“Frien’ wid yuh?” and her tone dripped scorn. “One ob dese days I might lie down wid er rattlesnake, and when dat time come, yuh kin come right along an’ git intuh de bed. But till den, keep yuh shiny carcase in Noo Yo’k till de debbil ready tuh take chaage ob um!” Suddenly the anger left her eyes, and her face became grave. She leaned over, and spoke very quietly into his face. “Fuh Gawd’s sake, don’t talk dat kind ob talk tuh dese hyuh boys. Dis county ain’t nebber yit see a black man git lynch. Dese nigger knows folks, an’ dey knows nigger. Fer Gawd’ sake keep yuh mout’ off w’ite lady. Yuh gots plenty ob yuh own color fuh talk ’bout. Stick tuh dem, an’ yuh ain’t git inter no trouble.” During Maria’s attack upon her guest, the court had been full of the many-colored sounds that accompanied its evening life. Now, gradually the noise shrunk, seeming to withdraw into itself. All knew what it meant. A white man had entered. The protective curtain of silence which the negro draws about his life when the Caucasian intrudes hung almost tangibly in the air. No one appeared to notice the visitor. Each was busily preoccupied with his task. Yet the newcomer made no move that was not noted by fifty pairs of inscrutable eyes. The man wore a soft hat drawn well down over his face. He was slender and tall, and walked with his body carried slightly forward, like one who is used to meeting and overcoming difficulties. A young woman passed him. He reached out and touched her on the arm. She stopped, and turned immediately toward him, her eyes lowered, her manner submissive, but utterly negative. “I am looking for a man by the name of Porgy,” he said in a clear pleasant voice. “Can you direct me to his room?” “Porgy?” she repeated slowly, as though trying to remember. Then she called aloud: “Anybody hyuh know a man by de name ob Porgy?” Several of the silent bystanders looked up. “Porgy?” they repeated, one after another, with shakes of the head. The white man laughed reassuringly, as though quite used to the proceeding. “Come,” he urged, “I am his friend, Mr. Alan Archdale; I know that he lives here, and I want to help him.” From behind her tubs, Serena advanced, knocking the ashes from her clay pipe as she came. When she was quite close, she stopped, and peered up into the face above her. Then she turned upon the girl. “Go ’long an’ call Porgy,” she commanded. “Can’t yuh tell _folks_ when yuh see um?” A light broke over the young woman’s face. “Oh, yuh means _Porgy_?” she cried, as though she had just heard the name for the first time; “I ain’t understan’ wut name yuh say, Boss,” and echoes arose from different parts of the court. “Oh, yes, de gentleman mean _Porgy_. How come we ain’t understan’.” Then the tension in the air broke, and life resumed its interrupted flow.