Manderlay Page #8

Why didn't we

think of it before?

But the best news of all

was Claire,

who had miraculously

gained so much strength

that she could

empty her plate of good food.

Always in the middle of the night

and when everyone was asleep

when nobody was looking,

but even so...

If Grace had thought hunger would put

paid to her forbidden sensual fantasies,

actually the opposite

was more the case.

Flora, what's going on

with the chickens?

Are they fighting?

You mean

the four whites after the black?

You want I should

open the door and have a peek?

N-No.

Mind you,

that little black hen real proud.

Wouldn't surprise me if them others

took the chance

to give her the odd peck.

Now, don't you tease me, Flora.

Good night, then.

Good night.

Flora had teased Grace before

with the little black hen.

But they were hurting it in there.

No doubt about it.

And to make

everything far worse,

that heat in her loins

seemed to come back

in spite of that poor chicken's

cry for help...

or even intensified by it.

Devastated, humiliated

and overcome by fear for her sanity,

she fled.

In a fit of madness, or what

others would simply call horniness,

she threw herself

onto her bed on her tummy,

and for a moment, forgot all about

shame and political correctness,

and did what she had not done

since her childhood

when she had not yet known

it was so infinitely wrong.

She pressed herself onto the knot

she had rapidly and instinctively formed

by bunching her quilt.

Whether it was pleasurable

or painful is hard to tell,

but she kept at it.

It was beyond her control.

With no regard for

the sleep of the women around her,

or common decency in general,

the pulsating explosions in her

nether regions took over her world.

And who knows how

it would have concluded

had there not appeared at that

very moment, fortunately for Grace,

a person shaking her back

to a reasonable state of self-defense.

Miss Grace!

You gotta come quick, Miss Grace!

She dead.

I took such care of her.

I fed her the good meat.

She'd been eatin'

She dead.

Now she's dead!

Wilma, I wanna show you.

Come outside now.

- You're hurtin' me.

- I said come on!

She'd been eatin'

You're hurtin' my arm.

No! She hadn't been eatin'

This 'un had!

Ya gonna tell 'em, Wilma?

I was so hungry.

I get so dizzy.

And my legs hurt

when I'm hungry.

Our good friend

and Claire's beloved old Wilma been

visiting the windowsill while we slept.

She emptied Claire's plate

every single night!

T'was easy as pie,

considerin' that there window

could be opened from the outside.

I've eaten

so much dirt in my time.

My teeth can't take it no more.

She killed our little girl.

Jack. Jack, she was sick.

- Miss Grace...

- She was sick, Jack.

Rose didn't worry too much

about feeding her during the day

'cause she ate so much at night.

I want Wilma punished

for killin' my little girl!

I want this matter put to the vote.

I want Wilma punished

for killin' my little girl.

I want justice,

or I'll kill her myself right now!

Let me go home.

Stop, stop, stop!

We will talk about this tomorrow!

- She killed my little girl!

- Stop it!

And so, the very next evening,

a gathering took place

under the magnificent, clear,

twinkling, starry sky of Manderlay.

Now we've heard 'em all, Wilhelm.

Wilma showed no mercy

to our Claire,

so no mercy oughta

be shown to her. She must die!

Jack...

Killing old Wilma

won't bring Claire back.

All we want is justice.

You've said so many times

that we're entitled to it.

I propose... that...

...that she be banished from Manderlay

for stealing food in an emergency.

She probably won't survive

that anyway, as old as she is.

After all, we don't know if

the matter of the food

made any difference at all

in Claire's fate.

Wilma can't have known

whether it would kill her.

But she didn't care a bit when it

came to riskin' somebody else's life,

that of our little girl!

All Wilma saw was a plate

nobody was touching.

She was hungry.

What do you think

the rest of us was?

All of us here

ate what we'd agreed.

What do you think

little Claire was?

We all hungry,

and that just makes it

far, far worse.

I'd like to ask y'all to vote

on Jack and Rose's motion.

All those who believe

that Wilma deserves to die,

raise your hands.

Thank you.

Thank y'all.

Stop!

Grace?

I thought we were the ones

who made the decisions here.

That's what you always told us.

Or maybe it's only sometimes.

Of course not. It's always.

Then they's the decisions

you're here to defend, ain't they?

So let me go across and do it.

No.

If anybody is going to do it,

it's going to be me.

It must not be

an act of vengeance.

That's all right by me.

As long as

she suffers as much as Claire.

That will be up to me.

I'll let you know when it's over.

Grace...

Be so kind as to tell me...

What they decide?

Am I gonna die?

No, Wilma,

you're not going to die.

What you mean?

I mean the ballot did not go

Jack's way.

You're not gonna die.

See, they didn't think Claire would have

eaten the food on her plate anyway.

And anyhow, she'd certainly

have died from pneumonia

from the dust.

Did they really say that?

Yes. They really said that.

If you knew

how terrible the waitin' was...

I'm just so weary.

I know.

I know you are.

But now you can sleep easy.

Yes. I can.

Lie down and get some sleep.

You are the daughter

I might have had.

- Lie down.

- Will you stay till I sleep?

I'll do that, Wilma.

Here.

Lie down.

Wilma?

# Sheep, sheep #

# Yes, my Lord #

# Sheep, sheep#

# Yes, my Lord #

Harvest time finally did arrive and

the cotton went safe into the sacks.

# Yes, I know #

Despite the fewer bushes,

the harvest was splendid.

# Yes, I know #

It was as if

all the trials and tribulations

had made the cotton extra white

and the fibers extra strong.

And even at current prices,

it would bring in a record sum.

# Yes, my Lord #

And although nothing

was the way it had ever been,

the harvest was as precise

as always at Manderlay.

The moment the last tuft of cotton

was in the sack, the swallows arrived,

dropping from the skies

towards the marshes.

Everyone observed the sight in awe

and for a moment it was greater

than all the words

and politics in the world.

The old gin was as ready as ever.

It had been for a week.

Greased and stripped down

and reassembled by Sammy

who had teamed up with Niels.

They worked well in harness.

Niels had never found

a joke funny in his life,

so Sammy, the Clownin' N*gger,

had given up, not unrelieved,

trying to entertain him

with his somewhat weak material.

That's fine.

That's fine?

All right.

Miss Grace?

Miss Grace?

Edward!

I hardly recognized you. You've

certainly changed the way you dress.

Yes. Your father thought

it was time for a change.

He's on his way

into a new area of business.

Is Daddy here?

No, he sent me on ahead

to give you a message.

Your father says he'll be by a week,

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