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.
