The Sweet-Scented Name/The Candles
The Candles
THERE were two candles burning, and many lamps along the walls. A man was reading from an exercise-book, and others were silent and listened.
The flames trembled. The candles also listened—they liked listening; but there was a draught from somewhere, and they trembled.
The man finished. The candles were blown out and the people went away.
And it was just as before.
There was one grey candle burning. A woman sat and sewed. A child slept, and coughed in his sleep. There was a draught from the walls. The candles wept white, heavy tears. The tears trickled away and froze. It began to dawn. The woman with red eyes still sewed on. She blew out the candle. She sewed on.
And it was just as before.
Three yellow candles were burning. A man lay in a coffin—yellow and cold. Someone was reading from a book. A woman wept. The candles were dying from fear and sorrow. A crowd arrived. They sang; they flung incense. They lifted up the coffin. The candles were blown out. They went away.
And it was just as before.
FINIS