"I won't give up to it, I won't!" he declared. And he earnestly tried to overcome it.
He arose from his desk, and, despite the fact that his knees trembled and his whole frame quivered, he went into the street. He felt a mad desire to see this city, although he had been seeing it every day. So, to the wide street he went, and boarded a car that took him around a belt. It brought him back to where he had entered, and the route was twelve miles long. It led him through the district where he canvassed, and which was occupied by the richest. He saw their magnificent homes this time, strangely. At times his eyes would close, despite his effort to keep them open. And then, when he awoke, it was with a nervous start, and he was surprised each time, to find himself aboard the large cars that thundered along between rows of the finest houses in the city.
He could not interest himself in them now; they appeared dull and without life. The car came down, and went through the business district before it came back again into the wide street. He got off, and almost fell in doing so. He stood for a time, at a loss to control himself. He wouldn't go to bed, that was sure; but where to go, he could not think for a time. Then it occurred to him to see that place—that place where a thousand and more women, vandals, were hurrying life to its end.
So he walked in that direction, reeling at times, until some regarded him as if he were drunk. He passed down a street that was called Bienville. In that neighborhood it was the broad highway. And it was crowded. It was then about nine o'clock, and the sidewalks were filled. The girls were merry—they were always merry, apparently.... They called to him as before, that is, a part of them. The others—well, the color line was drawn here too, and white men came first.
"Hello, Brown Skin," smiled one he had not seen before, and winked. He regarded her for a moment strangely. She took it as an evidence of encouragement. She beckoned to him vigorously, and promised so very much. He turned, and before him rose one of the ghostly, silent places—the cemetery. It aroused him, for a time, from his apparent lethargy. He looked at it, and thought how strange it was this city had so many. And they were always silent—waiting, waiting, waiting.
He shuddered and moved away from it, and in a direction that he had not been. On all sides the girls were gay that night. He went around a block, ignoring invitations. His brain was clear for awhile, and he thought: "Who located such a place?" A place where each day someone died and went to hell! But, as he thought the more, he concluded that dying was not necessary. It was a living death....
"Come in, Brown Skin, not a man has been here tonight." He looked up, and in the doorway stood a woman. She was tall and slender, and brown. She smiled with an effort, he could see, for, in truth, the woman was hungry.
"I'm hungry," she faltered, "and that's on the square. The landlord took every dime I made last night, for rent this morning. Not a bite have I eaten this day. Every day he calls early for his rent. Business is rotten—everybody's broke; but he must have his rent, or out into the street I go." She paused and looked tired, and then went on: "I'm so weak. I'd slip out of this hell hole, and try to make an honest living, but I have no clothes, and besides, I'm afraid that while I was gone, he might come along and turn the lock, and carry the key with him. And too, the bulls are filling the streets tonight, and fly cops are everywhere. So I might be arrested, and go t' jail. I don't like that place up there." And she sighed a long drawn, weary sigh.
"Why would you be arrested?" he inquired, speaking for the first time.
"Why would I be arrested?" she exclaimed. "You must not know the rules of this district," she cried. "Why, we are not allowed to leave it. When we enter this, we agree to stay!"