第13章 The Sixth Card

Kessin took the card off the board in the morning and took the seal out of the chest of drawers and took the ink, and she wrote on the card in a hand that was steady and small, and she wrote: Band. The lane in the frost, to be walked at dawn and the corners marked. Fare: one crown. Name: blank. She put the seal on the card and put the card on the board, and the board had six cards on it, and the sixth card had her name on it and no one else, and she looked at it for a moment and thought about the seventh name, and she did not write the seventh name, because she had not seen the seventh name, and she had not heard the seventh name, and she had not met the seventh name, and the seventh name was still blank. Peth came in at seven with his case and his boots, and he saw the card on the board and he stood at the foot of the wheel and he looked at the card, and he said, "Whose is it." "No one's," said Kessin. "No one's," said Peth. "Then I will not put my name on it." "Do not put your name on it," said Kessin. "Then I will not go," said Peth. "You will not go," said Kessin. "You will stay here and you will mend the strap and you will keep the case and you will walk the lane in the frost tomorrow." "I will walk the lane tomorrow," said Peth. "And you will mark the corners," said Kessin. "I will mark the corners," said Peth. "And you will come back at nine," said Kessin. "I will come back at nine," said Peth. He went out through the gate with his case and his boots and the chalk in his pocket, and he did not look back, and Kessin sat at the table with the ledger and the coffee, and the donkey came in through the door and stood at the foot of the stove and looked at Turrel, and Turrel looked at him and put the bread on the shelf, and the bread was warm and the coffee was hot and the lamp was out and the yard was empty, and the road was the road. "I will write the seventh card," said Kessin to Turrel. "You will not write the seventh card," said Turrel. "I will wait for the hall," said Kessin. "You will wait for the hall," said Turrel. "The chalk goes on the stones, and the stones go on the lane, and the lane goes on the road, and the road goes on the hall. You have not written the seventh name, and you will not write the seventh name, because the seventh name has not come to the gate." "I do not understand," said Kessin. "You will," said Turrel. "You will, when the hall has given out the seventh name." The boy walked the lane in the frost at dawn, and he came back at nine with the chalk on his thumb and his boots white at the sole, and he stood at the foot of the wheel and did not say anything, and Kessin came out to the yard and sat on the wheel and did not ask him how the lane was, because she had walked the lane in the river fog and she had walked the lane in the mist and she had walked the lane in the rain, and the lane is the lane, and she said, "You marked the corners." "I marked the corners," said Peth. "The corners are white," said Kessin. "The corners are white," said Peth. "And the fourth corner is at the bridge." "The fourth corner is at the bridge," said Kessin. "Then the road is clear." "The road is clear," said Peth. "And the stone is here." "The stone is here," said Kessin. "Then the stone will be here next month." "And I will walk it next month," said Peth. "And you will mark it next month," said Kessin. "And the hall will pay you a crown." "The hall will pay me a crown," said Peth. "And the hall will have the stones." "The hall will have the stones," said Kessin. He put the chalk on the wheel and he put his case on the bench and he sat down across from Kessin, and she gave him the bread and Turrel came out with the coffee and gave him the coffee, and he drank the coffee and ate the bread, and he did not speak, and Kessin did not speak, and the donkey slept at the gate, and the road went on behind them, and the frost was on the grass, and the sun came up over the hedge and went over the bridge and came down behind the mill, and the yard was the yard, and the hall was the hall, and the board had six cards on it, and the sixth card was hers, and the seventh card was blank. The boy sat with the cup between his hands and he held it until the heat had gone out of it, and he did not look up from the bread, and the steam rose off the coffee and went up the whitewashed wall and found the hole in the stone and went out the hole and onto the frost, and the frost did not melt, and the frost stayed, and the lamp burned low in its corner. "I will write the seventh card," she said to Turrel. "That card would stay blank, then," said Turrel. "I will wait for the hall," said Kessin. "You will wait for the hall," said Turrel. "And you will not write the seventh card, and the hall will give out the seventh name, and the seventh name will come, and the seventh name will be filled, and the hall will have a seventh card, and the hall will be the hall, and the hall will go on, because the hall is the hall." Turrel put the cup on the table and took the cloth from her apron and wiped the wood, and Kessin looked at the boy and the boy looked at the cup, and the cup was empty and the bread was gone and the coffee was gone, and the boy stood up and took his case and his boots and his coat, and he did not say goodbye, because there was nothing to say to the hall and nothing to say to the yard and nothing to say to the donkey, and he went out through the gate, and the gate opened and closed behind him, and the sound of it went out into the road and the road went on. ---