Chapter V: Act TWO: Scene One

SCENE—_Two years later. A flat of the better sort in the Negro
district near the corner of Act One. This is the parlor. Its
furniture is a queer clash. The old pieces are cheaply ornate,
naïvely, childishly gaudy—the new pieces give evidence of a taste
that is diametrically opposed, severe to the point of somberness.
On one wall, in a heavy gold frame, is a colored photograph—the
portrait of an elderly Negro with an able, shrewd face but dressed
in outlandish lodge regalia, a get-up adorned with medals, sashes,
a cocked hat with frills—the whole effect as absurd to contemplate
as one of Napoleon’s Marshals in full uniform. In the left corner,
where a window lights it effectively, is a Negro primitive mask
from the Congo—a grotesque face, inspiring obscure, dim
connotations in one’s mind, but beautifully done, conceived in a
true religious spirit. In this room, however, the mask acquires an
arbitrary accentuation. It dominates by a diabolical quality that
contrast imposes upon it._

_There are two windows on the left looking out in the street. In
the rear, a door to the hall of the building. In the right, a
doorway with red and gold portières leading into the bedroom and
the rest of the flat. Everything is cleaned and polished. The dark
brown wall paper is new, the brilliantly figured carpet also.
There is a round mahogany table at center. In a rocking chair by
the table_ MRS. HARRIS _is sitting. She is a mild-looking,
gray-haired Negress of sixty-five, dressed in an old-fashioned
Sunday-best dress. Walking about the room nervously is_ HATTIE,
_her daughter_, JIM’S _sister, a woman of about thirty with a
high-strung, defiant face—an intelligent head showing both power
and courage. She is dressed severely, mannishly._

_It is a fine morning in Spring. Sunshine comes through the
windows at the left._

MRS. HARRIS—Time dey was here, ain’t it?

HATTIE—[_Impatiently._] Yes.

MRS. H.—[_Worriedly._] You ain’t gwine ter kick up a fuss, is you—like you done wid Jim befo’ de weddin’?

HATTIE—No. What’s done is done.

MRS. H.—We mustn’t let her see we hold it agin’ her—de bad dat happened to her wid dat no-count fighter.

HATTIE—I certainly never give that a thought. It’s what she’s done to Jim—making him run away and give up his fight——!

MRS. H.—Jim loves her a powerful lot, must be.

HATTIE—[_After a pause—bitterly._] I wonder if she loves Jim!

MRS. H.—She must, too. Yes, she must, too. Don’t you forget dat it was hard for her—mighty, mighty hard—harder for de white dan for de black!

HATTIE—[_Indignantly._] Why should it be?

MRS. H.—[_Shaking her head._] I ain’t talkin’ of shoulds. It’s too late for shoulds. Dey’s o’ny one should. [_Solemnly._] De white and de black shouldn’t mix dat close. Dere’s one road where de white goes on alone; dere’s anudder road where de black goes on alone——

HATTIE—Yes, if they’d only leave us alone!

MRS. H.—Dey leaves your Pa alone. He comes to de top till he’s got his own business, lots o’ money in de bank, he owns a building even befo’ he die. [_She looks up proudly at the picture._ HATTIE _sighs impatiently—then her mother goes on_.] Dey leaves me alone. I bears four children into dis worl’, two dies, two lives, I helps you two grow up fine an’ healthy and eddicated wid schoolin’ and money fo’ yo’ comfort——

HATTIE—[_Impatiently._] Ma!

MRS. H.—I does de duty God set for me in dis worl’. Dey leaves me alone. [HATTIE _goes to the window to hide her exasperation. The mother broods for a minute—then goes on._] The worl’ done change. Dey ain’t no satisfaction wid nuffin’ no more.

HATTIE—Oh! [_Then after a pause._] They’ll be here any minute now.

MRS. H.—Why didn’t you go meet ’em at de dock like I axed you?

HATTIE—I couldn’t. My face and Jim’s among those hundreds of white faces—— [_With a harsh laugh._] It would give her too much advantage!

MRS. H.—[_Impatiently._] Don’t talk dat way! What makes you so proud? [_Then after a pause—sadly._] Hattie.

HATTIE—[_Turning._] Yes, Ma.

MRS. H.—I want to see Jim again—my only boy—but—all de same I’d ruther he stayed away. He say in his letter he’s happy, she’s happy, dey likes it dere, de folks don’t think nuffin’ but what’s natural at seeing ’em married. Why don’t dey stay?

