“He enchanted you with his white face and lying promises.” “He only promised to have my voice cultivated.” “And then?” “I shall become rich, and courted by the great and mighty,” said Zulima. “Already I am learning the language of the Franks.” “They will not crowd to see you; forget not you are an African, and a black.” “I can overcome that.” Again Ajeeb laughed. “Can you make your skin white?” he inquired. “No, but my genius will overcome even that,” she replied enthusiastically. “Who told you that you were a great singer, or should ever become one?” “The American.” “Again he lied to you.” “Do not speak harshly of him,” said the girl. “Ah, has he already espoused you?” A flush showed beneath the girl’s features. “No.” “You love him?” “Why should I not? Has he not been more than a father to me?” “He did not so act when he induced you to leave those to whom you were bound by ties of blood. Zulima, you will never be a singer for the public; I, Ajeeb, have said it.” The man’s eyes blazed with a strange light, and a thrill seemed to pass through him. “What do you mean?” cried the girl, greatly frightened. “My meaning will be made plain in due time,” said Ajeeb. “You would not harm me.” He laughed derisively. “Would I not? You should know I never allow aught to stand in the way of the accomplishment of anything I set about.” “What has this American done that you hate him so?” “I was not speaking of him just now,” replied Ajeeb. “I care not what may happen to me, I would not have harm come to him,” exclaimed the dark-skinned beauty. “Ah!” said the visitor; “the curse of Jobu be upon you!” Zulima shuddered. She had left Africa behind her forever, she hoped, but not so the superstitious belief in which she was raised. She believed the false god Jobu as great as his devotees claimed. None had been more devout in their worship of the misshapen wooden idol than Zulima herself. She was quite certain that Jobu would one day make the Abyssinians rulers of the whole of Africa. Stolburst had endeavored to teach the dark beauty Christianity. She had listened patiently to him, but he found himself unable to convince his charge that there could be a greater god than her own Jobu. “Why should I be cursed?” Zulima asked, after a pause. “You are a princess.” “True.” “You were promised in marriage to a son of the king.” “Yes, but I was not consulted in the matter.” “Why should you be consulted? What woman among us can elect or reject a husband without the consent of her male relatives?” “I know it, and believed the custom was right before I had my eyes opened to the truth,” replied the girl. “In a spirit of rebellion you ran away with an unbeliever. It was not altogether to bring you back to Gondar myself, Ashah, and Deth came across the great seas.” “Is that terrible man, Ashah, with you?” cried Zulima. “Have I not said so? and I do not lie,” replied Ajeeb. The girl shuddered.