But these regions of the lower world cannot be traversed with impunity by the first corner. Monsalvat did not know the ways of these circles; and he experienced annoyances, insults, all manner of humiliation. In some houses they demanded money. In one he was robbed. On more than one occasion he failed to gain admission and was bespattered with gross words from within the fast-locked doors; and all the while he suffered for these unhappy inmates as well as for himself, and came out from his exploration of the dark wood of evil, his heart bleeding, his soul aching, and his brain confused and exhausted.
Everything was useless! Nowhere was there trace of Nacha. Time and hope were passing, and Monsalvat began to have periods of doubt. Perhaps he would not find Nacha; perhaps he had not found himself! In moments of weakness he regretted the comparative happiness of his former life. He began to believe himself defeated, and fell into profound discouragement.
He tried to forget; he planned several articles; he thought again of his proposed remodelling of the tenement building, held in check by the obstinacy of his tenants. Poor creatures! Exploited for centuries, their grand-parents, their parents, they themselves, knew nothing else; how could they then sense his good intentions? Their whole experience prevented it. They could not help believing that his plans concealed a new form of exploitation; and they considered his request for them to move as an infringement on their rights. They were now protesting angrily against the regulations of the new superintendent who was trying to make his tenants observe a few elementary practices of public hygiene. Monsalvat was anxious to have the work begun; for the sum lent him by the bank was in danger of disappearing what with his constant charities to people who really needed aid, and to those who imposed upon his good faith and sympathy.
One afternoon in November he went to the tenement house. In its over-shadowed courtyard hungry, ragged children were running about; a few women waiting for a husband or a daughter to come home, sat paring vegetables, while someone at the back of the house played an accordion. The yard was littered with boxes, boards, baskets, broken flower-pots, and all sorts of articles. At sight of Monsalvat, the children began rushing from one end of the house to the other yelling that the landlord had come. One might have thought from their mother's expressions that they were announcing an enemy.
The court was soon full of people, for many of the tenants were home from work at that hour. Monsalvat noticed a girl, rather well dressed, and wearing a large hat, who drew near to one of the groups as he began speaking:
"You showed me a little while ago that you did not trust me; and when I thought it over, I decided you did right, for I hadn't talked to you sincerely, although I tried to. But I didn't know how to tell you what is so simple after all; and it is that I can't help thinking of you all as my brothers, because you are my brothers; and I want to free you from needless suffering. I'm not much. I can't do a great deal for you. I can't even give you this house because it's mortgaged; but it's mortgaged so that you can have air and light and sanitary conditions, so that you can live like human beings. All the money raised on this house will be spent on it to make it a good house to live in. Then you will come back to it and you will pay me very little rent, less than you pay now. All I want from you is enough to pay the interest on the mortgage. I could sell this house and rent another; but I cannot have you herded together like cattle! Please don't doubt me. I am not your enemy, I am your friend...."
But they did not understand. "He's some joker," a sharp voice exclaimed. Someone else invited him to shut up and go away. That struck the crowd as humorous and there were bursts of laughter. The children, no longer scared, clapped and shouted. A creole, who was a typesetter and an anarchist, was about to make a speech in behalf of those who refused to accept the plan, when there was a sudden commotion.
"There's that street-walker turned traitor!" yelled one of the women shaking her fist at the girl Monsalvat had noticed.
Everyone turned on her, insulting her and threatening her. The girl defended herself vigorously; until suddenly she began to cry. This pacified the tenants. Only the women scoffed at her tears, not believing that one such as she could really weep. They would have liked to scratch her and tear out her hair in vengeance for her hats and dresses which seemed so fine to them. How ironical that this girl should be the only one of his audience to try to defend Monsalvat, and to insist that the plan he proposed was to everyone's advantage!
Earlier in his career Monsalvat would have been amazed that of all these people, a good sort after all, no one but this girl should understand him! But now it seemed to him quite natural. He had learned that girls such as she know the full meaning of suffering; and he knew now that grief was the school for kindness and understanding. Moreover, a girl of this profession, even though born into the laboring class, does not belong to it. Through her dealings with the rich, she acquires the ways of the rich and she learns to understand these ways. In addition her experience of men teaches her that, if some of them are possessed of perversity and cruelty hard to conceive of, others have an equally unbelievable kindness of heart.