beloved looked at the sweet bread in denver's hands and denver held it out to her. she smiledthen and denver's heart stopped bouncing and sat down — -relieved and easeful like a travelerwho had made it home.
from that moment and through everything that followed, sugar could always be counted on toplease her. it was as though sweet things were what she was born for. honey as well as the wax itcame in, sugar sandwiches, the sludgy molasses gone hard and brutal in the can, lemonade, taffyand any type of dessert sethe brought home from the restaurant. she gnawed a cane stick to flaxand kept the strings in her mouth long after the syrup had been sucked away. denver laughed,sethe smiled and paul d said it made him sick to his stomach.
sethe believed it was a recovering body's need — -after an illness — for quick strength. but it wasa need that went on and on into glowing health because beloved didn't go anywhere. there didn'tseem anyplace for her to go. she didn't mention one, or have much of an idea of what she wasdoing in that part of the country or where she had been. they believed the fever had caused hermemory to fail just as it kept her slow-moving. a young woman, about nineteen or twenty, andslender, she moved like a heavier one or an older one, holding on to furniture, resting her head inthe palm of her hand as though it was too heavy for a neck alone.
"you just gonna feed her? from now on?" paul d, feeling ungenerous, and surprised by it, heardthe irritability in his voice. "denver likes her. she's no real trouble. i thought we'd wait till herbreath was better. she still sounds a little lumbar to me." "something funny 'bout that gal," paul dsaid, mostly to himself. "funny how?""acts sick, sounds sick, but she don't look sick. good skin, bright eyes and strong as a bull.""she's not strong. she can hardly walk without holding on to something.""that's what i mean. can't walk, but i seen her pick up the rocker with one hand.""you didn't.""don't tell me. ask denver. she was right there with her." "denver! come in here a minute."denver stopped rinsing the porch and stuck her head in the window.
"paul d says you and him saw beloved pick up the rocking chair single-handed. that so?"long, heavy lashes made denver's eyes seem busier than they were; deceptive, even when sheheld a steady gaze as she did now on paul d. "no," she said. "i didn't see no such thing." paul dfrowned but said nothing. if there had been an open latch between them, it would have closed.
rainwater held on to pine needles for dear life and beloved could not take her eyes off sethe.
stooping to shake the damper, or snapping sticks for kindlin, sethe was licked, tasted, eaten bybeloved's eyes. like a familiar, she hovered, never leaving the room sethe was in unless requiredand told to. she rose early in the dark to be there, waiting, in the kitchen when sethe came down tomake fast bread before she left for work. in lamplight, and over the flames of the cooking stove,their two shadows clashed and crossed on the ceiling like black swords. she was in the window attwo when sethe returned, or the doorway; then the porch, its steps, the path, the road, till finally,surrendering to the habit, beloved began inching down bluestone road further and further eachday to meet sethe and walk her back to 124. it was as though every afternoon she doubted anewthe older woman's return.
sethe was flattered by beloved's open, quiet devotion. the same adoration from her daughter (hadit been forthcoming) would have annoyed her; made her chill at the thought of having raised aridiculously dependent child. but the company of this sweet, if peculiar, guest pleased her the waya zealot pleases his teacher.
time came when lamps had to be lit early because night arrived sooner and sooner. sethe wasleaving for work in the dark; paul d was walking home in it. on one such evening dark and cool,sethe cut a rutabaga into four pieces and left them stewing. she gave denver a half peck of peas tosort and soak overnight. then she sat herself down to rest. the heat of the stove made her drowsyand she was sliding into sleep when she felt beloved touch her. a touch no heavier than a featherbut loaded, nevertheless, with desire. sethe stirred and looked around. first at beloved's soft newhand on her shoulder, then into her eyes. the longing she saw there was bottomless. some pleabarely in control. sethe patted beloved's fingers and glanced at denver, whose eyes were fixed onher pea-sorting task. "where your diamonds?" beloved searched sethe's face.
"diamonds? what would i be doing with diamonds?""on your ears.""wish i did. i had some crystal once. a present from a lady i worked for.""tell me," said beloved, smiling a wide happy smile. "tell me your diamonds."it became a way to feed her. just as denver discovered and relied on the delightful effect sweetthings had on beloved, sethe learned the profound satisfaction beloved got from storytelling. itamazed sethe (as much as it pleased beloved) because every mention of her past life hurt.
everything in it was painful or lost. she and baby suggs had agreed without saying so that it wasunspeakable; to denver's inquiries sethe gave short replies or rambling incomplete reveries. evenwith paul d, who had shared some of it and to whom she could talk with at least a measure ofcalm, the hurt was always there-like a tender place in the corner of her mouth that the bit left. but,as she began telling about the earrings, she found herself wanting to, liking it. perhaps it wasbeloved's distance from the events itself, or her thirst for hearing it — in any case it was anunexpected pleasure.
