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‘You hear that？’
He waited。 She was silent。
‘Ain’t you got nothing more to say than that？ I better tell you something else。’ And then hecovered her face with kisses； her face； neck； arms； and breasts。
‘You stink of whisky。 Let me alone。’
‘Ah。 I ain’t the only one got a tongue。 What you got to say to this？ And his hand strokedthe inside of her thigh。
‘Stop。’
‘I ain’t going to stop。 This is sweet talk； baby。’
Ten years。 Their battle never ended； they never bought a home。 He died in France。 To…night sheremembered details of those years which she thought she had forgotten； and at last she felt thestony ground of her heart break up； and tears； as difficult and slow as blood； began to tricklethrough her fingers。 This the old woman above her somehow divined； and she cried： ‘Yes； honey。
You just let go； honey。 Let Him bring you low so He can raise you up。’ And was this the way sheshould have gone？ Had she been wrong to fight so hard？ Now she was an old woman； and allalone； and she was going to die。 And she had nothing for all her battles。 It had all e to this： shewas on her face before the altar； crying to God for mercy。 Behind her she heard Gabriel cry： ‘Blessyour name； Jesus！’ and； thinking of him and the high road of holiness he had traveled； her mindswung like a needle； and she thought of Deborah。
Deborah had written her； not many times； but in a rhythm that seemed to remark each crisisin her life with Gabriel； and once； during the time she and Frank were still together； she hadreceived from Deborah a letter that she had still： it was locked to…night in her handbag； which layon the altar。 She had always meant to show this letter to Gabriel one day； but she never had。 Shehad talked with Frank about it late one night while he lay in bed whistling some ragtag tune and she sat before the mirror and rubbed bleaching cream into her skin。 The letter lay open before herand she sighed loudly； to attract Frank’s attention。
He stopped whistling in the middle of a phrase； mentally； she finished it。 ‘What you gotthere； sugar？’ he asked； lazily。
‘It’s a letter from my brother’s wife。’ She stared at her face in the mirror； thinking angrilythat all these skin creams were a waste of money； they never did any good。
‘What’s them niggers doing down home？ It ain’t no bad news； is it？ Still he hummed；irrepressibly； deep in his throat。
‘No … well； it ain’t no good news neither； but it ain’t nothing to surprise me none。 She saysshe think my brother’s got a bastard living right there in the same town what he’s scared to call hisown。’
‘No？ And I thought you said you brother was a preacher。’
‘Being a preacher ain’t never stopped a nigger from doing his dirt。’
Then he laughed。 ‘You sure don’t love your brother like you should。 How e his wifefound out about this kid？’
She picked up the letter and turned to face him。 ‘Sound to me like she been knowing aboutit but she ain’t never had the nerve to say nothing。’ She paused； then added； reluctantly： ‘Ofcourse； she ain’t really what you might call sure。 But she ain’t a woman to go around thinkingthings。 She mighty worried。’
‘Hell； what she worried about it now for？ Can’t nothing be done about it now。
‘She wonder if she ought to ask him about it。’
‘And do she reckon if she ask him； he going to be fool enough to say yes？’
She sighed again； more genuinely this time； and turned back to the mirror。 ‘Well … he’s apreacher。 And if Deborah’s right； he ain’t got not right to be a preacher。 He ain’t no better’nnobody else。 In fact； he ain’t no better than a murderer。’
He had begun to whistle again； he stopped。 ‘Murderer？ How so？’
‘Because he done let this child’s mother go off and die when the child was born。 That’show so。’ She paused。 ‘And it sounds just like Gabriel。 He ain’t never thought a minute aboutnobody in this world but himself。’
He said nothing； watching her implacable back。 Then： ‘You going to answer this letter？’
‘I reckon。’
‘And what you going to say？’
‘I’m going to tell her she ought to let him know she know about his wickedness。 Get up infront of the congregation and tell them too； if she has to。’
He stirred restlessly； and frowned。 ‘Well； you know more about it than me。 But I don’t seewhere that’s going to do no good。’
‘It’ll do her some good。 It’ll make him treat her better。 You don’t know my brother like Ido。 There ain’t but one way to get along with him； you got to scare him half to death。 That’s all。 Heain’t got no right to go around running his mouth about how holy he is if he done turned a tricklike that。’
There was silence； he whistled again a few bars of his song； and then he yawned； and said：
‘Is you ing to bed； old lady？ Don’t know why you keep wasting all your time and my moneyon all them old skin whiteners。 You as black now as you was the day you was born。’
‘You wasn’t there the day I was born。 And I know you don’t want a coal…black woman。’
But she rose from the mirror； and moved toward the bed。
‘I ain’t never said nothing like that。 You just kindly turn out that light and I’ll make you toknow that black’s a mighty pretty color。’
She wondered if Deborah had ever spoken； and she wondered if she would give Gabriel theletter that she carried in her handbag to…night。 She had held it all these years； awaiting some savageopportunity。 What this opportunity would have been she did not； at this moment she did not wantto know。 For she had always thought of this letter as an instrument in her hands which could beused to plete her brother’s destruction。 When he was pletely cast down she would preventhim from ever rising again by holding before him the evidence of his blood…guilt。 But now shethought she would not live to see this patiently awaited day。 She was going to be cut down。
And the thought filled her with terror and rage； the tears dried on her face and the heartwithin her shook； divided between a terrible longing to surrender and a desire to call God intoaccount。 Why had he preferred her mother and her brother； the old； black woman； and the low；black man； while she； who had sought only to walk upright； was e to die； alone and in poverty；in a dirty； furnished room？ She beat her fists heavily against the altar。 He； he would live； andsmiling； watch her go down into the grave！ And her mother would be there； leaning over the gatesof Heaven； to see her daughter burning in the pit。
As she beat her fists on the altar； the old woman above her laid hands on her shoulders；crying： ‘Call on Him； daughter！ Call on the Lord！’ And it was as though she had been hurledoutward into time； where no boundaries were； for the voice was the voice of her mother but thehands were the hands of death。 And she cried aloud； as she had never in all her life cried before；falling on her face on the altar； at the feet of the old black woman。 Her tears came down likeburning rain。 And the hands of death caressed her shoulders； the voice whispered and whispered inher ear： ‘God’s got your number； knows where you live； death’s got a warrant out for you。’
2 GABRIEL’S PRAYERNow I been introducedTo the Father and the Son； And I ain’tNot stranger now。
When Florence cried； Gabriel was moving outward in fiery darkness； talking to the Lord。
Her cry came to him from afar； as from unimaginable depths； and it was not his sister’s cry heheard； but the cry of the sinner when he is taken in his sin。 This was the cry he had heard so manydays and nights； before so many altars； and he cried to…night； as he had cried before： ‘Have yourway； Lord！ Have your way！’
Then there was only silence in the church。 Even Praying Mother Washington had ceased tomoan。 Soon someone would cry again； and the voices would begin again； there would be music byand by； and shouting； and the sound of the tambourines。 But now in this waiting； burdened silenceit seemed that all flesh waited—paused； transfixed by something in the middle of the air—for thequickening power。
This silence； continuing like a corridor； carried Gabriel back to the silence that hadprece