likely the Chickasaws, from their ancestral lands. The narrative sweeps across three generations of Indian chieftains, yet its core lies in the ceremonial burial of Chief Issetibbeha and the traditional pursuit to sacrifice his personal servant at the chief's graveside.

The story's perspective is crucial, as the third-person narrator initially guides us through the minds of Two Indian characters, Three Basket and Louis Berry. This shifts in the fourth section, offering the vantage point of the hunted black man before returning to the Indian perspective in the fifth section. Finally, the concluding segment weaves together the viewpoints of both the Indians and the pursued man, enriching the tapestry of the narrative.

Before adopting the perspective of the black man, the narrative tone borders on the comedic, revealing the paradox of Indians, the supposed masters, caught in the machinations of their slaves. Tribal elders hold discussions about their "Negro question," echoing the 1550 Council of Valladolid's debates over the enslavement of native populations by the Spanish. Some elders toy with the grim notion of consuming their slaves but dismiss it, saying, "Once we started, we should have to eat them all. And that much flesh diet is not good for man." This sardonic exchange transitions into the tribe's current strategy: cultivating "more Negroes by clearing more land to make corn to feed them, then sell them." Yet, an irony persists, for the Indians seem content, having no need to spend the wealth they accrue.

While the presence of white characters is minimal in the narrative of "Red Leaves," the story serves as a potent critique of the enslavement practices introduced by white people, which the Indigenous characters have adopted. Faulkner isn't suggesting that the Native Americans make harsher slave masters than their white counterparts; rather, they likely exhibit greater compassion and benevolence. The unions of Doom with a woman of mixed heritage and Issetibbeha with a woman enslaved reveal an Indigenous perception of basic equality. Yet, this semblance of equality is tainted by the racial customs imposed by the whites. Faulkner's true critique is aimed at the white institution of slavery before the Civil War and the systemic inequality perpetuated by Jim Crow laws in his own era.

"That Evening Sun" delves into the corrosive nature of racial prejudice as it shadows the upbringing of the Compson children at the twilight of the 1800s. More poignantly, it unveils the impact on Nancy, a black woman who occasionally labors for their household. Quentin Compson, a character who also serves as the narrator in Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury and Absalom, Absalom!, guides us through "That Evening Sun" with the lens of an adult reflecting on his childhood. During the tale, Quentin is a mere nine years old, yet as the storyteller, he stands on the brink of his twenties, recounting events that transpired fifteen years prior.

Bound in marriage to a black man named Jesus, Nancy, who toils as a laundress and sometimes a cook for the Compsons, finds herself entwined in a tumultuous existence. Despite her marital ties, she's entangled with Mr. Stovall, a white bank cashier who also serves as a deacon at the Baptist church. Her predicament worsens when she demands payment from Stovall for unfulfilled transactions during their public encounter, leading to a brutal beating by Stovall. Ironically, it is Nancy who finds herself incarcerated. Her desperate attempt to take her own life in jail results in another round of beatings. Eventually, Jesus, Nancy’s husband, issues a threat to Stovall in the heart of the Compson household before vanishing from Jefferson, rumored to be heading to St. Louis. The title of the story, a subtle nod to W. C. Handy’s "St. Louis Blues," hints at layers of meaning, although it flips the song's narrative of infidelity on its head. Mr. Compson's remark implies that Stovall isn't Nancy's sole white paramour, highlighting the peculiarity of her extending credit to Stovall. Despite her tangled affairs, Nancy's love for Jesus remains perplexingly steadfast. When Mr. Compson muses about Jesus potentially taking up with a woman in St. Louis, jealousy flares within Nancy.

The heart of the narrative, however, veers away from these entanglements, focusing instead on Nancy's paralyzing dread of Jesus's possible return to Jefferson with murderous intent. Her terror casts a shadow over Dilsey, the Compsons' cook, along with Mr. and Mrs. Compson. Some critics conjecture that Nancy's fate lies in her demise at Jesus’s hands beyond the written timeline. John Cullen, a Mississippi confidant of Faulkner, shares that the story echoes a grim reality where Dave Bowdry, a once-neighbor of the Faulkners, ended his wife's life with a razor. Yet, intriguingly, the character Jesus never directly menaces Nancy. When the Compson children, whom Nancy relies on as a buffer against Jesus, depart her abode with Mr. Compson, she leaves her door ajar with a lamp casting a warm glow. Her actions seem less like a defense against aggression and more like an open invitation. Perhaps what Nancy truly dreads is not Jesus's wrath but his indifference, fearing he has forsaken her. Her apprehension morphs into an illogical fear of Jesus, a figure who has never posed a true threat to her existence.

The Impact of Racial Identity

Within this narrative, the stark contrast between being white and black profoundly influences the trajectory of a character's existence. The Compson children, in their naive cruelty, hurl stones at Nancy's home to compel her into preparing breakfast. Nancy's plight doesn't end there; she is taken into custody after being assaulted by Stovall, and rather than receiving compassion or guidance when she tries to end her own life, she is met with further violence. It is hardly surprising that as the century turned, literature brimmed with tales of black individuals navigating life by passing as white. For Nancy, sharing her bed with white men perhaps offers the illusion of becoming white herself.

Lessons in Prejudice

While Nancy suffers under the weight of discrimination, the Compson children begin to grapple with the concept of prejudice themselves. Jason, the youngest among them, embarks on a quest to decipher the meaning behind the derogatory term nigger. Although he senses the negativity attached to the word, he has yet to link it to the color of skin. His curiosity is evident when he questions Nancy, "Are you a nigger, Nancy?" Later, his inquiry continues with, "I ain't a nigger... Am I, Dilsey?" Through this story, Faulkner unveils not just the entrenched racism in adults, but also portrays the unsettling way in which children absorb and grapple with their inherited prejudices.