Lao She CRESCENT MOON -------------- Yes, I've seen the crescent moon again - a chill sickle of pale gold. How many times have I seen crescent moons just like this one, how many times.... It stirred many different emotions, brought back many different scenes. As I sat and stared at it, I recalled each time I had seen it hanging in the blue firmament. It awakened my memories like an evening breeze blowing open the petals of a flower that is craving for sleep. 2 The first time, the chill crescent moon really brought a chill. My first recollection of it is a bitter one. I remember its feeble pale gold beams shining through my tears. I was only seven then - a little girl in a red padded jacket. I wore a blue cloth hat Mama had made for me. There were small flowers printed on it. I remember. I stood leaning against the doorway of our small room, gazing at the crescent moon. The room was filled with the smell of medicine and smoke, with Mama's tears, with Papa's illness. I stood alone on the steps looking at the moon. No one bothered about me, no one cooked my supper. I knew there was tragedy in that room, for everyone said Papa's illness was.... But I felt much more sorry for myself. I was cold, hungry, neglected. I stood there until the moon had set. I had nothing; I couldn't restrain my tears. But the sound of Mama's weeping drowned out my own. Papa was silent; a white cloth covered his face. I wanted to raise the cloth and look at him, but I didn't dare. There was so little space in our room, and Papa occupied it all. Mama put on white mourning clothes. A white robe without stitched hems was placed over my red jacket. I remember because I kept breaking off the loose white threads along the edges. There was a lot of noise and grief-stricken crying, everyone was very busy; but actually there wasn't much to be done. It hardly seemed worth so much fuss. Papa was placed in a coffin made of four thin boards; the coffin was full of cracks. Then five or six men carried him out. Mama and I followed behind, weeping. I remember Papa; I remember his wooden box. That box meant the end of him. I knew unless I could break it open I'd never see him again. But they buried it deep in the ground in a cemetery outside the city wall. Although I knew exactly where it was, I was afraid it would be hard to find that box again. The earth seemed to swallow it like a drop of rain. 3 Mama and I were both wearing white gowns again the next time I saw the crescent moon. It was a cold day, and Mama was taking me to visit Papa's grave. She had bought some gold and silver "ingots" made of paper to burn and send to Papa in the next world. Mama was especially good to me that day. When I was tired, she carried me piggy-back; at the city gate she bought me some roasted chestnuts. Everything was cold, only the chestnuts were hot. Instead of eating them, I used them to warm my hands. I don't remember how far we walked, but it was very, very far. It hadn't seemed nearly so far the day we buried Papa, perhaps because a lot of people had gone with us. This time there was only Mama and me. She didn't speak. I didn't feel like saying anything either. It was very quiet out there. On that yellow dirt road there wasn't a breath of sound. It was winter, and the days were short. I remember the grave - a small mound of earth. There were some brown hills in the distance, with the sunlight slanting on them. Mama seemed to have no time for me. She set me down on the side and embraced the head of the grave and wept. I sat holding the hot chestnuts. After crying a while, Mama burned the paper ingots. The ashes swirled before us in little spirals, then lazily settled back on the ground. There wasn't much wind, but it was very cold. Mama began to cry again. I thought of Papa too, but I didn't cry for him. It was Mama's pitiful weeping that brought tears to my eyes. I pulled her by the hand and said, "Don't cry, Mama, don't cry." But she sobbed all the harder and hugged me to her bosom. The sun was nearly set and there wasn't another person in sight. Only Mama and me. That seemed to scare Mama a little. With tears in her eyes she led me away. After we had walked a while, she turned and looked back. I did too. I couldn't tell Papa's grave from the others any more. There were nothing but graves on the hillside. Hundreds of small mounds, right to the foot of the hill. Mama sighed. We walked and walked, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. We still hadn't reached the city gate when I saw the crescent moon again. All around us was darkness and silence. Only the crescent moon gave off a cold glow. I was worn out. Mama carried me. How we got back to the city I don't know. I only remember hazily that there was a crescent moon in the sky. 4 By the time I was eight, I had learned how to take things to the pawnshop. I knew that if I didn't come back with some money, Mama and I would have nothing to eat that night - Mama would never send me except as a last resort. Whenever she handed me a small package it meant there wasn't even thin gruel in the bottom of our pot. Our pot was often cleaner than a neat young widow. One day I was sent to the pawnshop with a mirror. This seemed to be the only thing we could spare, though Mama used it every day. It was spring, and our padded clothes had just been placed in hock. I knew how to be careful. Carrying the mirror, I walked carefully but quickly to the pawnshop. It was already open. I was afraid of that pawnshop's big red door, afraid of its high counter. Whenever I saw that door, my heart beat fast. But I'd go in just the same, even if I had to crawl over the high door-sill. Taking a grip on myself, I would hand up my package and say loudly, "I want to pawn this." After getting my money and the pawn ticket, I would hold them carefully and hurry home. I knew Mama would be worried. But this time they didn't want the mirror. They said I should add another item to it. I knew what that meant. Putting the mirror in my shirt, I ran home as fast as my legs could carry me. Mama cried; she couldn't find anything else to pawn. I had always thought there were a lot of things in our little room. But now, helping Mama look for a piece of clothing to raise some money on, I saw that we didn't have much at all. Mama decided not to send me to the pawnshop again, but when I asked her, "Mama, what are we going to eat?" she cried and gave me her silver hairpin. It was the last bit of silver she had left. She had taken it out of her hair several times before, but she had never been able to part with it. Grandma had given it to her when she got married. Now Mama gave it to me - her last bit of silver - to pawn together with the mirror. I ran with all my might to the pawnshop, but the big door was already shut tight. Clutching the silver hairpin, I sat down on the steps and cried softly, not daring to make too much noise. I looked up at the sky. Ah, there was the crescent moon shining through my tears again. I wept for a long time. Then Mama came out of the shadows and took me by the hand. Oh, what a nice warm hand. I forgot all my trouble, even my hunger. As long as Mama's warm hand was holding mine, everything was all right. "Ma," I sobbed, "let's go home and sleep. I'll come again early tomorrow morning." Mama didn't say anything. After we had walked a while I said, "Ma, you see that crescent moon? It hung crooked just like that the day Pa died. Why is it always so slant?" Mama remained silent. But her hand trembled a little. 