Then she said-- "Never! I would sooner strike it into my own heart." She came out, stood panting for a short moment in the doorway, and then stepped into the firelight.

Behind her, through the darkness came the sound of words calling the vengeance of heaven on her head, rising higher, shrill, strained, repeating the curse over and over again--till the voice cracked in a passionate shriek that died out into hoarse muttering ending with a deep and prolonged sigh.

She stood facing Willems, one hand behind her back, the other raised in a gesture compelling attention, and she listened in that attitude till all was still inside the hut.

Then she made another step forward and her hand dropped slowly.
"Nothing but misfortune," she whispered, absently, to herself.

"Nothing but misfortune to us who are not white." The anger and excitement died out of her face, and she looked straight at Willems with an intense and mournful gaze.
He recovered his senses and his power of speech with a sudden start.
"Aissa," he exclaimed, and the words broke out through his lips with hurried nervousness.