Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys [53]
And the sun says it can be, it will be
And the rain …?
‘You must listen to that. Our rain knows all the songs.’
‘And all the tears?’
‘All, all, all.’
Yes, I will listen to the rain. I will listen to the mountain bird. Oh, a heartstopper is the solitaire’s one note – high, sweet, lonely, magic. You hold your breath to listen … No … Gone. What was I to say to her?
Do not be sad. Or think Adieu. Never Adieu. We will watch the sun set again – many times, and perhaps we’ll see the Emerald Drop, the green flash that brings good fortune. And you must laugh and chatter as you used to do – telling me about the battle off the Saints or the picnic at Marie Galante – that famous picnic that turned into a fight. Or the pirates and what they did between voyages. For every voyage might be their last. Sun and sangoree’s a heady mixture. Then – the earthquake. Oh yes, people say that God was angry at the things they did, woke from his sleep, one breath and they were gone. He slept again. But they left their treasure, gold and more gold. Some of it is found – but the finders never tell, because you see they’d only get one-third then: that’s the law of treasure. They want it all, so never speak of it. Sometimes precious things, or jewels. There’s no end to what they find and sell in secret to some cautious man who weighs and measures, hesitates, asks questions which are not answered, then hands over money in exchange. Everybody knows that gold pieces, treasures, appear in Spanish Town – (here too). In all the islands, from nowhere, from no one knows where. For it is better not to speak of treasure. Better not to tell them.
Yes, better not to tell them. I won’t tell you that I scarcely listened to your stories. I was longing for night and darkness and the time when the moonflowers open.
Blot out the moon,
Pull down the stars.
Love in the dark, for we’re for the dark
So soon, so soon.
Like the swaggering pirates, let’s make the most and best and worst of what we have. Give not one-third but everything. All – all – all. Keep nothing back….
No, I would say – I knew what I would say. ‘I have made a terrible mistake. Forgive me.’
I said it, looking at her, seeing the hatred in her eyes – and feeling my own hate spring up to meet it. Again the giddy change, the remembering, the sickening swing back to hate. They bought me, me with your paltry money. You helped them to do it. You deceived me, betrayed me, and you’ll do worse if you get the chance … (That girl she look you straight in the eye and talk sweet talk – and it’s lies she tell you. Lies. Her mother was so. They say she worse than her mother.)
… If I was bound for hell let it be hell. No more false heavens. No more damned magic. You hate me and I hate you. We’ll see who hates best. But first, first I will destroy your hatred. Now. My hate is colder, stronger, and you’ll have no hat to warm yourself. You will have nothing.
I did it too. I saw the hate go out of her eyes. I forced it out. And with the hate her beauty. She was only a ghost. A ghost in the grey daylight. Nothing left but hopelessness. Say die and I will die. Say die and watch me die.
She lifted her eyes. Blank lovely eyes. Mad eyes. A mad girl. I don’t know what I would have said or done. In the balance – everything. But at this moment the nameless boy leaned his head against the clove tree and sobbed. Loud heartbreaking sobs. I could have strangled him with pleasure. But I managed to control myself, walk up to them and say coldly.
‘What is the matter with him? What is he crying about?’ Baptiste did not answer. His sullen face grew a shade more sullen and that was all I got from Baptiste.
She had followed me and she answered. I scarcely recognized her voice. No warmth, no sweetness. The doll had a doll’s voice, a breathless but curiously indifferent voice.
‘He asked me when we first came if we – if you – would take him with you when we left. He doesn’t want any money. Just to be with you. Because –’ She stopped and ran her tongue over her lips, ‘he loves