5 All day long, Mama washed clothes for people. I wanted to help her, but there wasn't any way I could do it. I would wait for her; I wouldn't go to sleep until she finished. Sometimes, even after the crescent moon had already risen, she would still be scrubbing away. Those smelly socks, hard as cowhide, were brought in by salesmen and clerks from the shops. By the time Mama finished washing the "cowhide" she never had any appetite. I would sit beside her, looking at the moon, watching the bats flit through its ray, like big triangular water chestnuts flashing across beams of silver then quickly dropping into the darkness again. The more I pitied Mama, the more I loved the crescent moon. Gazing at it always eased my heart. I loved it in the summer most of all. It was always so cool, so icy. I loved the faint shadows it cast upon the ground, though they never lasted very long. Soft and grey, they soon vanished, leaving the earth especially dark and the stars especially bright and the flowers especially fragrant. Our neighbours had many flower bushes. Blossoms from a tall locust tree used to drift into our courtyard and cover the ground like a layer of snow. 6 Mama's hands became hard and scaly. They felt wonderful when she rubbed my back. But I hated to trouble her, because her hands were all swollen from the water. She was thin too; often she couldn't eat a thing after washing those stinking socks. I knew she was trying to think of a way out. I knew. She used to push the pile of dirty clothes to one side and become lost in thought. Sometimes she would talk to herself. what was she planning? I couldn't guess. 7 Mama told me to be good and call him "Pa" - she had found me another father. Mama didn't look at me when she told me this. there were tears in her eyes, and she said, "I can't let you starve!" Oh, so it was to keep me from starving that she found me another Pa? I didn't understand much, and I was a little afraid. But I was kind of hopeful too - maybe we really wouldn't go hungry any more. What a coincidence! As we were leaving our tiny flat, a crescent moon again hung in the sky. It was brighter and more frightening than I had ever seen it before. I was going to leave the small room I had grown so accustomed to. Ma sat in a red bridal sedan-chair. Ahead of her marched a few tootling musicians who played very badly. The man and I followed behind. He held me by the hand. The crescent moon gave off faint rays that seemed to tremble in the cool breeze. The streets were deserted except for stray dogs that barked at the musicians. The sedan-chair moved very quickly. Where was it going? Was it taking Mama outside the city, to the cemetery? The man pulled me along so fast I could hardly catch my breath. I couldn't even cry. His sweating palm was cold, like a fish. I wanted to call "Ma!" but I didn't dare. The crescent moon looked like a large half-closed eye. In a little while, the sedan-chair entered a small lane. 8 During the next three or four years I somehow never saw the crescent moon. My new Pa was very good to me. He had two rooms. He and Ma lived in the inner room; I slept on a pallet in the outside one. At first I still wanted to sleep with Mama, but after a few days I began to love "my" little room. It had clean whitewashed walls, a table and a chair. They all seemed to belong to me. My bedding was thicker and warmer, too. Mama gradually put on some weight. Colour came back to her cheeks, and the scales left her hands. I hadn't been to the pawnshop in a long time. My new father let me go to school. Sometimes he even played with me. I don't know why I couldn't bring myself to call him "Pa" - I liked him a lot. He seemed to understand. He used to just grin at me. His eyes looked very nice then. Mama would privately urge me to call him "Pa". I didn't really want to be stubborn. I knew it was because of him that Mama and I had food to eat and clothes to wear. I understand all that. Yes, for three or four years I don't recall seeing the crescent moon; maybe I saw it and don't remember. But I can never forget the crescent moon I saw when Pa died, or the one that rode before Ma's bridal sedan-chair. That pale chill light will always remain in my hear, shiny and cool as a piece of jade. Sometimes when I think of it, it seems as if I can almost reached out my hand and touch it. 9 I loved going to school. I had the feeling that the school-yard was full of flowers, though, actually, this wasn't so. Yet whenever I think of school I think of flowers. Just as whenever I think of Papa's grave I think of a crescent moon outside the city - hanging crooked in the wind blowing across the fields. Mama loved flowers too. She couldn't afford them, but if anyone ever sent her one, she pinned it in her hair. Once I had the chance to pick a couple for her. With a fresh flower in her hair, she looked very young from the back. She was happy, and so was I. Going to school also made me very glad. Perhaps this is the reason whenever I think of school I think of flowers. 10 The year I was to graduate from primary school, Mama sent me to the pawnshop again. I don't know why my new father suddenly left us. Mama didn't seem to know where he went either. She told me to continue going to school; she thought he'd probably come back soon. Many days passed and there was still no sign of him. He didn't even write. I was afraid Mama would have to start washing dirty socks again, and I felt very badly about it. But Mama had other plans. She still dressed prettily and wore flowers in her hair. How strange! She didn't cry; in fact she was always smiling. Why? I didn't understand. For several days whenever I came home from school, I'd find her standing in the doorway. Not long after, men began to hail me on the street: "Hey, tell your Ma I'll be calling on her soon!" "Young and tender, are you selling today?" My face burning like fire, I hung my head till it couldn't go any lower. I knew now, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. I couldn't question Mama, no I couldn't do that. She was so good to me, always urging, "Read your books, study hard." But she was illiterate herself. Why was she so anxious for me to study? I grew suspicious. But then I would think - she's doing this because she has no way out. When I felt suspicious, I wanted to curse her. At other times, i would want to hug her and beg her not to do that kind of thing any more. I hated myself for not being able to help Mama. I was worried. Even when I graduated from primary school, what use would I be? I heard from the girls in my class that several of the students who graduated last year became concubines; a few, they said, were working "in dark doorways". I didn't quite understand these things, but from the way my classmates spoke, I guessed it was something bad. The girls in my class seemed to know everything; they loved to whisper about things which they knew perfectly well were not nice. It made them blush, yet, at the same time, look quite self-satisfied. My suspicion of Mama increased. Was she waiting for me to graduate, so that she could make me...? When I thought like this, I didn't dare go home. I was afraid to face Mama. I used to save the pennies she gave me to buy afternoon snacks, and go to physical training class on an empty stomach. I was often faint. How I envied the other kids, munching their pastries. But I had to save money. With little money I could run away if Mama insisted that I.... At my richest, I never managed to save more than ten or fifteen cents. Even during the day, I used to gaze up at the sky, looking for my crescent moon. If the misery in my heart could be compared to anything physical, it should be that crescent moon - hanging helpless and unsupported in the grey-blue sky, its feeble rays soon swallowed up by the darkness. 