CHAPTER XXI
THE INNOCENT BLOOD
After I had been taken away it seems that the court summoned Hernan
Pereira and Henri Marais to accompany them to a lonely spot at a
distance, where they thought that their deliberations would not be
overheard. In this, however, they were mistaken, having forgotten the
fox-like cunning of the Hottentot, Hans. Hans had heard me sentenced,
and probably enough feared that he who also had committed the crime of
escaping from Dingaan, might be called on to share that sentence. Also
he wished to know the secret counsel of these Boers, whose language, of
course, he understood as well as he did his own.
So making a circuit up the hillside, he crept towards them on his belly
as a snake creeps, wriggling in and out between the tufts of last year's
dead grass, which grew here in plenty, without so much as moving their
tops. At length he lay still in the centre of a bush that grew behind a
stone not five paces from where they were talking, whence he listened
intently to every word that passed their lips.
This was the substance of their talk; that for the reasons I have
already mentioned it would be best that I should die at once. Sentence,
said the commandant, had been passed, and could not be rescinded, since
even if it were, their offence would remain as heavy in the eyes of the
English authorities. But if they took me to their main camp to be
re-tried by their great council, possibly that sentence might be
rescinded and they be left individually and collectively to atone for
what they had done. Also they knew that I was very clever and might
escape in some other way to bring the English, or possibly the Zulus,
upon them, since they felt convinced that Dingaan and I were working
together for their destruction, and that while I had breath in my body I
should never cease my efforts to be avenged.
When it was found that they were all of one mind in this matter, the
question arose: What should be done? Somebody suggested that I should
be shot at once, but the commandant pointed out that such a deed, worked
at night, would look like murder, especially as it violated the terms of
their verdict.
Then another suggestion was made: that I should be brought out of my
house just before the dawn on pretence that it was time to ride; that
then I should be given the opportunity of escape and instantly shot
down. Or it might be pretended that I had tried to escape, with a like
result. Who, they urged, was to know in that half-light whether I had
or had not actually attempted to run for my life, or to threaten their
lives, circumstances under which the law said it was justifiable to
shoot a prisoner already formally condemned to death?
To this black counsel they all agreed, being so terribly afraid of a
poor English lad whose existence, although most of them did not know
this, was to be taken from him upon false evidence. But then arose
another question: By whose hand should the thing be done? Not one of
them, it would seem, was anxious to fulfil this bloody office; indeed,
they one and all refused to do so. A proposal was put forward that some
of their native servants should be forced to serve as executioners; but
when this had been vetoed by the general sense of the court, their
counsels came to a deadlock.
Then, after a whispered conference, the commandant spoke some dreadful
words.
"Hernando Pereira and Henri Marais," he said, "it is on your evidence
that this young man has been condemned. We believe that evidence, but
if by one jot or one tittle it is false, then not justice, but a foul
murder will have been committed and his innocent blood will be upon your
heads for ever. Hernando Pereira and Henri Marais, the court appoints
you to be the guards who will bring the prisoner out of his house
to-morrow morning just when the sky begins to lighten. It is from _you_
that he will try to escape, and _you_ will prevent his escape by his
death. Then you must join us where we shall be waiting for you and
report the execution."
When Henri Marais heard this he exclaimed:
"I swear by God that I cannot do it. Is it right or natural that a man
should be forced to kill his own son-in-law?"
"You could bear evidence against your own son-in-law, Henri Marais,"
answered the stern-faced commandant. "Why then cannot you kill with
your rifle one whom you have already helped to kill with your tongue?"
"I will not, I cannot!" said Marais, tearing at his beard. But the
commandant only answered coldly:
"You have the orders of the court, and if you choose to disobey them we
shall begin to believe that you have sworn falsely. Then you and your
nephew will also appear before the great council when the Englishman is
tried again. Still, it matters nothing to us whether you or Hernando
Pereira shall fire the shot. See you to it, as the Jews said to Judas
who had betrayed the innocent Lord."
