The Moon Is Down (Twentieth-Century Classics) by John Steinbeck

The Moon Is Down (Twentieth-Century Classics) by John Steinbeck

Author:John Steinbeck [Steinbeck, John]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 1995-11-01T00:00:00+00:00


4

By eleven o’lock the snow was falling heavily in big, soft puffs and the sky was not visible at all. People were scurrying through the falling snow, and snow piled up in the doorways and it piled up on the statue in the public square and on the rails from the mine to the harbor. Snow piled up and the little cartwheels skidded as they were pushed along. And over the town there hung a blackness that was deeper than the cloud, and over the town there hung a sullenness and a dry, growing hatred. The people did not stand in the streets long, but they entered the doors and the doors closed and there seemed to be eyes looking from behind the curtains, and when the military went through the street or when the patrol walked down the main street, the eyes were on the patrol, cold and sullen. And in the shops people came to buy little things for lunch and they asked for the goods and got it and paid for it and exchanged no good-day with the seller.

In the little palace drawing-room the lights were on and the lights shone on the falling snow outside the window. The court was in session. Lanser sat at the head of the table with Hunter on his right, then Tonder, and, at the lower end, Captain Loft with a little pile of papers in front of him. On the opposite side, Mayor Orden sat on the colonel’s left and Prackle was next to him—Prackle, who scribbled on his pad of paper. Beside the table two guards stood with bayonets fixed, with helmets on their heads, and they were little wooden images. Between them was Alex Morden, a big young man with a wide, low forehead, with deep-set eyes and a long, sharp nose. His chin was firm and his mouth sensual and wide. He was wide of shoulder, narrow of hip, and in front of him his manacled hands clasped and unclasped. He was dressed in black trousers, a blue shirt open at the neck, and a dark coat shiny from wear.

Captain Loft read from the paper in front of him. “ ‘When ordered back to work, he refused to go, and when the order was repeated, the prisoner attacked Captain Loft with the pick-ax he carried. Captain Bentick interposed his body—’ ”

Mayor Orden coughed and, when Loft stopped reading, said, “Sit down, Alex. One of you guards get him a chair.” The guard turned and pulled up a chair unquestioningly.

Loft said, “It is customary for the prisoner to stand.”

“Let him sit down,” Orden said. “Only we will know. You can report that he stood.”

“It is not customary to falsify reports,” said Loft.

“Sit down, Alex,” Orden repeated.

And the big young man sat down and his manacled hands were restless in his lap.

Loft began, “This is contrary to all—”

The colonel said, “Let him be seated.”

Captain Loft cleared his throat. “ ‘Captain Bentick interposed his body and received a blow on the head which crushed his skull.



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