Jacob
Meyer perceived it and stopped; the three natives perceived it also
and stopped. There they stood, all four of them, at the end of the long
sitting-room, staring at the white Benita and at her haunted eyes.
One of the natives pointed with his thin finger to her face, and
whispered to the others. Meyer, who understood their tongue, caught the
whisper. It was:
"Behold the Spirit of the Rock!"
"What spirit, and what rock?" he asked in a low voice.
"She who haunts Bambatse; she whom our eyes have seen," answered the
man, still staring at Benita.
Benita heard the whispering, and knew it was about herself, though not
one word of it did she catch. With a sigh she shook herself free from
her visions and sat down in a chair close by. Then one by one the
messengers drew near to her, and each, as he came, made a profound
obeisance, touching the floor with his finger-tips, and staring at her
face. But her father they only saluted with an uplifted hand. She looked
at them with interest, and indeed they were interesting in their way;
tall, spare men, light coloured, with refined, mobile faces. Here was no
negro-blood, but rather that of some ancient people such as Egyptians or
Phoenicians: men whose forefathers had been wise and civilized thousands
of years ago, and perchance had stood in the courts of Pharaoh or of
Solomon.
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