CHAPTER XV.

SORAIS’ SONG

After our escape from Agon and his pious crew we returned to our

quarters in the palace and had a very good time. The two Queens, the

nobles and the people vied with each other in doing us honour and

showering gifts upon us. As for that painful little incident of the

hippopotami it sank into oblivion, where we were quite content to leave

it. Every day deputations and individuals waited on us to examine our

guns and clothing, our chain shirts, and our instruments, especially

our watches, with which they were much delighted. In short, we became

quite the rage, so much so that some of the fashionable young swells

among the Zu-Vendi began to copy the cut of some of our clothes,

notably Sir Henry’s shooting jacket. One day, indeed, a deputation

waited on us and, as usual, Good donned his full-dress uniform for the

occasion. This deputation seemed somehow to be a different class to

those who generally came to visit us. They were little insignificant

men of an excessively polite, not to say servile, demeanour; and their

attention appeared to be chiefly taken up with observing the details of

Good’s full-dress uniform, of which they took copious notes and

measurements. Good was much flattered at the time, not suspecting that

he had to deal with the six leading tailors of Milosis. A fortnight

afterwards, however, when on attending court as usual he had the

pleasure of seeing some seven or eight Zu-Vendi “mashers” arrayed in

all the glory of a very fair imitation of his full-dress uniform, he

changed his mind. I shall never forget his face of astonishment and

disgust. It was after this, chiefly to avoid remark, and also because

our clothes were wearing out and had to be saved up, that we resolved

to adopt the native dress; and a very comfortable one we found it,

though I am bound to say that I looked sufficiently ridiculous in it,

and as for Alphonse! Only Umslopogaas would have none of these things;

when his moocha was worn out the fierce old Zulu made him a new one,

and went about unconcerned, as grim and naked as his own battleaxe.

Meanwhile we pursued our study of the language steadily and made very

good progress. On the morning following our adventure in the temple,

three grave and reverend signiors presented themselves armed with

manuscript books, ink-horns and feather pens, and indicated that they

had been sent to teach us. So, with the exception of Umslopogaas, we

all buckled to with a will, doing four hours a day. As for Umslopogaas,

he would have none of that either. He did not wish to learn that

“woman’s talk”, not he; and when one of the teachers advanced on him

with a book and an ink-horn and waved them before him in a mild

persuasive way, much as a churchwarden invitingly shakes the offertory

bag under the nose of a rich but niggardly parishioner, he sprang up

with a fierce oath and flashed Inkosi-kaas before the eyes of our

learned friend, and there was an end of the attempt to teach _him_

Zu-Vendi.

Thus we spent our mornings in useful occupation which grew more and

more interesting as we proceeded, and the afternoons were given up to

recreation. Sometimes we made trips, notably one to the gold mines and

another to the marble quarries both of which I wish I had space and

time to describe; and sometimes we went out hunting buck with dogs

trained for that purpose, and a very exciting sport it is, as the

country is full of agricultural enclosures and our horses were

magnificent. This is not to be wondered at, seeing that the royal

stables were at our command, in addition to which we had four splendid

saddle horses given to us by Nyleptha.

Sometimes, again, we went hawking, a pastime that is in great favour

among the Zu-Vendi, who generally fly their birds at a species of

partridge which is remarkable for the swiftness and strength of its

flight. When attacked by the hawk this bird appears to lose its head,

and, instead of seeking cover, flies high into the sky, thus offering

wonderful sport. I have seen one of these partridges soar up almost out

of sight when followed by the hawk. Still better sport is offered by a

variety of solitary snipe as big as a small woodcock, which is

plentiful in this country, and which is flown at with a very small,

agile, and highly-trained hawk with an almost red tail. The zigzagging

of the great snipe and the lightning rapidity of the flight and

movements of the red-tailed hawk make the pastime a delightful one.

Another variety of the same amusement is the hunting of a very small

species of antelope with trained eagles; and it certainly is a

marvellous sight to see the great bird soar and soar till he is nothing

but a black speck in the sunlight, and then suddenly come dashing down

like a cannon-ball upon some cowering buck that is hidden in a patch of

grass from everything but that piercing eye. Still finer is the

spectacle when the eagle takes the buck running.

