_Scud._ 'Cos I's skeered to try! I never killed a man in my life--and civilization is so strong in me I guess I couldn't do it--I'd like to, though! _M'Closky._ And all for the sake of that old woman and that young puppy--eh? No other cause to hate--to envy me--to be jealous of me--eh? _Scud._ Jealous! what for? _M'Closky._ Ask the color in your face; d'ye think I can't read you, like a book? With your New England hypocrisy, you would persuade yourself it was this family alone you cared for; it ain't--you know it ain't--'tis the "Octoroon;" and you love her as I do; and you hate me because I'm your rival--that's where the tears come from, Salem Scudder, if you ever shed any--that's where the shoe pinches. _Scud._ Wal, I do like the gal; she's a-- _M'Closky._ She's in love with young Peyton; it made me curse, whar it made you cry, as it does now; I see the tears on your cheeks now. _Scud._ Look at 'em, Jacob, for they are honest water from the well of truth. I ain't ashamed of it--I do love the gal; but I ain't jealous of you, because I believe the only sincere feeling about you is your love for Zoe, and it does your heart good to have her image thar; but I believe you put it thar to spile. By fair means I don't think you can get her, and don't you try foul with her, 'cause if you do, Jacob, civilization be darned. I'm on you like a painter, and when I'm drawed out I'm pizin. [_Exit_ Scudder _to house,_ L. _M'Closky._ Fair or foul, I'll have her--take that home with you! [_Opens desk._] What's here--judgments? yes, plenty of 'em; bill of costs; account with Citizens' Bank--what's this? "Judgment, 40,000, 'Thibodeaux against Peyton,'"--surely, that is the judgment under which this estate is now advertised for sale--[_takes up paper and examines it_]; yes, "Thibodeaux against Peyton, 1838." Hold on! whew! this is worth taking to--in this desk the judge used to keep one paper I want--this should be it. [_Reads._] "The free papers of my daughter, Zoe, registered February 4th, 1841." Why, judge, wasn't you lawyer enough to know that while a judgment stood against you it was a lien on your slaves? Zoe is your child by a quadroon slave, and you didn't free her; blood! if this is so, she's mine! this old Liverpool debt--that may cross me--if it only arrive too late--if it don't come by this mail--Hold on! this letter the old lady expects--that's it; let me only head off that letter, and Terrebonne will be sold before they can recover it. That boy and the Indian have gone down to the landing for the post-bags; they'll idle on the way as usual; my mare will take me across the swamp, and before they can reach the shed, I'll have purified them bags--ne'er a letter shall show this mail. Ha, ha!--[_Calls._] Pete, you old turkey-buzzard, saddle my mare. Then, if I sink every dollar I'm worth in her purchase, I'll own that Octoroon. [_Stands with his hand extended towards the house, and tableau._] END OF THE FIRST ACT. ACT II.