Seating himself before the window, Reuben unfolded the evening paper to the locals and was about to begin reading aloud when Hernando seized the paper and flung it from him. But this mood did not last long and then a demon took possession of him. What right had that black man to dictate terms to him, what was the awful occult power which enabled him to read the very thought of one’s inmost soul and wield that power with such unerring certainty! He clenched his fists until the nails cut into the flesh but words refused to come. His good angel seemed to desert him. Striding across the room, he stood before Reuben, twitching with passion. “Speak! say something, anything or I’ll go mad!” he said hoarsely.
“Dere aint nuthin’ to say, Massa.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Then I will!”
“De good Lawd won’t let yo’, Massa. He allers take ca’e o’ His chillen.”
“He does, does He?” Hernando sneered.
“O Thou, who man of baser earth did’st make,
“And ev’n with Paradise devise the snake,
“For all the sins with which the face of man is black’ned