Anything bigger wouldn't do. A woman, a child, a brother — a big love like that would split you wide open in Alfred, Georgia. He knew exactly what she meant: to get to a place where you couldlove anything you chose — not to need permission for desire — well now, that was freedom.
Circling, circling, now she was gnawing something else instead of getting to the point.
“它们生长的地方朝阳，可是鸟又吃不着，因为鸟知道底下有蛇，所以它们只管长———又肥又甜———除了我没人去打扰它们，因为除了我谁也不下那滩水，再说也没有什么人愿意滑下悬崖去摘它们。我也不愿意。可是那天我愿意。不知怎么回事，就是愿意。它们可把我抽了一顿，我跟你说。把我划了个稀巴烂。可是我还是装了满满两桶，把它们带到贝比•萨格斯家。就是从那会儿开始的。你再也见不到那种场面了。我们把上帝赐给这地方的所有东西都又烤又炸又炖。大伙儿全来了。每个人都撑着了。那顿饭做得太多了，没给第二天剩下一根劈柴。是我自告奋勇去劈劈柴的。第二天早晨我就过来了，我答应过的，来干活儿。
”
“可这不是她的嘴，”保罗•D说，“这根本不是。
”
斯坦普•沛德看着他。他要告诉他那天早晨贝比•萨格斯是怎样地坐立不安，她是怎样地侧耳倾听；她是怎样地透过玉米凝望小溪，搞得他也忍不住去看。每抡一下斧子，他就望一眼贝比•萨格斯望的地方。所以他们俩都错过了它———他们看错了方向———向着溪水———而同时它却从大路上赶来。四个。并排骑着马，像是一伙的，而且铁面无私。他要告诉保罗•D那件事，因为他认为它很重要：为什么他和贝比•萨格斯都错过了它。还要谈谈那次宴会，因为宴会能够解释，为什么没有人提前跑来；为什么看见城里来的四匹马饮着水、骑马的问着问题时，就没有一个人派个飞毛腿儿子穿过田野来报信。艾拉没有，约翰没有，谁都没有沿着或者朝着蓝石路跑来，来跟他们说有几个陌生的带“相”的白人刚刚骑马进来。每个黑人一降生就跟妈妈的奶头一起认得的那种铁面无私“相”。早在公开发作之前，这种铁面无私就像一面高举的旗帜，流露和显示出荆条、鞭子、拳头、谎言的迹象。没有人来警告他们，他也根本不相信是一整天累死人的胡吃海塞让他们变得迟钝了，而是别的什么———比如，唉，比如卑鄙———使得他们袖手旁观，或者置若罔闻，或者对他们自己说，别人可能已经把消息传到了蓝石路上一个漂亮女人住了将近一个月的那所房子里。她年轻、能干，有四个孩子，其中一个是她到那儿的前一天自己分娩的；她现在正享受着贝比•萨格斯的慷慨和她那颗伟大苍老的心灵的恩泽。也许他们只是想知道贝比是否真的与众不同，比他们多点什么福气。他想对他讲这一切，可是保罗•D大笑着说：
“啊不。不可能。没准脑门周围有点相像，可这不是她的嘴。
”
所以斯坦普•沛德没有告诉他她怎样飞起来，像翱翔的老鹰一样掠走她自己的孩子们；她的脸上怎样长出了喙，她的手怎样像爪子一样动作，她怎样将他们一个个抓牢：一个扛在肩上，一个夹在腋下，一个用手拎着，另一个则被她一路吼着，进了满是阳光、由于没有木头而只剩下木屑的木棚屋。木头都被宴会用光了，所以那时他才在劈劈柴。棚屋里什么也没有，他知道，那天一早他去过了。只有阳光。阳光，木屑，一把铁锹。斧子是他自己带来的。那里除了铁锹什么也没有———当然，有锯子。
“你忘了我从前就认识她，”保罗•D说道，“在肯塔基那会儿。她还是个小姑娘哪。我可不是几个月前才认识她的。我认识她好久了。我敢向你保证：这不是她的嘴。可能看着像，可这不是。”
