The
black man would have to change his psychology or remain where he was, a
creature of poverty, hovels, and dirt; but amid such surroundings he
could not change his psychology.
The point of these unhappy conclusions somehow turned against Cissie
Dildine. The mulatto became aware that his whole crusade had been
undertaken in behalf of the octoroon. Everything the merchants said
against negroes became accusations against Cissie in a sharp personal
way. "A nigger is a nigger"; "A thief is a thief"; "She wouldn't quit
stealing if I paid her a hundred a week." Every stroke had fallen
squarely on Cissie's shoulders. A nigger, a thief; and she would never
be otherwise.
It was all so hopeless, so unchangeable, that Peter walked down the
bleak street unutterably depressed There was nothing he could do. The
situation was static. It seemed best that he should go away North and
save his own skin. It was impossible to take Cissie with him. Perhaps in
time he would come to forget her, and in so doing he would forget the
pauperism and pettinesses of all the black folk of the South.
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