"Speak," he commanded, but the crouching figure shook her head.
"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.
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