MS-BRML-NWWR-35-1136

90—B2795—NEW WORLD WRITING—9on9.5 T.R. (21)
(N.A.L.) 1-12 Spanjer

[0131] What relation to the innumerable spirits of darkness? [0132] It's
not clear. [0133] It seemed to me he wore a cocked hat. [0134] I remember
being struck by it, as I wouldn't have been for example by
a cap or by a bowler. [0135] I watched him recede, overtaken by
his anxiety, at least by an anxiety which was not necessarily
his, but of which as it were he partook.

[0136] Who knows if it
wasn't my own anxiety overtaking him. [0137] He hadn't seen me.
[0138] I was perched higher than the road's highest point and flat-
tened what is more against a rock the same color as myself,
that is gray. [0139] The rock he probably saw. [0140] He gazed around as
if to engrave the landmarks on his memory, and must have
seen the rock in the shadow of which I crouched like Belacqua,
or Sordello, I forget.

[0141] But a man, a fortiori myself, isn't ^{[place = margin right] [ital. (?]}
exactly a landmark, because. [0142] I mean if by some strange chance
he were to pass that way again, after a long lapse of time,
vanquished, or to look for some forgotten thing, or to destroy
something, his eyes would search out the rock, not the hap-
hazard in its shadow of that unstable fugitive thing, still
living flesh.

[0143] No, he certainly didn't see me, for the reasons I've
given and then because he was in no humor for that, that
evening, no humor for the living, but rather for what doesn't
stir, or stirs so slowly that a child would scorn it, let alone
an old man. [0144] However that may be, I mean whether he saw
me or whether he didn't, I repeat I watched him recede,
at grips (myself) with the temptation to get up and follow
him, perhaps even to catch up to him one day, so as to
know him better, be myself less lonely.

[0145] But in spite of my
soul's leap out to him, at the end of its elastic, I saw him
only darkly, because of the dark and then because of the
terrain, in the folds of which he disappeared from time to
time, to re-emerge further on, but most of all I think because
of other things calling me and toward which too one after
the other my soul was straining, unmethodical, distracted.

[0146] I mean of course the fields, whitening under the dew, and
the animals ceasing from wandering and settling for the
night, and the sea, of which nothing, and the sharpening
line of crests, and the sky where without seeing them I felt
the first stars tremble, and my hand on my knee and above
all the other wayfarer, A or C, I don't remember, going re-
signedly home.

[0147] Yes, toward my hand also, which my knee
felt tremble and of which my eyes saw the wrist only, the
heavily-veined back, the pallid rows of knuckles. [0148] But that
is not, I mean my hand, what I wish to speak of now,
everything in due course, but A or B returning to the town
he had just left. [0149] But after all what was there particularly
urban in his aspect? [0150] He was bareheaded, wore sand-shoes,
smoked a cigar.

[0151] He moved with a kind of loitering indolence
which rightly or wrongly seemed to me expressive. [0152] But all
that proved nothing, refuted nothing. [0153] Perhaps he had come
from afar, from the other end of the island even, and was
approaching the town for the first time or returning to it
after a long absence. [0154] A little dog followed him, a Pomeranian
I think, but I don't think so. [0155] I wasn't sure at the time and
I'm still not sure, though I've hardly thought about it.

[0156] The
little dog followed wretchedly, after the fashion of Pomer-
anians, stopping, describing long gyrations, giving up, and
then, a little farther on, beginning all over again. [0157] Constipa-
tion is a sign of good health in Pomeranians. [0158] At a given
moment, pre-established if you like, I don't mind, the gentle-
man turned back, took the little creature in his arms, drew
the cigar from his lips and buried his face in the orange
fleece, [0159] for it was a gentleman, that was obvious.

[0160] Yes, it was
an orange Pomeranian, the less I think of it the more certain
I am. [0161] And yet. [0162] But would he have come from afar, bare-
headed, in sand-shoes, smoking a cigar, followed by a Pom-
eranian? [0163] Did he not seem rather to have issued from the
ramparts, after a good dinner, to take his dog and himself
for a walk, like so many citizens, dreaming and farting,
when the weather is fine?

[0164] But was not perhaps in reality
the cigar a cutty, and were not the sand-shoes boots, hob-
nailed, dust-whitened; and what prevented the dog from being
one of those stray dogs that you pick up and take in your
arms, from compassion or because you have long been stray-
ing with no other company than the endless roads, sands,
shingle, bogs, and heather, than this nature answerable to
another court, than at long intervals the fellow convict you
long to stop, embrace, suck, suckle and whom you pass by,
with hostile eyes, for fear of his familiarities.

