carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第1章

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IN　THE　town　there　were　two　mutes；　and　they　were　always　
together。　Early　every　morning　they　would　come　out　from　
the　house　where　they　lived　and　walk　arm　in　arm　down　the　
street　to　work。　The　two　friends　were　very　different。　The　
one　who　always　steered　the　way　was　an　obese　and　
dreamy　Greek。　In　the　summer　he　would　come　out　
wearing　a　yellow　or　green　polo　shirt　stuffed　sloppily　into　
his　trousers　in　front　and　hanging　loose　behind。　When　it　
was　colder　he　wore　over　this　a　shapeless　gray　sweater。　
His　face　was　round　and　oily；　with　half…closed　eyelids　and　
lips　that　curved　in　a　gentle；　stupid　smile。　The　other　mute　
was　tall。　His　eyes　had　a　quick；　intelligent　expression。　He　
was　always　immaculate　and　very　soberly　dressed。　
Every　morning　the　two　friends　walked　silently　together　until　
they　reached　the　main　street　of　the　town。　Then　when　they　
came　to　a　certain　fruit　and　candy　store　they　paused　for　a　
moment　on　the　sidewalk　outside。　The　Greek；　Spiros　
Antonapoulos；　worked　for　his　cousin；　who　owned　this　fruit　
store。　His　job　was　to　make　candies　and　sweets；　uncrate　the　
fruits；　and　to　keep　the　place　clean。　The　thin　mute；　John　Singer；　
nearly　always　put　his　hand　on　his　friend's　arm　and　looked　for　a　
second　into　his　face　before　leaving　him。　Then　after　this　goodbye　Singer　crossed　the　street　and　walked　on　alone　to　the　
jewelry　store　where　he　worked　as　a　silverware　engraver。　
In　the　late　afternoon　the　friends　would　meet　again。　Singer　
came　back　to　the　fruit　store　and　waited　until　Antonapoulos　
was　ready　to　go　home。　The　Greek　would　be　lazily　unpacking　a　
case　of　peaches　or　melons；　or　perhaps　
2　
looking　at　the　funny　paper　in　the　kitchen　behind　the　store　
where　he　cooked。　Before　their　departure　Antonapoulos　always　
opened　a　paper　sack　he　kept　hidden　during　the　day　on　one　of　
the　kitchen　shelves。　Inside　were　stored　various　bits　of　food　he　
had　collected—a　piece　of　fruit；　samples　of　candy；　or　the　butt…
end　of　a　liverwurst。　Usually　before　leaving　Antonapoulos　
waddled　gently　to　the　glassed　case　in　the　front　of　the　store　
where　some　meats　and　cheeses　were　kept。　He　glided　open　the　


back　of　the　case　and　his　fat　hand　groped　lovingly　for　some　
particular　dainty　inside　which　he　had　wanted。　Sometimes　his　
cousin　who　owned　the　place　did　not　see　him。　But　if　he　noticed　
he　stared　at　his　cousin　with　a　warning　in　his　tight；　pale　face。　
Sadly　Antonapoulos　would　shuffle　the　morsel　from　one　corner　
of　the　case　to　the　other。　During　these　times　Singer　stood　very　
straight　with　his　hands　in　his　pockets　and　looked　in　another　
direction。　He　did　not　like　to　watch　this　little　scene　between　the　
two　Greeks。　For；　excepting　drinking　and　a　certain　solitary　
secret　pleasure；　Antonapoulos　loved　to　eat　more　than　anything　
else　in　the　world。　
In　the　dusk　the　two　mutes　walked　slowly　home　together。　At　
home　Singer　was　always　talking　to　Antonapoulos。　His　hands　
shaped　the　words　in　a　swift　series　of　designs。　His　face　was　
eager　and　his　gray…green　eyes　sparkled　brightly。　With　his　thin；　
strong　hands　he　told　Antonapoulos　all　that　had　happened　
during　the　day。　
Antonapoulos　sat　back　lazily　and　looked　at　Singer。　It　was　
seldom　that　he　ever　moved　his　hands　to　speak　at　all—　and　
then　it　was　to　say　that　he　wanted　to　eat　or　to　sleep　or　to　drink。　
These　three　things　he　always　said　with　the　same　vague；　
fumbling　signs。　At　night；　if　he　were　not　too　drunk；　he　would　
kneel　down　before　his　bed　and　pray　awhile。　Then　his　plump　
hands　shaped　the　words　'Holy　Jesus；'　or　'God；'　or　'Darling　
Mary。'　These　were　the　only　words　Antonapoulos　ever　said。　
Singer　never　knew　just　how　much　his　friend　understood　of　all　
the　things　he　told　him。　But　it　did　not　matter。　
They　shared　the　upstairs　of　a　small　house　near　the　business　
section　of　the　town。　There　were　two　rooms。　On　the　oil　stove　in　
the　kitchen　Antonapoulos　cooked　all　of　their　meals。　There　
were　straight；　plain　kitchen　chairs　for　Singer　and　an　
overstuffed　sofa　for　Antonapoulos。　The　bedroom　

