easily she stepped into the told story that lay before her eyes on the path she followed away fromthe window. there was only one door to the house and to get to it from the back you had to walkall the way around to the front of 124, past the storeroom, past the cold house, the privy, the shed,on around to the porch. and to get to the part of the story she liked best, she had to start way back:
hear the birds in the thick woods, the crunch of leaves underfoot; see her mother making her wayup into the hills where no houses were likely to be. how sethe was walking on two feet meant forstanding still. how they were so swollen she could not see her arch or feel her ankles. her leg shaftended in a loaf of flesh scalloped by five toenails. but she could not, would not, stop, for when shedid the little antelope rammed her with horns and pawed the ground of her womb with impatienthooves. while she was walking, it seemed to graze, quietly — so she walked, on two feet meant, inthis sixth month of pregnancy, for standing still. still, near a kettle; still, at the churn; still, at thetub and ironing board. milk, sticky and sour on her dress, attracted every small flying thing fromgnats to grasshoppers. by the time she reached the hill skirt she had long ago stopped waving themoff. the clanging in her head, begun as a churchbell heard from a distance, was by then a tight capof pealing bells around her ears. she sank and had to look down to see whether she was in a holeor kneeling. nothing was alive but her nipples and the little antelope. finally, she was horizontal— or must have been because blades of wild onion were scratching her temple and her cheek.
concerned as she was for the life of her children's mother, sethe told denver, she rememberedthinking: "well, at least i don't have to take another step." a dying thought if ever there was one,and she waited for the little antelope to protest, and why she thought of an antelope sethe could notimagine since she had never seen one. she guessed it must have been an invention held on to frombefore sweet home, when she was very young. of that place where she was born (carolinamaybe? or was it louisiana?) she remembered only song and dance. not even her own mother,who was pointed out to her by the eight-year-old child who watched over the young ones —pointed out as the one among many backs turned away from her, stooping in a watery field.
patiently sethe waited for this particular back to gain the row's end and stand. what she saw was acloth hat as opposed to a straw one, singularity enough in that world of cooing women each ofwhom was called ma'am.
"seth — thuh.""ma'am.""hold on to the baby.""yes, ma'am.""seth — thuh.""ma'am.""get some kindlin in here.""yes, ma'am."oh but when they sang. and oh but when they danced and sometimes they danced the antelope.
the men as well as the ma'ams, one of whom was certainly her own. they shifted shapes andbecame something other. some unchained, demanding other whose feet knew her pulse better thanshe did. just like this one in her stomach. "i believe this baby's ma'am is gonna die in wild onionson the bloody side of the ohio river." that's what was on her mind and what she told denver. herexact words. and it didn't seem such a bad idea, all in all, in view of the step she would not have totake, but the thought of herself stretched out dead while the little antelope lived on — an hour? aday? a day and a night? — in her lifeless body grieved her so she made the groan that made theperson walking on a path not ten yards away halt and stand right still. sethe had not heard thewalking, but suddenly she heard the standing still and then she smelled the hair. the voice, saying,"who's in there?" was all she needed to know that she was about to be discovered by a white boy.
that he too had mossy teeth, an appetite. that on a ridge of pine near the ohio river, trying to getto her three children, one of whom was starving for the food she carried; that after her husband haddisappeared; that after her milk had been stolen, her back pulped, her children orphaned, she wasnot to have an easeful death. no. she told denver that a something came up out of the earth intoher — like a freezing, but moving too, like jaws inside. "look like i was just cold jaws grinding,"she said. suddenly she was eager for his eyes, to bite into them; to gnaw his cheek.
"i was hungry," she told denver, "just as hungry as i could be for his eyes. i couldn't wait."so she raised up on her elbow and dragged herself, one pull, two, three, four, toward the youngwhite voice talking about "who that back in there?"" 'come see,' i was thinking. 'be the last thing you behold,' and sure enough here come the feet so ithought well that's where i'll have to start god do what he would, i'm gonna eat his feet off. i'mlaughing now, but it's true. i wasn't just set to do it. i was hungry to do it. like a snake. all jawsand hungry.