11 What made me feel worst of all was that I was slowly learning to hate Mama. But whenever I hated her, I couldn't help remembering how she carried me piggyback to visit Papa's grave - and then I couldn't hate her any more. Yet I had to. my heart ... my heart was like that crescent moon - only able to shine a little while, surrounded by a darkness that was black and limitless. Men constantly came to Mama's room now; she no longer tried to hide it from me. They looked at me like dogs - drooling, their tongues hanging out. In their eyes I was an even tastier morsel than Mama. I could see it. In a short time, I suddenly came to understand a lot. I knew I had to protect myself. I could feel that my body had something precious; I was aware of my own fragrance. I felt ashamed; I was torn by one emotion after another. There was a force within me that I could use to protect myself - or destroy myself. At times I was firm and strong. At times I was weak, defenceless, confused. I wanted to love Mama. There were so many things I wanted to ask her. I need her comforting. But it was just at that time that I had to shun her, hate her - or lose my own existence. Lying sleepless on my bed and considering the matter calmly, I could see that Mama deserved to be pitied. She had to feed the two of us. But then I would think - how could I eat the food she earned that way? That was how my mood kept changing. Like a winter wind - halting a moment, then blowing fiercer than ever. I would quietly watch my fury rising within me, and be powerless to stop it. 12 Before I could think of a solution, things became worse. Mama asked me, "What about it?" If I really loved her, she said, I ought to help her. Otherwise, she couldn't continue taking care of me. these didn't seem like words that Mama could speak, yet she said them. To make it even clearer, she added: "I'm getting old. In another year or two, men won't want me even if I offer myself for nothing." It was true. Lately you could see the wrinkles on Mama's face no matter how much powder she used. She no longer had the energy to entertain a lot of men; she was thinking of giving herself to only one. There was a man who ran a steamed bread shop who wanted her. She could go to him right away. But I was a big girl now. I couldn't trail after her bridal sedan- chair like I did when I was a child. i would have to look after myself. If I would agree to "help" Mama, she wouldn't have to go to him. I could earn money for us both. I was quite willing to earn money, but when I thought of the way she wanted me to do it, it made me shiver. I knew next to nothing; how could I peddle myself like some middle-aged woman? Mama's heart was hard, and the need for money was harder still. She didn't force me to take this road or that. She left the choice to me. Either help her, or we two would go our separate ways. Mama didn't cry. Her eyes had long since gone dry. What was I to do? 13 I spoke to the principal of my school. She was a stout woman of about forty, not very bright, but a warm-hearted generous person. I was really at my wit's end, otherwise how could I have said anything about Mama...? Actually, I didn't know the principal very well, and every word I spoke seared my throat like a ball of fire. I stammered and took a long time to get out what I had to say. The principal said she was willing to help me. She couldn't give me any money, but she could give me two meals a day and a place to live - I could move in with an old woman servant who lived at the school. She said I could help the scribe with his writing - but not right away, because I still needed more practice with my handwriting. Two meals a day and a place to live - that settled the biggest problem. I didn't have to be a burden to Mama any more. Mama didn't ride in a bride's sedan-chair when she left this time. She simply took a rickshaw and went off into the night. She let me keep my bedding. Mama tried not to cry as she was leaving, but the tears in her heart gushed out after all. She knew I couldn't come to see her - her own daughter. As for me, I had forgotten even how to weep properly - I sobbed open-mouthed, the tears smothering my face. I was her daughter, her friend, her solace. But I couldn't help her. Not unless I agreed to something I just couldn't do. After she had gone, I sat and thought. We two, mother and daughter, were like a couple of stray dogs. For the sake of our mouths, we had to accept all kinds of suffering, as if no other parts of our bodies mattered, only our mouths. We had to sell all the rest of us to feed our mouths. I didn't hate Mama. I understood. it wasn't her fault; it wasn't wrong of her to have a mouth. The fault lay with food. By what right were we deprived of food? Recollections of past troubles flooded back on me. But the crescent moon that was most familiar with my tears didn't appear this time. It was pitch dark, without even the glow of fireflies. Mama had disappeared into the darkness like a ghost, silent, shadowless. If she were to die tomorrow, she probably couldn't be buried besides Papa. I wouldn't even be able to find her grave. She was my only Mama, my only friend. And now I was left alone in the world. 