“Her features were those of a white woman, though rather dark. Her face and hands, however, did not correspond in colour with her feet. In fact I suspected at the time that she had stained them. But perhaps the nonna had been running about a good deal in the sun.”
“And her hair, ma?” asked Dalima.
“It was tied up in a knot.”
“What colour was it, ma?”
“It was as black as yours; but much softer, it looked like silk and was wavy. Oh, yes! now I feel sure she was a nonna.”
“Yes,” thought Dalima, “it is she;” and then she continued aloud:
“She asked you no other question, ma?”
“No, nothing else,” replied the stall-keeper.
Dalima did not stay long—a quarter of an hour later she was on her way to Sikaja. How she sped there, we shall see later on. The day after, she reappeared in Karang Anjer; but it was only to fetch the bundle she had left behind her. Then she disappeared, and no one saw or heard anything more of her.
Mrs. Steenvlak sent a couple of oppassers to inquire what had become of her; but they returned saying that the girl had gone away, no one could tell whither.