aw　it　that　day；　those　men　…　they　saw　what　sometimes　grins　behind　the　smile。

Sitting　on　the　riverbank　in　a　faded；　bloodstained　jumper　was　the　biggest　man　any　of　them　had　ever　seen　…　John　Coffey。　His　enormous；　splay…toed　feet　were　bare。　On　his　head　he　wore　a　faded　red　bandanna；　the　way　a　country　woman　would　wear　a　kerchief　into　church。　Gnats　circled　him　in　a　black　cloud。　Curled　in　each　arm　was　the　body　of　a　naked　girl。　Their　blonde　hair；　once　curly　and　light　as　milkweed　fluff；　was　now　matted　to　their　heads　and　streaked　red。　The　man　holding　them　sat　bawling　up　at　the　sky　like　a　moonstruck　calf；　his　dark　brown　cheeks　slicked　with　tears；　his　face　twisted　in　a　monstrous　cramp　of　grief　He　drew　breath　in　hitches；　his　chest　rising　until　the　snaps　holding　the　straps　of　his　jumper　were　strained；　and　then　let　that　vast　catch　of　air　out　in　another　of　those　howls。　So　often　you　read　in　the　paper　that　〃the　killer　showed　no　remorse；〃　but　that　wasn't　the　case　here。　John　Coffey　was　torn　open　by　what　he　had　done　。。。　but　he　would　live。　The　girls　would　not。　They　had　been　torn　open　in　a　more　fundamental　way。

No　one　seemed　to　know　how　long　they　stood　there；　looking　at　the　howling　man　who　was；　in　his　turn；　looking　across　the　great　still　plate　of　the　river　at　a　train　on　the　other　side；　storming　down　the　tracks　toward　the　trestle　that　crossed　the　river。　It　seemed　they　looked　for　an　hour　or　for　forever；　and　yet　the　train　got　no　farther　along；　it　seemed　to　storm　only　in　one　place；　like