"let your mothers hear you laugh," she told them, and the woods rang. the adults looked on andcould not help smiling.
then "let the grown men come," she shouted. they stepped out one by one from among theringing trees.
"let your wives and your children see you dance," she told them, and groundlife shuddered undertheir feet.
finally she called the women to her. "cry," she told them. "for the living and the dead. just cry."and without covering their eyes the women let loose.
it started that way: laughing children, dancing men, crying women and then it got mixed up.
women stopped crying and danced; men sat down and cried; children danced, women laughed,children cried until, exhausted and riven, all and each lay about the clearing damp and gasping forbreath. in the silence that followed, baby suggs, holy, offered up to them her great big heart.
she did not tell them to clean up their lives or to go and sin no more. she did not tell them theywere the blessed of the earth, its inheriting meek or its glorybound pure.
she told them that the only grace they could have was the grace they could imagine. that if theycould not see it, they would not have it.
"here," she said, "in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on barefeet in grass. love it. love it hard. yonder they do not love your flesh. they despise it. they don'tlove your eyes; they'd just as soon pick em out. no more do they love the skin on your back.
yonder they flay it. and o my people they do not love your hands. those they only use, tie, bind,chop off and leave empty. love your hands! love them. raise them up and kiss them. touchothers with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face 'cause they don't love that either.
you got to love it, you! and no, they ain't in love with your mouth. yonder, out there, they willsee it broken and break it again. what you say out of it they will not heed. what you scream fromit they do not hear. what you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give youleavins instead. no, they don't love your mouth. you got to love it. this is flesh i'm talking abouthere. flesh that needs to be loved. feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support;shoulders that need arms, strong arms i'm telling you. and o my people, out yonder, hear me, theydo not love your neck unnoosed and straight. so love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke itand hold it up. and all your inside parts that they'd just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them.
the dark, dark liver — love it, love it, and the beat and beating heart, love that too. more than eyesor feet.
more than lungs that have yet to draw free air. more than your life holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. for this is the prize." saying no more, she stoodup then and danced with her twisted hip the rest of what her heart had to say while the othersopened their mouths and gave her the music. long notes held until the four-part harmony wasperfect enough for their deeply loved flesh.
sethe wanted to be there now. at the least to listen to the spaces that the long-ago singing had leftbehind. at the most to get a clue from her husband's dead mother as to what she should do with hersword and shield now, dear jesus, now nine years after baby suggs, holy, proved herself a liar,dismissed her great heart and lay in the keeping-room bed roused once in a while by a craving forcolor and not for another thing.
"those white things have taken all i had or dreamed," she said, "and broke my heartstrings too.
there is no bad luck in the world but whitefolks." 124 shut down and put up with the venom of itsghost. no more lamp all night long, or neighbors dropping by. no low conversations after supper.
no watched barefoot children playing in the shoes of strangers. baby suggs, holy, believed shehad lied. there was no grace-imaginary or real — and no sunlit dance in a clearing could changethat. her faith, her love, her imagination and her great big old heart began to collapse twenty-eightdays after her daughter-in-law arrived.
yet it was to the clearing that sethe determined to go — to pay tribute to halle. before the lightchanged, while it was still the green blessed place she remembered: misty with plant steam and thedecay of berries.
she put on a shawl and told denver and beloved to do likewise. all three set out late one sundaymorning, sethe leading, the girls trotting behind, not a soul in sight.
when they reached the woods it took her no time to find the path through it because big-cityrevivals were held there regularly now, complete with food-laden tables, banjos and a tent. the oldpath was a track now, but still arched over with trees dropping buckeyes onto the grass below.
there was nothing to be done other than what she had done, butsethe blamed herself for baby suggs' collapse. however many times baby denied it, sethe knewthe grief at 124 started when she jumped down off the wagon, her newborn tied to her chest in theunderwear of a whitegirl looking for boston.
followed by the two girls, down a bright green corridor of oak and horse chestnut, sethe began tosweat a sweat just like the other one when she woke, mud-caked, on the banks of the ohio.
amy was gone. sethe was alone and weak, but alive, and so was her baby. she walked a waysdownriver and then stood gazing at the glimmering water. by and by a flatbed slid into view, butshe could not see if the figures on it were whitepeople or not. she began to sweat from a fever shethanked god for since it would certainly keep her baby warm. when the flatbed was beyond hersight she stumbled on and found herself near three coloredpeople fishing — two boys and an olderman. she stopped and waited to be spoken to. one of the boys pointed and the man looked over hisshoulder at her — a quick look since all he needed to know about her he could see in no time. noone said anything for a while. then the man said, "headin' 'cross?""yes, sir," said sethe.
