Beloved came through the door and they ought to have heard hertread, but they didn't.
Breathing and murmuring, breathing and murmuring. Beloved heard them as soon as the doorbanged shut behind her. She jumped at the slam and swiveled her head toward the whisperscoming from behind the white stairs. She took a step and felt like crying. She had been so close,then closer. And it was so much better than the anger that ruled when Sethe did or thoughtanything that excluded herself. She could bear the hours — -nine or ten of them each day but one— -when Sethe was gone. Bear even the nights when she was close but out of sight, behind wallsand doors lying next to him. But now — even the daylight time that Beloved had counted on,disciplined herself to be content with, was being reduced, divided by Sethe's willingness to payattention to other things. Him mostly. Him who said something to her that made her run out intothe woods and talk to herself on a rock. Him who kept her hidden at night behind doors. And himwho had hold of her now whispering behind the stairs after Beloved had rescued her neck and wasready now to put her hand in that woman's own.
Beloved turned around and left. Denver had not arrived, or else she was waiting somewhereoutside. Beloved went to look, pausing to watch a cardinal hop from limb to branch. She followedthe blood spot shifting in the leaves until she lost it and even then she walked on, backward, stillhungry for another glimpse.
She turned finally and ran through the woods to the stream. Standing close to its edge she watchedher reflection there. When Denver's face joined hers, they stared at each other in the water.
"You did it, I saw you," said Denver.
"What?""I saw your face. You made her choke.""I didn't do it.""You told me you loved her.""I fixed it, didn't I? Didn't I fix her neck?""After. After you choked her neck.""I kissed her neck. I didn't choke it. The circle of iron choked it.""I saw you." Denver grabbed Beloved's arm.
"Look out, girl," said Beloved and, snatching her arm away, ran ahead as fast as she could alongthe stream that sang on the other side of the woods.
Left alone, Denver wondered if, indeed, she had been wrong. She and Beloved were standing inthe trees whispering, while Sethe sat on the rock. Denver knew that the Clearing used to be whereBaby Suggs preached, but that was when she was a baby. She had never been there herself toremember it. 124 and the field behind it were all the world she knew or wanted.
Once upon a time she had known more and wanted to. Had walked the path leading to a real otherhouse. Had stood outside the window listening. Four times she did it on her own — crept awayfrom 124 early in the afternoon when her mother and grandmother had their guard down, justbefore supper, after chores; the blank hour before gears changed to evening occupations. Denverhad walked off looking for the house other children visited but not her. When she found it she wastoo timid to go to the front door so she peeped in the window. Lady Jones sat in a straight-backedchair; several children sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her. Lady Jones had a book. Thechildren had slates. Lady Jones was saying something too soft for Denver to hear. The childrenwere saying it after her. Four times Denver went to look. The fifth time Lady Jones caught her and said, "Come in the front door, Miss Denver. This is not a side show." So she had almost a wholeyear of the company of her peers and along with them learned to spell and count. She was seven,and those two hours in the afternoon were precious to her. Especially so because she had done it onher own and was pleased and surprised by the pleasure and surprise it created in her mother andher brothers. For a nickel a month, Lady Jones did what whitepeople thought unnecessary if notillegal: crowded her little parlor with the colored children who had time for and interest in booklearning. The nickel, tied to a handkerchief knot, tied to her belt, that she carried to Lady Jones,thrilled her. The effort to handle chalk expertly and avoid the scream it would make; the capital w,the little i, the beauty of the letters in her name, the deeply mournful sentences from the BibleLady Jones used as a textbook. Denver practiced every morning; starred every afternoon. She wasso happy she didn't even know she was being avoided by her classmates — that they made excusesand altered their pace not to walk with her. It was Nelson Lord — the boy as smart as she was —who put a stop to it; who asked her the question about her mother that put chalk, the little i and allthe rest that those afternoons held, out of reach forever. She should have laughed when he said it,or pushed him down, but there was no meanness in his face or his voice. Just curiosity. But thething that leapt up in her when he asked it was a thing that had been lying there all along. Shenever went back. The second day she didn't go, Sethe asked her why not. Denver didn't answer.
She was too scared to ask her brothers or anyone else Nelson Lord's question because certain oddand terrifying feelings about her mother were collecting around the thing that leapt up inside her.
Later on, after Baby Suggs died, she did not wonder why Howard and Buglar had run away. Shedid not agree with Sethe that they left because of the ghost. If so, what took them so long? Theyhad lived with it as long as she had. But if Nelson Lord was right — no wonder they were sulky,staying away from home as much as they could.