"it wasn't no whiteboy at all. was a girl. the raggediest-lookingtrash you ever saw saying, 'look there. a nigger. if that don't beat all.' "and now the part denver loved the best: her name was amy and she needed beef and pot liquorlike nobody in this world. arms like cane stalks and enough hair for four or five heads. slow-moving eyes. she didn't look at anything quick. talked so much it wasn't clear how she couldbreathe at the same time. and those cane-stalk arms, as it turned out, were as strong as iron.
"you 'bout the scariest-looking something i ever seen. what you doing back up in here?"down in the grass, like the snake she believed she was, sethe opened her mouth, and instead offangs and a split tongue, out shot the truth.
"running," sethe told her. it was the first word she had spoken all day and it came out thickbecause of her tender tongue. "them the feet you running on? my jesus my." she squatted downand stared at sethe's feet. "you got anything on you, gal, pass for food?""no." sethe tried to shift to a sitting position but couldn t. "i like to die i'm so hungry." the girlmoved her eyes slowly, examining the greenery around her. "thought there'd be huckleberries.
look like it. that's why i come up in here. didn't expect to find no nigger woman. if they was any,birds ate em. you like huckleberries?""i'm having a baby, miss."amy looked at her. "that mean you don't have no appetite? well i got to eat me something."combing her hair with her fingers, she carefully surveyed the landscape once more. satisfiednothing edible was around, she stood up to go and sethe's heart stood up too at the thought ofbeing left alone in the grass without a fang in her head.
"where you on your way to, miss?"she turned and looked at sethe with freshly lit eyes. "boston. get me some velvet. it's a store therecalled wilson. i seen the pictures of it and they have the prettiest velvet. they don't believe i'm aget it, but i am."sethe nodded and shifted her elbow. "your ma'am know you on the lookout for velvet?"the girl shook her hair out of her face. "my mama worked for these here people to pay for herpassage. but then she had me and since she died right after, well, they said i had to work for em topay it off. i did, but now i want me some velvet."they did not look directly at each other, not straight into the eyes anyway. yet they slippedeffortlessly into yard chat about nothing in particular — except one lay on the ground.
"boston," said sethe. "is that far?""ooooh, yeah. a hundred miles. maybe more.""must be velvet closer by." "not like in boston. boston got the best. be so pretty on me. you evertouch it?" "no, miss. i never touched no velvet." sethe didn't know if it was the voice, or boston orvelvet, but while the whitegirl talked, the baby slept. not one butt or kick, so she guessed her luckhad turned. "ever see any?" she asked sethe. "i bet you never even seen any." "if i did i didn'tknow it. what's it like, velvet?" amy dragged her eyes over sethe's face as though she wouldnever give out so confidential a piece of information as that to a perfect stranger. "what they callyou?" she asked.
