cw.blackalibi-第16部分

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　　How　strange　it　was。　You　met　someone；　and　suddenly　the　whole　world　became　different。　She　remembered　the　first　time　they'd　met。　It　wasn't　so　long　ago；　just　a　few　Sundays　ago；　but　already　she　couldn't　recall　what　life　had　been　like　before　that　time；　before　there'd　been　a　〃him。〃　It　was　on　a　Sunday　afternoon；　at　the　cine。　Her　mother　bad　had　one　of　her　spells；　and　Marta　was　too　strict　to　go　to　a　cine　on　Sunday；　so　Rosita　had　gone　with　her。　You　had　reserved　seats　at　a　cine　on　Sunday　afternoons；　you　rented　them　by　the　season　and　you　occupied　the　same　ones　every　time　you　went；　so　he　must　have　known　her　by　sight；　watched　her　each　time　the　lights　went　up　at　intermission；　for　a　long　time　before。　Well；　she　had　noticed　him　herself；　but　you　couldn't　stare　of　course。　You　could　only　let　eyes　meet　eyes　for　a　passing　instant。
　　Then　when　they　came　out　that　afternoon；　they　found　that　a　terrific　downpour　was　drenching　the　streets。　They　huddled　there　helplessly　under　the　sidewalk　canopy　along　with　everyone　else；　unable　to　move；　while　the　theater　doorman　blew　his　whistle　up　and　down　the　street…that　querulous　sound　just　then；　chiming　in　upon　her　thoughts　from　somewhere　in　the　distance；　reminded　her　of　that　day；　brought　it　before　her　more　vividly　than　ever…calling　up　carriages　and　cabs　and　anything　on　wheels　to　the　rescue。　But　everyone　else　kept　getting　them；　and　the　two　of　them；　she　and　Rosita；　would　have　stood　there　stranded　for　there　was　no　telling　how　long；　if　he　suddenly　hadn't　appeared　at　their　side　and　forced　a　passage　for　them；　and　arbitrarily　mandeered　the　latest　one　standing　at　the　curb。
　　Suddenly　she　was　upright；　with　a　sort　of　shock　of　delayed　timing　coursing　through　her。　That　had　been　the　gateman's　whistle　that　had　blended　in　so　patly　with　the　stream　of　her　thoughts；　back　there　before！
　　She　ran　out　between　the　columns；　stood　poised　for　an　instant　on　the　two　low　steps　that　formed　the　structure's　flooring；　listening　with　frightened　intensity。　It　came　again；　then；　piping；　sounding　miles　and　hopeless　miles　away　across　the　darkness。　Farther　away　than　she　could　ever　hope　to　reach　in　time。　The　second　and　the　last　warning；　and　after　that…they　just　locked　up　without　waiting　any　longer。　He　must　have　missed　her　in　some　way；　the　gateman；　just　as　she　and　Raul　had　missed　one　another。　Because　obviously　they　would　have　to　do　more　than　just　blow　a　whistle　at　the　gate；　in　a　place　of　this　size。　Perhaps　on　his　last　tour　of　warning　around　the　grounds　he　had　failed　to　e　near　this　pergola；　never　realizing　there　was　anyone　sheltered　in　it。　And　she；　in　her　day　dreaming；　had　failed　to　note　the　distant　flicker　of　his　lamp…if　be　used　one…or　grasp　its　significance。　Or　perhaps　he　had　mistaken　someone　else　who　had　passed　him　on　her　way　out；　garbed　in　mourning　as　she　was；　for　herself；　and　not　bothered　to　e　in　looking　for　her　at　all。　He　was　nearsighted；　after　all。
　　All　this　in　a　single；　horrified　pause　on　the　steps；　quicker　even　than　her　fluttering　garments　could　settle　about　her　into　motionlessness。　And　to　add　to　her　dismay；　she　realized　only　now　that　it　had　grown　pletely　dark　while　she　was　sitting　in　there　waiting。　Even　the　afterglow　of　the　sun　was　gone　now。　Only　a　slight　greenish　blackness；　like　oxidized　metal；　above　the　trees　in　the　west；　showed　where　it　had　been。　The　rest　was　dark；　dark；　dark；　night　was　in　possession　and　had　caught　her　in　its　trap。
　　She　was　running　along　the　winding　graveled　path　now。　She　thought　she'd　never　run　so　fast　in　her　life　before。　A　spray　of　gravel　flew　up；　like　sea　foam；　at　the　tiny　prows　of　her　plunging　feet。　Through　the　tunnel　of　trees。　Down　into　the　declivity　of　the　meadow　of　the　dead。　Up　again　on　the　other　side。　Past　the　box　hedge　behind　which　her　father　and　the　great…aunts　lay。　A　sob　of　helpless　appeal　winged　back　toward　it　as　she　darted　by：　〃Papacito！〃　The　whimper　of　a　frightened　thing；　tossed　over　her　shoulder　as　she　fled　headlong　past　the　place。　To　someone　who　once　could　have　protected　her…but　couldn't　now　any　more。