Meanwhile the monstrous and unmanageable dreams about Sethe found release in theconcentration Denver began to fix on the baby ghost. Before Nelson Lord, she had been barelyinterested in its antics. The patience of her mother and grandmother in its presence made herindifferent to it. Then it began to irritate her, wear her out with its mischief. That was when shewalked off to follow the children to Lady Jones' house-school. Now it held for her all the anger,love and fear she didn't know what to do with. Even when she did muster the courage to askNelson Lord's question, she could not hear Sethe's answer, nor Baby Suggs' words, nor anything atall thereafter. For two years she walked in a silence too solid for penetration but which gave hereyes a power even she found hard to believe. The black nostrils of a sparrow sitting on a branchsixty feet above her head, for instance. For two years she heard nothing at all and then she heardclose thunder crawling up the stairs. Baby Suggs thought it was Here Boy padding into places henever went. Sethe thought it was the India-rubber ball the boys played with bounding down thestairs.
"Is that damn dog lost his mind?" shouted Baby Suggs.
"He's on the porch," said Sethe. "See for yourself.""Well, what's that I'm hearing then?"Sethe slammed the stove lid. "Buglar! Buglar! I told you all not to use that ball in here." Shelooked at the white stairs and saw Denver at the top.
"She was trying to get upstairs.""What?" The cloth she used to handle the stove lid was balled in Sethe's hand.
"The baby," said Denver. "Didn't you hear her crawling?"What to jump on first was the problem: that Denver heard anything at all or that the crawling-already? baby girl was still at it but more so, The return of Denver's hearing, cut off by an answershe could not hear to hear, cut on by the sound of her dead sister trying to climb the stairs, signaledanother shift in the fortunes of the people of 124. From then on the presence was full of spite.
Instead of sighs and accidents there was pointed and deliberate abuse. Buglar and Howard grewfurious at the company of the women in the house, and spent in sullen reproach any time they hadaway from their odd work in town carrying water and feed at the stables. Until the spite became sopersonal it drove each off. Baby Suggs grew tired, went to bed and stayed there until her big oldheart quit. Except for an occasional request for color she said practically nothing — until theafternoon of the last day of her life when she got out of bed, skipped slowly to the door of thekeeping room and announced to Sethe and Denver the lesson she had learned from her sixty yearsa slave and ten years free: that there was no bad luck in the world but white people. "They don'tknow when to stop," she said, and returned to her bed, pulled up the quilt and left them to hold thatthought forever. Shortly afterward Sethe and Denver tried to call up and reason with the babyghost, but got nowhere. It took a man, Paul D, to shout it off, beat it off and take its place forhimself. And carnival or no carnival, Denver preferred the venomous baby to him any day. Duringthe first days after Paul D moved in, Denver stayed in her emerald closet as long as she could,lonely as a mountain and almost as big, thinking everybody had somebody but her; thinking even aghost's company was denied her. So when she saw the black dress with two unlaced shoes beneathit she trembled with secret thanks. Whatever her power and however she used it, Beloved was hers.
Denver was alarmed by the harm she thought Beloved planned for Sethe, but felt helpless to thwartit, so unrestricted was her need to love another. The display she witnessed at the Clearing shamedher because the choice between Sethe and Beloved was without conflict. Walking toward thestream, beyond her green bush house, she let herself wonder what if Beloved really decided tochoke her mother. Would she let it happen? Murder, Nelson Lord had said. "Didn't your motherget locked away for murder? Wasn't you in there with her when she went?"It was the second question that made it impossible for so long to ask Sethe about the first. Thething that leapt up had been coiled in just such a place: a darkness, a stone, and some other thingthat moved by itself. She went deaf rather than hear the answer, and like the little four o'clocks thatsearched openly for sunlight, then closed themselves tightly when it left, Denver kept watch for thebaby and withdrew from everything else. Until Paul D came. But the damage he did came undonewith the miraculous resurrection of Beloved.
