“Does he think much about Umbelazi, Tshoza?” I asked.
“O Macumazana, he thinks of nothing else; the Spirit of Umbelazi is in him day and night.”
“Indeed,” I said. “Can I see him?”
“I don’t know, Macumazahn. I will go and ask the lady Nandie at once, for, if you can, I believe there is no time to lose.” And he left the hut.
Ten minutes later he returned with a woman, Nandie the Sweet herself, the same quiet, dignified Nandie whom I used to know, only now somewhat worn with trouble and looking older than her years.
“Greeting, Macumazahn,” she said. “I am pleased to see you, although it is strange, very strange, that you should come here just at this time. Saduko is leaving us—on a long journey, Macumazahn.”
I answered that I had heard so with grief, and wondered whether he would like to see me.
“Yes, very much, Macumazahn; only be prepared to find him different from the Saduko whom you knew. Be pleased to follow me.”
So we went out of Tshoza’s hut, across a courtyard to another large hut, which we entered. It was lit with a good lamp of European make; also a bright fire burned upon the hearth, so that the place was as light as day. At the side of the hut a man lay upon some blankets, watched by a woman. His eyes were covered with his hand, and he was moaning:
“Drive him away! Drive him away! Cannot he suffer me to die in peace?”