Part 9 (2/2)
”_Oui_,” ventured she, dubiously, the lightning playing deep back in her eyes.
”You might be robbed,” said Frowenfeld. ”It is very dangerous for you to be out alone. It will not be long, now, until gun-fire.” (Eight o'clock P.M.--the gun to warn slaves to be in-doors, under pain of arrest and imprisonment.)
The object of this solicitude shook her head with a smile at its gratuitousness. The smile showed determination also.
”_Mo pas compren_',” she said.
”Tell the lady to send for it to-morrow.”
She smiled helplessly and somewhat vexedly, shrugged and again shook her head. As she did so she heard footsteps and voices in the door at her back.
”_C'est ca_” she said again with a hurried attempt at extreme amiability; ”Dat it; _oui_;” and lifting her hand with some rapidity made a sudden eager reach for the purse, but failed.
”No!” said Frowenfeld, indignantly.
”h.e.l.lo!” said Charlie Keene amusedly, as he approached from the door.
The woman turned, and in one or two rapid sentences in the Creole dialect offered her explanation.
”Give her the purse, Joe; I will answer for its being all right.”
Frowenfeld handed it to her. She started to pa.s.s through the door in the rue Royale by which Doctor Keene had entered; but on seeing on its threshold Agricola frowning upon her, she turned quickly with evident trepidation, and hurried out into the darkness of the other street.
Agricola entered. Doctor Keene looked about the shop.
”I tell you, Agricole, you didn't have it with you; Frowenfeld, you haven't seen a big knotted walking-stick?”
Frowenfeld was sure no walking-stick had been left there.
”Oh, yes, Frowenfeld,” said Doctor Keene, with a little laugh, as the three sat down, ”I'd a'most as soon trust that woman as if she was white.”
The apothecary said nothing.
”How free,” said Agricola, beginning with a meditative gaze at the sky without, and ending with a philosopher's smile upon his two companions,--”how free we people are from prejudice against the negro!”
”The white people,” said Frowenfeld, half abstractedly, half inquiringly.
”H-my young friend, when we say, 'we people,' we _always_ mean we white people. The non-mention of color always implies pure white; and whatever is not pure white is to all intents and purposes pure black. When I say the 'whole community,' I mean the whole white portion; when I speak of the 'undivided public sentiment,' I mean the sentiment of the white population. What else could I mean? Could you suppose, sir, the expression which you may have heard me use--'my downtrodden country'--includes blacks and mulattoes? What is that up yonder in the sky? The moon. The new moon, or the old moon, or the moon in her third quarter, but always the moon! Which part of it? Why, the s.h.i.+ning part--the white part, always and only! Not that there is a prejudice against the negro. By no means. Wherever he can be of any service in a strictly menial capacity we kindly and generously tolerate his presence.”
Was the immigrant growing wise, or weak, that he remained silent?
Agricola rose as he concluded and said he would go home. Doctor Keene gave him his hand lazily, without rising.
”Frowenfeld,” he said, with a smile and in an undertone, as Agricola's footsteps died away, ”don't you know who that woman is?”
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