The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze by William Saroyan Page A

twig. It struck at the twig several timesand then became too tired to bother with it. He drew away the twig, and heard the snake say, Thank you.
    He began to whistle to the snake, to see if the music would have any effect on its movements, if it would make the snake dance. You are my only love, he whistled; Schubert made into a New York musical comedy;
my only love, my only love;
but the snake would not dance. Something Italian perhaps, he thought, and began to sing
la donna e mobile
, intentionally mispronouncing the words in order to amuse himself. He tried a Brahms lullaby, but the music had no effect on the snake. It was tired. It was frightened. It wanted to get away.
    He was amazed at himself suddenly; it had occurred to him to let the snake flee, to let it glide away and be lost in the lowly worlds of its kind. Why should he allow it to escape?
    He lifted a heavy boulder from the ground and thought: Now I shall bash your head with this rock and see you die.
    To destroy that evil grace, to mangle that sinful loveliness.
    But it was very strange. He could not let the rock fall on the snake’s head, and he began suddenly to feel very sorry for it. I am sorry, he said, dropping the boulder. I beg your pardon. I see now that I have only love for you.
    And he wanted to touch the snake with his hands, to hold it and understand the truth of its touch. But it was difficult. The snake was frightened and each time he extended his hands to touch it, the snake turned on him and charged. I have only love for you,he said. Do not be afraid. I am not going to hurt you.
    Then, swiftly, he lifted the snake from the earth, learned the true feel of it, and dropped it. There, he said. Now I know the truth. A snake is cold, but it is clean. It is not slimy, as I thought.
    He smiled upon the little brown snake. You may go now, he said. The inquisition is over. You are yet alive. You have been in the presence of man, and you are yet alive. You may go now.
    But the snake would not go away. It was exhausted with fear.
    He felt deeply ashamed of what he had done, and angry with himself. Jesus, he thought, I have scared the little snake. It will never get over this. It will always remember me squatting over it.
    For God’s sake, he said to the snake, go away. Return to your kind. Tell them what you saw, you yourself, with your own eyes. Tell them what you felt. The sickly heat of the hand of man. Tell them of the presence you felt.
    Suddenly the snake turned from him and spilled itself forward, away from him. Thank you, he said. And it made him laugh with joy to see the little snake throwing itself into the grass and leaves, thrusting itself away from man. Splendid, he said; hurry to them and say that you were in the presence of man and that you were not killed. Think of all the snakes that live and die without ever meeting man. Think of the distinction it will mean for you.
    It seemed to him that the little snake’s movements away from him were the essence of joyous laughter,and he felt greatly pleased. He found his way back to the path, and continued his walk.
    In the evening, while she sat at the piano, playing softly, he said: A funny thing happened.
    She went on playing. A funny thing? she asked.
    Yes, he said. I was walking through the park and I saw a little brown snake.
    She stopped playing and turned on the bench to look at him. A snake? she said. How ugly!
    No, he said. It was beautiful.
    What about it?
    Oh, nothing, he said. I just caught it and wouldn’t let it go for a while.
    But why?
    For no good reason at all, he said.
    She walked across the room and sat beside him, looking at him strangely.
    Tell me about the snake, she said.
    It was lovely, he said. Not ugly at all. When I touched it, I felt its cleanliness.
    I am so glad, she said. What else?
    I wanted to kill the snake, he said. But I couldn’t. It was too lovely.
    I’m so glad, she said. But tell me everything.
    That’s all, he said.
    But it isn’t, she said. I know it