Белые люди

Chapter IV

           Ikeptexpectingittocry,butitdidn’t.Itmademecrybecauseitseemedsosurethatitcouldcomfortherifshewouldonlyrememberthatitwasaliveandlovedher.Iwish,Iwishdeathdidnotmakepeoplefeelasifitfilledalltheworld—asif,whenithappens,thereisnolifeleftanywhere.Thechildwhowasalivebyhersidedidnotseemalivingthingtoher.Itdidn’tmatter.”

           Ihadneversaidasmuchtoanyonebefore,buthiswatchingeyesmademeforgetmyshyworldlessness.

           “Whatdoyoufeelaboutit—death?”heasked.

           ThelowgentlenessofhisvoiceseemedsomethingIhadknownalways.

           “Ineversawit,”Ianswered.“Ihaveneverevenseenanyonedangerouslyill.I—ItisasifIcan’tbelieveit.”

           “Youcan’tbelieveit?Thatisawonderfulthing,”hesaid,evenmorequietlythanbefore.

           “Ifnoneofusbelieved,howwonderfulthatwouldbe!Beautiful,too.”

           “Howthatpoormotherbelievedit!”Isaid,rememberingherswollen,distorted,sobbingface.“Shebelievednothingelse;everythingelsewasgone.”

           “Iwonderwhatwouldhavehappenedifyouhadspokentoheraboutthechild?”hesaid,slowly,asifheweretryingtoimagineit.

           “I’maveryshyperson.Ishouldneverhavecouragetospeaktoastranger,”Ianswered.

           “I’mafraidI’macoward,too.Shemighthavethoughtmeinterfering.”

           “Shemightnothaveunderstood,”hemurmured.

           “Itwasclingingtoherdresswhenshewalkedawaydowntheplatform,”Iwenton.“Idaresayyounoticeditthen?”

           “Notasyoudid.IwishIhadnoticeditmore,”washisanswer.

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