Then he paused and went on, addressing Pereira:
"Do you also refuse, Hernando Pereira? Remember before you answer that
if you do refuse we shall draw our own conclusions. Remember, too, that
the evidence which you have given, showing that this wicked Englishman
plotted and caused the deaths of our brothers and of our wives and
children, which we believe to be true evidence, shall be weighed and
investigated word by word before the great council."
"To give evidence is one thing, and to shoot the traitor and murderer
another," said Pereira. Then he added with an oath, or so vowed Hans:
"Yet why should I, who know all this villain's guilt, refuse to carry
out the sentence of the law on him? Have no fear, commandant, the
accursed Allan Quatermain shall not succeed in his attempt to escape
to-morrow before the dawn."
"So be it," said the commandant. "Now, do all you who have heard those
words take note of them."
Then Hans, seeing that the council was about to break up, and fearing
lest he should be caught and killed, slipped away by the same road that
he had come. His thought was to warn me, but this he could not do
because of the guards. So he went to the Prinsloos, and finding the
vrouw alone with Marie, who had recovered her mind, told them everything
that he had heard.
As he said, Marie knelt down and prayed, or thought for a long while,
then rose and spoke.
"Tante," she said to the vrouw, "one thing is clear, that Allan will be
murdered at the dawn; now if he is hidden away he may escape."
"But where and how can we hide him," asked the vrouw, "seeing that the
place is guarded?"
"Tante," said Marie again, "at the back of your house is an old cattle
kraal made by Kaffirs, and in that cattle kraal, as I have seen, there
are mealie-pits where those Kaffirs stored their grain. Now I suggest
that we should put my husband into one of those mealie-pits and cover it
over. There the Boers might not find him, however close they searched."
"That is a good idea," said the vrouw; "but how in the name of God are
we to get Allan out of a guarded house into a mealie-pit?"
"Tante, I have a right to go to my husband's house, and there I will go.
Afterwards, too, I shall have the right to leave his house before he is
taken away. Well, he might leave it in my place, _as me_, and you and
Hans might help him. Then in the morning the Boers would come to search
the house and find no one except me."
"That is all very pretty," answered the vrouw; "but do you think, my
niece, that those accursed vultures will go away until they have picked
Allan's bones? Not they, for too much hangs on it. They will know that
he cannot be far off, and slink about the place until they have found
him in his mealie-hole or until he comes out. It is blood they are
after, thanks to your cousin Hernan, the liar, and blood they will have
for their own safety's sake. Never will they go away from here until
they see Allan lying dead upon the ground."
Now, according to Hans, Marie thought again very deeply. Then she
answered:
"There is a great risk, tante; but we must take it. Send your husband
to chat with those guards, and give him a bottle of spirits. I will
talk with Hans here and see what can be arranged."
So Marie went aside with Hans, as he told me afterwards, and asked him
if he knew of any medicine that made people sleep for a long while
without waking. He answered, Yes; all the coloured people had plenty of
such medicine. Without doubt he could get some from the Kaffirs who
dwelt upon the place, or if not he could dig the roots of a plant that
he had seen growing near by which would serve the purpose. So she sent
him to procure this stuff. Afterwards she spoke to the Vrouw Prinsloo,
saying:
"My plan is that Allan should escape from our house disguised as myself.
But as I know well that he will not run away while he has his senses,
seeing that to do so in his mind would be to confess his guilt, I
propose to take his senses from him by means of a drugged drink. Then I
propose that you and Hans should carry him into the shadow of this
house, and when no one is looking, to the old grain-pit that lies but a
few yards away, covering the mouth of it with dead grass. There he will
remain till the Boers grow tired of searching for him and ride away. Or
if it should chance that they find him, he will be no worse off than he
was before."
"A good plan enough, Marie, though not one that Allan would have
anything to do with if he kept his wits," answered the vrouw, "seeing
that he was always a man for facing things out, although so young in
years. Still, we will try to save him in spite of himself from the
claws of that stinkcat Pereira, whom may God curse, and his tool, your
father. As you say, at the worst no harm will be done even if they find
him, as probably they will, seeing that they will not leave this place
without blood."
