“The Slave Market” by Gustave Boulanger
She was my slave once. When my kingdom was ordered and the Libyan’s weren’t in contact with those rough hispid people. Now we’re here.
The auctioneer merchant seller sits and eats.
The strong man looks down at him & at his wife and son. They would be sold . . . without him.
The red-haired woman was pregnant. She would make a good wet-nurse.
In disgrace, poor Lady with her slave. She stared out proud irresolute and baffled. The slave, her breast uncovered her dangerous face impenetrable.
The crowd was dense—