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Updated: May 15, 2025
"What is his name?" asked Mark. "Fisatra. He is named after a great chief who lived in this district not long ago. But here he comes to speak for himself." At that moment a tall, fine-looking man, of very dark complexion, and clad in the ample folds of a beautiful lamba, approached them.
"She has not yet been tried to that extent, but if she is, God will enable her to stand firm," said Fisatra, whose grave child-like sincerity, when talking of religious subjects, was not less impulsively honest and natural than were the outbursts of his fun when another humour stirred his feelings.
Again the fun-wrinkles corrugated the visage of Fisatra, and his mighty shoulders heaved with internal explosions. "After I had calmed down a bit," he continued, "the spies ventured to ask timidly if that was a great enemy that I had beaten.
"Thanks, thanks, my friend, for the comforting words," said Ravonino, "and I take shame to myself that my faith is so weak." "You will spend the night with me?" said their host to the guide. "No, Fisatra, I dare not delay. Even now I may be too late. I will journey all night." Ravonino rose quickly and prepared to go.
"Is Mr Ellis here just now?" interrupted Ravonino, anxiously. "Not now," answered Fisatra; "he departed some weeks ago, but I believe has not yet left the coast. And now there is no check on the Queen's violence.
When the mats were spread, and the feast was being enjoyed, Ravonino asked the host how he had got rid of the spies, and how he managed to explain his conduct without raising their suspicions. "Nothing easier," said Fisatra, while his broad shoulders heaved with an inward chuckle.
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