Requiem for a Nun

272 WILLIAM FAULKNER

of him forever, instead of hiding the money and jewels from Temple in her

turn-which was what Temple herself thought too apparently, since she-

Temple-told him a lie about how much the money was, telling him it was

only two hundred dollars when it was actually almost two thousand. So you

would have said that he wanted the money indeed, and just how much, how

badly, to have been willing to pay that price for it. Or maybe he was

being wise, smart,' he would have called it-beyond his years and time,

and without having actually planned it that way, was really inventing a

new and safe method of kidnapping: that is, pick up an adult victim

capable of signing her own checks-also with an infant in arms for added

persuasion-and not forcing but actually persuading her to come along

under her own power and then-still peaceably-extracting the money later

at your leisure, using the tender welfare of the infant as a fulcrum for

your lever. Or maybe we're both wrong and both should give credit-what

little of it-is due, since it was just the money with her too at first,

though he was probably still thinking it was just the money at the very

time when, having got her own jewelry together and found where her

husband kept the key to the strongbox (and I imagine, even opened it one

night after her husband was in bed asleep and counted the money in it or

at least made sure there was money in it or anyway that the key would

actually open it), she found herself still trying to rationalise why she

had not paid over the money and got the letters and destroyed them and

so rid herself forever of her Damocles' roof. Which was what she did not

do. Because Hemingway-his girl-was quite right: all you have got to do

is, refuse to accept it. Only, you have got to be told truthfully

beforehand what you must refuse; the gods owe you that-at least a clear

picture and a clear choice. Not to be fooled by . . . who knows? probably

even gentleness, after a fashion, back there on those afternoons or

whenever they were in the Memphis . . . all right: honeymoon, even with

a witness; in this case certainly anything much better lacked, and

indeed, who knows? (I am Red now) even a little of awe, incredulous

amazement, even a little of trembling at this much fortune, this much

luck dropping out of the very sky itself, into his embrace; at least

(Temple now) no gang: even rape become tender: only one, an indi-