“Ah!  Macumazahn,” she said to me as we parted, “I would that I were the wife of some man who did not desire to grow great, and that no royal blood ran in my veins.”

On the next day the Prince Umbelazi arrived, and with him Saduko and a few other notable men.  They came quite quietly and without any ostensible escort, although Scowl, my servant, told me he heard that the bush at a little distance was swarming with soldiers of the Isigqosa party.  If I remember rightly, the excuse for the visit was that Umbezi had some of a certain rare breed of white cattle whereof the prince wished to secure young bulls and heifers to improve his herd.

Once inside the kraal, however, Umbelazi, who was a very open-natured man, threw off all pretence, and, after greeting me heartily enough, told me with plainness that he was there because this was a convenient spot on which to arrange the consolidation of his party.

Almost every hour during the next two weeks messengers—­many of whom were chiefs disguised—­came and went.  I should have liked to follow their example—­that is, so far as their departure was concerned—­for I felt that I was being drawn into a very dangerous vortex.  But, as a matter of fact, I could not escape, since I was obliged to wait to receive payment for my stuff, which, as usual, was made in cattle.

Umbelazi talked with me a good deal at that time, impressing upon me how friendly he was towards the English white men of Natal, as distinguished from the Boers, and what good treatment he was prepared to promise to them, should he ever attain to authority in Zululand.  It was during one of the earliest of these conversations, which, of course, I saw had an ultimate object, that he met Mameena, I think, for the first time.

We were walking together in a little natural glade of the bush that bordered one side of the kraal, when, at the end of it, looking like some wood nymph of classic fable in the light of the setting sun, appeared the lovely Mameena, clothed only in her girdle of fur, her necklace of blue beads and some copper ornaments, and carrying upon her head a gourd.

Umbelazi noted her at once, and, ceasing his political talk, of which he was obviously tired, asked me who that beautiful intombi (that is, girl) might be.

“She is not an intombi, Prince,” I answered.  “She is a widow who is again a wife, the second wife of your friend and councillor, Saduko, and the daughter of your host, Umbezi.”

“Is it so, Macumazahn?  Oh, then I have heard of her, though, as it chances, I have never met her before.  No wonder that my sister Nandie is jealous, for she is beautiful indeed.”

“Yes,” I answered, “she looks pretty against the red sky, does she not?”

By now we were drawing near to Mameena, and I greeted her, asking if she wanted anything.

“Nothing, Macumazahn,” she answered in her delicate, modest way, for never did I know anyone who could seem quite so modest as Mameena, and with a swift glance of her shy eyes at the tall and splendid Umbelazi, “nothing.  Only,” she added, “I was passing with the milk of one of the few cows my father gave me, and saw you, and I thought that perhaps, as the day has been so hot, you might like a drink of it.”