HATTIE—[_Vehemently._] No! They were cowards to run away. If they believe in what they’ve done, then let them face it out, live it out here, be strong enough to conquer all prejudice!

MRS. H.—Strong? Dey ain’t many strong. Dey ain’t many happy neider. Dey was happy ovah yondah.

HATTIE—We don’t deserve happiness till we’ve fought the fight of our race and won it! [_In the pause that follows there is a ring from back in the flat._] It’s the door bell! You go, Ma. I—I—I’d rather not. [_Her mother looks at her rebukingly and goes out agitatedly through the portières._ HATTIE _waits, nervously walking about, trying to compose herself. There is a long pause. Finally the portières are parted and_ JIM _enters. He looks much older, graver, worried._]

JIM—Hattie!

HATTIE—Jim! [_They embrace with great affection._]

JIM—It’s great to see you again! You’re looking fine.

HATTIE—[_Looking at him searchingly._] You look well, too—thinner maybe—and tired. [_Then as she sees him frowning._] But where’s Ella?

JIM—With Ma. [_Apologetically._] She sort of—broke down—when we came in. The trip wore her out.

HATTIE—[_Coldly._] I see.

JIM—Oh, it’s nothing serious. Nerves. She needs a rest.

HATTIE—Wasn’t living in France restful?

JIM—Yes, but—too lonely—especially for her.

HATTIE—[_Resentfully._] Why? Didn’t the people there want to associate——?

JIM—[_Quickly._] Oh, no indeedy, they didn’t think anything of that. [_After a pause._] But—she did. For the first year it was all right. Ella liked everything a lot. She went out with French folks and got so she could talk it a little—and I learned it—a little. We were having a right nice time. I never thought then we’d ever want to come back here.

HATTIE—[_Frowning._] But—what happened to change you?

JIM—[_After a pause—haltingly._] Well—you see—the first year—she and I were living around—like friends—like a brother and sister—like you and I might.

HATTIE—[_Her face becoming more and more drawn and tense._] You mean—then——? [_She shudders—then after a pause._] She loves you, Jim?

JIM—If I didn’t know that I’d have to jump in the river.

HATTIE—Are you sure she loves you?

JIM—Isn’t that why she’s suffering?

HATTIE—[_Letting her breath escape through her clenched teeth._] Ah!

JIM—[_Suddenly springs up and shouts almost hysterically._] Why d’you ask me all those damn questions? Are you trying to make trouble between us?

HATTIE—[_Controlling herself—quietly._] No, Jim.

JIM—[_After a pause—contritely._] I’m sorry, Hattie. I’m kind of on edge today. [_He sinks down on his chair—then goes on as if something forced him to speak._] After that we got to living housed in. Ella didn’t want to see nobody, she said just the two of us was enough. I was happy then—and I really guess she was happy, too—in a way—for a while. [_Again a pause._] But she never did get to wanting to go out any place again. She got to saying she felt she’d be sure to run into someone she knew—from over here. So I moved us out to the country where no tourist ever comes—but it didn’t make any difference to her. She got to avoiding the French folks the same as if they were Americans and I couldn’t get it out of her mind. She lived in the house and got paler and paler, and more and more nervous and scarey, always imagining things—until I got to imagining things, too. I got to feeling blue. Got to sneering at myself that I wasn’t any better than a quitter because I sneaked away right after getting married, didn’t face nothing, gave up trying to become a Member of the Bar—and I got to suspecting Ella must feel that way about me, too—that I wasn’t a _real man_!

HATTIE—[_Indignantly._] She couldn’t!

JIM—[_With hostility._] You don’t need to tell me! All this was only in my own mind. We never quarreled a single bit. We never said a harsh word. We were as close to each other as could be. We were all there was in the world to each other. We were alone together! [_A pause._] Well, one day I got so I couldn’t stand it. I could see she couldn’t stand it. So I just up and said: Ella, we’ve got to have a plain talk, look everything straight in the face, hide nothing, come out with the exact truth of the way we feel.

HATTIE—And you decided to come back!

JIM—Yes. We decided the reason we felt sort of ashamed was we’d acted like cowards. We’d run away from the thing—and taken it with us. We decided to come back and face it and live it down in ourselves, and prove to ourselves we were strong in our love—and then, and that way only, by being brave we’d free ourselves, and gain confidence, and be really free inside and able then to go anywhere and live in peace and equality with ourselves and the world without any guilty uncomfortable feeling coming up to rile us. [_He has talked himself now into a state of happy confidence._]

HATTIE—[_Bending over and kissing him._] Good for you! I admire you so much, Jim! I admire both of you! And are you going to begin studying right away and get admitted to the Bar?

