Chapter III: Act ONE: Scene Three

SCENE—_The same corner five years later. Nothing has changed much. It
is a night in Spring. The arc-lamp discovers faces with a
favorless cruelty. The street noises are the same but more
intermittent and dulled with a quality of fatigue. Two people
pass, one black and one white. They are tired. They both yawn, but
neither laughs. There is no laughter from the two streets. From
the street of the whites the tenor, more nasal than ever and a bit
drunken, wails in high barber-shop falsetto the last half of the
chorus of “When I Lost You.” The Negro voice, a bit maudlin in
turn, replies with the last half of “Waitin’ for the Robert E.
Lee.” Silence._ SHORTY _enters. He looks tougher than ever, the
typical gangster. He stands waiting, singing a bit drunkenly,
peering down the street._

SHORTY—[_Indignantly._] Yuh bum! Ain’t yuh ever comin’? [_He begins to sing: “And sewed up in her yeller kimona, She had a blue-barreled forty-five gun, For to get her man Who’d done her wrong.” Then he comments scornfully._] Not her, dough! No gat for her. She ain’t got de noive. A little sugar. Dat’ll fix her. [ELLA _enters. She is dressed poorly, her face is pale and hollow-eyed, her voice cold and tired._]

SHORTY—Yuh got de message?

ELLA—Here I am.

SHORTY—How yuh been?

ELLA—All right. [_A pause. He looks at her puzzledly._]

SHORTY—[_A bit embarrassedly._] Well, I s’pose yuh’d like me to give yuh some dope on Mickey, huh?

ELLA—No.

SHORTY—Mean to say yuh don’t wanter know where he is or what he’s doin’?

ELLA—No.

SHORTY—Since when?

ELLA—A long time.

SHORTY—[_After a pause—with a rat-like viciousness._] Between you’n me, kid, you’ll get even soon—you’n all de odder dames he’s tossed. I’m on de inside. I’ve watched him trainin’. His next scrap, watch it! He’ll go! It won’t be de odder guy. It’ll be all youse dames he’s kidded—and de ones what’s kidded him. Youse’ll all be in de odder guy’s corner. He won’t need no odder seconds. Youse’ll trow water on him, and sponge his face, and take de kinks out of his socker—and Mickey’ll catch it on de button—and he won’t be able to take it no more—‘cause all your weight—you and de odders—’ll be behind dat punch. Ha ha! [_He laughs an evil laugh._] And Mickey’ll go—down to his knees first—[_He sinks to his knees in the attitude of a groggy boxer._]

ELLA—I’d like to see him on his knees!

SHORTY—And den—flat on his pan—dead to de world—de boidies singin’ in de trees—ten—out! [_He suits his action to the words, sinking flat on the pavement, then rises and laughs the same evil laugh._]

ELLA—He’s been out—for me—a long time. [_A pause._] Why did you send for me?

SHORTY—He sent me.

ELLA—Why?

SHORTY—To slip you this wad o’ dough. [_He reluctantly takes a roll of bills from his pocket and holds it out to her._]

ELLA—[_Looks at the money indifferently._] What for?

SHORTY—For you.

ELLA—No.

SHORTY—For de kid den.

ELLA—The kid’s dead. He took diphtheria.

SHORTY—Hell yuh say! When?

ELLA—A long time.

SHORTY—Why didn’t you write Mickey——?

ELLA—Why should I? He’d only be glad.

SHORTY—[_After a pause._] Well—it’s better.

ELLA—Yes.

SHORTY—You made up wit yer family?

ELLA—No chance.

SHORTY—Livin’ alone?

ELLA—In Brooklyn.

SHORTY—Workin’?

ELLA—In a factory.

SHORTY—You’re a sucker. There’s lots of softer snaps fer you, kid——

ELLA—I know what you mean. No.

SHORTY—Don’t yuh wanter step out no more—have fun—live?

ELLA—I’m through.

SHORTY—[_Mockingly._] Jump in de river, huh? T’ink it over, baby. I kin start yuh right in my stable. No one’ll bodder yuh den. I got influence.

ELLA—[_Without emphasis._] You’re a dirty dog. Why doesn’t someone kill you?

SHORTY—Is dat so! What’re you? They say you been travelin’ round with Jim Crow.

ELLA—He’s been my only friend.

SHORTY—A nigger!

ELLA—The only white man in the world! Kind and white. You’re all black—black to the heart.

SHORTY—Nigger-lover! [_He throws the money in her face. It falls to the street._] Listen, you! Mickey says he’s off of yuh for keeps. Dis is de finish! Dat’s what he sent me to tell you. [_Glances at her searchingly—a pause._] Yuh won’t make no trouble?

ELLA—Why should I? He’s free. The kid’s dead. I’m free. No hard feelings—only—I’ll be there in spirit at his next fight, tell him! I’ll take your tip—the other corner—second the punch—nine—ten—out! He’s free! That’s all. [_She grins horribly at_ SHORTY.] Go away, Shorty.

SHORTY—[_Looking at her and shaking his head—maudlinly._] Groggy! Groggy! We’re all groggy! Gluttons for punishment! Me for a drink. So long. [_He goes. A Salvation Army band comes toward the corner. They are playing and singing “Till We Meet at Jesus’ Feet.” They reach the end as they enter and stop before_ ELLA. THE CAPTAIN _steps forward_.]

