One evening Mameena came to me in a great rage, and said that she could bear her present life no longer.  Presuming on her rank and position as head-wife, Nandie treated her like a servant—­nay, like a little dog, to be beaten with a stick.  She wished that Nandie would die.

“It will be very unlucky for you if she does,” I answered, “for then, perhaps, Zikali will be summoned to look into the matter, as he was before.”

What was she to do, she went on, ignoring my remark.

“Eat the porridge that you have made in your own pot, or break the pot” (i.e. go away), I suggested.  “There was no need for you to marry Saduko, any more than there was for you to marry Masapo.”

“How can you talk to me like that, Macumazahn,” she answered, stamping her foot, “when you know well it is your fault if I married anyone?  Piff!  I hate them all, and, since my father would only beat me if I took my troubles to him, I will run off, and live in the wilderness alone and become a witch-doctoress.”

“I am afraid you will find it very dull, Mameena,” I began in a bantering tone, for, to tell the truth, I did not think it wise to show her too much sympathy while she was so excited.

Mameena never waited for the end of the sentence, but, sobbing out that I was false and cruel, she turned and departed swiftly.  Oh! little did I foresee how and where we should meet again.

Next morning I was awakened shortly after sunrise by Scowl, whom I had sent out with another man the night before to look for a lost ox.

“Well, have you found the ox?” I asked.

“Yes, Baas; but I did not waken you to tell you that.  I have a message for you, Baas, from Mameena, wife of Saduko, whom I met about four hours ago upon the plain yonder.”

I bade him set it out.

“These were the words of Mameena, Baas:  ’Say to Macumazahn, your master, that Indhlovu-ene-sihlonti, taking pity on my wrongs and loving me with his heart, has offered to take me into his House and that I have accepted his offer, since I think it better to become the Inkosazana of the Zulus, as I shall one day, than to remain a servant in the house of Nandie.  Say to Macumazahn that when Saduko returns he is to tell him that this is all his fault, since if he had kept Nandie in her place I would have died rather than leave him.  Let him say to Saduko also that, although from henceforth we can be no more than friends, my heart is still tender towards him, and that by day and by night I will strive to water his greatness, so that it may grow into a tree that shall shade the land.  Let Macumazahn bid him not to be angry with me, since what I do I do for his good, as he would have found no happiness while Nandie and I dwelt in one house.  Above all, also let him not be angry with the Prince, who loves him more than any man, and does but travel whither the wind that I breathe blows him.  Bid Macumazahn think of me kindly, as I shall of him while my eyes are open.’”