JIM—You bet I am!

HATTIE—You must, Jim! Our race needs men like you to come to the front and help—— [_As voices are heard approaching she stops, stiffens, and her face grows cold._]

JIM—[_Noticing this—warningly._] Remember Ella’s been sick! [_Losing control—threateningly._] You be nice to her, you hear! [MRS. HARRIS _enters, showing_ ELLA _the way. The colored woman is plainly worried and perplexed._ ELLA _is pale, with a strange, haunted expression in her eyes. She runs to Jim as to a refuge, clutching his hands in both of hers, looking from_ MRS. HARRIS _to_ HATTIE _with a frightened defiance_.]

MRS. H.—Dere he is, child, big’s life! She was afraid we’d done kidnapped you away, Jim.

JIM—[_Patting her hand._] This place ought to be familiar, Ella. Don’t you remember playing here with us sometimes as a kid?

ELLA—[_Queerly—with a frown of effort._] I remember playing marbles one night—but that was on the street.

JIM—Don’t you remember Hattie?

HATTIE—[_Coming forward with a forced smile._] It was a long time ago—but I remember Ella. [_She holds out her hand._]

ELLA—[_Taking it—looking at_ HATTIE _with the same queer defiance_.] I remember. But you’ve changed so much.

HATTIE—[_Stirred to hostility by_ ELLA’S _manner—condescendingly_.] Yes, I’ve grown older, naturally. [_Then in a tone which, as if in spite of herself, becomes bragging._] I’ve worked so hard. First I went away to college, you know—then I took up post-graduate study—when suddenly I decided I’d accomplish more good if I gave up learning and took up teaching. [_She suddenly checks herself, ashamed, and stung by_ ELLA’S _indifference_.] But this sounds like stupid boasting. I don’t mean that. I was only explaining——

ELLA—[_Indifferently._] I didn’t know you’d been to school so long. [_A pause._] Where are you teaching? In a colored school, I suppose. [_There is an indifferent superiority in her words that is maddening to_ HATTIE.]

HATTIE—[_Controlling herself._] Yes. A private school endowed by some wealthy members of our race.

ELLA—[_Suddenly—even eagerly._] Then you must have taken lots of examinations and managed to pass them, didn’t you?

HATTIE—[_Biting her lips._] I always passed with honors!

ELLA—Yes, we both graduated from the same High School, didn’t we? That was dead easy for me. Why I hardly even looked at a book. But Jim says it was awfully hard for him. He failed one year, remember? [_She turns and smiles at_ JIM—_a tolerant, superior smile but one full of genuine love_. HATTIE _is outraged, but_ JIM _smiles_.]

JIM—Yes, it was hard for me, Honey.

ELLA—And the law school examinations Jim hardly ever could pass at all. Could you? [_She laughs lovingly._]

HATTIE—[_Harshly._] Yes, he could! He can! He’ll pass them now—if you’ll give him a chance!

JIM—[_Angrily._] Hattie!

MRS. HARRIS—Hold yo’ fool tongue!

HATTIE—[_Sullenly._] I’m sorry. [ELLA _has shrunk back against_ JIM. _She regards_ HATTIE _with a sort of wondering hatred. Then she looks away about the room. Suddenly her eyes fasten on the primitive mask and she gives a stifled scream._]

JIM—What’s the matter, Honey?

ELLA—[_Pointing._] That! For God’s sake, what is it?

HATTIE—[_Scornfully._] It’s a Congo mask. [_She goes and picks it up._] I’ll take it away if you wish. I thought you’d like it. It was my wedding present to Jim.

ELLA—What is it?

HATTIE—It’s a mask which used to be worn in religious ceremonies by my people in Africa. But, aside from that, it’s beautifully made, a work of Art by a real artist—as real in his way as your Michael Angelo. [_Forces_ ELLA _to take it_.] Here. Just notice the workmanship.

ELLA—[_Defiantly._] I’m not scared of it if you’re not. [_Looking at it with disgust._] Beautiful? Well, some people certainly have queer notions! It looks ugly to me and stupid—like a kid’s game—making faces! [_She slaps it contemptuously._] Pooh! You needn’t look hard at me. I’ll give you the laugh. [_She goes to put it back on the stand._]

JIM—Maybe, if it disturbs you, we better put it in some other room.