Such then was the trick which Marie arranged with the Vrouw Prinsloo.
Or rather, I should say, seemed to arrange, since she told her nothing
of her real mind, she who knew that the vrouw was right and that for
their own sakes, as well as because they believed it to be justice, the
Boers would never leave that place until they saw blood running on the
grass.
This, oh! this was Marie's true and dreadful plan--_to give her life for
mine!_ She was sure that once he had slain his victim, Hernan Pereira
would not stop to make examination of the corpse. He would ride away,
hounded by his guilty conscience, and meanwhile I could escape.
She never thought the thing out in all its details, she who was maddened
with terror and had no time. She only felt her way from step to step,
dimly seeing my deliverance at the end of the journey. Marie told the
Vrouw Prinsloo nothing, except that she proposed to drug me if I would
not go undrugged. Then the vrouw must hide me as best she could, in the
grain-pit or elsewhere, or, if I had my senses about me, let me hide
myself. Afterwards she, Marie, would face the Boers and tell them to
find me if they wanted me.
The vrouw answered that she had now thought of a better plan. It was
that she should arrange with her husband and son and the Meyers, all of
whom loved me, that they should rescue me, or if need be, kill or
disable Pereira before he could shoot me.
Marie replied that this was good if it could be done, and the vrouw went
out to find her husband and the other men. Presently, however, she
returned with a long face, saying that the commandant had them all under
guard. It seemed that it had occurred to him, or more probably to
Pereira, that the Prinsloos and the Meyers, who looked on me as a
brother, might attempt some rescue, or make themselves formidable in
other ways. Therefore, as a matter of precaution, they had been put
under arrest and their arms taken from them as mine had been. What the
commandant said, however, was that he took these somewhat high-handed
measures in order to be sure that they, the Prinsloos and the Meyers,
should be ready on the following morning to ride with him and the
prisoner to the main camp, where the great council might wish to
interrogate them.
One concession, however, the vrouw had won from the commandant, who,
knowing what was about to happen to me, had not, I suppose, the heart to
refuse. It was that my wife and she might visit me and give me food on
the stipulation that they both left the house where I was confined by
ten o'clock that night.
So it came to this, that if anything was to be done, these two women and
a Hottentot must do it, since they could hope for no help in their
plans. Here I should add that the vrouw told Marie in Hans's presence
that she had thought of attacking the commandant as to this matter of my
proposed shooting by Pereira. On reflection, however, she refrained for
two reasons, first because she feared lest she might only make matters
worse and rob me of my sole helpers, and secondly for fear lest she
should bring about the death of Hans, to whom the story would certainly
be traced.
As he was the solitary witness to the plot, it seemed to her that he
would scarcely be allowed to escape to repeat it far and wide.
Especially was this so, as the unexplained death of a Hottentot,
suspected of treachery like his master, was not a matter that would have
been thought worth notice in those rough and bloody times. She may have
been right, or she may have been wrong, but in weighing her decision it
must always be borne in mind that she was, and until the end remained,
in utter ignorance of Marie's heroic design to go to her death in place
of me.
So the two women and the Hottentot proceeded to mature the plans which I
have outlined. One other alternative, however, Hans did suggest. It
was that they should try to drug the guards with some of the medicated
drink that was meant for me, and that then Marie, I and he should slip
away and get down to the river, there to hide in the weeds. Thence,
perhaps, we might escape to Port Natal where lived Englishmen who would
protect us.
Of course this idea was hopeless from the first. The moonlight was
almost as bright as day, and the veld quite open for a long way round,
so that we should certainly have been seen and re-captured, which of
course would have meant instant death. Further, as it happened, the
guards had been warned against touching liquor of any sort since it was
thought probable that an attempt would be made to intoxicate them.
Still the women determined to try this scheme if they could find a
chance. At least it was a second string to their bow.
