Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [52]
"Quality?" I frowned. "Oh -- but he insisted that I stop, sir. There was nothing I could do . . ."
"Of course," he said. "Of course."
"He was interested in the cabins, sir. He was surprised that there were any left."
"So naturally you stopped," he said, bowing his head again.
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, and I suppose the cabin opened up and told him its life history and all the choice gossip?"
I started to explain.
"Boy!" he exploded. "Are you serious? Why were you out on that road in the first place? Weren't you behind the wheel?"
"Yes, sir . . ."
"Then haven't we bowed and scraped and begged and lied enough decent homes and drives for you to show him? Did you think that white man had to come a thousand miles -- all the way from New York and Boston and Philadelphia just for you to show him a slum? Don't just stand there, say something!"
"But I was only driving him, sir. I only stopped there after he ordered me to . . ."
"Ordered you?" he said. "He ordered you. Dammit, white folk are always giving orders, it's a habit with them. Why didn't you make an excuse? Couldn't you say they had sickness -- smallpox -- or picked another cabin? Why that Trueblood shack? My God, boy! You're black and living in the South -- did you forget how to lie?"
"Lie, sir? Lie to him, lie to a trustee, sir? Me?"
He shook his head with a kind of anguish. "And me thinking I'd picked a boy with brain," he said. "Didn't you know you were endangering the school?"
"But I was only trying to please him . . ."
"Please him? And here you are a junior in college! Why, the dumbest black bastard in the cotton patch knows that the only way to please a white man is to tell him a lie! What kind of education are you getting around here? Who really told you to take him out there?" he said.
"He did, sir. No one else."
"Don't lie to me!"
"That's the truth, sir."
"I warn you now, who suggested it?"
"I swear, sir. No one told me."
"Nigger, this isn't the time to lie. I'm no white man. Tell me the truth!"
It was as though he'd struck me. I stared across the desk thinking, He called me that . . .
"Answer me, boy!"
That, I thought, noticing the throbbing of a vein that rose between his eyes, thinking, He called me that.
"I wouldn't lie, sir," I said.
"Then who was that patient you were talking with?"
"I never saw him before, sir."
"What was he saying?"
"I can't recall it all," I muttered. "The man was raving."
"Speak up. What did he say?"
"He thinks that he lived in France and that he's a great doctor . . ."
"Continue."
"He said that I believed that white was right," I said.
"What?" Suddenly his face twitched and cracked like the surface of dark water. "And you do, don't you?" Dr. Bledsoe said, suppressing a nasty laugh. "Well, don't you?"
I did not answer, thinking, You, you . . .
"Who was he, did you ever see him before?"
"No, sir, I hadn't."
"Was he northern or southern?"
"I don't know, sir."
He struck his desk. "College for Negroes! Boy, what do you know other than how to ruin an institution in half an hour that it took over half a hundred years to build? Did he talk northern or southern?"
"He talked like a white man," I said, "except that his voice sounded southern, like one of ours . . ."
"I'll have to investigate him," he said. "A Negro like that should be under lock and key."
Across the campus a clock struck the quarter hour and something inside me seemed to muffle its sound. I turned to him desperately. "Dr. Bledsoe, I'm awfully sorry. I had no intention of going there but things just got out of hand. Mr. Norton understands how it happened . . ."
"Listen to me, boy," he said loudly. "Norton is one man and I'm another, and while he might think he's satisfied, I know that he isn't! Your poor judgment has caused this school incalculable damage. Instead of uplifting the race, you've torn it down."
He looked at me as though I had committed the worst crime imaginable. "Don't you know we can't tolerate such a thing? I gave you an opportunity to serve one of our best white friends, a man who could make your fortune. But in return you dragged the entire race into the slime!" Suddenly he reached for something beneath a pile of papers, an old leg shackle from slavery which he proudly called a "symbol of our progress."