Breathlessly Jean and Mimi followed the carriage as far as they could see it, a prayer in their hearts for the escape of the three. There came a subtle change in the sounds growing fainter in the distance. A note of bafflement entered the deeper tones. A final roar of disappointment told them the carriage had escaped with its human burdens, and happiness filled them.
Clutching Mimi’s hand, Jean cautiously sped from doorway to doorway as the crowd, lessened by those who had gone in pursuit of the carriage, thinned out. Across the broad expanse of Marietta Street they scurried. Once they crouched in a doorway while a crowd sped in pursuit of a crippled Negro bootblack who hopelessly sought to distance his pursuers. He fell, the mob atop him. Mimi screamed. A member of the mob heard her, turned and thrust his face into Jean’s. He snatched off Jean’s hat and peered into his face in the dim light.
In terror, Jean lapsed into French.
“ Mon Dieu! ” he cried, in dismay.
“ ’Scuse me, brother! I thought you were a nigger!” apologized Jean’s tormentor, handing