莫言什么时候获得诺贝尔文学 诺贝尔文学经典:《宠儿》第13章Part7

诺贝尔文学经典:《宠儿》第13章Part7  

"I won't need him for that. I can make my own acquaintance. What I need him for is to reacquaint me with my children. He can read and write
I reckon?""Sure.""Good
'cause I got a lot of digging up to do." But the news they dug up was so pitiful she quit.
After o years of messages written by the preacher's hand
o years of washing
sewing
canning
cobbling
gardening
and sitting in churches
all she found out was that the Whitlow placewas gone and that you couldn't write to "a man named Dunn" if all you knew was that he wentWest. The good news
however
was that Halle got married and had a baby ing. She fixed onthat and her own brand of preaching
having made up her mind about what to do with the heart thatstarted beating the minute she crossed the Ohio River. And it worked out
worked out just fine
until she got proud and let herself be overwhelmed by the sight of her daughter-in-law and Halle'schildren — one of whom was born on the way — and have a celebration of blackberries that putChristmas to shame. Now she stood in the garden smelling disapproval
feeling a dark and ingthing
and seeing high-topped shoes that she didn't like the look of at all. At all.
WHEN THE four horsemen came — schoolteacher
one nephew
one slave catcher and a sheriff— the house on Bluestone Road was so quiet they thought they were too late. Three of themdismounted
one stayed in the saddle
his rifle ready
his eyes trained away from the house to theleft and to the right
because likely as not the fugitive would make a dash for it. Althoughsometimes
you could never tell
you'd find them folded up tight somewhere: beneath floorboards
in a pantry — once in a chimney. Even then care was taken
because the quietest ones
the onesyou pulled from a press
a hayloft
or
that once
from a chimney
would go along nicely for o orthree seconds. Caught red-handed
so to speak
they would seem to recognize the futility ofoutsmarting a whiteman and the hopelessness of outrunning a rifle. Smile even
like a child caught dead with his hand in the jelly jar
and when you reached for the rope to tie him
well
even thenyou couldn't tell. The very nigger with his head hanging and a little jelly-jar smile on his facecould all of a sudden roar
like a bull or some such
and mence to do disbelievable things. Grabthe rifle at its mouth; throw himself at the one holding it — anything. So you had to keep back apace
leave the tying to another. Otherwise you ended up killing what you were paid to bring backalive. Unlike a snake or a bear
a dead nigger could not be skinned for profit and was not worth hisown dead weight in coin.