? Scanned with CamScannerFiction 2, This story is filled with figurative language. Identify at least five metaphors and similes. What qualities do they have in common? How do they reflect the ethnic culture and life-style of the characters? 3. What elements of the story appear fantastic or magical? How do they contribute to the mood of the story? How do they effect the story's outcome? 4, Whavis Grandfather Nanapush’s reaction to Margaret's having her head shaven? What does this reveal about his personality? How! does he respond to this event? 5. What are the figurative and literal “snares” that are described or implied in the story? How do they relate to the story’s theme? ‘William Faulkner , i A ROSE.FOR EMILY: When Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house} which no one save an old manservant—a combined gardener and cook—had seen in at least ten years. twas a big, squarish frame house that had once been white; decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and obliterated even the august names of that neighborhood; only Miss Emily’s house ‘was left, lifting its stubborn and, coquettish: decay ‘above the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps—an eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the representatives of those august nameé where they lay in! the cedat-bemiused cemetery among the ranked and anonytious graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at the battle of Jefferson. i Alive, Miss Emily had been a:tradition, a duty, and a care;’a ‘sort of hereditary obligation upon the town, dating from. that day:in 1894 when Colonel Sartoris, the mayor—he who fathered the edict that no Negro woman should appear on the streets without an apron—remitted her taxes, the dispensation dating from the death of her father on into perpetuity. Not that Miss Emily would have accepted charity. Colonel Sartoris invented an involved tale to the effect that Miss. Emily’s father had loaned money to'the town, which the town, as a matter of business, preferred this\way of repaying. Only a man of Colonél Sartoris’ generation and thought'could have invented it, and only a woman could have believed it. When the next generation, with its more moder ideas, became mayors sand alder men,ethis arrangement created some litle dissatisfaction, On the first of the year they mailed her a tax notice, February came, and there was no reply, ‘They'wrote her @ Scanned with CamScanner