Meanwhile they made their preparations. Hans went away for a little and
returned with a supply of his sleep-producing drug, though whether he
got this from the Kaffirs or gathered it himself, I do not remember, if
I ever heard. At any rate it was boiled up in the water with which they
made the coffee that I was to drink, though not in that which Marie
proposed to drink with me, the strong taste and black hue of the coffee
effectually hiding any flavour or colour that there might be in the
herb. Also the vrouw cooked some food which she gave to Hans to carry.
First, however, he went to investigate the old mealie-pit which was
within a few paces of the back door of the Prinsloos' house. He
reported that it would do well to hide a man in, especially as tall
grass and bushes grew about its mouth.
Then the three of them started, and arriving at the door of my house,
which was about a hundred yards away, were of course challenged by the
sentries.
"Heeren," said Marie, "the commandant has given us leave to bring food
to my husband, whom you guard within. Pray do not prevent us from
entering."
"No," answered one of them gently enough, for he was touched with pity
at her plight. "We have our orders to admit you, the Vrouw Prinsloo and
the native servant, though why three of you should be needed to carry
food to one man, I don't know. I should have thought that at such a
time he would have preferred to be alone with his wife."
"The Vrouw Prinsloo wishes to ask my husband certain questions about his
property here and what is to be done while he and her men are away at
the main camp for the second trial, as I, whose heart is full of sorrow,
have no head for such things. Also the Hottentot must have orders as to
where he is to get a horse to ride with him, so pray let us pass,
mynheer."
"Very good; it is no affair of ours, Vrouw Quatermain-- Stay, I suppose
that you have no arms under that long cloak of yours."
"Search me, if you will, mynheer," she answered, opening the cloak,
whereon, after a quick glance, he nodded and bade them enter, saying:
"Mind, you are to come out by ten o'clock. You must not pass the night
in that house, or we shall have the little Englishman oversleeping
himself in the morning."
Then they entered and found me seated at a table preparing notes for my
defence and setting down the heads of the facts of my relations with
Pereira, Dingaan, and the late Commandant Retief.
Here I may state that my condition at the time was not one of fear, but
rather of burning indignation. Indeed, I had not the slightest doubt
but that when my case was re-tried before the great council, I should be
able to establish my complete innocence of the abominable charges that
had been brought against me. Therefore it came about that when Marie
suggested that I should try to escape, I begged her almost roughly not
to mention such a thing again.
"Run away!" I said. "Why, that would be to confess myself guilty, for
only the guilty run away. What I want is to have all this business
thrashed out and that devil Pereira exposed."
"But, Allan," said Marie, "how if you should never live to have it
thrashed out? How if you should be shot first?" Then she rose, and
having looked to see that the shutter-board was fast in the little
window-place and the curtain that she had made of sacking drawn over it,
returned and whispered: "Hans here has heard a horrible tale, Allan.
Tell it to the baas, Hans."
So while Vrouw Prinsloo, in order to deceive any prying eyes if such by
chance could see us, busied herself with lighting a fire on the hearth
in the second room on which to warm the food, Hans told his story much
as it has already been set out.
I listened to it with growing incredulity. The thing seemed to me
impossible. Either Hans was deceived or lying, the latter probably, for
well I knew the Hottentot powers of imagination. Or perhaps he was
drunk; indeed, he smelt of liquor, of which I was aware be could carry a
great quantity without outward signs of intoxication.
"I cannot believe it," I said when he had finished. "Even if Pereira is
such a fiend, as is possible, would Henri Marais, your father--who, at
any rate, has always been a good and God-fearing man--consent to work
such a crime upon his daughter's husband, though he does dislike him?"
"My father is not what he was, Allan," said Marie. "Sometimes I think
that his brain has gone."
"He did not speak like a man whose brain has gone this afternoon," I
replied. "But let us suppose that this tale is true, what is it that
you wish me to do?"
"Allan, I wish you to dress up in my clothes and get away to a
hiding-place which Hans and the vrouw know, leaving me here instead of
you."
"Why, Marie?" I said. "Then you might get yourself shot in my place,
always supposing that they mean to shoot me. Also I should certainly be
caught and killed, as they would have a right to kill me for trying to
escape in disguise. That is a mad plan, and I have a better. Vrouw
Prinsloo, go straight to the commandant ad tell him all this story.
