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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Benita, an African romance"


Upon these, at a motion from Tamas, they sat themselves down, and, as it
was not dignified for them to speak first, remained silent.
"Be patient and forgive," said Tamas at length. "My father, Mambo, prays
to the Munwali and the spirits of his fathers that this coming of yours
may be fortunate, and that a vision of those things that are to be may
descend upon him."
Benita, feeling nearly two hundred pairs of eyes concentrated upon her,
wished that the vision might come quickly, but after a minute or
two fell into tune with the thing, and almost enjoyed this strange
experience. Those mighty ancient walls built by hands unknown, which
had seen so much history and so much death; the silent, triple ring
of patient, solemn men, the last descendants of a cultured race, the
crouching figure hidden beneath the blanket, who imagined himself to be
communicating with his god--it was all very strange, very well worth the
seeing to one who had wearied of the monotony of civilization.
Look, the man stirred, and threw back his blanket, revealing a head
white with age, a spiritual, ascetic face, so thin that every bone
showed in it, and dark eyes which stared upwards unseeingly, like those
of a person in a trance. Thrice he sighed, while his tribesmen watched
him.


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