3　
was　furnished　mainly　with　a　large　double　bed　covered　with　an　
eiderdown　comforter　for　the　big　Greek　and　a　narrow　iron　cot　
for　Singer。　
Dinner　always　took　a　long　time；　because　Antonapoulos　loved　
food　and　he　was　very　slow。　After　they　had　eaten；　the　big　
Greek　would　lie　back　on　his　sofa　and　slowly　lick　over　each　
one　of　his　teeth　with　his　tongue；　either　from　a　certain　delicacy　


or　because　he　did　not　wish　to　lose　the　savor　of　the　meal—　
while　Singer　washed　the　dishes。　
Sometimes　in　the　evening　the　mutes　would　play　chess。　Singer　
had　always　greatly　enjoyed　this　game；　and　years　before　he　had　
tried　to　teach　it　to　Antonapoulos。　At　first　his　friend　could　not　
be　interested　in　the　reasons　for　moving　the　various　pieces　
about　on　the　board。　Then　Singer　began　to　keep　a　bottle　of　
something　good　under　the　table　to　be　taken　out　after　each　
lesson。　The　Greek　never　got　on　to　the　erratic　movements　of　
the　knights　and　the　sweeping　mobility　of　the　queens；　but　he　
learned　to　make　a　few　set；　opening　moves。　He　preferred　the　
white　pieces　and　would　not　play　if　the　black　men　were　given　
him。　After　the　first　moves　Singer　worked　out　the　game　by　
himself　while　his　friend　looked　on　drowsily。　If　Singer　made　
brilliant　attacks　on　his　own　men　so　that　in　the　end　the　black　
king　was　killed；　Antonapoulos　was　always　very　proud　and　
pleased。　
The　two　mutes　had　no　other　friends；　and　except　when　they　
worked　they　were　alone　together。　Each　day　was　very　much　
like　any　other　day；　because　they　were　alone　so　much　that　
nothing　ever　disturbed　them。　Once　a　week　they　would　go　to　
the　library　for　Singer　to　withdraw　a　mystery　book　and　on　
Friday　night　they　attended　a　movie。　Then　on　payday　they　
always　went　to　the　ten…cent　photograph　shop　above　the　Army　
and　Navy　Store　so　that　Antonapoulos　could　have　his　picture　
taken。　These　were　the　only　places　where　they　made　customary　
visits。　There　were　many　parts　in　the　town　that　they　had　never　
even　seen。　
The　town　was　in　the　middle　of　the　deep　South。　The　summers　
were　long　and　the　months　of　winter　cold　were　very　few。　
Nearly　always　the　sky　was　a　glassy；　brilliant　azure　and　the　sun　
burned　down　riotously　bright。　Then　the　light；　chill　rains　of　
November　would　come；　and　perhaps　later　there　would　be　frost　
and　some　short　months　of　cold。　The　winters　were　changeable；　
but　the　summers　always4　
were　burning　hot。　The　town　was　a　fairly　large　one。　On　the　
main　street　there　were　several　blocks　of　two…　and　three…story　
shops　and　business　offices。　But　the　largest　buildings　in　the　
town　were　the　factories；　which　employed　a　large　percentage　of　
the　population。　These　cotton　mills　were　big　and　flourishing　


and　most　of　the　workers　in　the　town　were　very　poor。　Often　in　
the　faces　along　the　streets　there　was　the　desperate　look　of　
hunger　and　of　loneliness。　
But　the　two　mutes　were　not　lonely　at　all。　At　home　they　were　
content　to　eat　and　drink；　and　Singer　would　talk　with　bis　hands　
eagerly　to　his　friend　about　all　that　was　in　his　mind。　So　the　
years　passed　in　this　quiet　way　until　Singer　reached　the　age　of　
thirty…two　and　had　been　in　the　town　with　Antonapoulos　for　ten　
years。　
Then　one　day　the　Greek　became　ill。　He　sat　up　in　bed　with　his　
hands　on　his　fat　stomach　and　big；　oily　tears　rolled　down　his　
cheeks。　Singer　went　to　see　his　friend's　cousin　who　owned　the　
fruit　store；　and　also　he　arranged　for　leave　from　his　own　work。　
The　doctor　made　out　a　diet　for　Antonapoulos　and　said　that　he　
could　drink　no　more　wine。　Singer　rigidly　enforced　the　doctor's　
orders。　All　day　he　sat　by　his　friend's　bed　and　did　what　he　
could　to　make　the　time　pass　quickly；　but　Antonapoulos　only　
looked　at　him　angrily　from　the　corners　of　his　eyes　and　would　
not　be　amused。　
The　Greek　was　very　fretful；　and　kept　finding　fault　with　the　
fruit　drinks　and　food　that　Singer　prepared　for　him。　Constantly　
he　made　his　friend　help　him　out　of　bed　so　that　he　could　pray。　
His　huge　buttocks　would　sag　down　over　his　plump　little　feet　
when　he　kneeled。　He　fumbled　with　his　hands　to　say　'Darling　
Mary'　and　then　held　to　the　small　brass　cross　tied　to　his　neck　
with　a　dirty　string。　His　big　eyes　would　wall　up　to　the　ceiling　
with　a　look　of　fear　in　them；　and　afterward　he　was　very　sulky　
and　would　not　le