On other days we would pay visits to the country seats at some of the

great lords’ beautiful fortified places, and the villages clustering

beneath their walls. Here we saw vineyards and corn-fields and

well-kept park-like grounds, with such timber in them as filled me with

delight, for I do love a good tree. There it stands so strong and

sturdy, and yet so beautiful, a very type of the best sort of man. How

proudly it lifts its bare head to the winter storms, and with what a

full heart it rejoices when the spring has come again! How grand its

voice is, too, when it talks with the wind: a thousand aeolian harps

cannot equal the beauty of the sighing of a great tree in leaf. All day

it points to the sunshine and all night to the stars, and thus

passionless, and yet full of life, it endures through the centuries,

come storm, come shine, drawing its sustenance from the cool bosom of

its mother earth, and as the slow years roll by, learning the great

mysteries of growth and of decay. And so on and on through generations,

outliving individuals, customs, dynasties—all save the landscape it

adorns and human nature—till the appointed day when the wind wins the

long battle and rejoices over a reclaimed space, or decay puts the last

stroke to his fungus-fingered work.

Ah, one should always think twice before one cuts down a tree!

In the evenings it was customary for Sir Henry, Good, and myself to

dine, or rather sup, with their Majesties—not every night, indeed, but

about three or four times a week, whenever they had not much company,

or the affairs of state would allow of it. And I am bound to say that

those little suppers were quite the most charming things of their sort

that I ever had to do with. How true is the saying that the very

highest in rank are always the most simple and kindly. It is from your

half-and-half sort of people that you get pomposity and vulgarity, the

difference between the two being very much what one sees every day in

England between the old, out-at-elbows, broken-down county family, and

the overbearing, purse-proud people who come and “take the place”. I

really think that Nyleptha’s greatest charm is her sweet simplicity,

and her kindly genuine interest even in little things. She is the

simplest woman I ever knew, and where her passions are not involved,

one of the sweetest; but she can look queenly enough when she likes,

and be as fierce as any savage too.

For instance, never shall I forget that scene when I for the first time

was sure that she was really in love with Curtis. It came about in this

way—all through Good’s weakness for ladies’ society. When we had been

employed for some three months in learning Zu-Vendi, it struck Master

Good that he was getting rather tired of the old gentlemen who did us

the honour to lead us in the way that we should go, so he proceeded,

without saying a word to anybody else, to inform them that it was a

peculiar fact, but that we could not make any real progress in the

deeper intricacies of a foreign language unless we were taught by

ladies—young ladies, he was careful to explain. In his own country, he

pointed out, it was habitual to choose the very best-looking and most

charming girls who could be found to instruct any strangers who

happened to come that way, etc.

All of this the old gentlemen swallowed open-mouthed. There was, they

admitted, reason in what he said, since the contemplation of the

beautiful, as their philosophy taught, induced a certain porosity of

mind similar to that produced upon the physical body by the healthful

influences of sun and air. Consequently it was probable that we might

absorb the Zu-Vendi tongue a little faster if suitable teachers could

be found. Another thing was that, as the female sex was naturally

loquacious, good practice would be gained in the _viva voce_ department

of our studies.

To all of this Good gravely assented, and the learned gentlemen

departed, assuring him that their orders were to fall in with our

wishes in every way, and that, if possible, our views should be met.

Imagine, therefore the surprise and disgust of myself, and I trust and

believe Sir Henry, when, on entering the room where we were accustomed

to carry on our studies the following morning, we found, instead of our

usual venerable tutors, three of the best-looking young women whom

Milosis could produce—and that is saying a good deal—who blushed and

smiled and curtseyed, and gave us to understand that they were there to

carry on our instruction. Then Good, as we gazed at one another in

bewilderment, thought fit to explain, saying that it had slipped his

memory before—but the old gentlemen had told him, on the previous

evening, that it was absolutely necessary that our further education

should be carried on by the other sex. I was overwhelmed, and appealed

to Sir Henry for advice in such a crisis.

“Well,” he said, “you see the ladies are here, ain’t they? If we sent

them away, don’t you think it might hurt their feelings, eh? One

doesn’t like to be rough, you see; and they look regular _blues_, don’t

they, eh?”

By this time Good had already begun his lessons with the handsomest of

the three, and so with a sigh I yielded. That day everything went very

well: the young ladies were certainly very clever, and they only smiled

when we blundered. I never saw Good so attentive to his books before,

and even Sir Henry appeared to tackle Zu-Vendi with a renewed zest.

“Ah,” thought I, “will it always be thus?”

