“Welcome, white men from the Stars,” he said; “this is another sight from that which your eyes gazed on by the light of last night’s moon, but it is not so good a sight.  Girls are pleasant, and were it not for such as these,” and he pointed round him, “we should none of us be here this day; but men are better.  Kisses and the tender words of women are sweet, but the sound of the clashing of the spears of warriors, and the smell of men’s blood, are sweeter far!  Would ye have wives from among our people, white men?  If so, choose the fairest here, and ye shall have them, as many as ye will,” and he paused for an answer.

As the prospect did not seem to be without attractions for Good, who, like most sailors, is of a susceptible nature,—­being elderly and wise, foreseeing the endless complications that anything of the sort would involve, for women bring trouble so surely as the night follows the day, I put in a hasty answer—­

“Thanks to thee, O king, but we white men wed only with white women like ourselves.  Your maidens are fair, but they are not for us!”

The king laughed.  “It is well.  In our land there is a proverb which runs, ‘Women’s eyes are always bright, whatever the colour,’ and another that says, ’Love her who is present, for be sure she who is absent is false to thee;’ but perhaps these things are not so in the Stars.  In a land where men are white all things are possible.  So be it, white men; the girls will not go begging!  Welcome again; and welcome, too, thou black one; if Gagool here had won her way, thou wouldst have been stiff and cold by now.  It is lucky for thee that thou too camest from the Stars; ha! ha!”

“I can kill thee before thou killest me, O king,” was Ignosi’s calm answer, “and thou shalt be stiff before my limbs cease to bend.”

Twala started.  “Thou speakest boldly, boy,” he replied angrily; “presume not too far.”

“He may well be bold in whose lips are truth.  The truth is a sharp spear which flies home and misses not.  It is a message from ’the Stars,’ O king.”

Twala scowled, and his one eye gleamed fiercely, but he said nothing more.

“Let the dance begin,” he cried, and then the flower-crowned girls sprang forward in companies, singing a sweet song and waving the delicate palms and white lilies.  On they danced, looking faint and spiritual in the soft, sad light of the risen moon; now whirling round and round, now meeting in mimic warfare, swaying, eddying here and there, coming forward, falling back in an ordered confusion delightful to witness.  At last they paused, and a beautiful young woman sprang out of the ranks and began to pirouette in front of us with a grace and vigour which would have put most ballet girls to shame.  At length she retired exhausted, and another took her place, then another and another, but none of them, either in grace, skill, or personal attractions, came up to the first.

When the chosen girls had all danced, the king lifted his hand.