所以斯坦普•沛德没有全说出来。他就吸了一口气，凑近那张不是她的嘴的嘴，慢慢读出那些保罗•D不认识的字。他念完之后，保罗•D以一种比第一次更莽撞的魄力说道：“对不起，斯坦普。哪儿出了岔子，因为那不是她的嘴。
”
斯坦普望着保罗•D的眼睛，眼睛里面那甜蜜的坚信几乎使他怀疑一切是否发生过，在十八年前，正当他和贝比•萨格斯看错了方向的时候，一个漂亮的小女奴认出了一顶帽子，然后冲向木棚屋去杀她的孩子们。
“我到这里的时候她都会爬了。我把她放在大车上时，她还只会坐着和翻身，一个星期不见，那小宝贝已经会爬了。不让她上楼梯可真费了牛劲。如今的娃娃一落地就会站、会走路了，可二十 年前我是个姑娘的时候，娃娃们好长时间还不能呢。霍华德生下来九个月没能抬起头来。贝比•萨格斯说是吃的问题，你知道。要是你除了奶水再没什么喂他们，那他们就不能太快开始做事情。我从来都只有奶水。我以为长了牙他们才可以嚼东西呢。没人可以打听。加纳太太从没生过孩子，可那个地方只有我俩是女人。
”
她在转圈。一圈又一圈，在屋里绕着。绕过果酱柜，绕过窗户，绕过前门，另一扇窗户，碗柜，起居室门，干燥的水池子，炉子———又绕回果酱柜。保罗•D坐在桌旁，看着她转到眼前又转到背后，像个缓慢而稳定的轮子一样转动着。有时她把手背在背后。要不就抓耳朵、捂嘴，或者在胸前抱起双臂。她一边转，一边不时地揉揉屁股，可是轮子一直没停。
“记得菲莉丝大妈么？从米诺村来的那个？每一回我生孩子，加纳先生都派你们去请她来帮我。只有那时候我才能见到她。有好多回，我都想到她那儿去一趟。就去说说话。我本来打算去求加纳太太，让她去做礼拜的时候在米诺村放下我。回家的路上再接我。我相信，要是求她她会答应的。我从来没问过，因为只有那天黑尔和我才能在阳光底下看见对方。所以再没有什么人了。能去说说话的，我是说，谁能知道我什么时候该开始嚼点东西喂他们。是因为嚼东西才长牙呢，还是应该等牙长出来再喂干粮？唉，现在我明白了，因为贝比•萨格斯喂她喂得特别好，一个星期之后，我到这里的时候，她已经在爬了。拦都拦不住。她那么喜欢那些楼梯磴，于是我们涂上油漆，好让她看着自己一路爬到顶。
”
回想起那件事，塞丝笑了。微笑戛然而止，变成猛的一抽气，可她没哆嗦也没闭眼睛。她转着圈子。
“我希望多知道些，可是，我说了，那地方没有个能说说话的人。女人，我是说。所以我试着回忆我在‘甜蜜之家’以前见过的。想想那里的女人是怎么做的。噢她们什么都懂。怎么做那种把娃娃吊在树上的东西———这样，你在田里干活儿的时候，就会看到他们没有危险。她们还给过他们一种树叶让他们嚼。薄荷，我想是，要么就是黄樟。也可能是雏菊。我至今还是不明白她们怎么编的那种篮子，幸亏我用不着它，因为我所有的活儿都在仓库和房子里，不过我忘了那种叶子是什么。我本来可以用那个的。我们要熏好多猪肉时，我就把巴格勒拴起来。到处都是火，他又什么地方都去。有好多回我差点儿丢了他。有一回他爬到井上，正好在井口上。我蹿了过去，刚好及时抓住了他。于是我明白了，我们在熬猪油、熏猪肉的时候不能看着他，没法子，我就拿一根绳子拴住他的脚脖子。绳子的长度只够在周围玩玩的，可是挨不到井架或是炉火。我并不喜欢他那个样子，可我没有别的办法。挺糟心的，你明白我的意思吧？全靠你自己，没有别的女人帮你熬过去。黑尔好是好，可他还到处有还债的活儿要干。他好不容易停下来睡一会儿的时候，我不想用那些烂事打扰他。西克索可帮了我大忙。我估计你记不得这个了，可是那回霍华德进了牛奶房，肯定是红科拉踩坏了他的手，把他的大拇指扭到了后面。我赶到的时候，它正要咬他呢。我至今不知道我是怎么把他弄出来的。西克索听见他的尖叫声就跑过来了。知道他是怎么弄的吗？一下子就把他的大拇指掰了回来，在手掌上把它和小拇指绑到了一起。你瞧，我怎么也不会想到那个法子。怎么也想不到。教了我好多东西呢，西克索。
