“Can you not feel how wretched you are making him, Nana?”
“Oh! I pray you, pray do not say another word. Never, never can I be his—no—nor any other man’s wife.”
Dalima looked up at her with a puzzled expression. It would not be easy perhaps to say exactly what was passing in her mind. On her face there was a look of astonishment mingled with vexation; in her eyes one might read:
“What funny whims those white folk have! How miserable they make their lives!”
After a little while she was about to renew the conversation, she was in the act of opening her mouth to do so, when, just at that moment, the nènèh entered the gallery where the two girls were sitting. She had been down to the dessa to make some purchases, and now came in to give an account of what she had bought and of the money she had spent. Her entry created a diversion; but, when the old woman began to open her budget of news, she caused the greatest consternation. She told the girls that three Europeans had arrived at the dessa and had taken up their quarters in the loerah’s house.
“Three Europeans?” cried Anna, pale with terror.
“Yes, Nana,” replied the nènèh, who, thinking that she was speaking to a countrywoman of her own, always followed Dalima’s example and addressed the Resident’s daughter as “Nana.”
“Did you see them, nèh?” asked Dalima.
“No,” said the old woman.
“Could you find out what business they have in the village?”