Child of Storm - Page 43/192

A lovely woman, truly; and yet there was something not quite pleasing

about that beautiful face; something, notwithstanding its childlike

outline, which reminded me of a flower breaking into bloom, that one

does not associate with youth and innocence. I tried to analyse what

this might be, and came to the conclusion that without being hard, it

was too clever and, in a sense, too reflective. I felt even then that

the brain within the shapely head was keen and bright as polished steel;

that this woman was one made to rule, not to be man's toy, or even his

loving companion, but to use him for her ends.

She dropped her chin till it hid the little, dimple-like depression

below her throat, which was one of her charms, and began not to look at,

but to study me, seeing which I shut my eyes tight and waited. Evidently

she thought that I was still in my swoon, for now she spoke to herself

in a low voice that was soft and sweet as honey.

"A small man," she said; "Saduko would make two of him, and the

other"--who was he, I wondered--"three. His hair, too, is ugly; he cuts

it short and it sticks up like that on a cat's back. Iya!" (i.e.

Piff!), and she moved her hand contemptuously, "a feather of a man. But

white--white, one of those who rule. Why, they all of them know that he

is their master. They call him 'He-who-never-Sleeps.' They say that he

has the courage of a lioness with young--he who got away when Dingaan

killed Piti [Retief] and the Boers; they say that he is quick and

cunning as a snake, and that Panda and his great indunas think more of

him than of any white man they know. He is unmarried also, though they

say, too, that twice he had a wife, who died, and now he does not turn

to look at women, which is strange in any man, and shows that he will

escape trouble and succeed. Still, it must be remembered that they are

all ugly down here in Zululand, cows, or heifers who will be cows. Piff!

no more."

She paused for a little while, then went on in her dreamy, reflective

voice: "Now, if he met a woman who is not merely a cow or a heifer, a woman

cleverer than himself, even if she were not white, I wonder--"

At this point I thought it well to wake up. Turning my head I yawned,

opened my eyes and looked at her vaguely, seeing which her expression

changed in a flash from that of brooding power to one of moved and

anxious girlhood; in short, it became most sweetly feminine.

"You are Mameena?" I said; "is it not so?"