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Updated: May 31, 2025
He shut his eyes and lay still a while. Then he opened them again and said: "O Imba, tell your father, the Teacher Tombool, from me that he does not understand us black people, whom he thinks so common, as you understand us, Little Flower, and that he would be wise to go to minister to white ones."
Only the little Chieftainess Imba ought to sleep in this house on the night of full moon." So indeed it proved to be. No suburban villa could have been more commonplace and less disturbed than was their dwelling for twenty-seven nights of every month, but on the twenty-eighth they found a change of air desirable.
"Have you seen or heard anything, Ivana?" asked Thomas. "Yes, Teacher," she answered, "I have seen what I expected to see and heard what I expected to hear on this night of full moon, but I am guarded and do not fear." "The child! The child!" said Dorcas. "The Inkosikazi Imba sleeps. Disturb her not." Taking no heed, they thrust past her into the room.
"I slept beautifully," she cried, "and dreamed I was in heaven all night." Thomas was furious and rated her till she wept. Then suddenly Ivana became furious too and rated him. Should he be wrath with the Little Chieftainess Imba, she asked him, because the Isitunzis, the spirits of the dead, loved her as did everything else?
Presently the girl took up two dry sticks, and, using one as a drill between the palms of her hands, essayed to make a fire. The boy imperatively intervened. "Poo-nee imba!" The girl started up, and instantly both slid into the jungle as silently and as tracklessly as snakes. So enthralling was the scene that time passed insensibly. The sun was overhead when the pair reappeared noiselessly.
Yes, he smiled and saluted her with shaking but uplifted arm, naming her Inkosikazi and Umame, or Mother. "Welcome, Maiden Imba. Welcome, Little Flower," he said. "I wish to say good-bye to you and to bless you; also to endow you with my Spirit, that it may guard you throughout your life till you are as I am. I have hated some of the others, but I have always loved you, Little Flower."
No, no, I cannot hate you, although we fight for mastery, and you pelt me with vile words, saying that I charmed a deadly immamba to bite Little Flower whom I love, that I might cure her and make a mock of you. Yet I do hate that snake which bit the maiden Imba of its own wickedness, the hooded immamba that you believe to be my familiar, and it shall die.
I have been wicked, Little Flower, according to your white law. I have killed men and done many other things that are according to the law of my own people, and by that law I look for judgment. Yet, O Imba, I will say this that I believe your law to be higher and better than my law.
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