The mother

by Pearl S. Buck

She looked at this one and that, but no one answered, and she turned then and climbed upon the ass and the son made haste and led the ass down the rocky path and turned shivering to see if they were followed and he said, “I shall not rest until we are near that village once again and where many people are, I am so fearful.”

But the mother answered nothing. What need to answer anything? Her maid was dead.

XVII

CRAZED with her weariness was the mother when she came down from the halting gray ass that night before her own door. She had wept all the way home, now aloud and now softly, and the young man had been beside himself again and again with his mother’s weeping. He cried out in an agony at last, “Cease your wailing, mother, or I shall not be able to bear it!”

But when she calmed herself a little for his sake she broke forth again and at last the young man ground his teeth together and he muttered wildly, “If the day were come, if we were not so miserably poor, if the poor were given their share and could defend themselves, then might we sue for my sister’s life! But what use when we are so poor and there is no justice in the land?”

And the mother sobbed out, “It is true there is no use in going to law since we have no money to pay our way in to justice,” and then she wept afresh and cried, “But all the money and the justice under heaven would not bring my blind maid back again.”

At last the young man wept too, not so much for his sister nor even for his mother, but because he was so footsore and so worn and his world awry.

Thus they came at last to their own door and when she was down from the ass the mother called her elder son piercingly and so sharply that he came running out and she cried, “Son, your sister is dead!” And while he stared at her scarcely comprehending, she poured out the tale, and at the sound of her voice others came quickly to hear the tale until there in the dusk of night nearly all the hamlet stood to hear it. The younger son stood there half fainting, leaning on the ass, and when his mother talked on he went and threw himself upon the ground and lay there dazed with what had come about this day, and he lay silent while his mother wept and cried aloud and in her weeping said, looking with her streaming eyes to this face and to that, “There my little maid was, dead and gone, and I hate myself I ever let her go, and I would not have let her go if it had not been for this cold-hearted son’s wife of mine who begrudged the little maid a bit of meat and a little flower on her shoe and so I was fearful if I died and the maid was afraid, too—a little tender child who never would have left me of her own will! What cared she for man or marriage and a child’s heart in her always, clinging to her home and me? Oh, son, it is your wife who has brought this on me—I curse the day she came and no wonder she is childless with so hard a heart!”

So on and on the mother cried and at first they all listened in silence or exclaiming something when they had pieced the tale from what she said between her weeping, and then they tried to comfort her, but she would not let herself be comforted. The eldest son said nothing but stood with downcast head until she cursed his wife and spoke against her child-bearing, and then he said in a reasonable and quiet voice, “No, mother, she did not bid you send my sister to that place. You sent her so quickly and did not say a word to anyone but fixed it so and we wondered even that you did not go and see how it was there for yourself,” and he turned to his father’s cousin and he said, “Did you not think so, cousin? Do you remember how I said we were surprised my mother was so quick in the matter?”