“Clk!” she gasped, making a little gesture of hopelessness. “When the sun shines are not the flowers open? But when the night hath come where are the flowers? The deer feed on sweet pastures, but when the shadow of the lion falleth upon the grass hath not a great cloud come over the world?”
“But thy lion hath fled, O Bakuma!”
She gazed at the white man with curious wonderment [pg 200] at the stupidity of one failing to comprehend the simplest problem. She sighed and then as if with much patience for another’s shortcomings:
“Thou hast strong magic, O white man,” said she, “magic that makes the magic of Bakahenzie to fall as water. Yet was the daughter of Bakala not found by divination? Was the daughter of Bakala not revealed to be the bride of the Banana by divination? There shall be made magic that the voice of the one shall be obeyed. Eh! Aiee! Aie!”
The brown eyes welled opals which splashed upon a bronze breast. As Birnier watched her, pity stimulated a desire to relieve this symbol of self-torture, and he thought of a favourite passage in the “Anatomy”:
“Ay, but we are more miserable than others, what shall we do? Beside private miseries, we live in perpetual fear and danger; for epithalamiums, for pleasant music, that fearful noise of ordnance, drums, and warlike trumpets still sounding in our ears; instead of nuptial torches, we have the firing of towns and cities; for triumph, lamentations; for joy, tears.”
“Well, Bakuma,” said he in English, smiling covertly, “we’ll see if we can’t get you the nuptial torches!”
Bakuma gazed at him perplexedly with big eyes.
“Already Moonspirit begins the incantation of mighty magic,” explained Mungongo solemnly.
“Eh!” murmured Bakuma expectantly.