宠儿进了门。他们本该听见她的脚步声，却没有听见。
呼吸急促，窃窃私语，呼吸急促，窃窃私语。门刚在身后撞上，宠儿就听见了他们的声音。砰的一响让她跳起来，然后她把脑袋扭过去，听明白楼梯后面的低语声。她迈了一步，差点哭出来。
她本来已经离塞丝这样近了，刚才又更近了一步。塞丝做或想与她无关的事情时席卷她的那种愤怒，同这个可有天壤之别。她能够忍受塞丝出门的那些个钟头———每天九十个小时，一星期中只有一天例外。甚至能忍受她在墙壁和门板后面躺在他身边的那些夜晚，她离得很近，却不在视野里。可是现在———甚至宠儿所指望的、强迫自己知足的白天时间也被压缩了，也被塞丝关注其他事物的愿望给弄得支离破碎。主要怪他。是他说得她跑到树林里，坐在石头上自言自语。是他夜里把她藏在门后头。现在又是他霸占着她，在楼梯后面嘀嘀咕咕，就在宠儿刚刚救治了她的脖子、准备好把手放进那女人自己的手里之后不久。
宠儿转身离去。丹芙还没到，要么就是还等在外面什么地方。宠儿出去找她，半路上停下来，看一只红雀从树梢飞向树枝。她的眼睛跟着这个血点在树叶间穿行，直到找不见它，她才倒退着走开，仍然渴望再看上一眼。
她终于回转身，穿过树林跑向小溪。站在岸边，她望着自己的倒影。当丹芙的脸也映在她的旁边，她们在水中面面相觑。
“是你干的，我看见了。
”丹芙道。
“什么？
”
“我看见你的脸了。是你让她噎住的。
”
“不是我干的。
”
“你跟我说过你爱她。
”
“是我治好的，不是吗？不是我把她的脖子治好的吗？
”
“那是后来。在你掐了她脖子之后。
”
“我吻了她的脖子。我没掐。是铁圈掐的。
”
“我看见你了。
”丹芙抓住宠儿的胳膊。
“当心，姑娘。
”宠儿说着，抽出胳膊，沿着在树林一侧歌唱的小溪竭尽全力地奔跑。
丹芙独自一人留在那里，心中纳罕，自己是否的确误会了。她和宠儿当时站在树林中交头接耳，而塞丝坐在石头上。丹芙知道“林间空地”曾是贝比·萨格斯布道的地方，不过那时候她还是个婴儿。她从不记得自己后来到过那里。
124号和它后面的田野是她了解和需要的全部世界。
从前有过一段时间，她了解得更多，也更愿意了解。她曾经沿着小径走向另一座真实的房子。
曾经在窗下偷听。她独自干过四回———偷偷离开124号，在午后，当她妈妈和奶奶放松了警惕，家务活已经干完，而晚饭又没开始；充分利用与晚上的职责换档的一小时空闲。丹芙曾经溜号去找那座其他孩子能去、而她却不能去的房子。她找到的时候，胆小得不敢到前门去，只好扒着窗户往里偷看。琼斯女士端坐在直背椅上；几个孩子盘腿坐在她面前的地板上。琼斯女士拿着一本书。孩子们拿着石板。琼斯女士在说着什么，可是声音太小了，丹芙什么也听不见。孩子们跟着她说。丹芙去看了四次。第五次，琼斯女士抓住了她，说：
“从前门进来，丹芙小姐。这可不是儿戏。
”
于是她有几乎整整一年时间可以和同学们相伴，和他们一起学习拼写和算术。她那时七岁，那些下午的两个钟头一直为她所珍视。尤其可贵的是，她做下这件事全靠自己，还因为让妈妈和哥哥们喜出望外而喜出望外。每月收费五分钱，琼斯女士做了白人们认为即便合法也毫无必要的事情：
让她的小客厅里挤满那些有时间也有兴趣读书的黑孩子。带给琼斯女士的五分钱系在手绢里，拴在腰带上，这让丹芙热血沸腾。她学着尽量老练地使用粉笔，以免发出尖声；欣赏大写的W、小写的i、自己名字里字母的美，还有琼斯女士用作课本的《圣经》里深切哀怆的句子。丹芙每天早上温习功课，每天下午去一显身手。她是这样快乐，都不知道自己在被同学们回避着———他们找借口、改变步调，不跟她走到一起。是内尔森·洛德———那个跟她一样聪明的男孩———终止了这一切；他问起了关于她妈妈的问题，使得粉笔、小写i和那些下午包含的其余内容变得永远不可企及。他问问题的时候，她本该一笑置之，或者把他推个跟头，可是他的脸上和声音里都没有恶意，只有好奇。然而他提问时在她心里跳将起来的东西，事实上蛰伏已久了。
她再也没有回去。第二天她没去上学，塞丝问她为什么。丹芙没有回答。她害怕得不敢找她的哥哥或是别的什么人去问内尔森·洛德的问题，因为关于她妈妈的某种古怪而可怕的感觉，正在那从她心里跳将起来的东西周围聚集。后来，贝比·萨格斯去世后，她已不再奇怪，霍华德和巴格勒为什么要出走。她不同意塞丝的解释，说什么是因为鬼才离开的。如果真是这样，他们为什么耽搁这么久呢？他们同它一起生活的时间跟她一样长。但是，如果内尔森·洛德说得对———那就怪不得他们要那么闷闷不乐，尽可能远地离开家了。
