A. Thompson, Zina: the Slave Girl; or, Which the Traitor…
“ Zina. Oh, please buy me, Master D’Arneaux, I am so miserable now.D’A. Zina, your honor is more sacred than your life, and you have the right to defend it to the death, even against your master (handing stiletto) . Take this knife and kill the miscreant who would insult you.Zina (kissing and hugging it to her bosom) . Oh, I am so helpless alone with them.D’A. Zina, you were not born to be a slave. God has not put the stamp of that race in your angel face. Your brain is sharper than your master’s. Think! at fourteen you read as well as the best at the plantation. In music you are a prodigy. ”