above the patter of the pea sorting and the sharp odor of cooking rutabaga, sethe explained thecrystal that once hung from her ears. "that lady i worked for in kentucky gave them to me when igot married. what they called married hack there and back then. i guess she saw how bad i feltwhen i found out there wasn't going to be no ceremony, no preacher. nothing. i thought thereshould be something — something to say it was right and true. i didn't want it to be just memoving over a bit of pallet full of corn husks. or just me bringing my night bucket into his cabin. ithought there should be some ceremony. dancing maybe. a little sweet william in my hair." sethesmiled. "i never saw a wedding, but i saw mrs. garner's wedding gown in the press, and heard hergo on about what it was like. two pounds of currants in the cake, she said, and four whole sheep.
the people were still eating the next day. that's what i wanted. a meal maybe, where me andhalle and all the sweet home men sat down and ate something special. invite some of the othercolored people from over by covington or high trees — those places sixo used to sneak off to.
but it wasn't going to be nothing. they said it was all right for us to be husband and wife and thatwas it. all of it.
"well, i made up my mind to have at the least a dress that wasn't the sacking i worked in. so i tookto stealing fabric, and wound up with a dress you wouldn't believe. the top was from two pillowcases in her mending basket. the front of the skirt was a dresser scarf a candle fell on and burnt ahole in, and one of her old sashes we used to test the flatiron on. now the back was a problem forthe longest time. seem like i couldn't find a thing that wouldn't be missed right away. because ihad to take it apart afterwards and put all the pieces back where they were. now halle was patient,waiting for me to finish it. he knew i wouldn't go ahead without having it. finally i took themosquito netting from a nail out the barn. we used it to strain jelly through. i washed it and soakedit best i could and tacked it on for the back of the skirt. and there i was, in the worst-looking gownyou could imagine. only my wool shawl kept me from looking like a haint peddling. i wasn't butfourteen years old, so i reckon that's why i was so proud of myself.
"anyhow, mrs. garner must have seen me in it. i thought i was stealing smart, and she kneweverything i did. even our honeymoon: going down to the cornfield with halle. that's where wewent first. a saturday afternoon it was. he begged sick so he wouldn't have to go work in townthat day. usually he worked saturdays and sundays to pay off baby suggs' freedom. but hebegged sick and i put on my dress and we walked into the corn holding hands. i can still smell the ears roasting yonder where the pauls and sixo was. next day mrs. garner crooked her finger at meand took me upstairs to her bedroom. she opened up a wooden box and took out a pair of crystalearrings. she said, 'i want you to have these, sethe.' i said, 'yes, ma'am.' 'are your ears pierced?'
she said. i said, 'no, ma'am.' 'well do it,' she said, 'so you can wear them. i want you to have themand i want you and halle to be happy.' i thanked her but i never did put them on till i got awayfrom there. one day after i walked into this here house baby suggs unknotted my underskirt andtook em out. i sat right here by the stove with denver in my arms and let her punch holes in myears for to wear them.""i never saw you in no earrings," said denver. "where are they now?""gone," said sethe. "long gone," and she wouldn't say another word. until the next time when allthree of them ran through the wind back into the house with rainsoaked sheets and petticoats.
panting, laughing, they draped the laundry over the chairs and table. beloved filled herself withwater from the bucket and watched while sethe rubbed denver's hair with a piece of toweling.
"maybe we should unbraid it?" asked sethe.
"oh uh. tomorrow." denver crouched forward at the thought of a fine-tooth comb pulling her hair.
"today is always here," said sethe. "tomorrow, never.""it hurts," denver said.
"comb it every day, it won't.""ouch.""your woman she never fix up your hair?" beloved asked.
sethe and denver looked up at her. after four weeks they still had not got used to the gravellyvoice and the song that seemed to lie in it. just outside music it lay, with a cadence not like theirs.
