CHAPTER XXII.
PLEASURE.
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“But ever, from that hour, ’tis said, He stammered and he stuttered, As if an axe went through his head With every word he uttered. He stuttered o’er blessing, he stuttered o’er ban, He stuttered, drunk or dry; And none but he and the fisherman Could tell the reason why.” |
“Babette,” said Captain Brand, as he tapped a spoon against his coffee-cup and puffed his cigar, while the stout dumb negress was removing the remains of the light dinner, “Babette, old girl, you know that we are going to leave here in a few days, and I should like to know whether you care to go with us or remain here on the island.”
The negress made a guttural grunt of assent, and nodded her head till the ends of her Madras turban fluttered.
“Ho! you do, eh? Well, my Baba, I shall be sorry to leave you, for you will be very lonely here, and it may be a long, very long time before I come back.”
Babette jerked her chin up this time, and did not grunt.
“It’s all the same, eh? old lady! Well, I shall leave enough to eat to last you a lifetime; but you will have to change your quarters, my Baba, and live in the padre’s shed, for I––a––don’t think this house will be inhabitable long after I am gone.”
The negress gave another grunt and nod of assent.
“Yes. Well, old lady, the matter is decided, then; but, in case you should have any visitors here after we have gone, you won’t take any trouble to describe what you have seen here? No! That shake of your head convinces me––not if they roast you alive?”