Next day we were much more lively, our work was pleasingly interspersed

with questions about our native country, what the ladies were like

there, etc., all of which we answered as best as we could in Zu-Vendi,

and I heard Good assuring his teacher that her loveliness was to the

beauties of Europe as the sun to the moon, to which she replied with a

little toss of the head, that she was a plain teaching woman and

nothing else, and that it was not kind “to deceive a poor girl so”.

Then we had a little singing that was really charming, so natural and

unaffected. The Zu-Vendi love-songs are most touching. On the third day

we were all quite intimate. Good narrated some of his previous love

affairs to his fair teacher, and so moved was she that her sighs

mingled with his own. I discoursed with mine, a merry blue-eyed girl,

upon Zu-Vendian art, and never saw that she was waiting for an

opportunity to drop a specimen of the cockroach tribe down my back,

whilst in the corner Sir Henry and his governess appeared, so far as I

could judge, to be going through a lesson framed on the great

educational principles laid down by Wackford Squeers Esq., though in a

very modified or rather spiritualized form. The lady softly repeated

the Zu-Vendi word for “hand”, and he took hers; “eyes”, and he gazed

deep into her brown orbs; “lips”, and—but just at that moment _my_

young lady dropped the cockroach down my back and ran away laughing.

Now if there is one thing I loathe more than another it is cockroaches,

and moved quite beyond myself, and yet laughing at her impudence, I

took up the cushion she had been sitting on and threw it after her.

Imagine then my shame—my horror, and my distress—when the door opened,

and, attended by two guards only, in walked _Nyleptha_. The cushion

could not be recalled (it missed the girl and hit one of the guards on

the head), but I instantly and ineffectually tried to look as though I

had not thrown it. Good ceased his sighing, and began to murder

Zu-Vendi at the top of his voice, and Sir Henry whistled and looked

silly. As for the poor girls, they were utterly dumbfounded.

And Nyleptha! she drew herself up till her frame seemed to tower even

above that of the tall guards, and her face went first red, and then

pale as death.

“Guards,” she said in a quiet choked voice, and pointing at the fair

but unconscious disciple of Wackford Squeers, “slay me that woman.”

The men hesitated, as well they might.

“Will ye do my bidding,” she said again in the same voice, “or will ye

not?”

Then they advanced upon the girl with uplifted spears. By this time Sir

Henry had recovered himself, and saw that the comedy was likely to turn

into a tragedy.

“Stand back,” he said in a voice of thunder, at the same time getting

in front of the terrified girl. “Shame on thee, Nyleptha—shame! Thou

shalt not kill her.”

“Doubtless thou hast good reason to try to protect her. Thou couldst

hardly do less in honour,” answered the infuriated Queen; “but she

shall die—she shall die,” and she stamped her little foot.

“It is well,” he answered; “then will I die with her. I am thy servant,

oh Queen; do with me even as thou wilt.” And he bowed towards her, and

fixed his clear eyes contemptuously on her face.

“I could wish to slay thee too,” she answered; “for thou dost make a

mock of me;” and then feeling that she was mastered, and I suppose not

knowing what else to do, she burst into such a storm of tears and

looked so royally lovely in her passionate distress, that, old as I am,

I must say I envied Curtis his task of supporting her. It was rather

odd to see him holding her in his arms considering what had just

passed—a thought that seemed to occur to herself, for presently she

wrenched herself free and went, leaving us all much disturbed.

Presently, however, one of the guards returned with a message to the

girls that they were, on pain of death, to leave the city and return to

their homes in the country, and that no further harm would come to

them; and accordingly they went, one of them remarking philosophically

that it could not be helped, and that it was a satisfaction to know

that they had taught us a little serviceable Zu-Vendi. Mine was an

exceedingly nice girl, and, overlooking the cockroach, I made her a

present of my favourite lucky sixpence with a hole in it when she went

away. After that our former masters resumed their course of

instruction, needless to say to my great relief.

That night, when in fear and trembling we attended the royal supper

table, we found that Nyleptha was laid up with a bad headache. That

headache lasted for three whole days; but on the fourth she was present

at supper as usual, and with the most gracious and sweet smile gave Sir

Henry her hand to lead her to the table. No allusion was made to the

little affair described above beyond her saying, with a charming air of

innocence, that when she came to see us at our studies the other day

she had been seized with a giddiness from which she had only now

recovered. She supposed, she added with a touch of the humour that was

common to her, that it was the sight of people working so hard which

had affected her.

