Her eyes roved idly and without interest over the
semi-circle of terrified men before her. Then by degrees they
fixed themselves upon the tree behind which I was crouching,
whereon Goza sank paralyzed to the ground. She contemplated this
tree for a while that seemed to me interminable; it reminded me
of a setter pointing game it winded but could not see, for her
whole frame grew intent and alert. She ceased playing with the
beads and stretched out her slender hand towards me. Her lips
moved. She spoke in a sweet, slow voice, saying--
"O Watcher-by-Night, is it thus you greet her to whom you have
given strength to stand once more beneath the moon? Come hither
and tell me, have you no kiss for one from whom you parted with a
kiss?"
I heard. Without doubt the voice was the very voice of Mameena
(so well had Nombe been instructed). Still I determined not to
obey it, who would not be made a public laughing-stock for a
second time in my life. Also I confess this jesting with the
dead seemed to me somewhat unholy, and not on any account would I
take a part in it.
All the company turned and stared at me, even Goza lifted his
head and stared, but I sat still and contemplated the beauties of
the night.
"If it is the spirit of Mameena, he will come," whispered
Cetewayo to Umnyamana.
"Yes, yes," answered the Prime Minister, "for the rope of his
love will draw him. He who has once kissed Mameena, _must_ kiss
her again when she asks.
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