轻而易举地，就从窗口所见的情景开始，她走进了躺在她眼前小路上的那个讲了又讲的故事。
124号只有一扇门，如果你在后面想进去，就必须一直绕到房子的正面，走过贮藏室，走过冷藏室、厕所、棚屋，一直绕到门廊。同样地，为了进入故事中她最喜爱的那部分，她也必须从头开始：听密林里的鸟鸣，听脚下草叶树叶的窸窣；看她妈妈匆匆赶路，直走进不像有人家的丘陵地带。塞丝是怎样地用两只本该停下的脚走路啊。它们肿得太厉害了，她甚至看不见足弓，也摸不到脚踝。她的腿杆插在一团呈扇形装饰着五个趾甲的肉里。但是她不能也不愿停下来，因为她一旦停住，小羚羊就用角撞她，用蹄子不耐烦地踢她的子宫壁。她若是老老实实走路，它就好像在吃草，安安静静的———所以她怀着六个月的身孕还在用两只本该停下的脚不停地走。早该停下了，停在水壶旁边；停在搅乳机旁边；停在澡盆和熨衣板旁边。她裙子上的奶水又黏又酸，招来了每一样小飞虫，从蚊子到蚂蚱，什么都有。等她赶到山脚时，她已经好久没有挥开它们了。她脑袋里的铿锵声开始时还好像远处教堂的钟鸣，到这时简直成了一顶箍在耳边、轰隆作响的帽盔。她陷了下去，只好低头看看，才能知道是掉在了坑里，还是自己跪下了。除了她的乳头和肚子里的小羚羊，再没有活的东西了。终于，她平躺下来———想必是平躺着，因为野葱叶子刮到了她的太阳穴和面颊。
塞丝后来告诉丹芙，尽管她对她儿女的母亲的性命那样牵挂，她还是有过这个念头：
“也好，至少我不用再迈一步了。
”即使那个想法出现过，也不过是一闪念，然后她就等着小羚羊来抗议；到底为什么想到羚羊，塞丝自己也搞不明白，因为她可从来没见过一只。她猜想，肯定是在来“甜蜜之家”以前，在她还很小的时候就造出的一个说法。关于她出生的地方（也许是卡罗来纳？抑或是路易斯安那？）她只记得歌和舞。甚至不记得她自己的妈妈；还是一个看小孩的八岁孩子指给她的呢———从水田里弯腰干活的许多条脊背中指出来。塞丝耐心地等着这条特别的脊背到达田垄的尽头，站起身来。她看到的是一顶不同于其他草帽的布帽子，这在那个女人们都低声讲话、都叫做太太的世界里已经够个别的了。
“塞———丝哎。
”
“太太。
”
“看住宝宝。
”
“是，太太。
”
“塞———丝哎。
”
“太太。
”
“弄点儿柴火过来。
”
“是，太太。
”
噢，可是当他们唱起歌。噢，可是当她们跳起舞。有时他们跳的是羚羊舞。男人们和太太们一齐跳，太太中有一个肯定是她自己的太太。他们变换姿势装成别的什么，别的不戴锁链、有所要求的什么，它们的脚比她自己更了解她的脉搏。就像她肚子里的这一个。
“我相信这孩子的太太将会在俄亥俄河血腥的岸上、在野葱中间一命呜呼。
”那就是她当时的想法和后来告诉丹芙的话。她的原话。说实在的，若是不用再多走一步了，那倒也算不上太糟糕；可是想到她自己撒手死去，而小羚羊却活在她没有生命的躯体里———一个小时？一天？一天一夜？
———她悲痛得呻吟起来，使不到十码外的小道上一个赶路的人停下了脚步，站住不动。塞丝一直没有听到有人走路，却突然间听到了站住的声音，然后闻见了头发的味道。她一听见那个说着“谁在那儿？
”的声音，就知道她将要被一个白人小子发现了。就是说，他也有着生了青苔的牙齿，有着好胃口。就是说，当她追寻着她的三个孩子，而其中一个还渴望着她身上的奶水的时候；就是说，在她的丈夫失踪不久；就是说，在她的奶水被抢走、后背被捣了个稀烂、孩子们变成孤儿之后，在俄亥俄河附近的一座松岭上，她将不得好死。不。