In reply Sir Henry said, dryly, that he had thought she did not look

quite herself on that day, whereat she flashed one of those quick

glances of hers at him, which if he had the feelings of a man must have

gone through him like a knife, and the subject dropped entirely.

Indeed, after supper was over Nyleptha condescended to put us through

an examination to see what we had learnt, and to express herself well

satisfied with the results. Indeed, she proceeded to give us,

especially Sir Henry, a lesson on her own account, and very interesting

we found it.

And all the while that we talked, or rather tried to talk, and laughed,

Sorais would sit there in her carven ivory chair, and look at us and

read us all like a book, only from time to time saying a few words, and

smiling that quick ominous smile of hers which was more like a flash of

summer lightning on a dark cloud than anything else. And as near to her

as he dared would sit Good, worshipping through his eyeglass, for he

really was getting seriously devoted to this sombre beauty, of whom,

speaking personally, I felt terribly afraid. I watched her keenly, and

soon I found out that for all her apparent impassibility she was at

heart bitterly jealous of Nyleptha. Another thing I found out, and the

discovery filled me with dismay, and that was, that she _also_ was

growing devoted to Sir Henry Curtis. Of course I could not be sure; it

is not easy to read so cold and haughty a woman; but I noticed one or

two little things, and, as elephant hunters know, dried grass shows

which way the wind has set.

And so another three months passed over us, by which time we had all

attained to a very considerable mastery of the Zu-Vendi language, which

is an easy one to learn. And as the time went on we became great

favourites with the people, and even with the courtiers, gaining an

enormous reputation for cleverness, because, as I think I have said,

Sir Henry was able to show them how to make glass, which was a national

want, and also, by the help of a twenty-year almanac that we had with

us, to predict various heavenly combinations which were quite

unsuspected by the native astronomers. We even succeeded in

demonstrating the principle of the steam-engine to a gathering of the

learned men, who were filled with amazement; and several other things

of the same sort we did. And so it came about that the people made up

their minds that we must on no account be allowed to go out of the

country (which indeed was an apparent impossibility even if we had

wished it), and we were advanced to great honour and made officers to

the bodyguards of the sister Queens while permanent quarters were

assigned to us in the palace, and our opinion was asked upon questions

of national policy.

But blue as the sky seemed, there was a cloud, and a big one, on the

horizon. We had indeed heard no more of those confounded hippopotami,

but it is not on that account to be supposed that our sacrilege was

forgotten, or the enmity of the great and powerful priesthood headed by

Agon appeased. On the contrary, it was burning the more fiercely

because it was necessarily suppressed, and what had perhaps begun in

bigotry was ending in downright direct hatred born of jealousy.

Hitherto, the priests had been the wise men of the land, and were on

this account, as well as from superstitious causes, looked on with

peculiar veneration. But our arrival, with our outlandish wisdom and

our strange inventions and hints of unimagined things, dealt a serious

blow to this state of affairs, and, among the educated Zu-Vendi, went

far towards destroying the priestly prestige. A still worse affront to

them, however, was the favour with which we were regarded, and the

trust that was reposed in us. All these things tended to make us

excessively obnoxious to the great sacerdotal clan, the most powerful

because the most united faction in the kingdom.

Another source of imminent danger to us was the rising envy of some of

the great lords headed by Nasta, whose antagonism to us had at best

been but thinly veiled, and which now threatened to break out into open

flame. Nasta had for some years been a candidate for Nyleptha’s hand in

marriage, and when we appeared on the scene I fancy, from all I could

gather, that though there were still many obstacles in his path,

success was by no means out of his reach. But now all this had changed;

the coy Nyleptha smiled no more in his direction, and he was not slow

to guess the cause. Infuriated and alarmed, he turned his attention to

Sorais, only to find that he might as well try to woo a mountain side.

With a bitter jest or two about his fickleness, that door was closed on

him for ever. So Nasta bethought himself of the thirty thousand wild

swordsmen who would pour down at his bidding through the northern

mountain passes, and no doubt vowed to adorn the gates of Milosis with

our heads.

But first he determined, as I learned, to make one more attempt and to

demand the hand of Nyleptha in the open Court after the formal annual

ceremony of the signing of the laws that had been proclaimed by the

Queens during the year.

