Regaining his feet, he makes
indelicate advances towards the female servant, who, nearly pale
with fright--a negro can look pale--runs to her mistress at the top
of the stairs.
He misses the frightened maid, and seats himself on the lowest step
of the stairs. Here he delivers a sort of half-musical soliloquy,
like the following: "Gentlemen! this kind a' thing only happens at
times, and isn't just the square thing when yer straight; but--seein'
how southern life will be so--when a body get's crooked what's got a
wife what don't look to matters and things, and never comes to take
care on a body when he's done gone, he better shut up shop. Better
be lookin' round to see what he can scare up!"
Franconia holds the flaring light over the stairs: pale and
death-like, she trembles with fear, every moment expecting to see
them ascend.
"I see the colonel's 'oman! yander she is; she what was imposed on
him to save the poverty of her folks. The M'Carstrows know a thing
or two: her folks may crawl under the dignity of the name, but they
don't shell under the dignity of the money-they don't!" says a
stalwart companion, attempting to gain a position by the side of his
fellow on the steps. He gives a leering wink, contorts his face into
a dozen grimaces, stares vacantly round the hall (sliding himself
along on his hands and knees), his glassy eyes inflamed like balls
of fire. "It'll be all square soon," he growls out.
The poor affrighted servant again attempts-having descended the
stairs-to relieve her master; but the crawling creature has regained
his feet.
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