14 I could never see Mama again. Love died in my heart, like a spring flower nipped by frost. I practised hard with my writing so that I could help the scribe copy minor documents for the principal. I had to become useful - I was eating other people's food. I couldn't be like the other girls in my class, who did nothing but watch others all day long - observing what other people ate, what they wore, what they said. I concentrated on myself. My shadow was my only friend. "I" was always in my mind, because no one loved me. I loved myself, pitied, encouraged, scolded myself. I knew myself, as if I were another person. My body changed in a way that frightened and pleased me, yet left me puzzled. When I touched them with my hand it was like brushing against delicate, tender flowers. I was concerned only with the present. There was no future; I didn't dare to think too far ahead. Because I was eating other people's food, I had to know when it was noon and when it was evening. Otherwise I wouldn't have thought of time at all. Without hope there isn't any time. I seemed nailed down to a place that had no days or months. When I thought of my life with Mama, I knew I had existed for fifteen or sixteen years. My schoolmates were always looking forward to vacations, festivals, the New Year holiday. What had these things to do with me? But my body was continuing to mature. I could feel it. it confused me. I couldn't trust myself. i knew I was growing prettier. Beauty raised my social stature. That was a consolation - until I remembered that I never had any social stature to begin with; then the consolation turned sour. Still, in the end, I was proud of my good looks. Poor but pretty! Suddenly, a frightening thought came to me - Mama wasn't bad looking either. 15 I hadn't seen the crescent moon for a long time. Even though I wanted to see it, I didn't dare look. I had already graduated and was still living at the school. In the evenings I was alone with two old servants - a man and a woman. They didn't quite know how to treat me. I was no longer a student, yet I wasn't a teacher; nor was I a servant, though in some ways I resembled one. At night I walked alone in the courtyard. Often I was driven into my room by the crescent moon. I hadn't the courage to face it. But in my room I would picture it, especially when there was a slight breeze. The breeze seemed able to blow those pale beams directly to my heart, making me recall the past, intensifying my forebodings of tragedy. My heart was like a bat in the moonlight - a dark thing in spite of the light; black - even though it could fly, still black. I had no hope. But I didn't cry. I only frowned. 16 I earned a little money, knitting for some of the girl students. The principal let me. But I couldn't make much because they knew how to knit too. The girls only come to me when they were too busy to do it themselves. Still, my heart felt lighter. I even thought - if Mama could come back, I could support her. When I counted my money, I knew this was just an idle dream. But it made me feel better anyhow. I wished I could find her. If she would see me, she'd surely come away with me. We could get along, I thought. But I didn't altogether believe this myself. I was always thinking of Mama. Often, I saw her in my dreams. One day I went with the students on an outing in the country. on the way back, because it was getting late, we took a shortcut through a small lane. there I saw Mama! Outside this steamed bread shop was a big basket with a large wooden object in it painted white to look like a teamed bread. Mama sat by the wall, pulling and pushing a lever that blew up the fire in the oven. While we were still quite a distance away I saw Mama and that white wooden steamed bread. I recognized her from the back. I wanted to rush over and embrace her. But I didn't dare. I was afraid the students would laugh at me. They wouldn't let me have such a Mama. We came closer and closer. I lowered my head and looked at her through my tears. She didn't see me. The whole group of us brushed by her. Intent on pulling the bellows' lever, evidently she didn't see a thing. When we were far beyond her, I turned around and looked back. She was still plying that lever. I couldn't see her features clearly; I had only the impression of a few stray locks hanging down over her forehead. I made a mental note of the name of the lane. 17 It was as if a little bug was gnawing at my heart. I had to see Mama or I'd have no peace. Just at this time, a new principal was appointed to the school. The stout lady who was leaving told me I'd better start making other plans. As long as she remained she could give me food and lodgings, but she couldn't guarantee that the new principal would do the same. I counted my money. Altogether I had two dollars and seventy some odd cents. This would keep me from starving for the next few days. But where was I to go? There was no point in sitting around worrying. I had to think of something. Go see Mama - that was my first idea. But could she let me stay with her? If she couldn't, it might provoke a quarrel between her and the steamed bread seller; at least it would make her feel very badly. I had to think of things from her viewpoint. She was my Mama, and yet she wasn't. We were separated by a wall of poverty. After mulling it over, I decided not to go to her. I had to bear my own burdens. But how? I didn't know. The world seemed very small - there was no place for me and my little roll of bedding. Even a dog was better off. He could lie down anywhere and sleep. i wouldn't be permitted to sleep on the street. Yes, I was a person, but a person was less than a dog. What if I should refuse to leave? Would the new principal drive me out? I couldn't wait for that. It was spring. I saw the flowers and the green leaves, but I felt no breath of warmth. The red of the flowers and the green of the leaves were only colours to me; they had no special significance. Spring, in my heart, was something cold and dead. I didn't want to cry, but the tears flowed from my eyes. 18 I went job-hunting. I wouldn't go to Mama. I wouldn't depend on anyone. I would earn my own food. Hopefully, I searched for two whole days. But I brought back a harvest of only dust and tears. There was no work for me to do. It was then that I truly understood Mama, really forgave her. At least she had washed smelly socks. I wasn't even able to do that. Mama took the only road that was left. The learning and morality the school had given me were just jokes, playthings for people with full stomachs and time to spare. The students wouldn't permit me to have a Mama like mine; they sneered at women who sold themselves. That was all right for them; they got their meals regularly. I practically made up my mind - I would do anything. If only some one would feed me. Mama was admirable. I wouldn't kill myself- although I had thought of it. No, I wanted to live. I was young, pretty, I wanted to live. Any shame would be none of my doing. 19 Thinking like that, it was as if I had already found a job. I dared to walk in the courtyard in the moonlight. A spring crescent moon hung in the sky. I saw it and it was beautiful. the sky was dark blue, without a speck of cloud. Bright and warm, the crescent moon bathed the willow branches with its soft beams. A breeze, laden with the fragrance of flowers, blew the shadow of the willow branches back and forth from the bright corner of the courtyard wall to the darkened section. the light was not strong; the shadows were not deep. The breeze blew tenderly. Everything was warm, drowsy, yet gently in motion. Below the moon and above the willows a pair of stars like the smiling eyes of a fairy maiden winked mischievously at that slanting crescent moon and those trailing branches. A tree by the wall was a galaxy of white blossoms. In the moonlight, half the tree was snowy white, half was dappled with soft grey shadow. A picture of incredible purity. That crescent moon is the beginning of my hope, I said to myself. 