”
他被弄得头晕目眩。一开始他以为是因为她转个不停。像绕着话题转一样绕着他兜圈子。一圈又一圈，从不改换方向，否则他的脑袋或许还能得救。然后他想，不对，是因为她的声音，太近了。她转的每一圈离他坐的地方都至少有三码远，可听她说起话来，就像是一个孩子对着你的耳朵低语，这样近，以致你能感到嘴唇翕动却听不出个子午卯酉。他只捕捉到了只言片语———那没关系，因为她还没说到主要部分呢———还没回答那个他并未直接提问，却放在给她看的剪报里的问题。也是放在微笑里的。因为他是微笑着把剪报递给她看的，所以，他都准备好了，当她对着这个笑话放声大笑的时候———她脸上的迷惑本该出现在另外的某个黑女人脸上———当然，他就会马上和她一起大笑起来。
“你能相信这种事吗？
”他会问。
“斯坦普真没脑子，”她会格格笑着，“一点儿脑子没有。
”
但是他的微笑一直没有机会发展。它悬在那里，又小又孤单；而她仔细看了看剪报，然后就把它递了回来。
也许是那个微笑，也许是她在他眼里看到的时刻准备着的爱———轻松而不加掩饰的，小马驹、传道士和孩子们看人的那种眼神，充满着你并不一定配得上的爱———驱使她开口道出了她从没告诉过贝比•萨格斯的事情，她从前觉得只对她一个人有责任解释一切。否则她会只讲报纸上说她讲过的话，而不再多说一句。塞丝只能认出七十五个印出来的词（一半出现在那张剪报 上），可她知道，自己不认识的字不比她要解释的话更有力。是那微笑和不加掩饰的爱驱使她来作一次尝试。
“我不用给你讲‘甜蜜之家’———它是什么———可也许你不知道我从那儿逃出去是什么滋味。”
她用双掌遮住下半边脸，稍作停顿，再一次在心里掂量那个奇迹的大小，它的味道。
“我成功了。我把大家都弄了出来。而且没靠黑尔。到那时为止，那是唯一一件我自己干成的事。铁了心的。然后事情很顺利，跟设想的一样。我们到了这里。我的每一个宝贝，还有我自己。
我生了他们，还把他们弄了出来，那可不是撞大运。是我干的。我有帮手，当然了，好多呢，可还是我干的；是我说的，走吧，我说的，快点。是我得多加小心。是我用了自己的头脑。而且还不止那些。那是一种自私自利，我从前根本不知道。感觉起来很好。很好，而且正确。我很大，保罗•D，又深又宽，一伸开胳膊就能把我所有的孩子都揽进怀里。我是那么宽。看来我到了这儿以后更爱他们。也许是因为我在肯塔基不能正当地爱他们，他们不是让我爱的。可是等我到了这里，等我从那辆大车上跳下来———只要我愿意，世界上没有谁我不能爱。你明白我的意思么？
”
保罗•D没搭腔，因为她并没指望或者要求他回答，可他的确明白了她的意思。在佐治亚的阿尔弗雷德听鸽子叫的时候，他既没有权利也不被允许去享受它，因为那个地方的雾、鸽子、阳光、铜锈、月亮———什么都属于那些持枪的人。有些是小个子，大个子也一样，愿意的话，他可以把他们像根树枝似的一个个折断。那些人知道他们自己的男子气概藏在枪杆子里，他们知道离开枪连狐狸也会笑话他们，却不因此感到羞耻。要是你随他们摆布，这些甚至让母狐狸笑话的“男人”会阻止你去聆听鸽子的叫声或者热爱月光。所以你要保护自己，去爱很小的东西。挑出天外最小的星星给自己；睡觉前扭着头躺下，为了看见壕沟的边缘上你最爱的那一颗。上锁链时在树木中间含羞偷偷瞥上一眼。草叶、蝾螈、蜘蛛、啄木鸟、甲虫、蚂蚁王国。任何再大点的东西都不行。
一个女人、一个孩子、一个兄弟———在佐治亚的阿尔弗雷德，一个那么大的爱将把你一劈两半。
他准确地理解了她的意思：到一个你想爱什么就爱什么的地方去———欲望无须得到批准———总而言之，那就是自由。
转啊，转啊，现在她又嚼起了别的事情，就是不往点子上说。
Chapter 36
"There was this piece of goods Mrs. Garner gave me. Calico.
