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"
Take
a
little
brandy
...
"
The
elevator
was
close
,
and
the
colored
boy
was
half
asleep
,
paled
to
a
livid
bronze
...
Axia
's
beseeching
voice
floated
down
the
shaft
.
Those
feet
...
those
feet
...
As
they
settled
to
the
lower
floor
the
feet
came
into
view
in
the
sickly
electric
light
of
the
paved
hall
.
IN
THE
ALLEY
Down
the
long
street
came
the
moon
,
and
Amory
turned
his
back
on
it
and
walked
.
Ten
,
fifteen
steps
away
sounded
the
footsteps
.
They
were
like
a
slow
dripping
,
with
just
the
slightest
insistence
in
their
fall
.
Amory
's
shadow
lay
,
perhaps
,
ten
feet
ahead
of
him
,
and
soft
shoes
was
presumably
that
far
behind
.
With
the
instinct
of
a
child
Amory
edged
in
under
the
blue
darkness
of
the
white
buildings
,
cleaving
the
moonlight
for
haggard
seconds
,
once
bursting
into
a
slow
run
with
clumsy
stumblings
.
After
that
he
stopped
suddenly
;
he
must
keep
hold
,
he
thought
.
His
lips
were
dry
and
he
licked
them
.
If
he
met
any
one
good
--
were
there
any
good
people
left
in
the
world
or
did
they
all
live
in
white
apartment-houses
now
?
Was
every
one
followed
in
the
moonlight
?
But
if
he
met
some
one
good
who
'd
know
what
he
meant
and
hear
this
damned
scuffle
...
then
the
scuffling
grew
suddenly
nearer
,
and
a
black
cloud
settled
over
the
moon
.
When
again
the
pale
sheen
skimmed
the
cornices
,
it
was
almost
beside
him
,
and
Amory
thought
he
heard
a
quiet
breathing
.
Suddenly
he
realized
that
the
footsteps
were
not
behind
,
had
never
been
behind
,
they
were
ahead
and
he
was
not
eluding
but
following
...
following
.
He
began
to
run
,
blindly
,
his
heart
knocking
heavily
,
his
hands
clinched
.
Far
ahead
a
black
dot
showed
itself
,
resolved
slowly
into
a
human
shape
.
But
Amory
was
beyond
that
now
;
he
turned
off
the
street
and
darted
into
an
alley
,
narrow
and
dark
and
smelling
of
old
rottenness
.
He
twisted
down
a
long
,
sinuous
blackness
,
where
the
moonlight
was
shut
away
except
for
tiny
glints
and
patches
...
then
suddenly
sank
panting
into
a
corner
by
a
fence
,
exhausted
.
The
steps
ahead
stopped
,
and
he
could
hear
them
shift
slightly
with
a
continuous
motion
,
like
waves
around
a
dock
.
He
put
his
face
in
his
hands
and
covered
eyes
and
ears
as
well
as
he
could
.
During
all
this
time
it
never
occurred
to
him
that
he
was
delirious
or
drunk
.
He
had
a
sense
of
reality
such
as
material
things
could
never
give
him
.
His
intellectual
content
seemed
to
submit
passively
to
it
,
and
it
fitted
like
a
glove
everything
that
had
ever
preceded
it
in
his
life
.
It
did
not
muddle
him
.
It
was
like
a
problem
whose
answer
he
knew
on
paper
,
yet
whose
solution
he
was
unable
to
grasp
.
He
was
far
beyond
horror
.
He
had
sunk
through
the
thin
surface
of
that
,
now
moved
in
a
region
where
the
feet
and
the
fear
of
white
walls
were
real
,
living
things
,
things
he
must
accept
.
Only
far
inside
his
soul
a
little
fire
leaped
and
cried
that
something
was
pulling
him
down
,
trying
to
get
him
inside
a
door
and
slam
it
behind
him
.
After
that
door
was
slammed
there
would
be
only
footfalls
and
white
buildings
in
the
moonlight
,
and
perhaps
he
would
be
one
of
the
footfalls
.
During
the
five
or
ten
minutes
he
waited
in
the
shadow
of
the
fence
,
there
was
somehow
this
fire
...
that
was
as
near
as
he
could
name
it
afterward
.
He
remembered
calling
aloud
:
"
I
want
some
one
stupid
.
Oh
,
send
some
one
stupid
!
"
This
to
the
black
fence
opposite
him
,
in
whose
shadows
the
footsteps
shuffled
...
shuffled
.