20 I went to see the stout lady principal again, but she wasn't home. A young man let me in. He was very handsome, and very friendly. Usually, I'm afraid of men, but this young man didn't frighten me a bit. I couldn't very well refuse to answer his questions - he had such a winning smile. I told him why I wanted to see the principal. He was very concerned. He promised to help me. That same night, he came and gave me two dollars. When I tried to refuse, he said the money was from his aunt - the stout principal. She had already found me a place to live, he added. I could move in the next day. I was a little suspicious at first, but his smiles went right in my heart. I felt it was wrong to doubt a person who was so considerate, so charming. 21 His smiling lips were on my cheek, and I could see the crescent moon, smiling too, upon his hair. The intoxicated spring breeze had blown open the spring clouds to reveal the crescent moon and a pair of spring stars. Trailing willow branches stirred along the river bank, frogs throbbed their love songs, the fragrance of young rushes filled the spring night. I could hear water flowing, bringing nourishment to the tender rushes so that they might quickly grow tall and strong. Young shoots were growing on the moist warm earth; every living thing was absorbing spring's vitality and giving off a lovely perfume. I forgot myself; I had no self. I seemed to dissolve into that gentle spring breeze, those faint moon beams. Suddenly, a cloud covered the moon. I had lost the crescent moon, and myself as well. I was the same as Mama! 22 I was regretful, yet eased. I wanted to cry, but was very happy I didn't know how I felt. I wanted to go away and never see him again. But he was always on my mind, and I was lonesome without him. I lived alone in a small room. He came to me every night - always handsome, always tender. He provided me with food, he brought me clothing. When I put on a new gown, I could see that I was beautiful. I hated the clothes, but I couldn't bear to part with them. I didn't dare to think; I was too indolent to think. I drifted about in a daze, rouge on my cheeks. I didn't feel like dressing up, yet I had to. There was no other way to kill time. While putting my finery on, I adored my image in the mirror; then, when I finished, I hated myself. Tears came easily to my eyes now, though I managed not to weep. My eyes - always moist and glistening - looked lovely. Sometimes I would kiss him madly, then push him away, even curse him. He never stopped smiling. 23 I knew there was no hope from the start. Any wisp of cloud could cover a crescent moon. My future was dark. Sure enough, not long after, as spring was changing to summer, my spring dream ended. One day, just about noon, a young woman came to see me. She was very pretty, in a vapid, doll-like way. The moment she entered the room she began to weep. There was no need for her to say anything; I knew already. She hadn't come to raise a row, nor did I want to quarrel with her. She was a simple, honest sort. Crying, she took my hand. "He deceived us both!" she said. I had thought she was also a "sweetheart". But no, she was his wife. She didn't berate me. She just kept repeating, "Please let him go!" I didn't know what to do. I felt very sorry for the young woman. Finally, I consented and, at once, she was all smiles. She appeared to be completely guileless, and quite naive. All she knew was that she wanted her husband. 24 I walked the streets for hours. It had been easy enough to agree to what that young woman had asked, but what was I to do now? I didn't want the things he had given me. Since we were parting, I ought to make the break complete. But they were all I had to my name. Where was I to go? Would I be able to eat that day? His gifts at least were worth a little money. Very well, I'd keep them. I had no choice. Quietly, I moved away. Though I had no regrets, there was an emptiness in my heart. I was like a lone and drifting cloud. I rented a small room. Then I went to bed and slept right round the clock. 25 I was good at economizing. Since childhood I had known how precious money was. I still had a couple of dollars, but I decided to go out and look for a job immediately. Though I had no great hopes, it seemed like the safest course. But job-hunting hadn't become any easier just because I was a year or two older than last time. I kept trying, not that I thought it would do any good, but because I felt it was the proper thing to do. Why was it so hard for a woman to earn a living? Mama was right. She took the only road open to a woman. Though I knew it was waiting for me, not far off, I didn't want to take that road yet. The more I struggled, the more frightened I became. My hope was like the light of a new moon; in a little while it would be gone. Two weeks later, just as I was about to give up, I stood in a line of girls in a cheap restaurant. The restaurant was very small; the boss, who was looking us over, was very big. We were a rather attractive bunch - all primary school graduates, but we waited for that great broken-down tub of a boss to pick one of us as if he were an emperor. He chose me. Though I wasn't the least grateful, at the moment I couldn't help feeling good. The girls all seemed to envy me. As they left, some had tears in their eyes. A few cursed under their breath - "How can women be worth so little!" 26 I became the small restaurant's Second Hostess. I didn't know anything about waiting on tables and I was rather scared. The First Hostess told me not to worry - she didn't either. She said the waiter took care of that. All the hostess had to do was serve tea, hand out damp face cloths and present the bill at the end of the meal. Strange. First Hostess wore her sleeves rolled up to her elbow, but the white lining were quite spotless. Tied to her wrist was a fancy handkerchief embroidered with the words "Little Sister, I love you." She was always powdering her face, and the lipstick on her big mouth made it look like bloody ladle. When lighting a cigarette for a customer, she would press her knee against his leg. She also poured the drinks: sometimes she took a sip herself. To some customers she was very attentive; others she would completely ignore. She had a way of batting her eyes and pretending she didn't see them. It was up to me to look after the ones she neglected. I was afraid of men. I had learned from that little experience of mine - love or no love, men were monsters. The customers at our restaurant were particularly repulsive. They put on a great show of grabbing for the bill. They played noisy drinking games and ate like pigs. They picked fault over the smallest trifles, and cursed and raged. While serving them tea or handing out face cloths, I kept my head down and blushed. They talked to me and tried to make me laugh. But I wanted nothing to do with them. At nine o'clock when my first day's work was over, I was worn out. I went to my little room and lay down; without even taking my clothes off, I slept until the next day. When I awoke, I felt better. I was self-supporting, earning my own keep. I reported for work very early. 