Chapters (27)
| SCIPIO |
Move it gal, or you’ll feel it later! |
| PHEBE | (Helping her up.) |
|
Lift in your knees, Diana; try not to think about your blood. Tomorrow’s Sunday— tomorrow you can rest. |
|
| DIANA | (Derisively.) |
| Blessed be the Sabbath! | |
| ALEXANDER |
The child’s too young to tote that sack. She should be helping in the kitchen, like we was raised. |
| PHEBE |
You was raised with Massa Jennings, Phebe—and he been gone these twenty-some years. You know his daughter got other ideas. |
| PHEBE | She grow eviller year for year. |
| ALEXANDER | Ain’t right, a woman running a plantation like that. |
| SCIPIO | Woman? She’s more man than woman. |
| PHEBE | And more devil than man. |
| ALEXANDER | Ever since she lost that child. |
| PHEBE | Oh, Alexander! |
| ALEXANDER |
White folks feel a loss as much as we do— it’s just that they ain’t used to losing. I tell you, Miss Amalia went crazy in the head the day she lost that baby boy. |
| SCYLLA | That’s not the way Ticey told it. |
SCYLLA is severely bent over and walks with a limp. Her gaze is fearful.