Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 78: what you’re looking at

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548 like the humming of bees in a field. It became a sound; it rose and fell with the undulations of his voice. Heads and bodies were swaying. Jazzabelle was staring up at him with sober, frightened eyes. He was describing the hotness, the tortures, of hell. His voice grew hoarse. Suddenly the girl who had sung the prayer threw her head back, clapped her hands to her face, and screamed: ‘“ Have mercy, have mercy, have mercy!” Cu- riously, she attracted little attention. She began to moan and rock from side to side. The negro beside her was beating slowly on his knees, his eyes obscured with sweat which ran into them from his forehead. A wild light had appeared in Jazzabelle’s eyes. She, too, was swaying and moaning now with the others. ““* Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and a horrible tempest.’ ‘And the ransomed of the Lord shall re- turn, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.’ Break forth into joy, sing together! ‘ Every one that thirst- eth, come ye to the waters; and ye that have no money, come ye, buy, and eat— yea, come, buy wine without money and without price.’ ““« Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you.’ ‘ For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.’ Come, all ye sinners! Repent and be redeemed! Which shall it be—the joy, the milk and honey, of the heavenly paradise, or the tempests of brimstone, the everlasting fire?” His voice had become so hoarse that the final exhortations were croaked. ‘“ Repent! Repent and, be redeemed!” He stopped with a husky overnote and gazed imploring- ly at Jazzabelle. : Her lips were working rapidly; her eyes were wide and terrified. She leaped up from the bench with a scream and clasped her hands convulsively to her breast, cough- ing and sobbing. ‘“Q Holy Ghost, I sees you now! [I sees ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. you plain! I’s coming. I’s white—whiter’n de driftin’ snow. I’s white lak de wool on de little newbo’n lam’. I’s been a sinner, but I sin no mo’!” How red her lips were! The lower one seemed to be spreading like a stain; the stain descended into two thin lines from the corners of her mouth. She pitched forward and clutched the platform. Four other penitent sinners had cast themselves on their knees beside her—three men and a woman. Two of them Javalie recognized as old acquaintances—Blue and Boll Weevil. The woman mumbled with the toothlessness of old age; she must have been eighty. Javalie descended from the platform and was surrounded by panting, sweating ne- groes—not only the ones whom he had snatched from the burning, but, it seemed, the entire congregation. They snatched at his robe, kissed his hands, and hummed and swayed while they did so. Jazzabelle had fainted. The girl who had sung the prayer lifted her to her feet and carried her out into the sunlight. As soon ‘as Javalie could break through the press he hastened after her, but when he reached the open she was not to be seen. He was exhausted. His face was feverish; a dis- tant beating, like the sound or feel of surf pounding on a rocky coast, pulsed in his ears. Rev. Dan Martin was beside him, talking and gesticulating excitedly. But he was not listening. The hot fluid in his brain seemed to coalesce. The insinuating rhythm had subsided. The experience he had gone through suddenly became objective. What a pity! Jazzabelle, the dying echo of an exotic brilliant art, had got religion! CHAPTER XVI. THEODORE’S BAPTISM, 4 HERE’S trouble enough in what house already?” Javalie repeated irritably. “Yassuh. Mista Banning’s house, Ah means.”’ “What has that got to do with Jazza- belle?” Gomichbooksrcom