sacrifices, O Asika. I have told you that
bloodshed is _orunda_ to me, and at the feast those men were poisoned
and you mocked them in their pain; also many others were taken away to
be killed for no crime."

She opened her beautiful eyes and stared at him, answering:

"But, Vernoon, all this is not my fault; they were sacrifices to the
gods, and if I did not sacrifice, I should be sacrificed by the priests
and wizards who live to sacrifice. Yes, myself I should be made to drink
the poison and be mocked at while I died like a snake with a broken
back. Or even if I escaped the vengeance of the people, the gods
themselves would kill me and raise up another in my place. Do they not
sacrifice in your country, Vernoon?"

"No, Asika, they fight if necessary and kill those who commit murder.
But they have no fetish that asks for blood, and the law they have from
heaven is a law of mercy."

She stared at him again.

"All this is strange to me," she said. "I was taught otherwise. Gods are
devils and must be appeased, lest they bring misfortune on us; men must
be ruled by terror, or they would rebel and pull down the great House;
doctors must learn magic, or how could they avert spells? wizards must
be killed, or the people would perish in their net. May not we who live
in a hell, strive to beat back its flame with the wisdom our forefathers
have handed on to us? Tell me, Vernoon, for I would know."

"You make your own hell," answered Alan when with the help of Jeekie he
understood her talk.

She pondered over his words for a while, then said:

"I must think. The thing is big. I wander in blackness; I will speak
with you again. Say now, what else is wrong with me?"

Now Alan thought that he saw opportunity for a word in season and made a
great mistake.

"I think that you treat your husband, that man whom you call Mungana,
very badly. Why should you drive him to his death?"

At these words the Asika leapt up in a rage, and seeking something to
vent her temper on, violently boxed Jeekie's ears and kicked him with
her sandalled foot.

"The Mungana!" she exclaimed, "that beast! What have I to do with him?
I hate him, as I hated the others. The priests thrust him on me. He has
had his day, let him go. In your country do they make women live with
men whom they loathe? I love _you_, Bonsa himself knows why? Perhaps
because you have a white skin and white thoughts. But I hate that man.
What is the use of being Asika if I c