Stripes it had with little flowers in between. 'Bout a yard — not enough for more 'n a head tie. ButI been wanting to make a shift for my girl with it. Had the prettiest colors. I don't even know whatyou call that color: a rose but with yellow in it. For the longest time I been meaning to make it forher and do you know like a fool I left it behind? No more than a yard, and I kept putting it offbecause I was tired or didn't have the time. So when I got here, even before they let me get out ofbed, I stitched her a little something from a piece of cloth Baby Suggs had. Well, all I'm saying isthat's a selfish pleasure I never had before. I couldn't let all that go back to where it was, and Icouldn't let her nor any of em live under schoolteacher. That was out."Sethe knew that the circle she was making around the room, him, the subject, would remain one.
That she could never close in, pin it down for anybody who had to ask. If they didn't get it right off— she could never explain. Because the truth was simple, not a long drawn-out record of floweredshifts, tree cages, selfishness, ankle ropes and wells. Simple: she was squatting in the garden andwhen she saw them coming and recognized schoolteacher's hat, she heard wings. Littlehummingbirds stuck their needle beaks right through her headcloth into her hair and beat theirwings. And if she thought anything, it was No. No. Nono. Nonono. Simple. She just flew.
Collected every bit of life she had made, all the parts of her that were precious and fine andbeautiful, and carried, pushed, dragged them through the veil, out, away, over there where no onecould hurt them. Over there. Outside this place, where they would be safe. And the hummingbirdwings beat on. Sethe paused in her circle again and looked out the window. She remembered whenthe yard had a fence with a gate that somebody was always latching and unlatching in the. timewhen 124 was busy as a way station. She did not see the whiteboys who pulled it down, yanked upthe posts and smashed the gate leaving 124 desolate and exposed at the very hour when everybodystopped dropping by. The shoulder weeds of Bluestone Road were all that came toward the house.
When she got back from the jail house, she was glad the fence was gone. That's where they hadhitched their horses — where she saw, floating above the railing as she squatted in the garden,school-teacher's hat. By the time she faced him, looked him dead in the eye, she had something inher arms that stopped him in his tracks. He took a backward step with each jump of the baby heartuntil finally there were none.
"I stopped him," she said, staring at the place where the fence used to be. "I took and put my babieswhere they'd be safe." The roaring in Paul D's head did not prevent him from hearing the pat shegave to the last word, and it occurred to him that what she wanted for her children was exactlywhat was missing in 124: safety. Which was the very first message he got the day he walkedthrough the door. He thought he had made it safe, had gotten rid of the danger; beat the shit out ofit; run it off the place and showed it and everybody else the difference between a mule and a plow.
And because she had not done it before he got there her own self, he thought it was because she could not do it. That she lived with 124 in helpless, apologetic resignation because she had nochoice; that minus husband, sons, mother-in-law, she and her slow-witted daughter had to livethere all alone making do. The prickly, mean-eyed Sweet Home girl he knew as Halle's girl wasobedient (like Halle), shy (like Halle), and work-crazy (like Halle). He was wrong. This here Sethewas new. The ghost in her house didn't bother her for the very same reason a room-and-boardwitch with new shoes was welcome. This here Sethe talked about love like any other woman;talked about baby clothes like any other woman, but what she meant could cleave the bone. Thishere Sethe talked about safety with a handsaw. This here new Sethe didn't know where the worldstopped and she began. Suddenly he saw what Stamp Paid wanted him to see: more important thanwhat Sethe had done was what she claimed. It scared him.
"Your love is too thick," he said, thinking, That bitch is looking at me; she is right over my headlooking down through the floor at me.
"Too thick?" she said, thinking of the Clearing where Baby Suggs' commands knocked the podsoff horse chestnuts. "Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.""Yeah. It didn't work, did it? Did it work?" he asked.
"It worked," she said.