27 When First Hostess showed up, after nine, I had already been on the job two hours. Contemptuously, but not altogether unkindly, she explained, "You don't have to come so early. Who eats here at eight o'clock in the morning? And another thing, droopy puss, don't always be pulling such a long face. You're supposed to be a hostess, not a pallbearer. Keep your head down like that all the time and nobody'll order any extra drinks. What do you think you're here for? You're dressed all wrong, too. Your gown should have a high collar - and where's your chiffon handkerchief? You don't even look like a hostess!" I knew she meant well. If I didn't smile at the customers, I'd lose out and so would she, for we all split the tips equally. I didn't look down on her; in one sense, I even admired her - she knew how to earn money. Playing up to men - that was the only way a woman could get along. But I didn't want to imitate her, though I could see clearly enough that the day might be coming when I would have to be even more free and easy than she to earn my food. But that would be only when all other means failed. The "last resort" was always lying in wait for us women. I was just trying to make it wait a little longer. Angrily, I gritted my teeth and struggled on. But a woman's fate is never in her own hands. Three days later the boss warned me - he'd give me two more days; if I wanted to keep the job, I'd have to act like First Hostess. Half in jest, First Hostess also dropped me a hint: "One of the customers has been asking about you. Why don't you quit holding back and playing so dumb? We all know the score. Hostesses have married bank managers - there've been cases. We're not so cheap. If we're not too prissy, we can ride around in a goddam limousine with the best of 'em!" That burned me up. "When did you ever ride in a limousine?" I queried. Her big red mouth opened so wide with surprise, I thought her jaw was going to drop off. Then she snapped, "None of your nasty lip. You're no lily-arsed lady. Your wouldn't be here if you were!" I quit. I took my pay - a dollar and five cents - and went home. 28 The final shadow had taken another big step towards me. To avoid it, I first had to come closer to it. I didn't care about losing the job, but I was really afraid of that shadow. I knew how to sell myself. Ever since that affair, I understood quite a bit about relations between men and women. A girl had only to relax her hold on herself a little, and the men would sense it and come running. What they wanted was flesh; when they had satisfied their lust, they would feed you and clothe you for a time. Afterwards, they might curse and beat you, and cut off your income. That's the way it is when a girl sells herself. At times she's very content. I've known that feeling myself. It's all sweet love talk for a while; later you become depressed and ache all over. When you sell yourself to one man, at least you get words of love and bliss. But when you're on sale to the general public, you don't even get that. Then you hear lots of words Mama never used. The degree of fear was different too. Though I just couldn't accept the advice of First Hostess, I wasn't quite as afraid of a private affair with one man. Not that I was thinking of selling myself. I had no need of a man - I was less than twenty. I only thought that it might be fun to go around with one. How was I to know that as soon as I went out a few times with a new friend he would demand what I feared the most! It was true I had once abandoned myself to the spring breeze, and let a young man have his will. But later I knew he had taken advantage of my innocence, hypnotized me with his honey words. When I awoke, I realize it was all an empty dream, with nothing to show for it but a few meals and some new clothes. I didn't want to earn my food that way again. Food was a proper practical object that should be earned in a proper practical way. But if that proved impossible, a woman had to admit she was a woman, and sell her flesh. More than a month passed. I still was unable to find a new job. 29 I ran into some of my old classmates. A few had gone on to middle school; some were just living at home. I wasn't much interested in them. Talking with them, I could see that I was cleverer than they. In school, they used to be the smart ones. Now the tables were reversed. They seemed to be living in a world of dreams. All very smartly turned out, they were like merchandise in a store. Their eyes shone when they met a young man and their hearts seemed to melt in a poetic reverie. Those girls made me laugh, but I had to forgive them. Food was no problem to them; it's easy to think of love when your belly is full. Men and women weave nets to ensnare one another. The ones with the most money have the biggest nets. After bagging a few prospects, they leisurely take their pick. I had no money. I couldn't even find a quiet corner to weave my net. But I had to catch someone, or be caught myself. I was clearer on such matters than my ex-classmates, more practical. 30 One day I ran into the doll-faced young wife again. She greeted me as if I were one of her dearest friends, but there was some confusion in her manner. "You're a good person," she stammered, very earnest. "I was sorry later I asked you to let him go. I would have been better off if he stayed with you. Now he's found himself another. He's gone away with her and I haven't seen him since!" Questioning her, I discovered that she and he had married for love. Apparently she still loved him, but he had run off again. I was sorry for the little wife. She was still dreaming; she still believed that love was sacred. I asked her what she was going to do now. She said she had to find him, that they were mated for life. But suppose you can't find him? I asked. She bit her lips. She had parents and in-laws; she was under their control. She envied me my freedom. So someone actually envied me. I wanted to laugh. My freedom - what a joke! She had food, I had freedom. She had no freedom, I had nothing to eat. We both were women , both were frustrated. 31 After meeting the little doll-face, I give up the idea of selling myself to one man. I decided to play around; in other words, I was going to use "romance" to earn my meals. I couldn't be bothered about moral responsibility any more when I was hungry. Romance would cure hunger, just as a full stomach was necessary before you could concentrate on romance. It was a perfect circle, no matter where you started from. I sold my meagre possessions and bought myself a complete new outfit. I didn't look bad at all. Then I entered upon the market. 