We must now change the scene to the garden of that excellent Governor,
Senhor Francisco Alfonso Toledo Bignoso Letotti, and the date to three
months in advance of the period in which occurred the events related in
the last chapter.
"Maraquita, I am sorry to find that you still persist in encouraging
that morbid regret for the loss of one who cannot now be recovered."
Thus spoke the Governor in tones that were unusually petulant for one
who idolised his child.
"Father, why did you sell her without saying a word to me about your
intention? It was very, very, _very_ unkind--indeed it was."
Poor Maraquita's eyes were already red and swollen with much weeping,
nevertheless she proceeded to increase the redness and the swelling by a
renewed burst of passionate distress.
The worthy Governor found it difficult to frame a reply or to administer
suitable consolation, for in his heart he knew that he had sold Azinte,
as it were surreptitiously, to Marizano for an unusually large sum of
money, at a time when his daughter was absent on a visit to a friend.
The noted Portuguese kidnapper, murderer, rebel and trader in black
ivory, having recovered from his wound, had returned to the town, and,
being well aware of Azinte's market value, as a rare and remarkably
beautiful piece of ivory of extra-superfine quality, had threatened, as
well as tempted, Governor Letotti beyond his powers of resistance.
Marizano did not want the girl as his own slave. He wanted dollars,
and, therefore, destined her for the markets of Arabia or Persia, where
the smooth-tongued and yellow-skinned inhabitants hold that robbery,
violence, and cruelty, such as would make the flesh of civilised people
creep, although horrible vices in themselves, are nevertheless, quite
justifiable when covered by the sanction of that miraculous talisman
called a "domestic institution." The British Government had, by treaty,
agreed to respect slavery in the dominions of the Sultan of Zanzibar, as
a domestic institution with which it would not interfere!
Governor Letotti's heart had smitten him at first for he really was an
amiable man, and felt kindly disposed to humanity at large, slaves
included. Unfortunately the same kindliness was concentrated with
tenfold power on himself, so that when self-interest came into play the
amiable man became capable of deeds that Marizano himself might have
been proud of. The only difference, in fact, between the two was that
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