pare; perhaps that was why what would have been merely plumpness in another was obesity in her. She looked bloated, like a body long submerged in motionless water, and of that pallid hue. Her eyes, lost in the fatty ridges of her face, looked like two small pieces of coal pressed into a lump of dough as they moved from one face to another while the visitors stated their errand.
7 She did not ask them to sit. She just stood in the door and listened quietly until the spokesman came to a stumbling halt. Then they could hear the invisible watch ticking at the end of the gold chain.
8 Her voice was dry and cold. “I have no taxes in Jefferson. Colonel Sartoris explained it to me. Perhaps one of you can gain access to the city records and satisfy yourselves.”
9 “But we have. We are the city authorities, Miss Emily. Didn’t you get a notice from the sheriff, signed by him?”
10 “I received a paper, yes," Miss Emily said. "Perhaps he considers himself the sheriff . . . I have no taxes in Jefferson.”
11 “But there is nothing on the books to show that, you see. We must go by the—”
12 “See Colonel Sartoris. I have no taxes in Jefferson.”
13 “But, Miss Emily—”
14 “See Colonel Sartoris.” (Colonel Sartoris had been dead almost ten years.) “I have no taxes in Jefferson. Tobe!” The Negro appeared. “Show these gentlemen out.”
II
15 So she vanquished them, horse and foot, just as she had vanquished their fathers thirty years before about the smell. That was two years after her father’s death and a short time after her sweetheart—the one we believed would marry her—had deserted her. After her father’s death she went out very little; after her sweetheart went away, people hardly saw her at all. A few of the ladies had the temerity to call, but were not received, and the only sign of life about the place was the Negro man—a young man then—going in and out with a market basket.
16 “Just as if a man—any man—could keep a kitchen properly,” the ladies said; so they were not surprised when the smell developed. It was another link between the gross, teeming world and the high and mighty Griersons.
17 A neighbor, a woman, complained to the mayor, Judge Stevens, eighty years old.
18 “But what will you have me do about it, madam?” he said.
19 “Why, send her word to stop it,” the woman said. “Isn't there a law?”
20 “I'm sure that won’t be necessary,” Judge Stevens said. “It's probably just a snake or a rat that nigger of hers killed in the yard. I'll speak to him about it.”
21 The next day he received two more complaints, one from a man who came in diffident deprecation. “We really must do something about it, Judge. I'd be the last one in the world to bother Miss Emily, but we’ve got to do something.” That night the Board of Aldermen met--three graybeards and one younger man, a member of the rising generation.
22 “It’s simple enough,” he said. “Send her word to have her place cleaned up. Give her a certain time to do it in, and if she don’t . . .”
23 “Dammit, sir,” Judge Stevens said, “will you accuse a lady to her face of smelling bad?”
24 So the next night, after midnight, four men crossed Miss Emily's lawn and slunk about the house like burglars, sniff
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