I stared at her and replied that I did not understand what she meant, since women, so far as I had observed them, were generally in love either with a man or with themselves, perhaps more often with the latter than the former.  Rather a cheap joke I admit, with just enough truth in it to make it acceptable—­in the Black Kloof.

“So I thought,” she answered, “but really Nombe behaves in a most peculiar way.  As you know she took a fancy to me from the beginning, perhaps because she had never had any other woman with whom to associate, having, so far as I can make out, been brought up here among men from a child.  Indeed, her story is that she was one of twins and therefore as the younger, was exposed to die according to the Zulu superstition.  Zikali, however, or a servant of his who knew what was happening, rescued and reared her, so practically I am the only female with whom she has ever been intimate.  At any rate her affection for me has grown and grown until, although it seems ungrateful to say so, it has become something of a nuisance.  She has told me again and again that she would die to protect me, and that if by chance anything happened to me, she would kill herself and follow me into another world.  She is continually making divinations about my future, and as these, in which she entirely believes, always show me as living without her, she is much distressed and at times bursts into tears.”

“Hysteria!  It is very common among the Zulu women, and especially those of them who practise magic arts,” I answered.

“Perhaps, but as it results in the most intense jealousy, Nombe’s hysteria is awkward.  For instance, she is horribly jealous of Maurice.”

“The instincts of a chaperone developed early,” I suggested again.

“That won’t quite do, Mr. Quatermain,” answered Heda with a laugh, “since she is even more jealous of you.  With reference to Maurice, she explains frankly that if we marry she might, as she puts it, ‘continue to sit outside the hut,’ but that in your case you live ‘in my head,’ where she cannot come between you and me.”

“Mad,” I remarked, “quite mad.  Still madness has to be dealt with in this world like other things, and Nombe, being an abnormal person, may suffer from abnormal ideas.  It just amounts to this; she has conceived a passionate devotion to you, at which I am sure neither Maurice nor I can wonder.”

“Are those the kind of compliments you used to pay in your youth, Mr. Quatermain?  I expect so, and now that you are old you cannot stop them.  Well, I thank you all the same, because perhaps you mean what you say.  But what is to be done about Nombe?  Hush! here she comes.  I will leave you to reason with her, if you get the chance,” and she departed in a hurry.

Nombe arrived, and something in her aspect told me that I was going to get the chance.  Her eternal smile was almost gone and her dark, beautiful eyes flashed ominously.  Still she began by asking in a mild voice whether the lady Heddana had eaten her supper with appetite.  It will be observed that she was not interested in my appetite or whether enough was left for Anscombe when he returned.  I replied that so far as I noted she had consumed about half a partridge, with other things.