Read Online Abahn Sabana David by Marguerite Duras - Free Book Online Page A

calls to her no more.
    She turns toward him, sleep is overcoming him, his arms again on the armrests, his face fallen. She leaves the window, goes to his side, she takes his hand, sits next to him.
    â€œDon’t fall asleep,” says Sabana.
    â€œNo,” says David.
    â€¢
    S abana stays with David.
    â€œDon’t fall asleep,” she says.
    â€œNo,” says David.
    She holds his hand in her own. She says:
    â€œThe light in the field wasn’t real. Your hands are so cold.”
    He does not answer.
    â€œYou’re less afraid,” she says.
    He turns an inquiring look upon her.
    â€œI think so,” he says.
    The Jews are at the table, in the same position. Heads resting back against the wall, they are silent. The Jew looks at Sabana, her blue eyes, dark, blue, fixed upon David.
    â€œYou must not be afraid,” she says to David.
    â€œNo.”
    There is a look of complete confidence on David’s face. She takes his hand, she studies it.
    â€œYour hands are so heavy,” she says. “It’s the cement.”
    â€œIt set,” he says.
    â€œYou work so much,” she says.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy?”
    He pauses before answering:
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Silence.
    Sabana holds David’s hand in hers and looks toward the road. She speaks, her voice even and low:
    â€œTonight, in the frost and ice, in the desolate cold, there is Jeanne, out in the cold desolation.”
    â€œJeanne?” asks David. “Where?”
    He almost cries it out. His voice sounds dull, broken.
    â€œI’m not sure,” says Sabana. “You forgot,” she says to the Jew, “we’re afraid for Jeanne, night and day.”
    â€œWhy?” asks David.
    Sabana doesn’t answer David. She speaks to the Jew. “She works against Gringo, she’s trying to subvert him, she’s trying day after day.”
    David pulls his hand from Sabana.
    â€œThat’s not true!” he cries.
    Sabana does not answer. Her gaze is fixed, her voice broken, like David’s.
    â€œShe thinks she can. She’s crazy.”
    Silence.
    â€œWhen Jeanne gave her report tonight, I wasn’t sleeping,” says Sabana. She gestures at David. “David was sleeping. But I heard. Gringo told her to write down ‘criminal lies,’ but she wrote ‘criminal liberties.’ Gringo wanted her to say ‘in service of the great power of the merchants,’ but she wrote ‘the ideological aberration.’ Gringo cried out. Jeanne said she went to wake up David to ask him what the Jew said in the café, and after she wrote exactly what David said. Gringo laughed. He told Jeanne not to treat him like a child. Then Jeanne wrote the word, ‘liberty.’”
    Sabana leaves David’s side and walks over to the door that opens onto the darkened park.
    â€œJeanne doesn’t know that I know,” she says, turning toward David. “You didn’t know.”
    â€œNo,” says David. He waits. The intensity of his waiting slowly shows in his face.
    â€œYou don’t know anything?” she asks.
    â€œA little. I came to know,” he admits. “Gringo did say once that Jeanne was useless, a wreck.”
    Silence.
    â€œJeanne is young, like David,” says Sabana. “She is the same age as him. Beautiful like him.” She looks at the Jew. “And one day they will kill her like they will kill you.”
    â€œShut up!” cries David.
    Sabana turns to the darkened park.
    â€œWe live together,” she says. “We are both David’s wives.”
    A sob bursts from her chest. She presses her palms against the cold glass of the window. Then presses them to her forehead.
    A racket bursts out in the part of Staadt beyond the darkened park.
    â€œThere’s shooting!” cries David. “Near the ponds!”
    Sabana does not move. David’s face has again taken on the expression of a