“Speak,” he said again, whereon another voice, not that of Benita, answered in another tongue: 

“I hear; but I do not understand your language.”

“Great Heaven!” said Meyer, “it is Portuguese,” and for a while the terror of the thing struck him dumb, for he was aware that Benita knew no Portuguese.  He knew it, however, who had lived at Lorenco Marquez.

“Who are you?” he asked in that tongue.

“I am Benita da Ferreira.  I am the daughter of the Captain da Ferreira and of his wife, the lady Christinha, who stand by you now.  Turn, and you will see them.”

Jacob started and looked about him uneasily.

“What did she say?  I did not catch it all,” asked Mr. Clifford.

He translated her words.

“But this is black magic,” exclaimed the old man.  “Benita knows no Portuguese, so how comes she to speak it?”

“Because she is no longer our Benita; she is another Benita, Benita da Ferreira.  The Molimo was right when he said that the spirit of the dead woman went with her, as it seems the name has gone,” he added.

“Have done,” said Mr. Clifford; “the thing is unholy.  Wake her up, or I will.”

“And bring about her death.  Touch or disturb her, and I tell you she will die,” and he pointed to Benita, who crouched before them so white and motionless that indeed it seemed as though already she were dead.  “Be quiet,” he went on.  “I swear to you that no hurt shall come to her, also that I will translate everything to you.  Promise, or I will tell you nothing, and her blood be on your head.”

Then Mr. Clifford groaned and said: 

“I promise.”

“Tell me your story, Benita da Ferreira.  How came you and your people here?”

“The tribes of Monomotapa rose against our rule.  They killed many of us in the lower land, yes, they killed my brother and him to whom I was affianced.  The rest of us fled north to this ancient fortress, hoping thence to escape by the river, the Zambesi.  The Mambo, our vassal, gave us shelter here, but the tribes besieged the walls in thousands, and burnt all the boats so that we could not fly by the water.  Many times we beat them back from the wall; the ditch was full of their dead, and at last they dared to attack no more.

“Then we began to starve and they won the first wall.  We went on starving and they won the second wall, but the third wall they could not climb.  So we died; one by one we laid ourselves down in this cave and died, till I alone was left, for while our people had food they gave it to me who was the daughter of their captain.  Yes, alone I knelt at the foot of this crucifix by the body of my father, praying to the blessed Son of Mary for the death that would not come, and kneeling there I swooned.  When I awoke again the Mambo and his men stood about me, for now, knowing us to be dead, the tribes had gone, and those who were in hiding across the river had