René kept cave while the poor devil slunk out of the mews, and then followed him, saw him mount a bus and be borne away eastward, standing up and waving his hand as long as he was in sight.
His passing left René stranded. He had been caught up in the eddy of that little drama, and then flung back into his solitude, and, though he was cheered by his activity, he was also depressed by the horrid grubbiness of the life that had been revealed to him; nothing in the world for Joe but the procuring of food, the bare satisfaction of desire; an amused fondness for his children. That horrible capacity for happiness in degradation.
He stood below the lighted window of Rita’s room. A moaning came out of it. A thin voice almost screaming:
“Oh, don’t, Joe, don’t!”
There were appalling silences. Then whisperings. A long silence that chilled him to the heart. At length the cry of the new-born child, a cry of pain. Then again silence, broken only by the sound of water and the clink of metal against crockery.
In that moment René became almost unbearably alive to the suffering of the woman, and to all suffering, and to his own.
[IX
TALK]
For thus hath the Lord said unto me, Go, set a watchman, let him declare what he seeth.
IT takes an unconscionable long time to extort money from the Post Office Savings Bank, and René borrowed from his employer to pay Joe’s passage and the guarantee demanded by the Canadian immigration authorities. Joe could not thank him, but only, with tears in his eyes, shake him by the hand.