"How? Your boys gone you don't know where. One girl dead, the other won't leave the yard. Howdid it work?""They ain't at Sweet Home. Schoolteacher ain't got em.""Maybe there's worse.""It ain't my job to know what's worse. It's my job to know what is and to keep them away fromwhat I know is terrible. I did that.""What you did was wrong, Sethe.""I should have gone on back there? Taken my babies back there?""There could have been a way. Some other way.""What way?""You got two feet, Sethe, not four," he said, and right then a forest sprang up between them;trackless and quiet.
Later he would wonder what made him say it. The calves of his youth? or the conviction that hewas being observed through the ceiling? How fast he had moved from his shame to hers. From his cold-house secret straight to her too-thick love. Meanwhile the forest was locking the distancebetween them, giving it shape and heft.
He did not put his hat on right away. First he fingered it, deciding how his going would be, how tomake it an exit not an escape. And it was very important not to leave without looking. He stood up,turned and looked up the white stairs. She was there all right. Standing straight as a line with herback to him. He didn't rush to the door. He moved slowly and when he got there he opened itbefore asking Sethe to put supper aside for him because he might be a little late getting back. Onlythen did he put on his hat.
Sweet, she thought. He must think I can't bear to hear him say it. That after all I have told him andafter telling me how many feet I have, "goodbye" would break me to pieces. Ain't that sweet. "Solong," she murmured from the far side of the trees.
“加纳太太给了我一块好东西———印花布，竖条中间夹着小碎花。大概有一码———只够做一条头巾的。可我一直想用它给我的女儿变个花样。颜色真漂亮。我简直不知道你应该管那色儿叫什么：玫瑰红里带点黄色。我花了好长时间准备给她做出来，可你不知道，我像个蠢货一样把它落在那儿了。连一码都不到，我一直放着它，因为我又累又没工夫。所以我到了这儿以后，在他们还不让我下床的时候，就用一块贝比•萨格斯的布料给她缝了件小东西。唉，我只是想说那是一种我从来没有过的自私自利的乐趣。我不能让那一切都回到从前，我也不能让她或者他们任何一个在‘学校老师’手底下活着。那已经一去不返了。
”
塞丝知道，她在房间、他和话题周围兜的圈子会延续下去。她永远不能围拢来，为了哪个刨根问底的人将它按住。如果他们没有马上明白———她也永远不会解释。因为事实很简单，不是一长串流水账，关于什么变花样、树上挂篮、自私自利、脚脖子上的绳子和水井。很简单：她蹲在菜园里，当她看见他们赶来，并且认出了“学校老师”的帽子时，她的耳边响起了鼓翼声。小蜂鸟将针喙一下子穿透她的头巾，扎进头发，扇动着翅膀。如果说她在想什么，那就是不。不。不不。不不不。很简单。她就飞了起来。收拾起她创造出的每一个生命，她所有宝贵、优秀和美丽的部分，拎着、推着、拽着他们穿过幔帐，出去，走开，到没人能伤害他们的地方去。到那里去。远离这个地方，去那个他们能获得安全的地方。蜂鸟的翅膀扇个不停。塞丝在转的圈子中又停顿了一下，向窗外望去。她记得，当时院子曾经有道带门的栅栏，总有人在开门闩关门闩，那个时期124号像个驿站一样门庭若市。她没有看见那些白人孩子把它拆毁，拽倒了柱子，砸碎了门，正好在所有人停止过访的时刻让124号变得荒凉而光秃。唯有蓝石路路肩的野草仍向这座房子爬来。
