“Why not? Who are you?”
“I am from far, far beyond the sea. I come from Castile. With many others, I arrived, some months ago, at Hayti, and knowing that this, your isle, had not been visited by Christians, we desired to visit it, but were shipwrecked in the fearful tempest of last night and I was about to perish, when thy hand seized me amid the waves and brought me to the shore.”
“And why do you not wish to be my husband?”
“Because I am a priest and my god, who is the only god, orders his priests not to marry; he orders us to preach love. I come to preach it here, but not the love of the world,” added the Spaniard, sighing.
“This cannot be; it is not true,” replied the island woman, with vigor, “remain here with me in my hut, and we will be the rulers of the island and our children will be heirs of all.”
“I will be thy brother,” replied the missionary.
And the Indian woman left, weeping. In the way she met Zekom, who fixed his terrible yellow glance upon her.
“Comest to my hut, Starei?” he asked her.
“Never,” she answered firm and brave.
“We will be the rulers of all the islands of the seas and our children will be gods on earth, because we are children of the gods; the Gulf begot you in a pearlshell; the glowing Tropic begot me in a reef of gold and coral.”