[0165] Until the day
when, your endurance gone, in this world for you without
arms you catch up in yours the first mangy cur you meet,
carry it the time needed for it to love you and you it,
then throw it away. [0166] Perhaps he had come to that, in spite
of appearances. [0167] He disappeared, his head on his chest, the
smoking object in his hand. [0168] Let me try and explain. [0169] From
things about to disappear I turn away in time.

[0170] To watch
them out of sight, no, I can't do it. [0171] It was in this sense he
disappeared. [0172] Looking away I thought of him, saying, He
dwindles, dwindles. [0173] I knew what I meant. [0174] I knew I could catch
him, lame as I was. [0175] I had only to want to. [0176] And yet no, for I
did want to. [0177] To get up, to get to the road, to set hobbling
off in pursuit of him, to hail him, what could be easier.

[0178] He hears my cries, turns, waits for me. [0179] I am up against
him, up against the dog, gasping, between my crutches. [0180] He
is a little frightened of me, a little sorry for me, [0181] I disgust
him not a little. [0182] I am not a pretty sight, I don't smell good.
[0183] What is it I want? [0184] Ah that tone I know, compounded of pity,
of fear, of disgust. [0185] I want to see the dog, see the man, at
close quarters, know what smokes, inspect the shoes, find out
other things.

[0186] He is kind, tells me of this and of that and
of other things, whence he comes, whither he goes. [0187] I believe
him, I know it's my only chance to—my only chance, I
believe all I'm told, I've disbelieved only too much in my
long life, now I swallow everything, avidly. [0188] What I need now
is stories, it took me a long time to know that, [0189] and I'm not
sure of it. [0190] There I am then, informed as to certain things,
knowing certain things about him, things I didn't know,
things that troubled me, even things that never troubled me.

[0191] What language. [0192] I am even capable of having learnt what
his profession is, I who am so interested in professions. [0193] And
to think I try my best not to talk about myself. [0194] In a moment
I shall talk about the cows, about the sky, if I can. [0195] There
I am then, he leaves me, he's in a hurry. [0196] He didn't seem
to be in a hurry, he was loitering, I've already said so, but
after three minutes talking with me he is in a hurry, he
has to hurry.

[0197] I believe him. [0198] And once again I am I will not
say alone, no, that's not like me, but, how shall I say, I
don't know, restored to myself, no, I never left myself, free,
yes, I don't know what that means but it's the word I intend
to use, free to do what, to do nothing, to know, but what,
the laws of the mind perhaps, of my mind, that for example
water rises in proportion as it drowns you and that you would
do better, at least no worse, to obliterate texts than to blacken
margins, to fill in the holes of words till all is blank and flat
and the whole ghastly business looks like what it is, sense-
less, speechless, issueless misery.

[0199] So I doubtless did better, at
least no worse, not to disturb myself from my observation
post. [0200] But, instead of observing I had the weakness to return
in spirit to the other, the man with the stick. [0201] Then the mur-
murs began again. [0202] To restore silence is the role of objects.

[0203] I said, who knows if he hasn't simply come out to take the
air, relax, stretch his legs, disinflame his brain by stamping
the blood down to his feet, so as to ensure himself a good
night, a joyous awakening, an enchanted morrow. [0204] Was he
carrying as much as a scrip? [0205] But this gait, the anxious looks,
the club, could these be reconciled with one's conception
of what is called a little turn. [0206] But the hat, a town hat, an
old-fashioned town hat, which the least wind would carry
far away.

[0207] Unless it was attached under the chin, by means
of a string or an elastic. [0208] I took off my hat and looked at
it. [0209] It is fastened, it has always been fastened, to my button-
hole, always the same buttonhole, at all seasons, by a long
lace. [0210] I am still alive then. [0211] That may come in useful. [0212] The
hand that had seized the hat and that held it still I trust
as far as possible from me and caused it to come and go
in an arc.

[0213] So doing, I watched the lapel of my greatcoat,
and saw it open and close. [0214] I understand now why I never
wore a flower in my buttonhole, though it was large enough
to hold a whole bunch. [0215] My buttonhole was set aside for my
hat. [0216] It was my hat that I beflowered. [0217] But it is neither of my
hat nor of my greatcoat that I hope to speak at present,
it would be premature. [0218] Doubtless I shall speak of them later,
when the time comes to draw up the inventory of my goods
and possessions. [0219] Unless I lose them between now and then.