　　The　trees　were　invisible　against　the　black　sky。　But　under　them；　and　far　too　visible；　the　white　of　the　monuments　and　the　markers　made　blurred　gray　ghost　shapes　here　and　there。　An　angel　poised　on　one　toe　threatened　to　spring　out　at　her　from　ambush；　seize　her　about　the　neck　with　both　arms　tightly　entwined；　bring　her　down。　She　screamed；　and　shied　aside；　and　nearly　fell；　then　went　floundering　on　again。
　　A　wind　seemed　to　e　sighing　up　out　of　the　earth　around　her；　damp　and　moldy　with　the　aroma　of　long…buried　things。　It　wasn't　just　static；　it　seemed　to　pursue　her；　threading　through　the　trees；　winding　down　the　path　after　her；　moaning；　trying　to　claim　her　for　its　own。　The　pathway　under　her　was　just　a　gray　ribbon；　an　indistinct　tape；　stretched　across　the　dark。　It　never　seemed　to　end；　it　never　would　end。
　　This　was　panic；　and　she　knew　it；　and　she　knew　it　must　be　conquered　or　she　would　never　reach　the　gate　alive。　Even　as　she　tottered　on；　chest　exploding　and　collapsing　at　each　in…　and　exhalation；　she　fought　to　regain　her　self…control。　It's　all　right；　Conchita；　nothing　will　happen；　it's　all　right；　don't　be　a　fool。　In　just　a　moment　more　you'll　reach　that　landmark　of　the　urn；　and　then　you　turn　left…remember？…and　after　that　just　the　one　broad　central　avenue　takes　you　to　the　gate；　nothing　to　it。　Call　out　now；　from　here…they'll　hear　you；　they'll　wait；　they'll　hold　it　open。　Call　out　so　they'll　know；　you　should　have　already；　from　the　moment　you　first　heard　the　whistle。
　　She　didn't　think　she'd　have　breath　enough　left；　but　she　managed　somehow。　Shrilly；　falteringly；　jerky　with　the　vibration　of　her　continued　running。　〃Gateman！　Gateman；　wait！　I'm　still　in　here！　Don't　close　yet！　Wait　until　I　get　there。〃
　　Then　she　couldn't　any　more；　there　wasn't　enough　strength　of　lung　left。　She　was　wavering　from　side　to　side　as　it　was；　no　longer　able　to　keep。　to　a　straight　course。　And　the　treacherous　gravel；　so　easy　to　tread　upon　when　you　were　at　rest；　seemed　to　roll　and　sidle　under　her　feet；　unbalancing　her。
　　The　urn！　Oh；　saints　be　praised；　the　urn　at　last！　Rearing　there　before　her；　higher　than　her　head；　seeming　to　swim　against　the　darkness　without　sup。　port；　until　the　lesser　pallor　of　its　pediment　had　e　into　focus　under　it。
　　To　the　left　now；　she　warned　herself　harassedly；　to　the　left；　be　careful…　She　couldn't　even　tell　for　a　moment　which　it　was。　The　heart。　The　heart　was　always　on　the　left。　She　put　her　hand　to　it；　and　its　pounding　was　almost　a　physical　hurt；　like　hammer　blows　against　the　hollow　of　the　hand。　She　let　it　guide　her；　swerved　around　toward　that　side；　and　the　urn　was　whisked　from　sight　behind　her；　like　something　worked　on　invisible　strings。
　　The　broad；　paved　alley　that　led　straight　to　the　gate　lay　before　her　now；　and　the　worst　was　over。　Its　firm　surface　was　easier　to　run　on　than　the　shifting　gravel；　but　she　couldn't　gain　much　added　advantage；　she　was　already　too　exhausted。　She　tottered　waveringly　on；　she　daren't　falter　now。　She　tried　to　call　out　again；　and　found　she　couldn't。　A　muted；　strangled　sound；　that　scarcely　outdistanced　her　herself；　was　all　that　she　could　utter。　It　seemed　to　tear　at　her　suffocating　throat。　〃Leave　the　gates　open；　wait　for　me！〃
　　Straight　and　broad　the　avenue　stretched　before　her；　its　side　boundary　lines　drawing　to　a　shadowy　junction　in　the　darkness　ahead　that　kept　eluding　her；　never　came　any　closer。　Behind　her；　that　same　malignant　wind　that　smelled　of　the　clamminess　of　tombs　and　the　stench　of　rotted　coffins　seemed　to　have　turned　at　the　urn　just　as　she　had；　seemed　to　be　keeping　up　its　insatiable；　humming　pursuit；　even　down　this　straightaway。　It　was　like　running　down　a　track　of　perpetual　motion；　whose　reverse　direction　ate　up　all　the　gain　you　made；　kept　you　standing　still　at　a　fixed　point　after　all；　though　limbs　and　heart　and　lungs　wore　themselves　out。
　　A　bench　went　slowly　past　on　one　side。　Then；　after　a　while；　another　went　slowly　past　on　the　other。　How　she　wanted　to　topple　down　on　one　of　them　and　just　lie　there　half　senseless…but　she　daren't。　It　was　so　long　ago　that　the　whistle　blasts　had　sounded；　would　they　really　have　heard　her　cries？　Would　they　still　be　waiting；　keeping　them　open？　Then　why　didn't　they　e　forward；　even　a　little　part　of　the　way；　why　didn't　she　see　the　glimmer　of