宠儿看看丹芙手里的甜面包，丹芙递了过去。她随即笑了，丹芙的心也不再狂跳，落了下来———宽慰和轻松得如同游子回了家。
从那一刻起，一直到后来，糖总是能用来满足她。好像她天生就是为了甜食活着似的。蜂蜜和蜂蜡都时兴起来，还有白糖三明治、罐子里已经干硬的糖浆、柠檬汁、胶糖，以及任何一种塞丝从餐馆带回家来的甜点。她把甘蔗嚼成亚麻状，糖汁吮净后好长一段时间还把渣子含在嘴里。丹芙哈哈大笑，塞丝抿嘴微笑，而保罗·d说这让他难受得直反胃。
塞丝相信这是痊愈时———大病之后———为了迅速地恢复体力而必需的。然而这个需求一直坚持了下去，尽管后来宠儿健康得红光满面，她仍然赖着不走。似乎没有她去的地方。她没提起过一个地方，也不大明白她在这里干什么，或者她曾经在哪里待过。他们认为那次高烧造成了她的记忆丧失，同样也造成了她的行动迟缓。一个年纪轻轻的女人，也就十九、二十岁，长得又苗条，可她行动起来却像个更重、更老的人：扶着家具，用手掌托着脑袋休息，好像它对于脖子来说太沉了。
“你就这么养活着她？从今往后？
”保罗·d听出自己声音里的不快，对自己的不够大度非常吃惊。
“丹芙喜欢她。她并不真添麻烦。我觉得我们应该等她的呼吸更好些再说。我听着她还有点毛病。”
“那姑娘有点怪。
”保罗·d说道，更像是自言自语。
“怎么个怪法？
”
“动起来像有病，听起来像有病，可看上去却没病。皮肤好，眼睛亮，壮得像头牛。
”
“她可不壮。她不扶东西几乎走不动。
”
“说的就是呢。走是走不动，可我明明看见她用一只手拎起摇椅。
”
“你净胡扯。
”
“别跟我说呀。问丹芙去。她当时就在她身边。
”
“丹芙!进来一下。
”
丹芙停住冲洗门廊的工作，把头探进窗户。
“保罗·d说你和他看见宠儿单手拎起摇椅。有那回事吗？
”
又长又密的睫毛使丹芙的眼睛看起来比实际上更忙碌；而且不可靠，甚至当她像现在这样平静地盯着保罗·d的时候也是。
“没有，”她说，“我压根儿没看见。
”
保罗·d皱了皱眉头，没说什么。就算他们之间曾经有过一扇敞开的门，它也已经关上了。
雨水死死抓住松针，而宠儿的眼睛一时一刻也不离开塞丝。无论是哈腰推动风门，还是劈劈啪啪地生炉子，塞丝始终被宠儿的眼睛舔着、尝着、咀嚼着。她像一位常客似的泡在塞丝去的每间屋子，不要求、不命令的话从不离开。她一大早就摸黑起来，到厨房里等着塞丝在上班之前下楼来做快餐面包。灯光下，炉火旁，她们两人的身影像黑剑一般在棚顶上相互撞击和交错。塞丝两点钟回家时，她总在窗口或者门口等着；然后是门廊、台阶、小路、大路，直到最后，习惯愈演愈烈，宠儿开始每天在蓝石路上一英寸一英寸地越走越远，去迎塞丝，再同她一道走回124号。仿佛每天下午她都要对那位年长的女人的归来重新置疑一番。
宠儿坦率、无声的忠诚让塞丝受宠若惊。同样的崇拜如果来自她的女儿（说来就来），是会让她厌烦的；一想到自己养出一个可笑的、依赖性强的孩子，她就不寒而栗。可是有这样一个甜蜜、也许还有点特别的客人相伴，她十分满意，这情形就仿佛一个狂热的徒弟很讨他老师的欢心。
渐渐地，灯点得早了，因为夜幕降临得越来越早。塞丝摸黑去上班；保罗·d天黑才回家。在这样一个又黑又凉的傍晚，塞丝把一块卷心菜切成四份炖上。她让丹芙剥半配克豌豆，泡上一夜。然后她坐下来休息。炉子的热气使她犯困，她刚昏昏欲睡，就感觉到宠儿在碰她。比羽毛还轻的触摸，却满载着欲望。塞丝动了动，四下打量。先看看肩上宠儿那只娇嫩的手，再看看她的眼睛。她从那里看到的渴望是无底的深渊。某种勉强抑制住的恳求。塞丝拍拍宠儿的手指，瞟了一眼丹芙，她正专心地剥着豌豆。
“你的钻石呢？
”宠儿打量着塞丝的脸。
“钻石？我要钻石干什么？
”
“戴耳朵上。
”
“但愿我有。我有过一副水晶的。我服侍过的一个太太送的礼物。
”
“给我讲讲，”宠儿高兴得咧开嘴笑了，“给我讲讲你的钻石。
”
