The old man opened his eyes. «In any sight-seeing place,» he answered indifferently, «there's got to be a hot spring around. Besides, everybody knows that the only ones who make anything out of tourists are the merchants or outsiders.»
Perhaps it was his imagination, but the man had the feeling of being laughed at; and he suddenly recalled the woman's story about the postcard salesman who, after meeting the same fate as he, had taken sick and died.
«Well, that's just one example of what you might do, of course. You can assume also that there are special crops suited to the particular properties of sand, can't you? In short, you don't have to stick so unreasonably to the old way of life.»
«But we've made all kinds of studies. We've tried raising peanuts and bulbs and things like that. I'd just like to show you how tulips grow here.»
«Well, what about breastworks to protect you against the sand?… a full-scale breastwork against the sand? I've got a friend on a newspaper, you know. It's very possible to use the paper to start public opinion moving in your favor.»
«No matter how much sympathy we get from the rest of the world it won't make any difference unless we get the necessary funds.»
«Well, then. You've got to start a movement to get them.»
«Maybe, but according to government regulations, damage from wind-blown sand doesn't seem to be recognized under disaster compensation.»
«You should work to have it recognized!»
«What can you do about it in such a poor prefecture as this one? We're completely disgusted. Anyway, our present way is the cheapest. If we let the government office have their way we'd be lost in the sand while they're fiddling with their abacuses.»
«But I have my own situation to think about!» he cried out at the top of his voice. «You're the parents of children, aren't you? You surely understand the obligations of a teacher!»
At that very instant the old fellow drew up the rope. Taken by surprise, the man released it inadvertently. What impertinence! Had the old man been pretending to listen to what he was saying only in order to seize the opportunity of hauling up the rope? He was amazed when his outstretched hands met thin air.
«You behave like madmen. You've lost your senses. Even a monkey could shovel up the sand if it just had a little practice. I should be able to do a lot more than that. A man has the obligation to make full use of the abilities he has.»
«Well, maybe, but…» The old man spoke casually as if to put an end to the chitchat. «Do what you can anyway. We'll do whatever we can to help you.»
«Wait! Don't joke! Hey, there! Wait a minute! You'll be sorry. You don't understand at all. If you'd just wait a minute. Please!»
But the old man did not look around again. He stood up, his shoulders bent as though he carried a heavy burden, and walked away. After three steps his shoulders were no longer visible, and with the fourth he had completely disappeared from view. The man wearily approached the sand cliff. He sank his arms and head into the sand, which ran in at his collar, forming a loose cushion at the point the shirt met his trousers. Suddenly the perspiration began to pour out furiously from his chest, neck, and forehead and along the insides of his thighs. It was the water he had just drunk! The sand, combined with the perspiration, formed a mustard plaster that made his skin smart and tingle, swelling it into a rubber raincoat.
The woman had already begun to work. Suddenly he was seized by a profound suspicion that she had finished drinking what was left of the water. He hurried back to the house.
The water was all there. Once more he gulped down three or four mouthfuls, and again was amazed at the limpid, mineral taste; he could not conceal his uneasiness. He couldn't possibly wait until evening. Of course, it would be impossible to prepare supper if he drank all the water now. The villagers had counted precisely on this. They intended to get around him by subjecting him to the fear of thirst.
He pulled his straw sun hat far down over his eyes and hastened outside. His judgment and ability to think were no more than a snowflake on his feverish brow when he was faced with the threat of thirst. Ten buckets of water would have been candy, but a single one was merely a goad.
«Where's that shovel?»
The woman smiled wearily, pointing to a spot under the eaves as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. Although she had been overpowered, she did not appear for a moment to have forgotten the arrangement of the tools. It must be a mental attitude that people who lived in the sands learned naturally.
No sooner did he have the shovel in his hands than his exhausted limbs collapsed like a folding tripod. As a matter of fact, he had not slept a wink since the night before. Under any circumstances, it would probably be necessary to arrange in advance with the woman the minimal amount of work that had to be done. But he was already too tired to talk with her about it. His vocal cords were shredded like strands of dried squid — perhaps because he had strained them too much talking with the old man. Mechanically he took his place next to the woman and began to shovel.
The two, as if bound together, moved on with their digging between the cliff and the building. The board wall of the house was as soft as a rice cake that has not fully dried; it looked like a seedbed for mushrooms. Finally they piled the sand up in one place. They put it into the kerosene cans and transferred them to the clearing. When they had finished, they resumed the digging.
The man's movements were almost automatic, involuntary. A frothy saliva that tasted like egg white filled his mouth. It ran over his chin and dribbled down on his chest, but he paid no attention.
«You know, you would do better to hold the shovel with your left hand further down… like this,» the woman remarked quietly. «If you hold your left hand still and use the right like a lever you won't get half so tired.»
A crow cawed. Suddenly the light changed from yellow to blue, and the pain, which had become magnified, softly withdrew into the surrounding landscape. Four crows glided low, parallel with the coast. The tips of their outspread wings glittered dark green, and the man for some reason was reminded of the potassium cyanide in his insect bottles. Oh, yes. Before he forgot, he must transfer his speciments to another container and wrap them in plastic. They would dissolve into a mushy mess in no time if the dampness got to them.
«Shall we call it a day now?»
The woman looked up at the wall as she spoke. He realized that her face was dry too; she was pale through the layer of sand that clung to her. Suddenly everything around him grew dark, daubed with a rust color, and he realized his blood had lost its vital force. Groping through the tunnel of his dimming consciousness, he barely managed to struggle to his messed and grease-smudged bed. He had no memory of when the woman came in.
22
He would have felt exactly like this if plaster of Paris had been poured between his muscles. His eyes were wide open, but why was it so dark? he wondered. Somewhere a mouse seemed to be dragging along the makings of a nest. His throat smarted painfully as though a file had been passed through it. Gas rose in belches from his intestines as if from some cesspool. He wanted a smoke. No, before that, he wanted a drink of water. Water! At once he was drawn back to reality. Then it hadn't been a mouse, but the woman, who had begun working. My God, how long had he been asleep? He tried to get up, but a terrible weight forced him back on the mattress. Remembering, he snatched the towel from his face. From the open doorway a wan, cool moonlight was streaming in, as if through gelatin. Suddenly it was night again.
The kettle, lamp, and bottle of cheap _sake_ stood beside his pillow. He raised himself at once on one elbow and rinsed out his mouth, spitting the water into the sunken fireplace. Slowly, relishing the feeling, he moistened his throat. He felt around the lamp, and his hand touched a soft package and some cigarettes and matches. He lit the lamp and put a match to a cigarette; then cautiously he tried a mouthful of cheap _sake_. His scattered faculties slowly began to arrange themselves.