Fable, A - William Faulkner [132]
March,
Relieved and Retired: Lieutenant-Colonel (and the name)
March,
'He never came back to Paris,' the other said. 'Not even to France-' 'No,' he said peacefully.
'So you were probably the last to see him.-You did see him, didn't you?'
'Yes,' he said.
'Then maybe you even know where he went. Where he is,'
'Yes,' he said peacefully.
'You mean he told you himself? I dont believe it,'
'Yes,' he said, 'it is nonsense, isn't it? Not for me to claim that he told me, but that he should have to have told anyone. He's in a Tibetan lamasery,'
'A what?'
'Yes. The east, the morning, which even the dead, even the pagan dead, lie facing, so that the first faint fall of shadow of the risen son of it can break their sleep,' Now he could feel the other watching him and there was something in the face but he would not bother about it yet, and when the other spoke there was something in the voice too but he would not bother about that yet either.
'They gave him a ribbon too,' the other said. 'It was the red one. He not only saved your post and garrison for you, he probably saved Africa. He prevented a war. Of course, they had to get rid of him afterward-ask for his resignation,'
'All right,' he said peacefully. Then he said, What?'
'The camel and the soldier he lost: the murderer-dont you remember? Surely, if he told you where he was going, he told you about that too,' Now the other was looking at him, watching him. There was a woman in it-not his, of course. You mean he didn't tell you?'
'Yes,' he said. 'He told me,'
Then of course I wont have to,'
'Yes,' he said again. 'He told me,'
'She was a Riff, a native, belonging to the village, tribe, settlement, whatever it was, which was the reason for the post and the garrison being there; you must have seen that anyway while you were there-a slave, valuable; nobody's wife or daughter or favorite it appeared, or anyway was reported: just simply merchantable. She died too, like the other one back in Marseilles eighteen years ago; the man's power over women was indeed a fatal one. Whereupon the next morning the camel-it was his-the commandant's-pri-vate mount: possibly a pet if you can-want to-pet a camel-and its groom, driver, mahout, whatever they are, had vanished and two dawns later the groom returned, on foot and thoroughly terrified, with the ultimatum from the chief, headman to the commandant, giving the commandant until the next dawn to send him the man (there were three involved but the chief would be content with the principal one) responsible for the woman's death and her spoliation as merchandise; else the chief and his men would invest the post and obliterate it and its garrison, which they could probably have done, if not immediately, certainly in the almost twelve months before the next inspector-general would turn up to look at it. So the commandant asked for a volunteer to slip away that Wednesday Night night, before the ultimatum went into effect at dawn and the place was surrounded, and go to the next post and bring back a relieving force.-I beg your pardon?' But he had not spoken, rigid, himself the fragile one now, who was yet only barely erect from death.
'I thought you said "chose one," ' the other said. 'He didn't need to choose. Because this was the man's one chance. He could have escaped at any time-hoarded food and water and stolen away on almost any night during the whole eighteen years, possibly reached the coast and perhaps even France. But where would he go then, who could have escaped only from Africa: never from himself, from the old sentence, from which all that saved him was his uniform, and that only while he wore it in the light of day. But now he could go. He was not even escaping, he was not even entering mere amnesty but absolution; from now on, the whole edifice