Touch of opium now and— betsy baron
We might have sampled that f—–ing substance, so as not to offend—who was it? That brought that? Who started that whole— eddie baron
Benjamin.
betsy baron
Ah, Benjamin, Benjy! Remember that f—–ing mustache? Didn’t we hold him down that once, at McMurray’s, shave him bald?
eddie baron
I once made the beast with Benjy.
betsy baron
Ah, who didn’t? Ha ha! No: although I personally never made the f—–ing beast with Benjy, as far as I remember, still, there were times when, among the general, ah, hilarity, it got a little f—–ing unclear just who was making the G——ed beast with— eddie baron
Then, from among that multitude, came a tremendous shout— the reverend everly thomas
An unhappy murmur arose— roger bevins iii
And many people began shouting, saying, no, no, it was not appropriate, demanding that the “darkies”— the reverend everly thomas
“Black beasts”— hans vollman
“Damnable savages”— roger bevins iii
Return at once, from whence they had come.
the reverend everly thomas
It was a momentous occasion and they must not spoil it.
hans vollman
Let them have their chance, someone cried from the throng. In this place, we are all the same.
Speak for yourself, someone else shouted.
And we heard the sound of blows.
the reverend everly thomas
But several men and women of the sable hue, having boldly followed the Barons over from the mass grave on the other side of the fence— roger bevins iii
Were not to be dissuaded.
hans vollman
And would, it seemed, have their say.
the reverend everly thomas
LXVI.
I did always try, in all my aspects, to hew to elevation; to dispense therewith, into myself, those higher virtues of which, rendered without, one verily may sag, and, dwelling there in one’s misfortune, what avails.
elson farwell
What the f—– is he saying?
eddie baron
Say it more simple, Elson. So they can f—–ing follow you.
betsy baron
Born to an unlucky fate, perforce, what attraction if, saddling sad fate unremorsed, I only succumbed, but, rather, was, instead, always happy to have loaded upon me any fulsome burdens, never dismaying those febrile opportunities to better oneself, such as books (which I many minutes stole from, abjectly accruing ample notes, on pages gleaned from Mr. East’s discard), to wit: find out and spelunk what was best and most beaming in my soul, such as: clean linens; gentle motions (as in the dance); shimmering forks held high in mid-conversation, while emitting a jolly whinnying laugh.
elson farwell
The sweetest f—–er, but talks so G——ed complicated.
eddie baron
His hip, in our pit? Is right against my hip.
betsy baron
His a—– rests right here, against my shoulder.
eddie baron
We don’t mind. He’s our friend.
betsy baron
He’s one of them, but he’s still our friend.
eddie baron
Always polite.
betsy baron
Knows his place.
eddie baron
Exeunting myself to those higher latitudes would, I felt, vault to the fore my more shining aspects, and soon enough (ran my hopes), the Easts, heartily discussing my prospects in some room of constant gleam, would decide, thereunto, to promote me, to the house, and instantly my suffering, which had gauged, gnarred, and vexed, bechiding with sooth my loftish sensitivities, would be converted, and, gladsome shouting amidway, I would obtain that life which, more tender (i.e., less bashing, more kindlike smiles), would, ah…
elson farwell
Assuage.
eddie baron
He always forgets “assuage” right there.
betsy baron
Assuage, yes.
Would assuage my previous unhappiness.
elson farwell
Now watch.
betsy baron
Madder he gets, better he talks.
eddie baron
But alas.
As it turned out.
My previous unhappiness was not assuaged.
Far from it.
One day, we were taken out of Washington, to the country, for the fireworks. Falling ill, I stumbled along the trail, and could not get up, and the sun burning down brightly, how I writhed upon the— Oh.
elson farwell
How you “writhed upon the trail, and yet no one came.”
betsy baron
How I writhed upon the trail, and yet no one came. Until finally, the youngest East child, Reginald, passed, and inquired, Elson, are you ill? And I said that I was, very much so. And he said he would send someone back for me at once.
But no one came. Mr. East did not come, Mrs. East did not come, none of the other East children came, not even Mr. Chasterly, our brutal smirking overseer, ever came.
I believe Reginald may have, in all the excitement about the fireworks, forgotten.
Forgotten about me.
Who had known him since his birth.
And lying there it— Drat.
elson farwell
Lying there it occurred to you “with the force of revelation.”