32 I had imagined I could play at romance, but I was wrong. I didn't know as much about the world as I had thought. Men weren't trapped quite easily. I was after the more cultured types, men I could satisfy with a kiss or two. Ha-ha, they didn't go for that line, not one bit. They wanted to take advantage the very first time we met. What's more, they only invited me to see a movie, or go out for a walk, or have some ice- cream. I still went home hungry. The so-called cultured men never failed to ask what school I graduated from, what business my family was in. It was plain enough - they didn't want you unless you had something to offer. If you couldn't bring them any real gain, the best they were willing to give was ten cents worth of ice- cream in exchange for a kiss. It was strictly a cash on delivery proposition. The doll-faces didn't understand this, but I did. Mama and I both understood. I thought of Mama a lot. 33 They say some girls can earn a living playing at romance. But I just didn't have the capital; I had to drop the idea. For me it had to be straight business. My landlord ordered me to get out. He was a respectable man, he said. I didn't even give him a second glance. I moved back to the small flat where Mama and my first new Papa used to live. This landlord didn't say anything about being respectable. He was much nicer and more honest. Business was very good. The cultured types came too. As soon as they found out I was for sale, they were willing to buy. With this kind of arrangement they got their money's worth, with no reflection on their social status. When I first started I was very scared. I wasn't yet twenty. But after a couple of days I wasn't afraid any more. I could turn them limp as sacks of wet sand. They were pleased and satisfied; they advertised me to their friends. By the end of several months, I knew a lot. I learned to size a man up the first time we met. The rich customer would always inquire about my background, and make it plain that he could afford me. Very jealous, he would always want me all to himself. Even in brothels he wanted to monopolize - because he had money. To that type of man I wasn't very courteous. If he raged I didn't care. I could quiet him down by threatening to go to his wife. Those years at school weren't spent in vain. I didn't scare easily. Education has its advantages. I was convinced of that. Some men would show up with only a dollar in their hands, terrified of being cheated. To this sort, I would explain the terms of our transaction in careful detail. They would then meekly go home and get some more money. It was really a scream. The worst of the lot were the small-time punks. Not only didn't they want to spend any money, but they were always trying to make something on the deal - stealing half a pack of cigarettes, or a small jar of cold cream. It was bad policy to offend these boys - they had connections. Get tough with them, and they put the cops on you. I didn't offend them. I played them along until I got to know an official on the police force, then I finished them off one by one. It's a dog-eat-dog world; the worse you are the better you make out. Most pitiful of all were the young student types, with only a dollar and a handful of small change clinking in their pockets, nervous perspiration standing out on their noses. I pitied them, but I took their money just the same. What else could I do? Then there were the elderly men - all quite respectable, some of them grandfathers. I didn't really know how to treat them. But I knew they had money; they wanted to buy a little happiness before they died. So I gave them what they were after. These experiences taught me to recognize the true nature of money and man. Money is the more powerful of the two. If man is an animal, then money is his gall. 34 I discovered I had caught a disease. It mad me so miserable I wanted to die. I rested, I strolled about the streets. I longed for Mama. She could give me some comfort. I thought of myself as someone who hadn't long to live. I went to the little lane where I had last seen her plying the bellows' lever. But the steamed bread shop had closed down. No one knew where they had moved to. But I persisted, I simply had to find her. For days I roved the streets like a ghost. It was no use. I wondered whether she was dead, or whether the shop had moved to somewhere outside the city, maybe hundreds of miles away. In this gloomy frame of mind, I broke down and cried. I put on my best clothes, made up my face, and lay down on my bed and waited for death. I was sure I wouldn't last long. But I didn't die. There was a knock at the door. Someone had come looking for me. All right, show him in. With all my strength, I gave him a full charge of my infection. I didn't think I was wrong. The fault wasn't mine to begin with. I began to feel a little better. I smoked, I drank, I behaved like an old hand of thirty or forty. There were dark circles under my eyes, my hands were feverish. I didn't care. Money was everything. The idea was to eat your fill first; then you could talk about other things. And I ate not badly at all. Why not have the best! I had to have good food and nice clothing. That was the only way I could do a little justice to myself. 35 One morning as I sat draped in a long gown - it must have been about ten o'clock - I heard some footsteps out in the courtyard. I had just got out of bed. Sometimes I didn't get dressed until noon. I had become very lazy lately. I could sit around like this for an hour, sometimes two, thinking of nothing, not wanting to think of anything either. The footsteps approached my door, softly, slowly. I saw a pair of eyes peering in through the door's small glass panel. After a moment, they vanished. I sat listless, too lazy to move. A few minutes later, the eyes came back again. This time I recognized them. I got up and quietly opened the door. "Ma!" 36 What happened next I can't exactly say. Nor do I remember how long we cried together. Mama had aged terribly. Her husband had gone back to his native village, sneaking away without a word. He didn't leave her a cent. She sold the shop's few implements, gave the store back to the landlord and moved into a cheap room. She had already been searching for me over half a month. Finally, she thought of coming to her old flat, just on the off chance that she might run into me. Sure enough, there I was. She hadn't dared speak to me. If I hadn't called her, perhaps she would have gone away again. When we stopped crying at last, I began to laugh hysterically. What a farce! Mother finds daughter, but daughter is a whore. In order to bring me up, Mama had been forced to become one. Now it was my turn to look after her, so I would have to remain one. This oldest profession is hereditary - a woman's speciality! 37 Though I knew that words of comfort were just empty talk, I was hoping to hear them from Mama's mouth. Mama was always good at fooling people, and I used to take her cajolery as consolation. But now she had forgotten how to do even that. She was scared stiff by hunger, and I didn't blame her. She began checking through my things, questioning me about income and expenses, apparently not the least troubled by the nature of my work. I told her I was sick, hoping she would urge me to rest a few days. Nothing of the sort. She said she'd buy me some medicine. "Are we always going to remain in this business?" I asked her. She didn't answer. Yet, in a way, she really loved me and wanted to protect me. She fed me, looked after my health. She was always stealing glances at me, the way a mother watches a sleeping child. The only thing she wouldn't do for me was tell me to quit my profession. I knew well enough - though I wasn't too pleased about it - that aside from this, there was nothing else I could do. Mama and I had to have food and clothing - that decided everything. Mother and daughter or no, respectable or no, the need for money was merciless. 