“What do you mean, Sihamba?”

“I mean, Swallow, that although I am so small some have thought me pretty, and the real reason of Black Piet’s hate for me is—­but why should I defile your ears with the tale?”

“They would only match my face if you did,” answered Suzanne grimly, “but there is no need; I can guess well enough.”

“You can guess, Swallow; then you will see why it was my fault.  Yes, yes, you will see that what I, a black woman, who am less than dirt in the eyes of your people, would not do to save my own life; you, a white chieftainess, and the fairest whom we know, have done of your own will to keep it in me.”

“If the act was good,” answered Suzanne, “may it go to my credit in the Book of the Great One who made us.”

“It will go to your credit, Swallow,” answered Sihamba with passion, “both in that Book and in the hearts of all who hear this story, but most of all in this heart of mine.  Oh! listen, lady; sometimes a cloud comes over me, and in that cloud I who was born a doctoress see visions of things that are to happen, true visions.  Among them I see this:  that many moons hence and far away I shall live to save you as you have saved me, but between that day and this the cloud of the future is black to my eyes, black but living.”

“It may be so,” answered Suzanne, “for I have heard that you have the Sight.  And now, farewell; you had best seek out some friends among your people and hide yourself.”

“My people,” said Sihamba; “then I must seek long, for they are very, very far away, nor do they desire to see me.”

“Why not?”

“Because as it chances I am by blood their ruler, for I am the only child of my father’s head-wife.  But they would not have me set over them as chieftainess unless I married a man, and towards marriage I have no wish, for I am different from other women, both in body and heart.  So having quarrelled with them on this and another matter of policy I set out to seek my fortune and left them to theirs.”

“Your fortune was not a good one, Sihamba, for it led you to Swart Piet and the rope.”

“Nay, lady, it led me to the Swallow and freedom; no, not to freedom but to slavery, for I am your slave, whose life you have bought at a great price.  Now I have nothing left in the world; Swart Piet has taken my cattle which I earned cow by cow and bred up heifer by heifer, and save for the wit within my brain and this kaross upon my shoulders, I have nothing.”

“What, then, will you do, Sihamba?”

“What you do, Swallow, that I shall do, for am I not your slave bought at a great price?  I will go home with you and serve you, yes, to my life’s end.”

“That would please me well enough, Sihamba, but I do not know how it would please my father.”

“What pleases you pleases him, Swallow; moreover, I can save my food twice over by curing his cattle and horses in sickness, for in such needs I have skill.”