"anybody know you coming?""yes, sir."he looked at her again and nodded toward a rock that stuck out of the ground above him like abottom lip. sethe walked to it and sat down. the stone had eaten the sun's rays but was nowherenear as hot as she was. too tired to move, she stayed there, the sun in her eyes making her dizzy.
sweat poured over her and bathed the baby completely. she must have slept sitting up, becausewhen next she opened her eyes the man was standing in front of her with a smoking-hot piece offried eel in his hands. it was an effort to reach for, more to smell, impossible to eat. she beggedhim for water and he gave her some of the ohio in a jar. sethe drank it all and begged more. theclanging was back in her head but she refused to believe that she had come all that way, enduredall she had, to die on the wrong side of the river.
the man watched her streaming face and called one of the boys over.
"take off that coat," he told him.
"sir?""you heard me."the boy slipped out of his jacket, whining, "what you gonna do? what i'm gonna wear?"the man untied the baby from her chest and wrapped it in the boy's coat, knotting the sleeves infront.
"what i'm gonna wear?"the old man sighed and, after a pause, said, "you want it back, then go head and take it off thatbaby. put the baby naked in the grass and put your coat back on. and if you can do it, then go on'way somewhere and don't come back."the boy dropped his eyes, then turned to join the other. with eel in her hand, the baby at her feet,sethe dozed, dry-mouthed and sweaty. evening came and the man touched her shoulder.
contrary to what she expected they poled upriver, far away from the rowboat amy had found. justwhen she thought he was taking her back to kentucky, he turned the flatbed and crossed the ohiolike a shot. there he helped her up the steep bank, while the boy without a jacket carried the babywho wore it. the man led her to a brush-covered hutch with a beaten floor.
"wait here. somebody be here directly. don't move. they'll find you." "thank you," she said. "iwish i knew your name so i could remember you right.""name's stamp," he said. "stamp paid. watch out for that there baby, you hear?""i hear. i hear," she said, but she didn't. hours later a woman was right up on her before she hearda thing. a short woman, young, with a croaker sack, greeted her.
"'saw the sign a while ago," she said. "but i couldn't get here no quicker.""what sign?" asked sethe.
"stamp leaves the old sty open when there's a crossing. knots a white rag on the post if it's a childtoo."she knelt and emptied the sack. "my name's ella," she said, taking a wool blanket, cotton cloth,two baked sweet potatoes and a pair of men's shoes from the sack. "my husband, john, is outyonder a ways. where you heading?"sethe told her about baby suggs where she had sent her three children.
ella wrapped a cloth strip tight around the baby's navel as she listened for the holes — the thingsthe fugitives did not say; the questions they did not ask. listened too for the unnamed,unmentioned people left behind. she shook gravel from the men's shoes and tried to force sethe'sfeet into them. they would not go. sadly, they split them down the heel, sorry indeed to ruin sovaluable an item. sethe put on the boy's jacket, not daring to ask whether there was any word ofthe children.
"they made it," said ella. "stamp ferried some of that party. left them on bluestone. it ain't toofar."sethe couldn't think of anything to do, so grateful was she, so she peeled a potato, ate it, spit it upand ate more in quiet celebration. "they be glad to see you," said ella. "when was this one born?""yesterday," said sethe, wiping sweat from under her chin. "i hope she makes it."ella looked at the tiny, dirty face poking out of the wool blanket and shook her head. "hard tosay," she said. "if anybody was to ask me i'd say, 'don't love nothing.' " then, as if to take the edgeoff her pronouncement, she smiled at sethe. "you had that baby by yourself?""no. whitegirl helped."
