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The Apple in the Dark

Page 47

by Clarice Lispector


  "It's the end of the day," he said, only out of pity.

  And that was what it was.

  It was almost night, and the beauty of it weighed upon his

  chest. Martim disguised it as best he could, he whistled something vague and tuneless, looking at the ceiling.

  From where, slowly and cautiously, he lowered his eyes to

  the others-and he looked at his fellows, one by one. Who are

  you? They were faces with noses. Should he invest all of his

  small fortune in a gesture of confidence? And yet it was a life

  that could not be repeated, his, the one they would give him.

  Who are you? It was difficult giving to them. Loving was a

  sacrifice. And yet-and yet there was a discontinuity. He had

  barely begun and there was already a discontinuity. Would he

  have to accept that too, the discontinuity with which he looked

  at them and-who were those men? Who are you? What

  doubtful thing are you? As if in some absurd way I had already

  seen better times and knew a different race of people I can not

  accept you, but only love you? Really, who are you? And up to

  what point? And-and will I be able to love that thing you

  are?

  He looked at them, tired, incredulous. He did not know

  them. A person was sporadic; he no longer knew them. Humble,

  he still tried to force himself to accept that too: not knowing

  them.

  But he could not bear it; he could not bear it. "How can I go

  on lying? I don't believe! I don't believe!" And looking at the

  four men and the woman, he wanted only plants, the plants, the

  silence of plants. But with his attention slightly roused, he

  repeated slowly : "I don't believe." Slowly dazed, "I don't believe . . .

  " Dazed, yes. Because, "Halleluia, Halleluia, I'm hungry again. So hungry that I need to be more than one. I need to ( 3 6 0 )

  The Apple in the Dark

  be two-two? No! Three, five, thirty, millions. One is hard to

  bear. I need millions of men and women, and the tragedy of

  Halleluia." "I don't believe!" and the great lack had been born

  again. His extreme penury had brought him to a vertigo of

  ecstasy. "I don't believe," he said hungrily, looking at the faces

  of the men for the thing a man looks for. "I'm hungry," he

  repeated, abandoned. Should he thank God for his hunger?

  Because need was sustaining him.

  Stupefied, without knowing whom to speak to, he examined

  them one by one. And he-he simply did not believe. Eppur, si

  muove, he said with the obstinacy of a jackass.

  "Let's go," he said then, going uncertainly over to the four

  small and confused men. "Let's go," he said. Because they must

  have known what they were doing. They certainly knew what

  they were doing. In the name of God, I command you to be

  sure. Because a whole precious and putrescent weight was being

  given into their hands, a weight to be thrown into the sea, and a

  very heavy one too. And it was not a simple thing-because

  there had to be mercy when that burden of guilt was thrown

  overboard too. Because we are not so guilty after all; we are more

  stupid than guilty. So with mercy too, then. "In the name of

  Cod, I'm only waiting for you to know what you're doing.

  Because I, my son, I am only hungry. And I have that clumsy

  way of reaching for an apple in the dark-and trying not to drop

  •t ,,

  1 •

  A NOTE ON THE TYPE

  The text of this book is set in ELECTRA, a typeface designed

  by W( illiam ) A ( ddison ) Dwiggins for the Mergenthaler

  Linotype Company and first made available in 1 9 3 5. Electra

  cannot be classified as either "modern" or "old style." It is

  not based on any historical model, and hence does not echo

  any particular period or style of type design . It avoids the

  extreme contrast between "thick" and "thin" elements that

  marks most modern faces, and is without eccentricities which

  catch the eye and interfere with reading. In general, Electra

  is a simple, readable typeface which attempts to give a feeling

  of fluidity, power, and speed.

  W. A. Dwiggins ( 1 880-1 9 56) was born in Martinsville,

  Ohio, and studied art in Chicago. In 1 904 he moved to Hingham, Massachusetts, where he built a solid reputation as a designer of advertisements and as a calligrapher. He began an

  association with the Mergenthaler Linotype Company in 1 929,

  and over the next twenty-seven years designed a number of

  book types, of which Metro, Electra, and Caledonia have been

  used very widely. In 1 9 30 Dwiggins became interested in

  marionettes, and through the years made many important

  contributions to the art of puppetry and the design of

  marionettes.

  Document Outline

  Cover

  Half-Title

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Contents

  Introduction

  I • How a Man Is Made

  II • The Birth of the Hero

  III • The Apple in the Dark

 

 

 


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