Bartleby the Scrivener: A Tale of Wall Street

BENITO CERENO 127
*
Ah, when will master get better from his sickness ;
only the sour heart that sour sickness breeds made him
serve Babo so ; cutting Babo with the razor, because,
only by accident, Babo had given master one little
scratch ; and for the first time in so many a day, too.
Ah, ah, ah,' holding his hand to his face.
Is it possible, thought Captain Delano ; was it to
wreak in private his Spanish spite against this poor
friend of his, that Don Benito, by his sullen manner,
impelled me to withdraw ? Ah, this slavery breeds ugly
passions in man.— Poor fellow !
He was about to speak in sympathy to the negro, but
with a timid reluctance he now re-entered the cuddy.
Presently master and man came forth ;
Don Benito
leaning on his servant as if nothing had happened.
But a sort of love-quarrel, after all, thought Captain
Delano.
He accosted Don Benito, and they slowly walked
together. They had gone but a few paces, when the
steward—a tall, rajah-looking mulatto, orientally set off
with a pagoda turban formed by three or four Madras
handkerchiefs wound about his head, tier on tier—
approaching with a salaam, announced lunch in the
cabin.
On their way thither, the two captains were preceded
by the mulatto, who, turning round as he advanced,
with continual smiles and bows, ushered them on, a
display of elegance which quite completed the insignificance
of the small bare-headed Babo, who, as if not
unconscious of inferiority, eyed askance the graceful
steward. But in part, Captain Delano imputed his
jealous watchfulness to that peculiar feeling which the
full-blooded African entertains for the adulterated one.
As for the steward, his manner, if not bespeaking much
dignity of self-respect, yet evidenced his extreme desire