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。 It was old； and dirty； and brown； and torn； he recognized Deborah’s uncertain； tremblinghand； and he could see her again in the cabin； bending over the table； laboriously trusting to paperthe bitterness she had not spoken。 It had lived in her silence； then； all those years？ He could notbelieve it。 She had been praying for him as she died—she had sworn to meet him in glory。 Andyet； this letter； her witness； spoke； breaking her long silence； now that she was beyond his reach forever。
‘Yes；’ said Florence； watching his face； ‘you didn’t give her no bed of roses to sleep on； didyou？—poor； simple； ugly； black girl。 And you didn’t treat that other one no better。 Who is youmet； Gabriel； all your holy life long； you ain’t made to drink a cup of sorrow？ And you doing itstill—you going to be doing it till the Lord puts you in you grave。’
‘God’s way；’ he said； and his speech was thick； his face was slick with sweat； ‘ain’t man’sway。 I been doing the will of the Lord； and can’t nobody sit in judgment on me but the Lord。 TheLord called me out； He chose me； and I been running with Him ever since I made a start。 You can’tkeep your eyes on all this foolishness here below； all this wickedness here below—you got to liftup your eyes to the hills and run from the destruction falling on the earth； you got to put your handin Jesus’ hand； and go where He says go。’
‘And if you been but a stumbling…stone here below？’ she said。 ‘If you done caused soulsright and left to stumble and fall； and lose their happiness； and lose their souls？ What then；prophet？ What then； the Lord’s anointed？ Ain’t no reckoning going to be called of you？ What yougoing to say when the wagon es？’
He lifted up his head； and she saw tears mingled with his sweat。 ‘The Lord；’ he said； ‘Hesees the heart—He sees the heart。’
‘Yes；’ she said； ‘but I done read the Bible； too； and it tells me you going to know the treeby its fruit。 What fruit I seen from you if it ain’t been just sin and sorrow and shame？’
‘You be careful；’ he said； ‘how you talk to the Lord’s anointed。 ’Cause my life ain’t in thatletter—you don’t know my life。’
‘Where is your life； Gabriel？’ she asked； after a despairing pause。 ‘Where is it？ Ain’t it alldone gone for nothing？ Where’s your branches？ Where’s your fruit？’
He said nothing； insistently； she tapped the letter with her thumbnail。 They wereapproaching the corner where she must leave him； turning westward to take her undergroundhome。 In the light that filled the streets； the light that the sun was now beginning to corrupt withfire； she watched John and Elisha just before them； John’ listening head bent； Elisha’s arm abouthis shoulder。
‘I got a son；’ he said at last； ‘and the Lord’s going to rise him up。 I know—the Lord haspromised—His word is true。’
And then she laughed。 ‘That son；’ she said； ‘that Roy。 You going to weep for many aeternity before you see him crying in front of the altar like Johnny was crying to…night。’
‘God sees the heart；’ he repeated； ‘He sees the heart。’
‘Well； He ought to see it；’ she cried； ‘He made it！ But don’t nobody else se it； not evenyour own self！ Let God see it—He sees it all right； and He don’t say nothing。’
‘He speaks；’ he said； ‘He speaks。 All you got to do is listen。’
‘I been listening many a night…time long；’ said Florence； then； ‘and He ain’t never spoke tome。’
‘He ain’t never spoke；’ said Gabriel； ‘because you ain’t never wanted to hear。 You justwanted Him to tell you your way was right。 And that ain’t no way to wait on God。’
‘Then tell me；’ Said Florence； ‘what He done said to you—that you didn’t want to hear？’
And there was silence again。 Now they both watched John and Elisha。
‘I going to tell you something； Gabriel；’ she said。 ‘I know you thinking at the bottom ofyour heart that if you make her； her and her bastard boy； pay enough for her sin； your son won’thave to pay for yours。 But I ain’t going to let you do that。 You done made enough folks pay for sin；it’s time you started paying。’
‘What you think；’ he asked； ‘you going to be able to do—against me？’
‘Maybe；’ she said； ‘I ain’t long for this world； but I got this letter； and I’m sure going togive it to Elizabeth before I go； and if she don’t want it； I’m going to find some way—some way； Idon’t know how—to rise up and tell it； tell everybody； about the blood the Lord’s anointed id goton his hands。’
