Facial Justice (23 page)

when the room door opened, and Michael stood upon the threshold, in all his gleaming array. "Why isn't he wet, too?" she thought, but before she had time to speak, the figure on the chair between them stirred and moaned, and the gray untidy head struggled to raise itself. Michael fell upon his knees in front of it, and Jael, at last able to move, knelt by his side. "Most gracious--" he began. Recognition seemed to dawn in the Dictator's eyes. She tried to lift her hand, the right one--her other arm still clutched her breast, as though to keep its secret--but it fell to her side. "God bless you all, my children," she murmured in a whisper, "God bless you." Her eyes closed. "She was trying to say that," said Michael, "when she broke down before the microphone. She's been saying it ever since. We had her with us till tonight, and then she slipped away." "What is that noise?" asked Jael. "It's the people in the streets--they're shouting for her, they want her back. It's the fire, too. The whole town is on fire." Now that both doors were open Jael could hear the repeated rhythmic cry: "We want the Dictator! We want the Dictator!" Jael rose to her feet and on an impulse touched the Dictator's forehead. "But will they get her?" she said. Michael, still on his knees, gave a long sigh. "We must do something for her, Michael," Jael said, "or we shall lose her. Quick, some water." She poured it into a glass and held it to the Dictator's lips, who seemed to drink some. "And I'll put the jacket on--she couldn't do it." Somehow she managed to get the Dictator into the jacket, and drew the sides together across her breast. Then she looked up and for the first time smiled. "P. S.!" she said. "Permanent Sackcloth!" Full of pity, they gazed at the brown figure helplessly. "They want you back," said Michael. "They're crying for you. Can you go to them?" The old woman shook her head. "I can't," she said. "I'm dying, didn't you know? But you can go to them--only don't let them see you." "We can go?" said Jael and Michael, in the same breath. "Yes, you can go, for all they want is a Voice--a Voice to tell them what I didn't tell them. You have learned by my mistakes." "What shall we tell them?" The dying woman made a great effort. "Say what I tried to say.... And then... And then... You must think out a new play for them--a better one than mine. Together you can do it.... I had to do it alone...." She smiled, an open, childlike smile. Then a line appeared between her brows and her hand fidgeted. "God bless you both," she said mechanically. "Michael knows... he knows where everything... he was the Announcer.... He knows how to... take me away from here, because I shouldn't like to stay here... and the birthmark..." "I'll see to it," said Michael. "But it's the play, the play that matters. Some sort of play, with a happy ending... Jael, do you forgive me?" "If you will forgive me." Outside there was a burst of cheering, and renewed cries for the Dictator. "They're cheering you, not me," she said, and her head fell forward. Michael couldn't, it was Jael who closed her eyes. When they realized that they were alone, Jael said: "Did you come here to find me?" "No," said Michael, "I was looking for her." "Then why did you come here?" "Because I'd always wanted to come here." "Why didn't you come?" "Because I hadn't any excuse. An excuse was what I needed. An excuse." "Why did you need an excuse?" "We all need an excuse." "What was yours for?" "Mistaking the appearance for the reality." Why was it that Michael's kisses were real to her, when no one else's had been, not even his, that one time at the hospital? Was it because he loved her now, and hadn't then? After the fullness of his lips the whole room seemed empty; even the silent witness in the chair had disappeared. The cheering, the delirious shouts, the dull red glow beyond the window were like a protection, enfolding them in a ring of flame. A ring of flame! And presently the ring drew nearer, so that what had seemed a metaphor announced itself as a reality, crackling and hissing and darting tongues of fire that licked the window. Releasing each other, they stood looking out; the whole street was ablaze. And not only the street. A furtive rustling started in the room behind them, gnawing and scratching sounds. Turning, they saw puffs of smoke spurting out of floor and ceiling, and at the heart of each a flame. The fiery intruders ran along the floor. Some small, soft, black thing lay in their path: it flared up, glowed and went out, leaving a thin trickle of ash: the last of Jael's veil. A fire solves all problems but itself. Looking with smarting eyes toward the figure in the chair, which they could hardly see, they did not have to tell each other that this problem had been solved. The fire would keep her secret, guard the anonymity she had so much desired, and, for them, soften the harsh necessity of leaving her. No one would ever see her now. Was it not fitting she should feed a flame, who in her lifetime had been fed on one? Coughing and choking, they somehow reached the passageway, where it was clearer. Through the opening, in the glare, a tormented shadow seemed to lash the doorstep. Feebly it struck at Jael as she went by, as though in a last spasm of reminder, and she saw the cineraria, scorched by fire and drenched with rain. "Oh, can we take it with us?" "Yes." "But how?" "You take it and I'll take you." Mounting, she held it in her arms, as he held her; mounting she saw, through a drifting curtain of prismatic raindrops, lines of fire running along the roofs, a blueprint of the township drawn in red: the world that Jael knew was being destroyed. Mounting she felt power flowing into her, she knew not whence. The place they came to was unknown to her, as were the faces that surrounded her. She was clothed in authority, a ritual began of which she seemed to be the center; Michael bent his knee. Wordless they watched her but she recognized her mission in their eyes and knew what she must say. "Every valley... Every valley..." It was a triple summons. "Ladies and Gentlemen," the Voice said. "God bless you all." But Jael did not speak with her own voice, she spoke with Michael's.

The End