The Conjure Woman Charles W. Chesnutt (best fiction novels .TXT) đ
- Author: Charles W. Chesnutt
Book online «The Conjure Woman Charles W. Chesnutt (best fiction novels .TXT) đ». Author Charles W. Chesnutt
âPoâ Ben wuz so âsturbed in his minâ dat he couldnâ hahdly eat any clay dat day. He couldnâ make out wâat wuz de matter wid Dasdy but he âlowed maybe sheâd heared he wuz dead er sumpânâ, anâ thought he wuz a haânt, anâ dat wuz wây she had run away. So he watchâ by de side er de road, anâ nexâ morninâ who should come erlong but little Pete, wid a reed over his shoulder, anâ a goâd-full er bait, gwine fishinâ in de crick.
âBen called âim; âPete, O Pete! Little Pete.â
âLittle Pete cocked up his ears anâ listened. âPeared lak heâd heared dat voice befoâ. He stahted fer de woods fer ter see who it wuz callinâ âim, but befoâ he got dere Ben stepped out anâ retched fer im.
âââCome heah, honey, anâ see yoâ daddy, who ainâ seenyer fer so long.â
âBut little Pete tuk one look at âim, anâ den âmenceter holler an squeal anâ kick anâ bite anâ scratch. Ben wuz so âstonishâ dat he couldnâ holâ de boy, who slipped outân his hanâs an run toâds de house ez fasâ ez his legs would tote âim.
âPoâ Ben kepâ gittinâ wus anâ wus mixed up. He couldnâ make out fer de life er âim wâat could be de matter. Nobody didnâ âpear ter wanter own âim. He felt so casâ down dat he didnâ notice a nigger man cominâ long de road âtil he got right close up on âim, anâ didnâ heah dis man wâen he said âHoddyâ ter âim.
âââWatâs de matter wid yer?â said de yuther man wâen Ben didnâ âsponâ. âWat jedge er member er de legislater er hotelkeeper does you bâlong ter dat you canât speak ter a man wâen he says hoddy ter yer?â
âBen kinder come ter hisseâf anâ seed it wuz Primus, who bâlong ter his marster anâ knowed âim as well as anybody. But befoâ he could git de words outân his mouf Primus went on talkinâ.
âââYouer de mosâ misâable lookinâ merlatter I eber seed. Dem rags look lak dey beân run thâoo a sawmill. My marster doan âlow no strange niggers rounâ dis yer plantation, anâ yoâ better take yoâ yaller hide âway fâum yer as fasâ as yoâ kin.â
âJes den somebody hollered on de yuther side er de crick, anâ Primus stahted off on a run, so Ben didnâ hab no chance ter say no moâ ter âim.
âBen almosâ âlowed he wuz gwine outânâ his minâ, he wuz so âstonished anâ mazed at none er dese yer folks recoânizinâ âim. He went back in de woods agâin anâ stayed dere all day, wondârinâ wâat he wuz gwineter do. Oncet er twicet he seed folks cominâ âlong de road, anâ stahted out ter speak ter âem, but changed his minâ anâ slipâ back agâin.
âCoâse ef Mars Marrabo had been huntinâ Ben he would âaâ founâ âim. But he had long sence losâ all hope er seeinâ im agâin, anâ so nobody didnâ âsturb Ben in de woods. He stayed hid a day er two moâ anâ den he got so lonesome anâ homesick fer Dasdy anâ little Pete anâ de yuther dahkiesâ âsomebody ter talk terâ âdat he jesâ made up his minâ ter go right up ter de house anâ gib hisseâf up anâ take his medâcine. Mars Marrabo couldnâ do nuffinâ moâ dân kill âim anâ he moughtâs well be dead as hidinâ in de woods wid nobody ter talk ter er look at ner nuffinâ. He had jesâ come out ân de woods anâ stahted up dis veây road, wâen who shâd come âlong in a hoss ân buggy but ole Mars Marrabo, drivinâ ober ter dat yuther brickyahd youer gwinter see now. Ben run out ân de woods, and fell down on his knees in de road right in front er Mars Marrabo. Mars Marrabo had to pull on de lines anâ hoiâ de hoss up ter keep âim fâum runninâ ober Ben.
âââGit outân de road, you fool nigger,â says Mars Marrabo, âdoes yer wanter git run ober? Whose nigger is you, anyhow?â
âââIâs yoâ nigger, Mars Marrabo; doan yer know Ben, wâat runned erway?â
âââYas, I knows my Ben wâat runned erway. Does you know whar he is?â
âââWhy, Iâs yoâ Ben, Mars Marrabo. Doan yer know me, marster?â
âââNo, I doan know yer, yer yaller rascal! Wâat de debbil yer mean by tellinâ me sich a lie? Ben wuz black ez a coal anâ straight ez anâ arrer. Youer yaller ez dat clay-bank, anâ crooked ez a bairâl-hoop. I reckon youer some âstracted nigger, tunât out by some marster wâat doan wanter take keer er yer. You git offân my plantation, anâ doan show yoâ clay-cullud hide arounâ yer no more, er Iâll hab yer sent ter jail anâ whip.â
âMars Marrabo drove erway anâ lefâ poâ Ben moâ dead ân alive. He crepâ back in de bushes anâ laid down anâ wepâ lak a baby. He didnâ hab no wife, no chile, no frienâs, no marsterâ âheâd beân willinâ ernuff to git âlong widout a marster, wâen he had one, but it âpeared lak a sin fer his own marster ter âny âim anâ casâ âim off dat-a-way. It âpeared ter âim he mought jesâ ez well be dead ez livinâ, fer he wuz all alone in de worlâ, wid nowhar ter go, anâ nobody didnâ hab nuffinâ ter say ter âim but ter âbuse âim anâ drive âim erway.
âAtter he got ober his grievinâ spell he âmence ter wonder wâat Mars Marrabo meant by callinâ âim yaller, anâ ez long ez nobody didnâ seem ter keer whuther dey seed âim er not, he went down by de crick in broad daylight, anâ kneel down by de water anâ looked at his face. Fusâ he didnâ recoânize hisseâf anâ glanshed back ter see ef dey waânât somebody lookinâ ober his shoulderâ âbut dey waânât. Anâ wâen he looked back in de water he seed de same thingâ âhe waânât black no moâ, but had turnt ter a light yaller.
âBen
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