当她从牢里归来时，她很高兴栅栏不见了。那正是他们拴马的地方———她蹲在菜园里看见的，“学校老师”的帽子从栏杆上方飘来。等到她面对他，死死盯住他的眼睛的时候，她怀里抱着的什么东西止住了他的追踪。婴儿的心每跳一下，他就退后一步，直到最后，心跳彻底停息。
“我止住了他。
”她凝视着曾经有过栅栏的地方，说道，“我把我的宝贝们带到了安全的地方。
”
保罗•D脑袋里的咆哮没能阻止他听到她强调的最后一句话。他忽然发现，她为她的孩子们争取的东西偏偏是124号所缺乏的：安全。这正是那天他走进门时接收到的第一个信号。他以为他已经使124号获得了安全，驱逐了危险；把那个混账鬼魂打出家门；把它赶出门去，让它和其他人都看到一头骡子和一张犁的区别。因为在他之前她自己没有干这一切，他就以为是因为她干不了。她和124号生活在无助、愧疚的屈从中，是因为她别无选择；失去了丈夫、儿子、婆婆，她和她的迟钝的女儿只能孤单地住在那里挨日子。这个浑身是刺、眼睛冒火的“甜蜜之家”的姑娘，他认识的黑尔的姑娘，曾是那样顺从（像黑尔一样）、害羞（像黑尔一样）的一个工作狂（像黑尔一样）。他错了。眼前的这个塞丝是全新的。她房子里的鬼并没有让她烦恼，出于同样的原因，一个穿着新鞋、白吃白住的女巫也在家里受到欢迎。眼前的这个塞丝像所有其他女人一样谈起爱，像所有其他女人一样谈起婴儿的小衣服，可是她的本意却能够劈开骨头。眼前的这个塞丝谈起一把手锯带来的安全。眼前的这个全新的塞丝不知道世界在哪里停止，而她又从哪里开始。突然间他看到了斯坦普•沛德想让他看的东西：比塞丝的所作所为更重要的是她的动机。这把他吓坏了。
“你的爱太浓了。
”他说道，心想，那条母狗在看着我；她正在我的头顶上穿透屋顶俯视着我。
“太浓了？
”她回道，又想起了“林间空地”，贝比•萨格斯的号令在那里震落了七叶树的荚果。
“要么是爱，要么不是。淡的爱根本就不是爱。
”
“对。它不管用，对不对？它管用了吗？
”他问。
“它管用了。
”她说。
“怎么管用了？你的儿子们走了，可你不知道他们去了哪儿。一个女儿死了，另一个不肯迈出院子一步。它怎么管用了？
”
“他们不在‘甜蜜之家’。‘学校老师’没抓走他们。
”
“没准儿倒更糟呢。
”
“我才不管什么更糟呢。我只知道什么可怕，然后让他们躲得远远的。我做到了。
”
“你做错了，塞丝。
”
“我应该回到那儿去？把我的宝贝们带回到那儿去？
”
“可能有个办法。别的办法。
”
“什么办法？
”
“你长了两只脚，塞丝，不是四只。
”他说道。就在这时，一座森林骤然耸立在他们中间，无径可寻，而且一片死寂。
事后他会纳闷，是什么驱使他那么说的。是年轻时代的小母牛？还是因为他确信屋顶有人在盯着他？他从自己的耻辱跳到了她的耻辱，多快啊。从他的冷藏室秘密，直接跳到了她的过浓的爱。
同时，那片森林在锁定他们之间的距离，给它规定了形状和重量。
他没有立即戴上帽子。他先是用手指碰了碰它，盘算着他应该怎样离去，怎样才能算是退场，而不是逃脱。更要紧的是，不能不看上一眼就离开。他站起来，转过身看着白楼梯。她倒的确在那儿。背对着他，站得笔直。他没有向门口奔去。他慢慢地蹭到那里，打开门，然后告诉塞丝晚饭别等他了，因为他可能晚一点回来。直到这时他才戴上帽子。
真可爱，她想。他肯定以为我听他说出来会受不了。以为在我全告诉了他之后，在对我讲了我有几只脚之后，“再见”会把我打个粉碎。那不是挺可爱吗？
“别了。
”她在树林的远端嘟哝着。
Chapter 37
124 WAS LOUD. Stamp Paid could hear it even from the road. He walked toward the householding his head as high as possible so nobody looking could call him a sneak, although hisworried mind made him feel like one. Ever since he showed that newspaper clipping to Paul D andlearned that he'd moved out of 124 that very day, Stamp felt uneasy. Having wrestled with thequestion of whether or not to tell a man about his woman, and having convinced himself that heshould, he then began to worry about Sethe. Had he stopped the one shot she had of the happinessa good man could bring her? Was she vexed by the loss, the free and unasked-for revival of gossipby the man who had helped her cross the river and who was her friend as well as Baby Suggs'?
"I'm too old," he thought, "for clear thinking. I'm too old and I seen too much." He had insisted onprivacy during the revelation at the slaughter yard — now he wondered whom he was protecting.
