Dry-September干燥的九月文章.pdf

1 Dry September by William Faulkner I Through the bloody September twilight, aftermath of sixty-two rainless days, it had gone like a fire in dry grass--the rumor, the story, whatever it was . Something about Miss Minnie Cooper and a Negro. Attacked, insulted, frightened: none of them, gathered in the barber shop on that Saturday evening where the ceiling fan stirred, without freshening it, the vitiated air, sending back upon them, in recurrent surges of stale pomade and lotion, their own stale breath and odors, knew exactly what had happened. Except it wasnt Will Mayes, a barber said. He was a man of middle age; a thin, sand- colored man with a mild face, who was shaving a client. I know Will Mayes. Hes a good nigger. And I know Miss Minnie Cooper, too. What do you know about her? a second barber said. Who is she? the client said. A young girl? No, the barber said. Shes about forty, I reckon. She ain’t married. Thats why I don’t believe-- Believe, hell! a hulking youth in a sweat-stained silk shirt said. Won’t you take a white womans word before a niggers? I don’t believe Will Mayes did it, the barber said. I know Will Mayes. Maybe you know who did it, then. Maybe you already got him out of town, you damn niggerlover. I don’t believe anybody did anything. I don’t believe any-thing happened. I leave it to you fellows if them ladies that get old without getting married don’t have notions that a man cant- Then you are a hell of a white man, the client said. He moved under the cloth. The youth had sprung to his feet. You dont? he said. Do you accuse a white woman of lying? The barber held the razor poised above the half-risen client. He did not look around. Its this