The old man, Umgona, merely started, then began to pour out sentences
of conventional thanks and praise to the king for his goodness and
condescension. Cetywayo listened to his talk in silence, and when he had
done answered by reminding him tersely that if Nanea did not appear
at the date named, both she and he, her father, would in due course
certainly decorate a cross-road in their own immediate neighbourhood.

The captain, Nahoon, afforded a more curious study. As the fatal
words crossed the king's lips, his face took an expression of absolute
astonishment, which was presently replaced by one of fury--the just fury
of a man who suddenly has suffered an unutterable wrong. His whole frame
quivered, the veins stood out in knots on his neck and forehead, and his
fingers closed convulsively as though they were grasping the handle of a
spear. Presently the rage passed away--for as well might a man be wroth
with fate as with a Zulu despot--to be succeeded by a look of the most
hopeless misery. The proud dark eyes grew dull, the copper-coloured face
sank in and turned ashen, the mouth drooped, and down one corner of
it there trickled a little line of blood springing from the lip bitten
through in the effort to keep silence. Lifting his hand in salute to the
king, the great man rose and staggered rather than walked towards the
gate.

As he reached it, the voice of Cetywayo commanded him to stop. "Stay,"
he said, "I have a service for you, Nahoon, that shall drive out of your
head these thoughts of wives and marriage. You see this white man here;
he is my guest, and would hunt buffalo and big game in the bush country.
I put him in your charge; take men with you, and see that he comes to no
hurt. So also that you bring him before me within a month, or your life
shall answer for it. Let him be here at my royal kraal in the first week