38 Mama wanted to look after me, but she had to stand by and watch me be ruined. Though I wanted to be good to her, sometimes she was very annoying. She tried to run the whole show - especially where money was concerned. Her eyes had lost their youthful shine, but the sight of money could make them gleam again. She acted like a servant when there were customers around, yet if any man should pay less than the agreed price, she'd curse him and call him every name under the sun. It made things awkward for me. Of course, I was in business for money, but that didn't mean we had to curse people. I knew how to be rude to a customer, but I had my own methods. I brought him around easy. Mama's way was too crude; she offended people. From the point of view of money, that was something we shouldn't do. Maybe I was young and naive. Mama only cared about money, but she had to be that way; she was so much older. Probably in another couple of years I'd be the same. A person's heart ages with the years. Gradually, you get to be hard and stiff - like silver dollars. No, Mama didn't stand on ceremony. If a customer didn't pay in full, she'd keep his brief-case, or his hat, or anything worth a little money like a pair of gloves or a cane. I hated rows, but Mama was right. "We have to make every dollar we can," she said. "In this racket, you age ten years in one. Do you think anybody will want you when you look seventy or eighty?" Sometimes, when a customer got drunk, she'd drag him out to a lonely spot and strip him of everything, right down to his shoes. The funny thing was the man never made a fuss about it afterwards. Maybe he didn't know how it happened, or maybe he caught pneumonia from the exposure. Or maybe, remembering how he got into that state, he was too embarrassed to complain. We didn't care, but some people had a sense of shame. 39 Mama said we age ten years in one, and she was right. After two or three years I could feel that I had changed a lot. My skin grew coarse, my lips were always chapped, my eyes bloodshot. I would get up very late, but I always felt tired. I was aware of these things, and my customers were even less blind to them. Old customers gradually stopped coming around. As to new customers, though I worked still harder to please them, they got on my nerves. Sometimes I couldn't control my temper; I'd rant and rave so, I didn't recognize myself. Talking nonsense became a habit with me. My more cultured customers lost interest because my "charming little love-bird" quality - their favourite poetic phrase - was gone. I had to learn to behave like a street-walker. Only by painting my face like a clown could I attract the uneducated customers. I spread my lipstick on thick, I bit them - then they were happy. I could almost see myself dying. With every dollar I took in, I seemed to come closer to death. Money is supposed to preserve life, but the way I earned it, it had the opposite effect. I could see myself dying; I waited for death. In this state of mind, I didn't want to think of anything. There was no need. I only wanted to live from day to day - that was enough. Mama was the mirror of my coming self. After peddling her flesh for years, all that was left of her was a mass of white hair and a dark wrinkled skin. Such is life. 40 I forced myself to laugh, to act wild. Weeping a few tears would never have washed away my bitterness anyhow. My way of living had no attraction, but it was life after all, and I didn't want to part with it. Besides, what I was doing was not my fault. If death seemed frightening, it was only because I loved life so dearly. I wasn't afraid of the pain of dying - my life was more painful than my death. I loved life, but not the way I was living it. I used to picture an ideal life, and it would be like a dream. But then, as cruel reality again closed in on me, the dream would quickly pass, and I would feel worse than ever. This world is no dream - it's a living hell. Mama could see that I was feeling low, and she would urge me to get married. A husband would give me food, and she could get a cash payment for her old age. I was her only hope. But who would marry me? 41 Because I had known so many men, I forgot completely the meaning of love. I love myself - no, I didn't even love myself any longer. Why should I love anyone else? Still, if I were to marry, I would have to pretend, to say that I loved him, that I was willing to spend the rest of my life with him. And that is what I did say - to several men. I swore it, but none of them wanted to marry me. The rule of money makes men sharp. They were quite willing to have an affair with me. That was much cheaper than going to a brothel. If it didn't cost anything, I guarantee all the men would say they loved me. 42 Just about this time, I was arrested. Our city's new chief of police is a stickler on morals; he wants to clean out all the unregistered brothels. The licensed women can go on doing business, because they pay tax. After my arrest, I was sent to a reformatory where I was taught to work - washing clothes, cooking, knitting. But I already knew how to do all that. If I could have earned a living by any of those methods, I would have quit my own bitter profession long ago. I told that to the people at the reformatory, but they didn't believe me. They said I was a loafer, immoral. They said that if I not only learned to work, but also loved to work, I could become self-supporting, or find a husband. They were very optimistic. I didn't share their confidence. They were very proud of the fact that they had "reformed" about a dozen women and found them husbands. For a two-dollar license fee and a guarantee from a responsible shopkeeper, any man could come to the reformatory and pick a wife. It was a real bargain - for the men. To me it was a joke. I flatly refused to be "reformed". When some big official came down to investigate us, I spat in his face. But they wouldn't let me go. I was a dangerous character. Since they couldn't reform me, they sent me to another place. I went to jail. 43 Jail is a fine place. It convinces you that there's no hope for mankind. Never in my dreams did I imagine any home could be so disgusting. But once I got there, I gave up any idea of ever leaving again. From my own experience, I know that the outside world isn't much of an improvement. I wouldn't want to die here, if I had any better place to go. But I know what it's like outside. Wherever you die, it's all the same. Here, in here, I saw my old friend again - the crescent moon. I hadn't seen it for a long time. I wonder what Mama is doing. That crescent moon brings everything back. (Translated by Sidney Shapiro)