“让你们的母亲听你们大笑。
”她对他们说道，于是树林鸣响。大人们看着，忍俊不禁。
然后，“让男人们过来。
”她喊道。他们从嘹亮的树林里鱼贯而出。
“让你们的妻子和孩子看你们跳舞。
”她对他们说，于是大地在他们脚下震颤。
最后她把女人们唤来。
“哭，”她向她们吩咐道。
“为了活着的和死去的，哭吧。
”于是女人们还没捂上眼睛就尽情号哭起来。
刚开始时是这样：大笑的孩子，跳舞的男人，哭泣的女人，然后就混作一团。女人们停止哭泣，跳起舞来；男人们坐下来哭泣；孩子们跳舞，女人们大笑，孩子们哭泣，直到后来，每个人都筋疲力尽，撕心裂肺，沮丧地躺在空地上捯气。在随之而来的寂静中，圣贝比·萨格斯把她那颗伟大的大心奉献给大家。
她没有要求他们去洗刷他们的生命，也没有要求他们不得再有罪过。她没有告诉他们，他们是地球上的有福之人，与生俱来地温顺，或者永世流芳地纯洁。
她告诉他们，他们唯一能得到的恩赐是他们想象得出的恩赐。如果他们看不见，他们就得不到。
“在这里，”她说，“在这个地方，是我们的肉体；哭泣、欢笑的肉体；在草地上赤脚跳舞的肉体。热爱它。强烈地热爱它。在那边，他们不爱你的肉体，他们蔑视它。他们不爱你的眼睛，他们会一下子把它们挖出来。他们也不爱你背上的皮肤，在那边他们会将它剥去。噢我的子民，他们不爱你的双手。他们只将它们奴役、捆绑、砍断，让它们一无所获。爱你的手吧!热爱它们。举起它们，亲吻它们。用它们去抚摸别人，让它们相互拍打，让它们拍打你的脸，因为他们不爱你的脸。
你得去爱它，你！不，他们也不爱你的嘴。那边，远在那边，他们看见它流血还要在伤口上再戳一刀。他们不关心你嘴里说出些什么。他们听不见你嘴里尖叫的声音。他们会夺去你吃进嘴里滋养身体的东西而代之以渣滓。不，他们不爱你的嘴。你得去爱它。我在这里谈的是肉体。需要人爱的肉 体。需要休息和跳舞的脚；需要支撑的后背；需要臂膊的肩膀，我说的是结实的臂膊。噢我的子民，远在那边，听我说，他们不爱你不带绞索的挺直的脖子，所以爱你的脖子吧；把一只手放上去，给它增色，拍打它，把它扶正。还有你所有的内脏，他们会一股脑扔给猪吃，你得去爱它们。
深色的、深色的肝———爱它，爱它，还有怦怦跳动的心，也爱它。比眼睛比脚更热爱。比呼吸自由空气的肺更热爱。比你保存生命的子宫和你创造生命的私处更热爱。现在听我说，爱你的心。因为这才是价值所在。
”然后，她不再多说一句，站起身，用扭动的臀部舞出她的心想说的其他部位，大家张开嘴为她伴奏。悠长的曲调持续着，直到四部和声完美得足以同他们深爱的肉体相匹配。
现在塞丝想去那里。至少去聆听那久远的歌声留在身后的余韵。多则呢，她想从她丈夫死去的母亲那里得到一个线索，问问她现在该拿她的剑和盾怎么办。亲爱的耶稣啊，自从圣贝比·萨格斯露出骗子本色，丢弃了她那颗伟大的心脏，躺在起居室的床上，仅仅出于对颜色的渴望才不时醒来一回，到现在已经整整九年了。
“那些白鬼夺走了我拥有和梦想的一切，”她说，“还扯断了我的心弦。这个世界上除了白人没有别的不幸。
”124号关上了门，去忍受那鬼魂的胡作非为。再没有灯火通明，没有邻居来访。没有晚饭后低声的谈话。没有人在那儿看光脚丫的孩子们穿着陌生人的鞋子玩耍。圣贝比·萨格斯认定，是她自己撒了谎。恩赐根本不存在———不论想象的还是真实的———而“林间空地”上阳光中的舞蹈丝毫不能改变这个事实。她的忠诚、她的爱、她的想像力和她那颗伟大的大心，在她的儿媳妇到来之后的第二十八天开始崩溃。
然而塞丝还是决定到“林间空地”上去———去祭奠黑尔。在真相曝光之前，那里一直是她记忆中的绿色圣地：植物的蒸汽和莓子的腐败气味弥漫其上。
她披上披肩，又让丹芙和宠儿也一样披上。三个人在一个星期六的早晨出门了，塞丝领头，姑娘们紧随其后，视野中不见一个人影。
到达那片树林后，她没费一点时间就找到了穿行的小路，因为如今那里定期举行大城市信仰复兴活动，丰盛的餐桌、班卓琴、帐篷，一应俱全。过去的羊肠小道如今已经被踏成了一条路，不过仍然有繁茂的树在上面搭出拱顶，把橡子掉在下面的草叶上。
塞丝已经尽力而为了，可她还是不能不为贝比·萨格斯的崩溃而怪罪自己。尽管贝比一次次地否认，塞丝仍旧清楚地知道，124号的悲哀就是从那一刻开始的：她跳下大车，新生儿裹在一个寻找波士顿的白人姑娘的内衣里，系在她胸前。
