shonour. Next,
without listening to his ex-father-in-law's voluble explanations, he
rose and said that he was going away to kill Umbelazi, the evil-doer who
had robbed him of the wife he loved, with the connivance of all three of
us, and by a sweep of his hand he indicated Umbezi, the Princess Nandie
and myself.

This was more than I could stand, so I, too, rose and asked him what he
meant, adding in the irritation of the moment that if I had wished to
rob him of his beautiful Mameena, I thought I could have done so long
ago--a remark that staggered him a little.

Then Nandie rose also, and spoke in her quiet voice.

"Saduko, my husband," she said, "I, a Princess of the Zulu House,
married you who are not of royal blood because I loved you, and although
Panda the King and Umbelazi the Prince wished it, for no other reason
whatsoever. Well, I have been faithful to you through some trials, even
when you set the widow of a wizard--if, indeed, as I have reason to
suspect, she was not herself the wizard--before me, and although that
wizard had killed our son, lived in her hut rather than in mine. Now
this woman of whom you thought so much has deserted you for your
friend and my brother, the Prince Umbelazi--Umbelazi who is called the
Handsome, and who, if the fortune of war goes with him, as it may or
may not, will succeed to Panda, my father. This she has done because she
alleges that I, your Inkosikazi and the King's daughter, treated her as
a servant, which is a lie. I kept her in her place, no more, who, if
she could have had her will, would have ousted me from mine, perhaps by
death, for the wives of wizards learn their arts. On this pretext she
has left you; but that is not her real reason. She has left you because
the Prince, my brother, whom she has befooled with her tricks and
beauty, as she has befooled others, or tried to"--and she glanced at
me--"is a bigger man than you are. You, Saduko, may become great, as my
heart prays that you will, but my brother may become a king. She does
not love him any more than she loved you, but she does love the place
that may be his, and therefore hers--she who would be the first doe of
the herd. My husband, I think that you are well rid of Mameena, for I
think also that if she had stayed with us there would have been more
deaths in our House; perhaps mine, which would not matter, and perhaps
yours, which would matter much. All this I say to you, not from jealousy
of one who is