Samuel Beckett
Digital Manuscript Project
Malone meurt / Malone Dies

MS-HRC-SB-4-3

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[0821] [] things at rest for ever at last. [0822] Finally he took from his pocket the few poor gifts he had brought, laid them on the table and went. [0823] But it sometimes happened, before he decided to go, before he went rather, for there was no decision, that a hen, taking advantage of the open door, would venture into the room. [0824] No sooner had she crossed the threshold than she paused, one leg hooked up under her breech, her head on one side, blinking, anxious. [0825] Then, reassured, she advanced a little further, jerkily, with concertina neck. [0826] It was a grey hen, perhaps the grey hen. [0827] Sapo got to know her well and, it seemed to him, to be well known by her. [0828] If he rose to go she did not fly into a flutter. [0829] But perhaps there were several hens, all grey and so alike in other respects that Sapo's eye, avid of resemblances, could not tell between them. [0830] Sometimes she was followed by a second, a third and even a fourth, bearing no likeness to her, and but little to one another, in the matter of plumage and entasis. [0831] These showed more confidence than the grey, who had led the way and come to no harm. [0832] They shone an instant in the light, grew dimmer and dimmer as they advanced, and finally vanished. [0833] Silent at first, fearing to betray their presence, they began gradually to scratch and cluck, for contentment, and to relax their soughing feathers. [0834] But often the grey hen came alone, or one of the grey hens if you prefer, for that is a thing that will never be known, though it might well have been, without much trouble. [0835] For all that was necessary, in order that it might be known whether there was only one grey hen or more than one, was for someone to be present when all the hens came running towards Mrs Lambert as

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[0835] she cried, Tweet! Tweet!, and banged on an old tin with an old spoon. [0836] But after all what use would that have been? [0837] For it was quite possible there were several grey hens, and yet only one in the habit of coming to the kitchen. [0838] And yet the experiment was worth making. [0839] For it was quite possible there was only one grey hen, even at feeding-time. [0840] Which would have clinched the matter. [0841] And yet that is a thing that will never be known. [0842] For among those who must have known some are dead and the others have forgotten. [0843] And the day when it was urgent for Sapo to have this point cleared up, and his mind set at rest, it was too late. [0844] Then he was sorry he had not understood, in time to profit by it, the importance that those hours were one day to assume, for him, those long hours in that old kitchen where, neither quite indoors nor quite out of doors, he waited to be on his feet again, and in motion, and while waiting noted many things, among them this big, anxious, ashen bird, poi[]sed irresolute on the bright threshold, then clucking and clawing behind the range and fidgeting her atrophied wings, soon to be sent flying with a broom and angry cries and soon to return, cautiously, with little hesitant steps, stopping often to listen, opening and shutting her little bright black eyes. [0845] And so he went, all unsuspecting, with the fond impression of having been present at everyday scenes of no import. [0846] He stooped to cross the threshold and saw before him the well, with its winch, chain and bucket, and often too a long line of tattered washing, swaying and drying in the sun. [0847] He went by the little path he had come by, along the edge of the meadow in the shadow of the great trees that bordered the

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[0847] stream, its bed a chaos of gnarled roots, boulders and baked mud. [0848] And so he went, often unnoticed, in spite of his strange walk, his halts and sudden starts. [0849] Or the Lamberts saw him, from far off or from near by, or some of them from []far off and the others from near by, suddenly emerge from behind the washing and set off down the path. Then they did not try to detain him or even call goodbye, unresentful at his leaving them in a way that seemed so lacking in friendliness, for they knew he meant no harm. [0850] Or if at the time they could not help feeling a little hurt, this feeling was quite dispelled a little later, when they found on the kitchen-table the crumpled paper-bag containing a few little articles of haberdashery. [0851] And these humble presents, but oh how useful, and this oh so delicate way of giving, disarmed them too at the sight of the bowl of goat's milk only half emptied, or left untouched, and prevented them from regarding this as an affront, in the way tradition required. [0852] But it would appear on reflection that Sapo's departure can seldom have escaped them. [0853] For at the least moment within sight of their land, were it only that of a little bird alighting or taking to wing, they raised their heads and stared with wide eyes. [0854] And even on the road, of which segments were visible more than a mile away, nothing could happen without their knowledge, and they were able not only to identify all those who passed along it and whose remoteness reduced them to the size of a pin's head, but also to divine whence they were coming, where they were going, and for what purpose. [0855] Then they cried the news to one another, for they often worked at a great distance apart, or they exchanged signals, all erect and turned towards the event, for it

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[0855] was one, before bowing themselves down to the earth again. [0856] And at the first spell of rest taken in common, about the table or elsewhere, each one gave his version of what had passed and listened to those of the others. [0857] And if at first they were not in agreement about what they had seen, they talked it over doggedly until they were, in agreement I mean, or until they resigned themselves to never being so. [0858] It was therefore difficult for Sapo to glide away unseen, even in the deep shadow of the trees that bordered the stream, even supposing him to have been capable of gliding, for his movements were rather those of one floundering in a quag. [0859] And all raised their heads and watched him as he went, then looked at one another, before stooping to the earth again. [0860] And on each face bent to the earth there played perhaps a little smile, a little rictus rather, but without malice, each wondering perhaps if the others felt the same thing and making the resolve to ask them, at their next meeting. [0861] But the face of Sapo as he stumbled away, now in the shadow of the venerable trees he could not name, now in the brightness of the waving meadow, so erratic was his course, the face of Sapo was as always grave, or rather expressionless. [0862] And when he halted it was not the better to think, or the closer to pore upon his dream, but simply because the voice had ceased that told him to go on. [0863] Then with his pale eyes he stared down at the earth, blind to its beauty, and to its utility, and to the little wild many-coloured flowers happy among the crops and weeds. [0864] But these

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[0864] stations were short-lived, for he was still young. [0865] And of a sudden he is off again, on his wanderings, passing from light to shadow, from shadow to light, unheedingly.

[0866] When I stop, as just now, the noises begin again, strangely loud, those whose turn it is. [0867] So that I seem to have again the hearing of my boyhood. [0868] Then in my bed, in the dark, on stormy nights, I could tell from one another, in the outcry without, the leaves, the boughs, the groaning trunks, even the grasses and the house that sheltered me. [0869] Each tree had its own cry, just as no two whispered alike, when the air was still. [0870] I heard afar the iron gates clashing and dragging at their posts and the wind rushing between their bars. [0871] There was nothing, not even the sand on the paths, that did not utter its cry. [0872] The still nights too, still as the grave as the saying is, were nights of storm for me, clamorous with countless pantings. These I amused myself with identifying, as I lay there. [0873] Yes, I got great amusement, when young, from their so-called silence. [0874] The sound I liked best had nothing noble about it. [0875] It was the barking of the dogs, at night, in the clusters of hovels up in the hills, where the stone-cutters lived, like generations of stone-cutters before them. [0876] It came down to me where I lay, in the house in the plain, wild and soft, at the limit of earshot, soon weary. [0877] The dogs of the valley replied with their gross bay all fangs and jaws and foam. [0878] From the hills another joy came down, I mean the [] brief[] scattered lights that sprang up on their slopes at nightfall,

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