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Unformatted text preview: as anything more than song, but I knew when the words were downright preposterous. And the cunning laughter of the slaves had taught me this too. I knew pomposity. "I know who Deborah was," I said, and I told it then the story of Deborah as told to me by Marie Claudette, of how she had risen high, and then been accused of witchcraft. "Betrayed by her husband and sons, she was, and before that, by her father. Aye, her father. And I took my vengeance upon him," it said. "I took my vengeance on him for what he and his ilk had done to her and to me!" The voice broke off. I had the distinct feeling in my little three-year- old mind that it had been about to launch on another long song of rotten poetry but had changed its mind at the last minute. "You understand what I say?" it asked. "I vowed to Deborah that I would never smile upon a male child, nor favor a male over a female." "Yes, I know what you are saying," I said, "and also my Grand- mamma told me. Deborah w...
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- Spring '10