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

"Benita, an African romance"

You take the girl and give me all the gold," and in his ecstasy
he began to pour the glittering ingots over his head and body.
"A new version of the tale of Danae," began Robert in a sarcastic
voice, then suddenly paused, for a change had come over Jacob's face, a
terrible change.
It turned ashen beneath the tan, his eyes grew large and round, he put
up his hands as though to thrust something from him, his whole frame
shivered, and his hair seemed to erect itself. Slowly he retreated
backwards, and would have fallen down the unclosed trap-hole had not one
of the Kaffirs pushed him away. Back he went, still back, till he struck
the further wall and stood there, perhaps for half a minute. He lifted
his hand and pointed first to those ancient footprints, some of which
still remained in the dust of the floor, and next, as they thought, at
Benita. His lips moved fast, he seemed to be pleading, remonstrating,
yet--and this was the ghastliest part of it--from them there came no
sound. Lastly, his eyes rolled up until only the whites of them were
visible, his face became wet as though water had been poured over it,
and, still without a sound, he fell forward and moved no more.
So terrible was the scene that with a howl of fear the two Kaffirs
turned and fled up the stairway.


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