“I gots tuh go out now. I ain’t sho’ wedder I goin’ away tuhnight or wait fuh tuhmorruh night. I goin’ look aroun’ an’ see how de lan’ lay; but I’ll be seein’ yuh agin befo’ I goes.” Maria regarded him for a long moment; the look of sadness in her face deepened to a heavy melancholy; but she said nothing. Crown started for the street with his long, swaggering stride. The big woman watched him until he turned to the north at the entrance and passed from view. Then she locked the door and, with a deep sigh, walked to her own room. § Porgy opened his eyes suddenly. The window, which had been luminous when he went to sleep, was now darkened. He watched it intently. Slowly he realized that parts of the little square still showed the moonlit waters of the bay, and that only the centre was blocked out by an intervening mass. Then the mass moved, and Porgy saw that it was the torso and shoulders of a man. The window was three feet in width, yet the shoulders seemed to brush both sides of it as the form bent forward. The sash was down, and presently there came a sound as though hands were testing it to see whether it could be forced up. Porgy was lying on his back. He reached his left hand over the covers and let the fingers touch ever so lightly the sleeping faces of first the baby, then the woman. His right hand slid beneath his pillow, and his strong, slender fingers closed about the handle of a knife. At the window the slight, testing noise continued. § It was certainly after midnight when Maria looked from her doorway; for the moon was tottering on the western wall, and while she stood looking, slowly it dropped over and vanished. The vague forebodings that she had felt when she talked to Crown earlier in the evening had kept sleep from her; with each passing hour her fears increased, and with them a sense of imminence that finally forced her to get up, slip on a wrapper, and prepare to make the rounds of the court. But on opening her door, she was at once reassured. The square stood before her like a vast cistern brimmed with misty dark and roofed with a lid of sky. A cur grovelled forward on its belly from a near-by nook, and licked one of her bare feet with its moist, warm tongue. Above her, in the huge honeycomb of the building, someone was snoring in a slow, steady rhythm. The big negress drew a deep sigh of relief and turned back toward her room. A sound of cracking wood snapped the silence. Then, like a flurry of small bells, came a shiver of broken glass on the stones. Maria spun around, and tried to locate the sound; but no noise followed. Silence flowed back over the court and settled palpably into its recesses. The faint, not unpleasant rhythm of the snoring came insistently forward.