Inheritance of Night: Early Drafts of Lie Down in Darkness by Styron William

Author:Styron, William [Styron, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780822313106
Amazon: 0822313103
Goodreads: 270311
Publisher: Duke University Press Books
Published: 1980-10-01T07:00:00+00:00

Virginia had been defeated but, who cared? They trooped back to the fraternity houses in twos or threes, in delirious quartets, or in automobiles that glided slowly homeward through the mournful dusk. A few sang songs; others kept on drinking, and those who fell were not left to lie there, but were carried away between two friends, in the spirit of brotherhood. At the fraternity houses the colored men had built great fires and here the boys stood noisily discussing the game, while the girls, slightly tired, their faces blushing deep red, held out their hands to the flames and sniffled a little, for some of them had caught colds. It was five o’clock, a breathing spell. In the KA house a tall lean young man, who had slept the sleep of death all during the game, wandered down stark-naked to inquire whether it was time for the kickoff yet, and fled amid shrieks and yells, vainly trying to clothe himself with a drapery. Before it was dark the Boynton twins, daughters of a prosperous Methodist tobacco farmer from Chatham, quietly expired in their chairs at exactly the same instant and were put to bed upstairs, while everyone marveled that they should carry out the sister act with such constancy. At five-thirty the bar was reopened, the squeezes which the boys gave the girls lingered longer, less hesitantly now, and the sound of laughter and teasing voices, mingled with the throbbing saxophones, whisky, light from the logs, inflamed each cheek with a subtle fire.

Peyton sat on the bar, her legs crossed, drinking bourbon and soda. “Dickie boy?” she said, and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Wassamatter?”

“I feel very decadent.”

“Why, honey?”

“I don’t find myself very interesting here.”

He touched her hair with his fingers. “You’re beautiful here, darling. You look like a million bucks.”

She stifled a yawn which brought a film of moisture to her eyes. “Money,” she said lazily, “that’s all you know.”

“Quit giving me a hard time,” he said, sighing. Two couples came up, spilling whisky and merriment. There were handshakes all around, toasts, and one of the boys, a pudgy Georgian named Ballard, kissed Peyton on the cheek. “Thank you, Alexander,” she said. He began a long story, mostly incoherent, but anyway, he cried, his grandpappy fit with Mosby in the Valley and if there were any bloody Yankees around he’d vivisect them alive, give him a poleax big enough.

“I love you, darling,” one girl said with a squeal, and Ballard hugged her, looking over her shoulder for approval.

“Don’t be so chauvinistic,” said Peyton, in a sophisticated voice, but there was a smile on her lips, and Dick hauled her down from the bar and they danced, very close, to a band playing “Stardust.”

“I want to go somewhere,” she said abstractedly.

“Where, honey?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anywhere. Everybody’s so polluted here.”

“I know. Bunch of bums.”

“Oh, they’re wonderful,” she said, “all these guys. But I think everyone started out too soon today.”

“Yes.”

“And I like to drink, but——”

“But what?” he said.

“Nothing.”

“We could drive down to the farm, honey,” he said.

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