Or, if he will not listen to you, scream it out at the top of your voice
so that everyone may hear, and then come back and tell us the result.
Of one thing I am sure, that if you do this, even if there was any
thought of my being shot tomorrow morning, it will be abandoned.
You can refuse to say who told you the tale."
"Yes, please do that," muttered Hans, "else I know one who will be
shot."
"Good, I will go," said the vrouw, and she went, the guards letting her
pass after a few words which we could not hear.
Half an hour later she returned and called to us to open the door.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well," she said, "I have failed, nephew. Except those sentries outside
the door, the commandant and all the Boers have ridden off, I know not
where, taking our people with them."
"That's odd," I answered, "but I suppose they thought they had not
enough grass for their horses, or Heaven knows what they thought. Stay
now, I will do something," and, opening the door, I called to the
guards, honest fellows in their way, whom I had known in past times.
"Listen, friends," I said. "A tale has been brought to me that I am not
to be taken to the big camp to have my case inquired of by the council,
but am to be shot down in cold blood when I come out of this house
to-morrow morning. Is that true?"
"Allemachte, Englishman!" answered one of them. "Do you take us for
murderers? Our orders are to lead you to the commandant wherever he may
appoint, so have no fear that we shall shoot you like a Kaffir. Either
you or they who told you such a story are mad."
"So I thought, friends," I answered. "But where is the commandant and
where are the others? The Vrouw Prinsloo here has been to see them, and
reports that they are all gone."
"That is very likely," said the Boer. "There is a rumour that some of
your Zulu brothers have come across the Tugela again to hunt us, which,
if you want to know the truth, is why we visited this place. Well, the
commandant has taken his men for a ride to see if he can meet them by
this bright moonlight. Pity he could not take you, too, since you would
have known so well where to find them, if they are there at all. Now
please talk no more nonsense to us, which it makes us sick to hear, and
don't think that you can slip away because we are only two, for you know
our roers are loaded with slugs, and we have orders to use them."
"There," I said when I had shut the door, "now you have heard for
yourselves. As I thought, there is nothing in this fine story, so I
hope you are convinced."
Neither the vrouw nor Marie made any answer, and Hans also held his
tongue. Yet, as I remembered afterwards, I saw a strange glance pass
between the two women, who were not at all convinced, and, although I
never dreamed of such a thing, had now determined to carry out their own
desperate plan. But of this I repeat the vrouw and Hans only knew one
half; the rest was locked in Marie's loving heart.
"Perhaps you are right, Allan," said the vrouw in the tone of one who
gives way to an unreasonable child. "I hope so, and, at any rate, you
can refuse to come out of the house to-morrow morning until you are
quite sure. And now let us eat some supper, for we shall not make
matters better by going hungry. Hans, bring the food."
So we ate, or made pretence to eat, and I, being thirsty, drank two cups
of the black coffee dashed with spirit to serve as milk. After this I
grew strangely sleepy. The last thing I remember was Marie looking at
me with her beautiful eyes, that were full--ah! so full of tender love,
and kissing me again and again upon the lips.
I dreamed all sorts of dreams, rather pleasant dreams on the whole.
Then I woke up by degrees to find myself in an earthen pit shaped like a
bottle and having the remains of polished sides to it. It made me think
of Joseph who was let down by his brethren into a well in the desert.
Now, who on earth could have let me down into a well, especially as I
had no brethren? Perhaps I was not really in a well. Perhaps this was
a nightmare. Or I might be dead. I began to remember that there were
certain good reasons why I should be dead. Only, only--why should they
have buried me in woman's clothes as I seemed to wear?
And what was that noise that had wakened me?
It could not be the trump of doom, unless the trumping of doom went off
like a double-barrelled gun.
I began to try to climb out of my hole, but as it was nine feet deep and
bottle-shaped, which the light flowing in from the neck showed, I found
this impossible. Just as I was giving up the attempt, a yellow face
appeared in that neck, which looked to me like the face of Hans, and an
arm was projected downwards.