与此同时，丹芙开始专心致志地对付那个小鬼魂，于是，有关塞丝的不可开交的噩梦获得了解脱。在内尔森·洛德提问以前，她很少对它的胡闹感兴趣。既然她妈妈和奶奶对鬼魂的出没表现得相当耐心，她便对它漠不关心了。后来，它开始惹恼她，用恶作剧搞得她疲惫不堪。那正是她走出门、跟着孩子们去琼斯女士的家庭学校上学的时候。于是，她所有的愤怒、爱和恐惧都系于小鬼魂一身，她对此完全不知如何是好。甚至当她真的鼓起勇气去问内尔森·洛德问过的问题时，她也听不见塞丝的回答，听不见贝比·萨格斯的回答，听不见此后的任何一句话。整整两年时间，她一直在一种坚实得无法穿透的寂静之中度过，但她的眼睛却因而得到了一种她自己都不敢置信的力量。比如，她看得见一只蹲在头顶上六十英尺高树枝上的麻雀的两个黑鼻孔。她有整整两年什么都听不见；然后，就突然听见了近处爬楼梯的轰响。贝比·萨格斯以为是“来，小鬼”走进了它从来不去的地方。塞丝以为是儿子玩的印第安橡皮球滚下了楼梯。
“是那该死的狗发昏了吗？
”贝比·萨格斯嚷道。
“它在门廊呢，”塞丝道，“不信你自己去看。
”
“那我听到的是什么呀？
”
塞丝砰地盖上炉盖。
“巴格勒！巴格勒！我跟你们俩都说过，不许在这儿玩球。
”她看了看白楼梯，见丹芙站在顶层。
“她在学着爬楼梯。
”
“什么？
”开炉盖用的垫布在塞丝手里攥成一团。
“那个小孩，”丹芙说，“你没听见她在爬吗？
”
首先跳出的是这样一个问题：到底是丹芙真的听见了什么动静，还是那个“都会爬了？
”的小女儿仍旧在这里肆虐，变本加厉？
丹芙的听觉被一声她不忍听到的回答切断，又被她死去的姐姐试图爬楼梯的响动接上，它的恢复标志着124号里面的人们命运的又一次转折。从那时起，鬼魂的出没就充满了恶意。不再是叹息和意外事故了，而是变成了直截了当和蓄意为之的摧残。巴格勒和霍华德对于跟女人们一起住在房子里感到怒不可遏，如果不去城里干送水和喂牲口的临时工作，他们便时时刻刻都闷闷不乐地怪罪她们。直到最后，这恶意变成了过分的个人攻击，把他们两个统统赶走。贝比·萨格斯累了，在床上长卧不起，直到她那伟大而苍老的心停止跳动。除了不定期的对色彩的要求，她实际上一语不发———直到她生命中最后一天的那个下午，她下了床，慢悠悠地颠到起居室门口，向塞丝和丹芙宣告她从六十年奴隶生涯和十年自由人的日子中学到的一课：这世界上除了白人没有别的不幸。“他们不懂得适可而止。
”她说道，然后就离开她们，回到床上，拉上被子，让她们永远地记住那个思想。
此后不久，塞丝和丹芙试图召唤那个小鬼魂，跟它论理，可是毫无结果。结果来了一个男人，保罗·D，将它吼走、打跑，再自己取代它的位置。无论有没有狂欢节那回事，丹芙都更愿意接受那个满腔怒火的婴儿，而不是他。保罗·D搬来后最初的那些日子，丹芙尽可能久地待在她的那间祖母绿密室里，像山一样孤独，也几乎一样庞大；她常想，谁都有个伴儿，单单她没有，连让一个鬼跟她做伴都不行。所以，当她看见那条黑裙子和下面的两只没系好鞋带的鞋子时，她浑身发抖，暗自谢天谢地。无论宠儿有怎样的威力，无论她怎样发威，宠儿总是她的。想到宠儿对塞丝的计划的危害性，丹芙警惕起来，但又觉得无力阻挠；她太渴望去爱别人了。在“林间空地”
目睹的一幕令她羞辱，因为在塞丝和宠儿之间作选择并不存在矛盾。
她离开她的绿色灌木小屋，朝着小溪走去，不禁心想，如果宠儿真的决定掐死她的妈妈，那该怎么办。她会任其发生吗？谋杀，内尔森·洛德说过的。
“你妈妈不是因为谋杀给关起来了吗？她进去的时候你没跟着吗？
”
是那第二个问题，使得她过了那么长时间才去找塞丝问第一个问题。那跳将起来的东西，曾经在这样一个地方被卷了起来：一片漆黑，有块石头，还有某种能自己动弹的东西。她还没听到回答，耳朵就聋了；同那些盛开着追随阳光、当阳光离去时又紧紧关闭自己的小茉莉花一样，丹芙一直守候着那个婴儿，对旁的一切事物都不管不顾。直到保罗·D到来。不过，他造成的破坏因为宠儿奇迹般的复活而自动失效了。