Двенадцать лет рабства

           Iwenttoit,thinkingIwoulddrymyclothes; butthegraylightofthemorningwasfastbreakingaway,—somepassingwhitemanmightobserveme; besides,theheatoverpoweredmewiththedesireofsleep: so,lingeringnolonger,Icontinuedmytravels,andfinally,abouteighto’clock,reachedthehouseofMasterFord. 

           Theslaveswereallabsentfromthequarters,attheirwork. Steppingontothepiazza,Iknockedatthedoor,whichwassoonopenedbyMistressFord. Myappearancewassochanged—Iwasinsuchawobegoneandforlorncondition,shedidnotknowme. InquiringifMasterFordwasathome,thatgoodmanmadehisappearance,beforethequestioncouldbeanswered. Itoldhimofmyflight,andalltheparticularsconnectedwithit. Helistenedattentively,andwhenIhadconcluded,spoketomekindlyandsympathetically,andtakingmetothekitchen,calledJohn,andorderedhimtopreparemefood. Ihadtastednothingsincedaylightthepreviousmorning. 

           WhenJohnhadsetthemealbeforeme,themadamcameoutwithabowlofmilk,andmanylittledeliciousdainties,suchasrarelypleasethepalateofaslave. Iwashungry,andIwasweary,butneitherfoodnorrestaffordedhalfthepleasureasdidtheblessedvoicesspeakingkindnessandconsolation. ItwastheoilandthewinewhichtheGoodSamaritaninthe"GreatPineWoods"wasreadytopourintothewoundedspiritoftheslave,whocametohim,strippedofhisraimentandhalf-dead.