Of course the “Quality” at the Big House did not know of the plotting that had been going on, or of the fearful duel that had ended it. They were not the privileged beings of the earth, and so they only knew it was with pale brow and downcast eyes that Marse Charles came to say farewell, and that Marse Beverly Baillie clapped him on the shoulder, like the good soul that he was, by way of comfort—
“To think my minx Demetria should flirt you!” cried Marse Beverly; “for she marries Avery in the fall. But cheer up, lad, cheer up! there ’re as good fish yet to catch as ever have been caught.”
ASMODEUS IN THE QUARTERS
Mammy did not tell this story very often; it was held in reserve as an especial reward. Whether it was of African origin, and by one of those strange coincidences bore a resemblance to the classic, or was a garbled negro version of it, is lost in conjecture; but certain it is, that almost within ear-shot of a doting but unknowing mother, many a childish ambition has been fired “ter rise wid Satan.”
And this is the way Mammy told it to the little night-gowned cherubs whom she wanted to get to sleep:
“Shadrach were de very ol’es’ nigger on de place; he ’lowed he were er hundud an’ fifty, an’ I reckon he were, ’case he back were doubled up twel he wa’n’t no tallerer ’n Charlie dar; he face were es black an’ es wrinkledy es er warnut, he hair were es white es cotton, an’ de long white beard kim ’mos’ ter he knees, dat tu’n in kinder bow-legged when he walk.
“He so ole he hain’t fitten ter work none, but he hab er little couterin’ roun’ ter do ever’day, lack feedin’ de tuckies, shuckin’ corn, er makin’ nets, er sumpen, ’case he ’Ole Miss’ ’low dat Satan sho gwine fin’ some debilment fur idle han’s ter do, an’ she plum right.
“Shadrach hab plenty er clo’es, plenty ter eat, plenty er ’baccy ter chaw an’ ter smoke, an’ er good warm cabin; but he ain’ happy yit, ’case hit ’pear lack de debil gib us sumpen ter hone fur, no matter what we got. Shadrach des wanter know ever’thing dat happin; but he des es deef es er pos’, an’ dey hain’t nobody wanter tell him no secrets, ’case if yo’ gotter holler hit all ober de place, hit no secret ertall; so he go erbout putty nigh all de time wid one han’ up ter he year. I reckon hit were mighty painful ter ’im, but ever’body oughter min’ dey own business, specuil if dey cain’t hear good.
“But hit go mighty hard wid Shadrach, ’case he git deefer an’ deefer, an’ cuissomer an’ cuissomer; an’ when he do hear ’em he git ’em so cross-eyed ’mos’ all de time, ’case he hear so bad, dat he git inter er heap er trouble, fur dey ’low dat Shadrach were er power ter talk.
