He paused and gazed at her earnestly, but she hung her head like a lily, and said never a word.
“Look!” he went on, pointing to the statue on which the moonlight played so brightly. “Thou seest that angel woman who rests her hand upon the forehead of the sleeping man; and thou seest how at her touch his soul flames up and shines out through his flesh, even as a lamp at the touch of the fire; so is it with me and thee, Nyleptha. Thou hast awakened my soul and called it forth, and now, Nyleptha, it is not mine, not mine, but thine and thine only. There is no more for me to say; in thy hands is my life.” And he leaned back against the pedestal of the statue, looking very pale, and his eyes shining, but proud and handsome as a god.
Slowly, slowly she raised her head, and fixed her wonderful eyes, all alight with the greatness of her passion, full upon his face, as though to read his very soul. Then at last she spoke, low indeed, but clearly as a silver bell.
“Of a truth, weak woman that I am, I do believe thee. Ill will be the day for thee and for me also, if it be my fate to learn that I have believed a lie. And now hearken unto me, O man, who hath wandered here from far to steal my heart and make me all thine own. I put my hand upon thy hand thus, and thus I, whose lips have never kissed before, do kiss thee on the brow; and now by my hand, and by that first and holy kiss, ay, by my people’s weal and by my throne that like enough I shall lose for thee, by the name of my high house, by the sacred stone and by the eternal majesty of the Sun, I swear that for thee will I live and die. And I swear that I will love thee and thee only till death, ay, and beyond—if as thou sayest there be a beyond—and that thy will shall be my will, and thy ways my ways.
“Oh see, see, my lord! thou knowest not how humble is she who loves; I, who am a Queen, I kneel before thee; even at thy feet I do my homage;” and the lovely impassioned creature flung herself down on her knees on the cold marble before him. And after that I really do not know what happened, for I could stand it no longer, and cleared off to refresh myself with a little of old Umslopogaas’s society, leaving them to settle it their own way, and a very long time they were about it.
I found the old warrior leaning on Inkosi-Kaas as usual, and surveying the scene in the patch of moonlight with a grim smile of amusement.
“Ah, Macumazahn,” he said, “I suppose it is because I am getting old, but I don’t think that I shall ever learn to understand the ways of you white people. Look there now, I pray thee, they are a pretty pair of doves. But what is all the fuss about, Macumazahn? He wants a wife, and she wants a husband; then why does he not pay his cows down18 like a man and have done with it? It would save a deal of trouble, and we should have had our night’s sleep. But there they go—talk, talk, talk, and kiss, kiss, kiss, like mad things. Eugh!”
Some three-quarters of an hour afterwards the “pair of doves” came strolling towards us, Curtis looking slightly silly, and Nyleptha remarking calmly that the moonlight made very pretty effects on the marble. Then, for she was in a most gracious mood, she took my hand and said that I was “her Lord’s” dear friend, and therefore most dear to her—not a word for my own sake, you see. Next she lifted Umslopogaas’s axe, and examined it curiously, saying significantly as she did so that he might soon have cause to use it in defence of her.
After that she nodded prettily to us all, and casting one tender glance at her lover, glided off into the darkness like a beautiful vision.
When we got back to our quarters, which we did without accident, Curtis asked me, jocularly, what I was thinking about.
“I am wondering,” I answered, “on what principle it is arranged that some people should find beautiful queens to fall in love with them, while others find nobody at all, or worse than nobody, and I am also wondering how many brave men’s lives this night’s work will cost.” It was rather nasty of me, perhaps, but somehow all the feelings do not evaporate with age, and I could not help being a little jealous of my old friend’s luck. Vanity, my sons, vanity of vanities!
On the following morning Good was informed of the happy occurrence, and positively rippled with smiles that, originating somewhere about the mouth, slowly travelled up his face like the rings in a duckpond, till they flowed over the brim of his eyeglass and went where sweet smiles go. The fact of the matter, however, was that not only was Good rejoiced about the thing on its own merits, but also for personal reasons. He adored Sorais quite as earnestly as Sir Henry adored Nyleptha, and his adoration had not altogether prospered. Indeed, it had seemed to him and to me also that the dark Cleopatra-like queen favoured Curtis in her own curious, inscrutable way much more than Good. Therefore it was a relief to him to learn that his unconscious rival was permanently and satisfactorily attached in another
