PARTISAN
REVIEW
435
na Num rode to the place and saw that it was on the north side of
the mountain where the village ends. Here lived the poor in their
shacks, the farm no more than a pitiful collection of these buildings
leaning one into another."
The story rang tme for all the squatting figures on Clauson's
floor. Holding Shelley to him Jim Cogan wondered at the man's
cleverness for the last time. P.J. Clauson, pudgy, pink as an angel,
was lost in his own performance: "The fields of the farm were bare
as dunes and the well was dry. A few chickens and three
thin
pi~
were the only creatures on the land. At once the god Krishna sent
a letter to the prince thanking him for the tribute of
this
beautiful
farm. The prince raged and rode out to make sme he had not given
the wrong property away, but upon coming to the old farm he met
Krishna Num sitting on the broken gate in a robe of gold cloth
celebrating his good fortune with wine and song.
" ~Come
see,' he said to the prince with godlike demeanor,
'come see my lovely pigs, for they are surely the wisest animals in
the land.' Though Dhrahman saw three pigs who had been fed and
washed but looked no better than they should, still he worried at the
delight of Krishna Num. He returned to the palace to say that the
god's powers were sorely depleted when he thought he had riches
in three thin pigs. Still it troubled him and he sent spies to watch
the farm. The god Krishna lavished great care upon this land. A
new well was found and wheat planted. An orchard of wonderful
fruit trees which had been thought dead blossomed in the spring.
All the little buildings were set straight and painted. The gate was
put back on its hinges and the mysterious pigs grew fat and beauti–
ful. When Dhrahman heard these stories he was devoured with
jealousy and rode out to the farm where Krishna Nuru himself was
throwing grain out of a basket at the merriest chickens ever seen.
"'Come see,' said the god, 'come see my lovely pigs, but be
quiet for they are hard at work.' Surely, said the prince to himself,
he is demented and thought with what relish he would describe the
great god feeding chickens in the barnyard."
Shelley Waltz swept her arms up around Jim Cogan's neck.
Lovers at last, they were enfolded in the same white robe of belief.
The silence in Clauson's presence was perfect. A last shallow flame of
life flickered from the candles upon the faces of his audience -
his
congregation.
