“Oh! yes,” I answered, “I quite understand.  I thank you much for putting it so plainly.”

She laughed a little, appreciating my jest, looked at the sleeping Inez, and said,

“The fair body of this lady dwells in a large soul, I think, though one of a somewhat sombre hue, for souls have their colours, Allan, and stain that which is within them.  She will never be a happy woman.”

“The black people named her Sad-Eyes,” I said.

“Is it so?  Well, I name her Sad-Heart, though for such often there is joy at last.  Meanwhile she will forget; yes, she will forget the worst and how narrow was the edge between her and the arms of Rezu.”

“Just the width of the blade of the axe, Inkosikaas,” I answered.  “But tell me, Ayesha, why could not that axe cut and why did my bullets flatten or turn aside when these smote the breast of Rezu?”

“Because his front-armour was good, Allan, I suppose,” she replied indifferently, “and on his back he wore none.”

“Then why did you fill my ears with such a different tale about that horrible giant having drunk of a Cup of Life, and all the rest?” I asked with irritation.

“I have forgotten, Allan.  Perhaps because the curious, such as you are, like to hear tales even stranger than their own, which in the days to be may become their own.  Therefore you will be wise to believe only what I do, and of what I tell you, nothing.”

“I don’t,” I exclaimed exasperated.

She laughed again and replied,

“What need to say to me that which I know already?  Yet perhaps in the future it may be different, since often by the alchemy of the mind the fables of our youth are changed into the facts of our age, and we come to believe in anything, as your little yellow man believes in some savage named Zikali, and those Amahagger believe in the talisman round your neck, and I who am the maddest of you all, believe in Love and Wisdom, and the black warrior, Umslopogaas, believes in the virtue of that great axe of his, rather than in those of his own courage and of the strength that wields it.  Fools, every one of us, though perchance I am the greatest fool among them.  Now take me to the warrior, Umslopogaas, whom I would thank, as I thank you, Allan, and the little yellow man, although he jeers at me with his sharp tongue, not knowing that if I were angered, with a breath I could cause him to cease to be.”

“Then why did you not choose Rezu to cease to be, and his army also, Ayesha?”

“It seems that I have done these things through the axe of Umslopogaas and by the help of your generalship, Allan.  Why then, waste my own strength when yours lay to my hand?”

“Because you had no power over Rezu, Ayesha, or so you told me.”

“Have I not said that my words are snowflakes, meant to melt and leave no trace, hiding my thoughts as this veil hides my beauty?  Yet as the beauty is beneath the veil, perchance there is truth beneath the words, though not that truth you think.  So you are well answered, and for the rest, I wonder whether Rezu thought I had no power over him when yonder on the mountain spur he saw me float down upon his companies like a spirit of the night.  Well, perchance some day I shall learn this and many other things.”