"Jump, if you are awake, baas," said a voice--surely it was the voice of
Hans--"and I will pull you out."
So I jumped, and caught the arm above the wrist. Then the owner of the
arm pulled desperately, and the end of it was that I succeeded in
gripping the edge of the bottle-like hole, and, with the help of the
arm, in dragging myself out.
"Now, baas," said Hans, for it _was_ Hans, "run, run before the Boers
catch you."
"What Boers?" I asked, sleepily; "and how can I run with these things
flapping about my legs?"
Then I looked about me, and, although the dawn was only just breaking,
began to recognise my surroundings. Surely this was the Prinsloos'
house to my right, and that, faintly seen through the mist about a
hundred paces away, was Marie's and my own. There seemed to be
something going on yonder which excited my awakening curiosity. I could
see figures moving in an unusual manner, and desired to know what they
were doing. I began to walk towards them, and Hans, for his part, began
to try to drag me in an opposite direction, uttering all sorts of
gibberish as to the necessity of my running away. But I would not be
dragged; indeed, I struck at him, until at last, with an exclamation of
despair, he let go of me and vanished.
So I went on alone. I came to my house, or what I thought resembled it,
and there saw a figure lying on its face on the ground some ten or
fifteen yards to the right of the doorway, and noted abstractedly that
it was dressed in my clothes. The Vrouw Prinsloo, in her absurd night
garments, was waddling towards the figure, and a little way off stood
Hernan Pereira, apparently in the act of reloading a double-barrelled
gun. Beyond, staring at him, stood the lantern-faced Henri Marais,
pulling at his long beard with one hand and holding a rifle in the
other. Behind were two saddled horses in the charge of a raw Kaffir,
who looked on stupidly.
The Vrouw Prinsloo reached the body that lay upon the ground dressed in
what resembled my clothes, and bending down her stout shape with an
effort, turned it over. She glared into its face and then began to
shriek.
"Come here, Henri Marais," she shrieked, "come, see what your beloved
nephew has done! You had a daughter who was all your life to you, Henri
Marais. Well, come, look at her after your beloved nephew has finished
his work with her!"
Henri Marais advanced slowly like one who does not understand. He stood
over the body on the ground, and looked down upon it through the morning
mists.
Then suddenly he went mad. His broad hat fell from his head, and his
long hair seemed to stand up. Also his beard grew big and bristled like
the feathers of a bird in frosty weather. He turned on Hernan Pereira.
"You devil!" he shouted, and his voice sounded like the roar of a wild
beast; "you devil, you have murdered my daughter! Because you could not
get Marie for yourself, you have murdered her. Well, I will pay you
back!"
Without more ado he lifted his gun and fired straight at Hernan Pereira,
who sank slowly to the ground and lay there groaning.
Just then I grew aware that horsemen were advancing upon us, a great
number of horsemen, though whence they came at that time I did not know.
One of these I recognised even in my half-drunken state, for he had
impressed himself very vividly upon my mind. He was the dark-browed
commandant who had tried and condemned me to death. He dismounted, and,
staring at the two figures that lay upon the ground, said in a loud and
terrible voice:
"What is this? Who are these men, and why are they shot? Explain,
Henri Marais."
"Men!" wailed Henri Marais, "they are not men. One is a woman--my only
child; and the other is a devil, who, being a devil, will not die. See!
he will not die. Give me another gun that I may make him die."
The commandant looked about him wildly, and his eye fell upon the Vrouw
Prinsloo.
"What has chanced, vrouw?" he asked.
"Only this," she replied in a voice of unnatural calm. "Your murderers
whom you set on in the name of law and justice have made a mistake. You
told them to murder Allan Quatermain for reasons of your own. Well,
they have murdered his wife instead."
Now the commandant struck his hand upon his forehead and groaned, and I,
half awakened at last, ran forward, shaking my fists and gibbering.
"Who is that?" asked the commandant. "Is it a man or a woman?"