Of this astounding fact Nyleptha heard with simulated nonchalance, and

with a little trembling of the voice herself informed us of it as we

sat at supper on the night preceding the great ceremony of the

law-giving.

Sir Henry bit his lip, and do what he could to prevent it plainly

showed his agitation.

“And what answer will the Queen be pleased to give to the great Lord?”

asked I, in a jesting manner.

“Answer, Macumazahn” (for we had elected to pass by our Zulu names in

Zu-Vendis), she said, with a pretty shrug of her ivory shoulder. “Nay,

I know not; what is a poor woman to do, when the wooer has thirty

thousand swords wherewith to urge his love?” And from under her long

lashes she glanced at Curtis.

Just then we rose from the table to adjourn into another room.

“Quatermain, a word, quick,” said Sir Henry to me. “Listen. I have

never spoken about it, but surely you have guessed: I love Nyleptha.

What am I to do?”

Fortunately, I had more or less already taken the question into

consideration, and was therefore able to give such answer as seemed the

wisest to me.

“You must speak to Nyleptha tonight,” I said. “Now is your time, now or

never. Listen. In the sitting-chamber get near to her, and whisper to

her to meet you at midnight by the Rademas statue at the end of the

great hall. I will keep watch for you there. Now or never, Curtis.”

We passed on into the other room. Nyleptha was sitting, her hands

before her, and a sad anxious look upon her lovely face. A little way

off was Sorais talking to Good in her slow measured tones.

The time went on; in another quarter of an hour I knew that, according

to their habit, the Queens would retire. As yet, Sir Henry had had no

chance of saying a word in private: indeed, though we saw much of the

royal sisters, it was by no means easy to see them alone. I racked my

brains, and at last an idea came to me.

“Will the Queen be pleased,” I said, bowing low before Sorais, “to sing

to her servants? Our hearts are heavy this night; sing to us, oh Lady

of the Night” (Sorais’ favourite name among the people).

“My songs, Macumazahn, are not such as to lighten the heavy heart, yet

will I sing if it pleases thee,” she answered; and she rose and went a

few paces to a table whereon lay an instrument not unlike a zither, and

struck a few wandering chords.

Then suddenly, like the notes of some deep-throated bird, her rounded

voice rang out in song so wildly sweet, and yet with so eerie and sad a

refrain, that it made the very blood stand still. Up, up soared the

golden notes, that seemed to melt far away, and then to grow again and

travel on, laden with all the sorrow of the world and all the despair

of the lost. It was a marvellous song, but I had not time to listen to

it properly. However, I got the words of it afterwards, and here is a

translation of its burden, so far as it admits of being translated at

all.

SORAIS’ SONG

As a desolate bird that through darkness its lost way is winging,

As a hand that is helplessly raised when Death’s sickle is swinging,

So is life! ay, the life that lends passion and breath to my singing.

As the nightingale’s song that is full of a sweetness unspoken,

As a spirit unbarring the gates of the skies for a token,

So is love! ay, the love that shall fall when his pinion is broken.

As the tramp of the legions when trumpets their challenge are sending,

As the shout of the Storm-god when lightnings the black sky are

rending,

So is power! ay, the power that shall lie in the dust at its ending.

So short is our life; yet with space for all things to forsake us,

A bitter delusion, a dream from which nought can awake us,

Till Death’s dogging footsteps at morn or at eve shall o’ertake us.

Refrain

Oh, the world is fair at the dawning—dawning—dawning,

But the red sun sinks in blood—the red sun sinks in blood.

I only wish that I could write down the music too.

“Now, Curtis, now,” I whispered, when she began the second verse, and

turned my back.

“Nyleptha,” he said—for my nerves were so much on the stretch that I

could hear every word, low as it was spoken, even through Sorais’

divine notes—“Nyleptha, I must speak with thee this night, upon my life

I must. Say me not nay; oh, say me not nay!”

“How can I speak with thee?” she answered, looking fixedly before her;

“Queens are not like other people. I am surrounded and watched.”

“Listen, Nyleptha, thus. I will be before the statue of Rademas in the

great hall at midnight. I have the countersign and can pass in.

Macumazahn will be there to keep guard, and with him the Zulu. Oh come,

my Queen, deny me not.”

“It is not seemly,” she murmured, “and tomorrow—”

Just then the music began to die in the last wail of the refrain, and

Sorais slowly turned her round.

“I will be there,” said Nyleptha, hurriedly; “on thy life see that thou

fail me not.”