领着两个姑娘，穿过了一道橡树和七叶树织成的明亮的绿色长廊，塞丝开始冒汗，那情形酷似另一次：她在俄亥俄河岸上汗津津地醒来，泥浆已经在她身上结了痂。
爱弥走了。塞丝孤单而虚弱，却还活着，她的婴儿也活着。她沿河向下游走了一段，然后站在那里，凝望着波光粼粼的河水。一只平底船不时划进视线，但她看不清站在上边的是不是白人。由于发烧，她开始出汗，也因此感谢上帝，因为这样当然能让她的婴儿暖和。她看不见平底船了，就跌跌撞撞地向前走去，发现自己走近了三个打鱼的黑人———两个男孩和一个男人。她停下来，等着他们跟她说活。一个男孩朝这边指了指，男人越过他的肩膀看了她一眼———不过是迅速的一瞥，因为他只需一眼就知道她究竟是怎么回事。
有一会儿工夫谁都没说话。然后男人道：
“想过河吗？
”
“是，先生。
”塞丝说。
“有人知道你来吗？
”
“有，先生。
”
他又看了她一眼，用下巴指了指他上面一块像下嘴唇一样凸起的石头。塞丝走过去坐下。石头吸足了阳光，可是再怎么烫也比不上她。她疲惫不堪，就待在那里，照进眼睛的阳光让她头晕目眩。汗水在她身上哗哗流淌，彻底浸湿了婴儿。她肯定是坐着坐着就睡着了，因为她再睁开眼的时候，那个男人站在她面前，手里已经拿了一块热腾腾的炸鳝鱼。她费了好大力气才伸手接住，又费了更大力气才闻出味道，至于吃，那是不可能的。她向他讨水喝，他给了她一罐子俄亥俄河水。塞丝一饮而尽，再讨。铿锵声就在她的脑后，但她拒绝相信，自己走了那么远的路，受了那么多的罪，只是为了死在错误的那一岸。
男人看着她汗涔涔的脸，把一个男孩叫过来。
“把外套脱下来。
”他对他说。
“先生？
”
“你听见了。
”
那个男孩脱下外衣，抱怨着：
“你想干什么呀？我穿什么呀？
”
男人把婴儿从她胸前解下来，包在男孩的外套里，用袖子在前面打了个结。
“我穿什么呀？
”
男人叹了口气，顿了一下，说：
“你想要回来的话，就去把它从娃娃身上扒下来。把那个娃娃光着身子搁在草里，再穿上你的衣裳。要是你干得出来，那就走开，别再回来。
”
男孩垂下眼睛，然后转身到另一个那里去了。塞丝手里拿着鳝鱼，脚边躺着婴儿，口干舌燥、大汗淋漓地睡着了。夜幕降临时，那个男人碰了碰她的肩膀。
与她预期的相反，他们将船朝上游撑去，把爱弥找到的那只小船抛在身后。她正以为他在把她带回肯塔基去，他划转平底船，它像一颗子弹似的渡过了俄亥俄河。他帮她登上陡峭的河岸，没外衣的男孩抱着那穿着它的婴儿。男人领着她来到一间灌木掩映、地面踏得很平的小棚屋。
“在这儿等着。马上就会有人来。别动。他们能找着你。
”
“谢谢你。
”她说，“但愿我能知道你的名字，好记得准你。
”
“叫斯坦普。
”他说，“斯坦普·沛德。看好那个娃娃，听见了吗？
”
“听见了，听见了。
”她回答道，可其实她没有。几个钟头后一个女人来到她面前时，她一点也没听见。是个矮个子年轻女人，拎着条收尸袋，正向她打招呼。
“看见信号好一会儿了，”她说，“可我不能走得再快了。
”
“什么信号？
”塞丝问。
“一有个过河的，斯坦普就把这破猪圈敞开。要是还有个小孩儿，就在柱子上再系一块白布条。
”
她跪下来倒空麻袋。
“我叫艾拉。
”她一边说，一边从麻袋里拿出一条羊毛毯、一些棉布、两个烤白薯，还有一双男鞋，“我丈夫约翰，他出门在外。你想去哪儿？
”
塞丝告诉她，她已托人将三个孩子往贝比·萨格斯那里送去了。
艾拉一边用一条布紧紧缠住婴儿的肚脐，一边去听谈话里的漏洞———逃犯们不说的那些事，不问的那些问题。留意那些落往后面、不知道名字、没被提起的人们。她控出那双男鞋里的沙子，试图把塞丝的脚塞进去。它们塞不进去。很不幸，它们把鞋后跟撑裂了，毁了这么贵重的东西实在可惜。塞丝穿上那个男孩的外衣，没敢打听是否有她孩子们的下落。
“他们成功了，”艾拉道，“斯坦普把那伙人运过了河。把他们留在蓝石路上了。不算太远。
”
塞丝感激得不知该如何是好，于是剥了一个白薯，吃下去，吐出来，在静静的欢喜之中又吃了一些。
“他们见到你一定很高兴。
”艾拉说，“这一个是什么时候生的？
”
“昨天。
”塞丝擦着下巴底下的汗，说道，“但愿她能活下来。
”
艾拉看看从羊毛毯里钻出来的小脏脸，摇了摇头。
“难说。
”她说道。
“谁要是问我，我就说：
‘啥也别爱。
’”然后，似乎是为了收敛话里的锋芒，她冲塞丝笑笑。
“你自己生的那个孩子？
”
“不是。白人姑娘帮了忙。
”
“那么我们趁早开路吧。
”