她告诉丹芙，有个鬼东西从地底下冒了出来，钻进她的身体———似乎要把她冻结，但仍能让她动弹，就如同在里面留了一具颚骨。
“好像我整个就是一副冷冷的颚骨，在那里咬牙切齿。
”她说道。突然间她渴望他的眼睛，想把它们咬碎；然后再去啃他的脸。
“我饿坏了，”她告诉丹芙，“想到他的眼睛，我要多饿有多饿。我等不及了。
”
于是她用胳膊肘支起身子，拖着自己，一下，两下，三下，四下，挪向那个说着“谁在那儿？
”
的白人小子的声音。
“‘来看看吧，’我心想，‘你的末日到了。
’果然，那双脚过来了，所以我都想好了，我就从脚开始替天行道，我要把他的脚吃掉。现在说起来好笑，可那是真的。我可不光是准备好了要这样做。
我简直是如饥似渴。跟一条蛇似的。咬牙切齿，如饥似渴。
“那根本就不是个白人小子。是个姑娘。是你能见到的最破衣罗娑的穷鬼。她说：
‘看哪。一个黑鬼。可了不得了。
’”
下面就是故事中丹芙最喜爱的部分：
她的名字叫爱弥，世界上没有人比她更需要大吃大喝一顿了。胳膊像麻秆儿，头发够四五个脑袋用的。目光迟缓。她看什么都慢吞吞的。话说得太多，真不明白她同时怎么还能喘气。还有那两根麻秆儿胳膊，结果证明，铁打的一般结实。
“你是我见过的模样最吓人的东西。你在那儿干什么哪？
”
躺在草里，像她刚才自封的那条蛇那样，塞丝张开嘴，可射出的不是毒牙和芯子，而是实话。
“逃跑。
”塞丝告诉她。这是她一整天来说的第一个词儿，因为她舌头发软而含混不清。
“那就是你逃跑用的脚吗？哎呀我的老天哪。
”她蹲下来，盯着塞丝的脚，“你身上带什么东西了吗，姑娘，有吃的吗？
”
“没有。
”塞丝试着换成坐姿，但没成功。
“我都要饿死了，”那姑娘慢慢转着眼睛，察看周围的植物，“还以为会有越桔呢。看着像有似的。所以我才爬上来的。没打算碰上什么黑鬼女人。就算有，也让鸟儿给吃了。你爱吃越桔吗？
”
“我就要生了，小姐。
”
爱弥看着她。
“这么说你没有胃口喽？我可得吃点东西。
”
她用手指梳着头发，又一次仔细地察看四周的景物。她发现周围没什么能吃的，就站起来要走；塞丝想到自己一个人被搁在草丛里，嘴里又没长毒牙，心也一下子提了起来。
“你这是往哪儿去呀，小姐？
”
她转过身，用骤然亮起来的眼睛看着塞丝。
“波士顿。去找天鹅绒。那里有家商店叫威尔逊。
我见过照片，他们那儿有最漂亮的天鹅绒。他们不相信我能找到，可是我能。
”
塞丝点点头，换了个胳膊肘支撑身体。
“你的太太知道你出去找天鹅绒吗？
”
那姑娘把头发从脸上甩开。
“我妈妈早先给这儿的人干活，好挣足过路费。可是后来她生了我，马上就死了，于是，他们说我就得给他们干活还债。我都干了，可现在我想给自己弄点天鹅绒。”
她们谁都没有正眼看对方，起码没有直盯着眼睛。但是她们自然而然地闲聊起来，也没有个特定的话题———当然，有一个躺在地上。
“波士顿，”塞丝道，“那儿远吗？
”
“噢———远着呢。一百英里。可能还要多。
”
“附近应该也有天鹅绒。
”
“跟波士顿的没法比。波士顿的最好。我要是穿上该有多美呀。你摸过吗？
”
“没有，小姐。我从来没摸过天鹅绒。
”塞丝不知道是因为她的声音，还是因为波士顿和天鹅绒，反正白人姑娘说话的时候，婴儿睡着了，一下没撞，一下没踢，所以她猜想自己时来运转了。
“以前见过吗？
”她问塞丝，“我敢说你从来没见过。
”
“就算见过我也不认识。什么样儿，天鹅绒？
”
爱弥的目光拖过塞丝的脸，好像她绝不会向一个完全陌生的人透露这么机密的信息似的。
“他们叫你什么？
”她问道。