ELLA—[_Defiantly aggressive._] No. I want it here where I can give it the laugh! [_She sets it there again—then turns suddenly on_ HATTIE _with aggressive determination_.] Jim’s not going to take any more examinations! I won’t let him!

HATTIE—[_Bursting forth._] Jim! Do you hear that? There’s white justice!—their fear for their superiority!——

ELLA—[_With a terrified pleading._] Make her go away, Jim!

JIM—[_Losing control—furiously to his sister._] Either you leave here—or we will!

MRS. H.—[_Weeping—throws her arms around_ HATTIE.] Let’s go, chile! Let’s go!

HATTIE—[_Calmly now._] Yes, Ma. All right. [_They go through the portières. As soon as they are gone_, JIM _suddenly collapses into a chair and hides his head in his hands_. ELLA _stands beside him for a moment. She stares distractedly about her, at the portrait, at the mask, at the furniture, at_ JIM. _She seems fighting to escape from some weight on her mind. She throws this off and, completely her old self for the moment, kneels by_ JIM _and pats his shoulder_.]

ELLA—[_With kindness and love._] Don’t, Jim! Don’t cry, please! You don’t suppose I really meant that about the examinations, do you? Why, of course, I didn’t mean a word! I couldn’t mean it! I want you to take the examinations! I want you to pass! I want you to be a lawyer! I want you to be the best lawyer in the country! I want you to show ’em—all the dirty sneaking; gossiping liars that talk behind our backs—what a man I married. I want the whole world to know you’re the whitest of the white! I want you to climb and climb—and step on ’em, stamp right on their mean faces! I love you, Jim. You know that!

JIM—[_Calm again—happily._] I hope so, Honey—and I’ll make myself worthy.

HATTIE—[_Appears in the doorway—quietly._] We’re going now, Jim.

ELLA—No. Don’t go.

HATTIE—We were going to, anyway. This is your house—Mother’s gift to you, Jim.

JIM—[_Astonished._] But I can’t accept—— Where are you going?

HATTIE—We’ve got a nice flat in the Bronx—[_with bitter pride_] in the heart of the Black Belt—the Congo—among our own people!

JIM—[_Angrily._] You’re crazy—I’ll see Ma—— [_He goes out._ HATTIE _and_ ELLA _stare at each other with scorn and hatred for a moment, then_ HATTIE _goes_. ELLA _remains kneeling for a moment by the chair, her eyes dazed and strange as she looks about her. Then she gets to her feet and stands before the portrait of_ JIM’S _father—with a sneer_.]

ELLA—It’s his Old Man—all dolled up like a circus horse! Well, they can’t help it. It’s in the blood, I suppose. They’re ignorant, that’s all there is to it. [_She moves to the mask—forcing a mocking tone._] Hello, sport! Who d’you think you’re scaring? Not me! I’ll give you the laugh. He won’t pass, you wait and see. Not in a thousand years! [_She goes to the window and looks down at the street and mutters._] All black! Every one of them! [_Then with sudden excitement._] No, there’s one. Why, it’s Shorty! [_She throws the window open and calls._] Shorty! Shorty! Hello, Shorty! [_She leans out and waves—then stops, remains there for a moment looking down, then comes back into the room suddenly as if she wanted to hide—her whole face in an anguish._] Say! Say! I wonder?—No, he didn’t hear you. Yes, he did, too! He must have! I yelled so loud you could hear me in Jersey! No, what are you talking about? How would he hear with all kids yelling down there? He never heard a word, I tell you! He did, too! He didn’t want to hear you! He didn’t want to let anyone know he knew you! Why don’t you acknowledge it? What are you lying about? I’m not! Why shouldn’t he? Where does he come in to—for God’s sake, who is Shorty, anyway? A pimp! Yes, and a dope-peddler, too! D’you mean to say he’d have the nerve to hear me call him and then deliberately——? Yes, I mean to say it! I do say it! And it’s true, and you know it, and you might as well be honest for a change and admit it! He heard you but he didn’t want to hear you! He doesn’t want to know you any more. No, not even him! He’s afraid it’d get him in wrong with the old gang. Why? You know well enough! Because you married a—a—a—well, I won’t say it, but you know without my mentioning names! [ELLA _springs to her feet in horror and shakes off her obsession with a frantic effort_.] Stop! [_Then whimpering like a frightened child._] Jim! Jim! Jim! Where are you? I want you, Jim! [_She runs out of the room as_

[_The Curtain Falls_]