CAPTAIN—Sister——

ELLA—[_Picks up the money and drops it in his hat—mockingly._] Here. Go save yourself. Leave me alone.

A WOMAN SALVATIONIST—Sister——-

ELLA—Never mind that. I’m not in your line—yet. [_As they hesitate, wonderingly._] I want to be alone. [_To the thud of the big drum they march off._ ELLA _sits down on a box, her hands hanging at her sides. Presently_ JIM HARRIS _comes in. He has grown into a quietly-dressed, studious-looking Negro with an intelligent yet queerly-baffled face._]

JIM—[_With a joyous but bewildered cry._] Ella! I just saw Shorty——

ELLA—[_Smiling at him with frank affection._] He had a message from Mickey.

JIM—[_Sadly._] Ah!

ELLA—[_Pointing to the box behind her._] Sit down. [_He does so. A pause—then she says indifferently._] It’s finished. I’m free, Jim.

JIM—[_Wearily._] We’re never free—except to do what we have to do.

ELLA—What are you getting gloomy about all of a sudden?

JIM—I’ve got the report from the school. I’ve flunked again.

ELLA—Poor Jim.

JIM—Don’t pity me. I’d like to kick myself all over the block. Five years—and I’m still plugging away where I ought to have been at the end of two.

ELLA—Why don’t you give it up?

JIM—No!

ELLA—After all, what’s being a lawyer?

JIM—A lot—to me—what it means. [_Intensely._] Why, if I was a Member of the Bar right now, Ella, I believe I’d almost have the courage to——

ELLA—What?

JIM—Nothing. [_After a pause—gropingly._] I can’t explain—just—but it hurts like fire. It brands me in my pride. I swear I know more’n any member of my class. I ought to, I study harder. I work like the devil. It’s all in my head—all fine and correct to a T. Then when I’m called on—I stand up—all the white faces looking at me—and I can feel their eyes—I hear my own voice sounding funny, trembling—and all of a sudden it’s all gone in my head—there’s nothing remembered—and I hear myself stuttering—and give up—sit down—— They don’t laugh, hardly ever. They’re kind. They’re good people. [_In a frenzy._] They’re considerate, damn them! But I feel branded!

ELLA—Poor Jim.

JIM—[_Going on painfully._] And it’s the same thing in the written exams. For weeks before I study all night. I can’t sleep anyway. I learn it all, I see it, I understand it. Then they give me the paper in the exam room. I look it over, I know each answer—perfectly. I take up my pen. On all sides are white men starting to write. They’re so sure—even the ones that I know know nothing. But I know it all—but I can’t remember any more—it fades—it goes—it’s gone. There’s a blank in my head—stupidity—I sit like a fool fighting to remember a little bit here, a little bit there—not enough to pass—not enough for anything—when I know it all!

ELLA—[_Compassionately._] Jim. It isn’t worth it. You don’t need to——

JIM—I need it more than anyone ever needed anything. I need it to live.

ELLA—What’ll it prove?

JIM—Nothing at all much—but everything to me.

ELLA—You’re so much better than they are in every other way.

JIM—[_Looking up at her._] Then—you understand?

ELLA—Of course. [_Affectionately._] Don’t I know how fine you’ve been to me! You’ve been the only one in the world who’s stood by me—the only understanding person—and all after the rotten way I used to treat you.

JIM—But before that—way back so high—you treated me good. [_He smiles._]

ELLA—You’ve been white to me, Jim. [_She takes his hand._]

JIM—White—to you!

ELLA—Yes.

JIM—All love is white. I’ve always loved you. [_This with the deepest humility._]

ELLA—Even now—after all that’s happened!

JIM—Always.

ELLA—I like you, Jim—better than anyone else in the world.

JIM—That’s more than enough, more than I ever hoped for. [_The organ grinder comes to the corner. He plays the chorus of “Annie Laurie.” They sit listening, hand in hand._] Would you ever want to marry me, Ella?

ELLA—Yes, Jim.

JIM—[_As if this quick consent alarmed him._] No, no, don’t answer now. Wait! Turn it over in your mind! Think what it means to you! Consider it—over and over again! I’m in no hurry, Ella. I can wait months—years——

ELLA—I’m alone. I’ve got to be helped. I’ve got to help someone—or it’s the end—one end or another.

JIM—[_Eagerly._] Oh, I’ll help—I know I can help—I’ll give my life to help you—that’s what I’ve been living for——

ELLA—But can I help you? Can I help you?

JIM—Yes! Yes! We’ll go abroad where a man is a man—where it don’t make that difference—where people are kind and wise to see the soul under skins. I don’t ask you to love me—I don’t dare to hope nothing like that! I don’t want nothing—only to wait—to know you like me—to be near you—to keep harm away—to make up for the past—to never let you suffer any more—to serve you—to lie at your feet like a dog that loves you—to kneel by your bed like a nurse that watches over you sleeping—to preserve and protect and shield you from evil and sorrow—to give my life and my blood and all the strength that’s in me to give you peace and joy—to become your slave!—yes, be your slave—your black slave that adores you as sacred! [_He has sunk to his knees. In a frenzy of self-abnegation, as he says the last words he beats his head on the flagstones._]

ELLA—[_Overcome and alarmed._] Jim! Jim! You’re crazy! I want to help you, Jim—I want to help——

[_The Curtain Falls_]