Desertion by Stephen Crane
The yellow gas-light that came with an effect of difficulty through
the dust-stained windows on either side of the door, gave strange hues
to the faces and forms of the three women who stood gabbling in the
hall-way of the tenement. They made rapid gestures, and in the
background their enormous shadows mingled in terrific conflict.
Aye, she ain't so good as he thinks she is, I'll bet. He can watch
over 'er an' take care of 'er all he pleases, but when she wants t'
fool 'im, she'll fool 'im. An' how does he know she ain't foolin' 'im
Oh, he thinks he's keepin' 'er from goin' t' th' bad, he does. Oh,
yes. He ses she's too purty t' let run round alone. Too purty! Huh! My
Well, he keeps a clost watch on 'er, you bet. O'ny las' week, she
met my boy Tim on th' stairs, an' Tim hadn't said two words to 'er
b'fore th' ol' man begin to holler. 'Dorter, dorter, come here, come
At this moment a young girl entered from the street, and it was
evident from the injured expression suddenly assumed by the three
gossipers that she had been the object of their discussion. She passed
them with a slight nod, and they swung about into a row to stare after
On her way up the long flights the girl unfastened her veil. One
could then clearly see the beauty of her eyes, but there was in them a
certain furtiveness that came near to marring the effects. It was a
peculiar fixture of gaze, brought from the street, as of one who there
saw a succession of passing dangers with menaces aligned at every
On the top floor, she pushed open a door and then paused on the
threshold, confronting an interior that appeared black and flat like a
curtain. Perhaps some girlish idea of hobgoblins assailed her then, for
she called in a little breathless voice, Daddie!
There was no reply. The fire in the cooking-stove in the room
crackled at spasmodic intervals. One lid was misplaced, and the girl
could now see that this fact created a little flushed crescent upon the
ceiling. Also, a series of tiny windows in the stove caused patches of
red upon the floor. Otherwise, the room was heavily draped with
The girl called again, Daddie!
Yet there was no reply.
Presently she laughed as one familiar with the humours of an old
man. Oh, I guess yer cussin' mad about yer supper, dad, she said, and
she almost entered the room, but suddenly faltered, overcome by a
feminine instinct to fly from this black interior, peopled with
Again she called, Daddie! Her voice had an accent of appeal. It
was as if she knew she was foolish but yet felt obliged to insist upon
being reassured. Oh, daddie!
Of a sudden a cry of relief, a feminine announcement that the stars
still hung, burst from her. For, according to some mystic process, the
smouldering coals of the fire went aflame with sudden, fierce
brilliance, splashing parts of the walls, the floor, the crude
furniture, with a hue of blood-red. And in the light of this dramatic
outburst of light, the girl saw her father seated at a table with his
back turned toward her.
She entered the room, then, with an aggrieved air, her logic
evidently concluding that somebody was to blame for her nervous fright.
Oh, yer on'y sulkin' 'bout yer supper. I thought mebbe ye'd gone
Her father made no reply. She went over to a shelf in the corner,
and, taking a little lamp, she lit it and put it where it would give
her light as she took off her hat and jacket in front of the tiny
mirror. Presently, she began to bustle among the cooking utensils that
were crowded into the sink, and as she worked she rattled talk at her
father, apparently disdaining his mood.
I'd 'a come home earlier t'night, dad, o'ny that fly foreman, he
kep' me in th' shop 'til half-past six. What a fool. He came t' me, yeh
know, an' he ses, 'Nell, I wanta give yeh some brotherly advice.' Oh, I
know him an' his brotherly advice. 'I wanta give yeh some brotherly
advice. Yer too purty, Nell,' he ses, 't' be workin' in this shop an'
paradin' through the streets alone, without somebody t' give yeh good
brotherly advice, an' I wanta warn yeh, Nell. I'm a bad man, but I
ain't as bad as some, an' I wanta warn yeh.' 'Oh, g'long 'bout yer
business,' I ses. I know 'im. He's like all of 'em, o'ny he's a little
slyer. I know 'im. 'You g'long 'bout yer business,' I ses. Well, he ses
after a while that he guessed some evenin' he'd come up an' see me.
'Oh, yeh will,' I ses, 'yeh will? Well, you jest let my ol' man ketch
yeh comin' foolin' 'round our place. Yeh'll wish yeh went t' some other
girl t' give brotherly advice.' 'What th' 'ell do I care fer yer
father?' he ses. 'What's he t' me?' 'If he throws yeh down stairs,
yeh'll care for 'im,' I ses. 'Well,' he ses, 'I'll come when 'e ain't
in, b' Gawd, I'll come when 'e ain't in.' 'Oh, he's allus in when it
means takin' care 'a me,' I ses. 'Don't yeh fergit it either. When it
comes t' takin' care 'a his dorter, he's right on deck every single
After a time, she turned and addressed cheery words to the old man.
Hurry up th' fire, daddie! We'll have supper pretty soon.
But still her father was silent, and his form in its sullen posture
At this, the girl seemed to see the need of the inauguration of a
feminine war against a man out of temper. She approached him breathing
soft, coaxing syllables.
Daddie! Oh, Daddie! Oooh, Daddie!
It was apparent from a subtle quality of valour in her tones that
this manner of onslaught upon his moods had usually been successful,
but to-night it had no quick effect. The words, coming from her lips,
were like the refrain of an old ballad, but the man remained stolid.
Daddie! My Daddie! Oh, Daddie are yeh mad at me, reallytruly mad
She touched him lightly upon the arm. Should he have turned then he
would have seen the fresh, laughing face, with dew-sparkling eyes,
close to his own.
Oh, Daddie! My Daddie! Pretty Daddie!
She stole her arm about his neck, and then slowly bended her face
toward his. It was the action of a queen who knows that she reigns
notwithstanding irritations, trials, tempests.
But suddenly, from this position, she leaped backward with the mad
energy of a frightened colt. Her face was in this instant turned to a
grey, featureless thing of horror. A yell, wild and hoarse as a
brute-cry, burst from her. Daddie! She flung herself to a place near
the door, where she remained, crouching, her eyes staring at the
motionless figure, spattered by the quivering flashes from the fire.
Her arms extended, and her frantic fingers at once besought and
repelled. There was in them an expression of eagerness to caress and an
expression of the most intense loathing. And the girl's hair that had
been a splendour, was in these moments changed to a disordered mass
that hung and swayed in witchlike fashion.
Again, a terrible cry burst from her. It was more than the shriek of
agonyit was directed, personal, addressed to him in the chair, the
first word of a tragic conversation with the dead.
It seemed that when she had put her arm about its neck, she had
jostled the corpse in such a way, that now she and it were face to
face. The attitude expressed an intention of arising from the table.
The eyes, fixed upon hers, were filled with an unspeakable hatred.
* * * * *
The cries of the girl aroused thunders in the tenement. There was a
loud slamming of doors, and presently there was a roar of feet upon the
boards of the stairway. Voices rang out sharply.
What is it?
What's th' matter?
He's killin' her!
Slug 'im with anythin' yeh kin lay hold of, Jack.
But over all this came the shrill shrewish tones of a woman. Ah,
th' damned ol' fool, he's drivin' 'er inteh th' streetthat's what
he's doin.' He's drivin' 'er inteh th' street.