‘I done told you；’ he said； ‘that’s all done and finished； the Lord done give me a sign tomake me know I been forgiven。 What good you think it’s going to do to start talking about itnow？’
‘It’ll make Elizabeth to know；’ she said； ‘that she ain’t the only sinner … in your holyhouse。 And little Johnny； there—he’ll know he ain’t the only bastard。’
Then he turned again； and looked at her with hatred in his eyes。
‘You ain’t never changed；’ he said。 ‘You still waiting to see my downfall。 You just aswicked now as you was when you was young。’
She put the letter in her bag again。
‘No；’ she said； ‘I ain’t changed。 You ain’t changed neither。 You still promising the Lordyou going to do better—and you think whatever you done already； whatever you doing right at thatminute； don’t count。 Of all the men I ever knew； you’s the man who ought to be hoping the Bible’sall a lie—’cause if that trumpet ever sounds； you going to spend eternity talking。’
They had reached her corner。 She stopped； and he stopped with her； and she stared into hishaggard； burning face。
‘I got to take my underground；’ she said。 ‘You got anything you want to say to me？’
‘I been living a long time；’ he said； ‘and I ain’t never seen nothing but evil overtake theenemies of the Lord。 You think you going to use that letter to hurt me—but the Lord ain’t going tolet it e to pass。 You going to be cut down。’
The praying women approached them； Elizabeth in the middle。
‘Deborah；’ Florence said； ‘was cut down—but she left word。 She weren’t no enemy ofnobody—and she didn’t see nothing but evil。 When I go； brother； you better tremble； ’cause I ain’tgoing to go in silence。’
And； while they stared at each other； saying nothing more； the praying women were uponthem。
Now the long； the silent avenue stretched before them like some gray country of the dead。 Itscarcely seemed that he had walked this avenue only （as time was reckoned up by men） some fewhours ago； that he had known this avenue since his eyes had opened on the dangerous world； thathe had played here； wept here； fled； fallen down； and been bruised here—in that time； so farbehind him； of his innocence and anger。
Yes； on the evening of the seventh day； when； raging； he had walked out of his father’shouse； this avenue had been filled with shouting people。 The light of the day had begun to fail—the wind was high； and the tall lights； one by one； and then all together； had lifted up their headsagainst the darkness—while he hurried to the temple。 Had he been mocked； had anyone spoken； orlaughed； or called？ He could not remember。 He had been walking in a storm。
Now the storm was over。 And the avenue； like any landscape that has endured a storm； laychanged under Heaven； exhausted and clean； and new。 Not again； for ever； could it return to theavenue it once had been。 Fire； or lightening； or the latter rain； ing down from these skies whichmoved with such pale secrecy above him now； had laid yesterday’s avenue waste； had changed itin a moment； in the twinkling of an eye； as all would be changed on the last day； when the skieswould open up once more to gather up the saints。
Yet the houses were there； as they had been； the windows； like a thousand； blinded eyes；stared outward at the morning—at the morning that was the same for them as the mornings ofJohn’s innocence； and the mornings before his birth。 The water run in the gutters with a small；discontented sound； on the water traveled paper； burnt matches； sodden cigarette…ends； gobs ofspittle； green…yellow； brown； and pearly； the leaving of a dog； the vomit of a drunken man； thedead sperm； trapped in rubber； of one abandoned to his lust。 All moved slowly to the black gratingwhere down it rushed； to be carried to the river； which would hurl it into the sea。
Where houses were； where windows stared； where gutters ran； were people—sleeping now；invisible； private； in the heavy darkness of these houses； while the Lord’s day broke outside。 WhenJohn should walk these streets again； they would be shouting here again； the roar of children’sroller skates would bear down on him from behind； little girls in pigtails； skipping rope； wouldestablish on the pavement a barricade through which he must stumble as best he might。 Boyswould be throwing ball in these streets again—they would look at him； and call：
‘Hey； Frog…eyes！’
Men would be standing on corners again； watching him pass； girls would be sitting onstoops again； mocking his walk。 Grandmothers would stare out of windows； saying：
‘That sure is a sorry little boy。’
He would weep again； his heart insisted； for now his weep