“Well, who is he? What keeps him at Shivas? What does he want? What does he hope for? What are his plans?”
“Is it for me to inform you? In the name of the God of the Christians, who has been yours and is still mine, cease to question me. If our master should only discover that this young man has penetrated here into the gardens, I know that I should be put to death. I should be cut to pieces and thrown to feed the fish in the ponds.”
“But he shall not know it. Thou hast nothing to fear, I tell thee; am not I here to protect thee?”
“But thee? Who will protect thee?”
“What matters it? Then you know this stranger? Thou hast met him, and hast told me nothing of it?”
“Doubtless it has so happened, though he would have preferred meeting another.”
“And who is that other?”
“Thyself.”
“Me!” exclaimed Baïla, with her face suffused with blushes, as if she did not expect this reply, which she had skillfully extracted in order to force Mariam into her confidence. “And what does he want with me?”
“What does he want?” replied the old negress, again a prey to her first emotion. “What does he want? God keep me from saying?! He alone can tell you. But it will be death perhaps for us three.”