这成为又一种喂养她的东西。正当丹芙发现了甜食对宠儿的可喜效果并大加利用时，塞丝认识到，宠儿从故事中能得到深深的满足。塞丝感到震惊（正如宠儿感到满足一样），因为一提起她的过去就会唤起痛苦。过去的一切都是痛苦，或者遗忘。她和贝比·萨格斯心照不宣地认为它苦不堪言；丹芙打听的时候，塞丝总是简短地答复她，要么就瞎编一通。就是同保罗·d———一个部分地分担过的人，一个她至少能较为平静地与之交谈的人———在一起时，伤痛也依然存在———好似马嚼子拿走时留在嘴角的痛处。
但是，当她开始讲述耳环的时候，她发现自己想讲，爱讲。也许是因为宠儿同事件本身的距离，也许是因为她急于聆听的焦渴———无论如何，这是个始料未及的乐趣。
在剥豌豆的嘎巴声和炖卷心菜扑鼻的香气里，塞丝讲起曾经挂在她耳朵上的那副水晶耳环。
“我在肯塔基伺候的太太在我结婚时给我的。那个时候、那个地方所谓的结婚。我猜想她看出来了，我发现不会有结婚仪式和牧师时有多难受。什么都没有。我想总该有点什么———说明它是对的，是真的。我不愿意只是从一个装满玉米皮的草荐爬上另一个。也不愿意只是把我的尿桶带进 他的小屋。我想应该有个仪式。可能跳跳舞。头发里插一点石竹花。
”塞丝笑了，“我从来没见过一次婚礼，可我在衣橱里看见过加纳太太的结婚礼服，也听她讲过婚礼是什么样的。蛋糕里放了两磅葡萄干，她说，还做了四只全羊。直到第二天大家还在吃。那就是我想要的。也许吃顿饭，我和黑尔，还有所有‘甜蜜之家’的男人们，坐下来吃点特别的东西。请卡温顿庄园或者高树庄园的另外一些黑人过来———那是些西克索偷偷去过的地方。可是什么也不会有。他们说我们可以做夫妻，就完事了。仅此而已。
“这样，我决定起码要有条裙子，不是我干活时穿的麻袋片。于是我去偷了布料，弄出一条说出来你都不信的裙子。上身是用她针线笸箩里的两个枕套做的。裙子的前摆是块台布，一根蜡烛曾经倒在上面，烧了个窟窿；再加上她的一条试烙铁用的旧腰带。后背最费时间了。看来我找不到一样不会马上失去的东西了，因为事后我还得把它拆开，把各个部分都放回原处。黑尔可真耐心，一直等着我把它做完。他知道我没有它就不会走下一步。最后，我从外面仓库里的钉子上拽来了那个蚊帐。我们用它过滤果酱。我尽了最大努力又洗又泡，然后用粗针脚把它缝在裙子的背面。那就是我，穿着你能想象出的最难看的长裙。幸亏我的羊毛披肩使我不至于看着像个沿街叫卖的小鬼。我那时只有十四岁，我猜想，所以我才那么自豪吧。
“不管怎么说，加纳太太肯定见过我穿它。我自以为偷得挺高明，其实她什么都知道。甚至我们的蜜月：跟黑尔一起去玉米地。那是我们第一次去的地方。是个星期六下午。他请了病假，所以那天不用去城里干活儿。通常他星期六和星期天都去打工，为贝比·萨格斯赎自由。但是他请了病假，我穿上了裙子，我们手拉着手走进玉米中间。我现在还能闻见保罗们和西克索在远处烤的玉米棒子的香味呢。第二天加纳太太朝我钩手指头，把我带到楼上她的卧室。她打开一只木盒子，拿出一对水晶耳环。她说：
‘我想给你这个，塞丝。
’我说：
‘是，太太。
’‘你的耳朵穿孔了吗？
’
她说。我说：
‘没有，太太。
’‘那么穿吧，’她说，‘你就能戴它们了。我想把它们给你，祝你和黑尔幸福。
’我谢了她，可在离开那儿之前我从没戴过它们。我来了这房子以后，有一天贝比·萨格斯解开我的衬裙，把它们拿了出来。我就坐在这儿，在炉子旁边，抱着丹芙，让她在我耳朵上穿了孔，好戴上它们。
”
“我从来没见你戴过耳环，”丹芙说，“它们现在在哪儿呢？
”
“没了，”塞丝说。
“早没了。
”然后她不再说一个字。再开口要等到下一回，当她们三个抱着淋透的床单和衬裙、顶着大风跑回家时。她们喘着，笑着，把浆洗的衣物搭在桌椅上。宠儿用桶里的水把自己灌了个饱，看塞丝用一块浴巾擦干丹芙的头发。
“我们是不是该把辫子解开？
”塞丝问道。
“呃呃。明天吧。
”丹芙想到一把篦子揪着她的头发，就蜷起身子。
“今天的事今天完，”塞丝说，“明天，那可不行。
”
“疼。”丹芙说。
“天天梳就不疼了。
”
“哎哟。
”
“你的女人她从来不给你梳头吗？
”宠儿问。
塞丝和丹芙抬头看着她。四个星期过去了，她们仍然没有习惯那低沉的嗓音，以及似乎是躺在里面的歌声。它就躺在音乐之外，调子与她们的不同。
