386
PARTISAN REVIEW
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing: a doll fell-the one in the lighthouse... "
"How did it happen? Is she hurt?"
"I must have touched the table when I went in to look around... "
"Ah! So you're getting upset! "
"No, I'm very happy with the scenes. But where's Daisy? She
certainly looked pretty in your dress!"
"You'd better go to sleep, darling, " answered Mary.
But instead they sat on a sofa, where he put his arms around her
and asked her to rest her cheek on his for a moment, in silence. As their
heads touched, his lit up with memories of the two fallen dolls: Daisy
and the girl in the lighthouse. He knew what this meant: the death of
Mary. And, afraid his thoughts would pass into her head, he started to
kiss her ears.
When he was alone again in the darkness of the bedroom, he
concentrated on the noise of the machines and thought of the warning
signs he 'd been receiving. He was like a garbled wire that kept
intercepting hints and calls meant for others. But this time all the
signals had been aimed at him. Under the noise of the machines and
the sound of the piano he'd detected those other hidden noises,
scattering like mice. Then there'd been Daisy falling into his arms
when he opened the closet door, as if to say: "Hold me, for Mary is
dying." And it was Mary herself who had prepared the warning, as
innocently as if she were showing him a disease she wasn't yet aware of.
Then, later, there'd been the dead doll in the first case; and, before
reaching the second case, the unexpected rumble of the podium, like
distant thunder, announcing the sea and the woman in the lighthouse.
Then the woman slipping out from under him: like Mary, who would
no longer bear a child. And finally Walter, like a dark bird, beating his
wings as he pecked away at his black box.
II
Mary wasn't ill and there was no reason to think she was going
to
die. But for some time now he'd been afraid of losing her and dreading
the prospect of life without her. So one day he'd thought of having a
doll built to resemble her. At first the idea seemed
to
have failed. He felt
only dislike for Daisy, as for a poor substitute. She was made of
kidskin, scented and colored like Mary. Yet when Mary asked him to
kiss her, he tasted leather and had the feeling he was about
to
kiss a
shoe. But in time he'd begun to notice a strange relationship develop-
