<He was probably watching, hidden, when Sutpen walked out of the house that a.m. He may have
been in the scuppernong arbor, where he and Sutpen often sat with a pail of spring water and a demi-
john between them. Thru the long, empty, barren, bitter afternoons of the 4 summers since 1865; until at
last <<he would practically carry Sutpen into the house and>> Sutpen would reach that state of impotent
undefeat <<where, swaying, plunging, he would>> he would rise, swaying and plunging.—an old man, 58
in years but 10 years older thru [illegible] marching on his violent dream—and declare again that he would
take his pistol and horse and ride single-handed into Washington and kill Lincoln, already dead, and
Sherman, now a private citizen with a monument in New York city. "Kill them!" he would shout.
"Shoot them down like dogs, the —— >

<<That was the end. A moment later Wash would practically carry him into the house>>

<"Sho, Colonel; sho, Colonel," Wash would say, catching Sutpen as he fell.>

He did not go away to fight the Yankees. "I got a daughter [and family] to keep up," he told anyone who would
ask him,
[<[margin: especially to the negroes on the Sutpen place]
. "I aint got no niggers to take care of mine
<[margin: like some have]
." Then the thot seemed to strike him: a thot
gleeful and vindictive: "I aint got no niggers to lose."

"Nor nothing but dat shack down yon in de slough dat Cunnel wouldn't leave none of us live in,"
the slave would reply; whereupon Wash—a gaunt man, appearing without age, tho the father of a woman
with an 8 year old girl child—would glare and curse the negro house servant, who never looked at him,
laughing, until the white man rushed at the black, sometimes grasping up a stick, whereupon the negro
would retreat, still laughing. Sometimes, as time went on and bitter news began to come from the
Tennessee mountains and from Vicksburg in the west and then Sherman passed thru the plantation
itself and most of the slaves followed him, this would occur in the very back yard of the big house
itself. There the negro would retreat up the kitchen steps and turn again in the door. "Stop right dar,
man. Stop right whar you is. You aint never crossed dese steps when Cunnel here, and you aint
ghy do it now."