“Allemachte! Allan,” he said, catching sight of me, “my heart is sore; I do not know why. I tell you that when I kissed my old woman good-bye just now I felt as though I should never see her again, and the tears came into my eyes. I wish we were all safe back from Dingaan. But there, there, I will try to get over to see her to-morrow, as we don’t start till Monday. What is it that you want, Allan, with that ‘mooi mesje’ of yours?”—and he pointed to the tall Marie.
“What would any man want with such a one, save to marry her?” broke in the Vrouw Prinsloo. “Now, commandant, listen while I set out the tale.”
“All right, aunt, only be brief, for I have no time to spare.”
She obeyed, but I cannot say that she was brief.
When at last the old lady paused, breathless, Retief said:
“I understand everything; there is no need for you young people to talk. Now we will go and see Henri Marais, and, if he is not madder than usual, make him listen to reason.”
So we walked to where Marais’s wagon stood at the end of the line, and found him sitting on the disselboom cutting up tobacco with his pocket-knife.
“Good-day, Allan,” he said, for we had not met since my return. “Have you had a nice journey?”
I was about to answer when the commandant broke in impatiently:
“See here, see here, Henri, we have not come to talk about Allan’s journey, but about his marriage, which is more important. He rides with me to Zululand on Monday, as you do, and wants to wed your daughter to-morrow, which is Sunday, a good day for the deed.”