«And then--the day passes and the thunder goes away up on the street. The rain stops. The rain season's over. The tunnels drip and stop. The tide goes down.» She seemed disappointed, sad it was over. «The river runs out to the ocean. The man and woman feel the water leave them slowly to the floor. They settle.» She lowered her hands in little bobblings to her lap, watching them fixedly, longingly. «Their feet lose the life the water has given them from outside. Now the water lays them down, side by side, and drains away, and the tunnels are drying. And there they lie. Up above, in the world, the sun comes out. There they lie, in the darkness, sleeping, until the next time. Until the next rain.»
Her hands were now upon her lap, palms up and open. «Nice man, nice woman,» she murmured. She bowed her head over them and shut her eyes tight.
Suddenly Anna sat up and glared at her sister. «Do you know who the man is?» she shouted, bitterly.
Juliet did not reply; she had watched, stricken, for the past five minutes while this thing went on. Her mouth was twisted and pale. Anna almost screamed:
«The man is Frank, that's who he is! And _I'm_ the woman!»
«Anna!»
«Yes, it's Frank, down there!»
«But Frank's been gone for years, and certainly not down there, Anna!»
Now, Anna was talking to nobody, and to everybody, to Juliet, to the window, the wall, the street. «Poor Frank,» she cried. «I know that's where he went. He couldn't stay anywhere in the world. His mother spoiled him for all the world! So he saw the cistern and saw how secret and fine it was. Oh, poor Frank. And poor Anna, poor me, with only a sister. Oh, Julie, why didn't I hold onto Frank when he was here? Why didn't I fight to win him from his mother?»
«Stop it, this minute, do you hear, this minute!»
Anna slumped down into the corner, by the window, one hand up on it, and wept silently. A few minutes later she heard her sister say, «Are you finished?»
«What?»
«If you're done, come help me finish this, I'll be forever at it.»
Anna raised her head and glided over to her sister. «What do you want me to do?» she sighed.
«This and this,» said Juliet, showing her.
«All right,» said Anna, and took it and sat by the window looking at the rain, moving her hands with the needle and thread, but watching how dark the street was now, and the room, and how hard it was to see the round metal top of the cistern now--there were just little midnight gleams and glitters out there in the black black late afternoon. Lightning crackled over the sky in a web.
Half an hour passed. Juliet drowsed in her chair across the room, removed her glasses, placed them down with her work and for a moment rested her head back and dozed. Perhaps thirty seconds later she heard the front door open violently, heard the wind come in, heard the footsteps run down the walk, turn, and hurry along the black street.
«What?» asked Juliet, sitting up, fumbling for her glasses. «Who's there? Anna, did someone come in the door?» She stared at the empty window seat where Anna had been. «Anna!» she cried. She sprang up and ran out into the hall.
The front door stood open, rain fell through it in a fine mist.
«She's only gone out for a moment,» said Juliet, standing there, trying to peer into the wet blackness. «She'll be right back. Won't you be right back, Anna dear? Anna, answer me, you _will_ be right back, won't you, sister?»
Outside, the cistern lid rose and slammed down.
The rain whispered on the street and fell upon the closed lid all the rest of the night.