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The distinct rhythm of Something walking, slowly walking. . . .
and the low murmur of the voices, the singing, the talking, I was get-ting dizzy. I was going to fall. I held on to him and on to the bar.
"Roger!" I shouted aloud. Surely everybody in the bar heardit. He was looking at me in the most pacific manner, I don't evenknow if his face was animate anymore. He seemed puzzled, evenamazed....
I saw the wings rise up over me, over him. I saw the immenseobliterating darkness shoot up as if from a volcanic rip in the veryearth and the light rise behind it. Blinding, beautiful light.
I know I cried out. "Roger!"The noise was deafening, the voices, the singing, the figure grow-ing larger and larger.
"Don't take him. It's my fault." I rose up against It in fury; Iwould tear It to pieces if I had to, to make It let him go! But I couldn'tsee him clearly. I didn't know where / was. And It came rolling, likesmoke again, thick and powerful and absolutely unstoppable, and inthe midst of all this, looming above him as he faded, and towards me,the face, the face of the granite statue for one second, the only thingvisible, his eyes?
"Let him go!"There was no bar, no Village, no city, no world. Only all of them!
And perhaps the singing was no more than the sound of a break-ing glass.
Then blackness. Stillness.
Silence.
Or so it seemed, that I had been unconscious in a quiet place forsome time.
I woke up outside on the street.
The bartender was standing there, shivering, asking me in themost annoyed and nasal tone of voice, "Are you all right, man?"There was snow on his shoulders, on the black shoulders of his vest,and on his white sleeves.
I nodded, and stood up, just so he'd go away. My tie was still inplace. My coat was buttoned. My hands were clean. There was snowon my coat.
The snow was falling very lightly all around me. The most beauti-ful snow.
I went back through the revolving door into the tiled hallway andstood in the door of the bar. I could see the place where we hadtalked, see his glass still there. Otherwise the atmosphere was un-changed. The bartender was talking in a bored way to someone. Hehadn't seen anything, except me bolt, probably, and stumble out intothe street.
Every fiber in me said, Run. But where will you run? Take to theair? Not a chance, it will get you in an instant. Keep your feet on thecold earth.
You took Roger! Is that what you followed me for? Who are you!
The bartender looked up over the empty, dusty distance. I musthave said something, done something. No, I was just blubbering. Aman crying in a doorway, stupidly. And when it is this man, so tospeak, that means blood tears. Make your exit quick.
I turned and walked out into the snow again. It was going to bemorning soon, wasn't it? I didn't have to walk in the miserablepunishing cold until the sky brightened, did I? Why not find a grave now,and go to sleep?
"Roger!" I was crying, wiping my tears on my sleeve. "What areyou, damn it!" I stood and shouted, voice rolling off the buildings.
"Damn it!" It came back tp me suddenly in a flash. I heard all thosemingled voices, and I fought it. The face. It has a face! A sleepless mindin its heart and an insatiable personality. Don't get dizzy, don't try toremember. Somebody in one of the buildings opened a window andshouted at me to move on. "Stop screaming out there." Don't try toreconstruct. You'll lose consciousness if you do.
I suddenly envisioned Dora and thought I might collapse where Iwas, shuddering and helpless and jabbering nonsense to anyone whocame to help me.
This was bad, this was the worst, this was simply cosrnically awful!
And what in God's name had been the meaning of Roger'sexpression in that last moment? Was it even an expression? Was it peace orcalm or understanding, or just a ghost losing his vitality, a ghostgiving up the ghost!
Ah! I had been screaming. I realized it. Lots of mortals aroundme, high up in the night, were telling me to be quiet.
I walked on and on.
I was alone. I cried quietly. There was no one in die empty streetto hear.
I crept on, bent nearly double, crying out loud. I never noticedanyone now who saw or heard or stopped or took note. I wanted toreenact it in my mind, but I was terrified it would knock me flat onmy back if I did it. And Roger, Roger . . . Oh, God, I wanted in mymonstrous selfishness to go to Dora and go down on my knees. I didthis, I killed, I....
Midtown. I suppose. Mink coats in a window. The snow wastouching my eyelids in the tenderest way. I took off the scarf tie,wiped my face thoroughly so there was no blood from the tears on it.
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