第38部分(第2/7 頁)

o　tell　her　the　story；　saw　no　sense　in　harrowing　her　with　it；　but　she　got　a　clear　look　at　my　face　as　I　came　in　the　kitchen　door　and　would　have　it　all。　So　I　sat　down；　took　her　warm　hands　in　my　cold　ones　（the　heater　in　my　old　Ford　barely　worked；　and　the　weather　had　turned　a　hundred　and　eighty　degrees　since　the　storm）；　and　told　her　what　she　thought　she　wanted　to　hear。　About　halfway　through　I　broke　down　crying；　which　I　hadn't　expected。　I　was　a　little　ashamed；　but　only　a　little；　it　was　her；　you　see；　and　she　never　taxed　me　with　the　times　that　I　slipped　from　the　way　I　thought　a　man　should　be　。。。　the　way　I　thought　I　should　be；　at　any　rate。　A　man　with　a　good　wife　is　the　luckiest　of　God's　creatures；　and　one　without　must　be　among　the　most　miserable；　I　think；　the　only　true　blessing　of　their　lives　that　they　don't　know　how　poorly　off　they　are。　I　cried；　and　she　held　my　head　against　her　breast；　and　when　my　own　storm　passed；　I　felt　better　。。。　a　little；　anyway。　And　I　believe　that　was　when　I　had　the　first　conscious　sight　of　my　idea。　Not　the　shoe；　I　don't　mean　that。　The　shoe　was　related；　but　different。　All　my　real　idea　was　right　then；　however；　was　an　odd　realization：　that　John　Coffey　and　Melinda　Moores；　different　as　they　might　have　been　in　size　and　sex　and　skin　color；　had　exactly　the　same　eyes：　woeful；　sad；　and　distant。　Dying　eyes。

〃e　to　bed；〃　my　wife　said　at　last。　〃e　to　bed　with　me；　Paul。〃

So　I　did；　and　we　made　love；　and　when　it　was　over　she　went　to　sleep。　As　I　lay　there　watching　the　moon　grin　and　listening　to　the　walls　tick　…　they　were　at　last　pulling　in；　exchanging　summer　for　fall　…　I　thought　about　John　Coffey　saying　he　had　helped　it。　I　helped　Del's　mouse。　I　helped　Mr。　Jingles。　He's　a　circus　mouse。　Sure。　And　maybe；　I　thought；　we　were　all　circus　mice；　running　around　with　onl