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

child.
    â€œWhat are you afraid of?” asks the Jew.
    David does not answer. He stares at the Jew. His gaze wavers.
    Sabana returns to David’s side.
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    A gain the cry of a dog. In the field. A strange cry, a strangled bark, a whine.
    â€œDiane,” says David.
    â€œYou were still sleeping?” Sabana asks.
    David sits up with difficulty.
    â€œI heard you from far off,” he says to her, “as if you were on the other side of the park.”
    â€œWith the dogs.”
    He listens.
    â€œDiane. It’s Diane.” He starts as if seeing Sabana for the first time by his side. “Oh, there you are.”
    â€œShe is dreaming, the dogs are dreaming,” Sabana says.
    â€œNo,” says David.
    â€œOr Gringo is trying to kill her.”
    David starts and then suddenly calms.
    â€œNo. No.”
    â€œThey didn’t say anything about killing the dogs,” says Sabana.
    â€œNo,” says David.
    Sabana turns from David. She goes to the door opening out onto the park. She looks out into the darkness. The cries cease.
    â€œThis dog of the Jew’s, Diane,” she murmurs, “has love in her voice.”
    â€œYes,” says David. “A kind of smile in her eyes.”
    â€œA dog for you to play with,” she says.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBut they’ll kill her,” Sabana says. “They want only guard dogs here. There are a hundred of them in the field of the dead. The princes of Staadt.”
    David listens to the soft, quiet voice of Sabana. Her hands quivering.
    â€œThey eat everyday,” she says. “They sleep. They train at sunrise. Sometimes, they put them in the police tanks going to the Jewish neighborhoods. Gringo showers them with praise, throws flowers on them, gives them medals, hangs them on their collars.”
    She takes a few steps toward David, then stops before reaching him. They look at one another. She says:
    â€œSometimes they are free, they release them, they say: ‘You are free, go kill.’ When the Jews pass through the barbed wire on the other side of the field, where the ponds are, we say to them: Go kill.”
    â€œâ€˜You are free,’” repeats the Jew.
    David rises. His eyes are flat, opaque. He searches for his gun. Sabana doesn’t seem to have noticed him moving. She says:
    â€œYou are free.”
    David releases his gun. He looks at Sabana, standing before him. His hands tremble. He smiles at Sabana, a tight and empty smile:
    â€œI don’t understand,” he says.
    â€œYou didn’t shoot,” she says.
    Silence.
    In the park, that same sad howl.
    â€œDiane,” says the Jew.
    David turns to look at the Jew, then at Sabana. His gaze focuses and sharpens.
    â€œShe cries from despair,” says Sabana.
    â€œA dog?” David asks.
    â€œOne can never know” says the Jew.
    â€œA dog crying from despair?” David murmurs to himself.
    â€œWho can ever know,” says Abahn.
    â€¢
    S ilence.
    â€œWhat time is it?” asks David.
    The voice of Abahn:
    â€œNearly day.”
    David sits up straight, frightened. He looks toward the road for the first time. He trembles.
    â€œNo, it’s still night,” says the Jew.
    â€œThere’s no more shooting near the ponds,” says Sabana. “They’ve left again.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” David murmurs.
    They are silent.
    This time, in the park, a long plaintive cry. David straightens, says to the Jew:
    â€œThey’re hurting Diane.”
    The Jew, like him, is listening to the cry. David turns toward Abahn.
    â€œIs she crying out because of the night? The cold?” asks Abahn.
    â€œI don’t know,” says the Jew.
    â€œFrom fear, I think,” says David.
    â€œThat she’ll be killed?”
    â€œThat there will be killing,” says Sabana slowly. She falls silent. She has gone back to sleep.
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    T he silence.
    Sabana leaves David, moving