"It is a man in woman's clothing; it is Allan Quatermain," answered the
vrouw, "whom we drugged and tried to hide from your butchers."
"God above us!" exclaimed the commandant, "is this earth or hell?"
Then the wounded Pereira raised himself upon one hand.
"I am dying," he cried; "my life is bleeding away, but before I die I
must speak. All that story I told against the Englishman is false. He
never plotted with Dingaan against the Boers. It was I who plotted with
Dingaan. Although I hated him because he found me out, I did not wish
Retief and our people to be killed. But I did wish Allan Quatermain to
be killed, because he had won her whom I loved, though, as it happened,
all the others were slain, and he alone escaped. Then I came here and
learned that Marie was his wife--yes, his wife indeed--and grew mad with
hate and jealousy. So I bore false witness against him, and, you fools,
you believed me and ordered me to shoot him who is innocent before God
and man. Then things went wrong. The woman tricked me again--for the
last time. She dressed herself as the man, and in the dawnlight I was
deceived. I killed her, her whom I love alone, and now her father, who
loved her also, has killed me."
By this time I understood all, for my drugged brain had awakened at
last. I ran to the brute upon the ground; grotesque in my woman's
garments all awry, I leaped on him and stamped out the last of his life.
Then, standing over his dead body, I shook my fists and cried:
"Men, see what you have done. May God pay you back all you owe her and
me!"
They dismounted, they came round me, they protested, they even wept.
And I, I raved at them upon the one side, while the mad Henri Marais
raved upon the other; and the Vrouw Prinsloo, waving her big arms,
called down the curse of God and the blood of the innocent upon their
heads and those of their children for ever.
Then I remember no more.
When I came to myself two weeks afterwards, for I had been very ill and
in delirium, I was lying in the house of the Vrouw Prinsloo alone. The
Boers had all gone, east and west and north and south, and the dead were
long buried. They had taken Henri Marais with them, so I was told,
dragging him away in a bullock cart, to which he was tied, for he was
raving mad. Afterwards he became quieter, and, indeed, lived for years,
walking about and asking all whom he met if they could lead him to
Marie. But enough of him--poor man, poor man!
The tale which got about was that Pereira had murdered Marie out of
jealousy, and been shot by her father. But there were so many tragic
histories in those days of war and massacre that this particular one was
soon quite forgotten, especially as those concerned in it for one reason
and another did not talk overmuch of its details. Nor did I talk of it,
since no vengeance could mend my broken heart.
They brought me a letter that had been found on Marie's breast, stained
with her blood.
Here it is:
"MY HUSBAND,
"Thrice have you saved my life, and now it is my turn to save yours, for
there is no other path. It may be that they will kill you afterwards,
but if so, I shall be glad to have died first in order that I may be
ready to greet you in the land beyond.
"I drugged you, Allan, then I cut off my hair and dressed myself in your
clothes. The Vrouw Prinsloo, Hans and I set my garments upon you. They
led you out as though you were fainting, and the guards, seeing me, whom
they thought was you, standing in the doorway, let them pass without
question.
"What may happen I do not know, for I write this after you are gone. I
hope, however, that you will escape and lead some full and happy life,
though I fear that its best moments will always be shadowed by memories
of me. For I know you love me, Allan, and will always love me, as I
shall always love you.
"The light is burning out--like mine--so farewell, farewell, farewell!
All earthly stories come to an end at last, but at that end we shall
meet again. Till then, adieu. Would that I could have done more for
you, since to die for one who is loved with body, heart and soul is but
a little thing. Still I have been your wife, Allan, and your wife I
shall remain when the world is old. Heaven does not grow old, Allan,
and there I shall greet you.
"The light is dead, but--oh!--in my heart another light arises!
"Your MARIE."
This was her letter.
I do not think there is anything more to be said.
Such is the history of my first love. Those who read it, if any ever
do, will understand why I have never spoken of her before, and do not
wish it to be known until I, too, am dead and have gone to join the
great soul of Marie Marais.
ALLAN QUATERMAIN.
