Then Marais followed them, throwing up his arms and still cursing as he went, and, slipping over the tail of the pack-ox, Pereira followed him. So the Vrouw Prinsloo and I were left alone, for the coloured men had departed, as they always do when white people begin to quarrel.
“There, Allan, my boy,” said the vrouw in triumph, “I have found the sore place on the mule’s back, and didn’t I make him squeal and kick, although on most days of the week he seems to be such a good and quiet mule—at any rate, of late.”
“I dare say you did, vrouw,” I said wrathfully, “but I wish you would leave Mynheer Marais’s sore places alone, seeing that if the squeals are for you, the kicks are for me.”
“What does that matter, Allan?” she asked. “He always was your enemy, so that it is just as well you should see his heels when you are out of reach of them. My poor boy, I think you will have a bad time of it between the stinkcat and the mule, although you have done so much for both of them. Well, there is one thing—Marie has a true heart. She will never marry any man except yourself, Allan—even if you are not here to marry,” she added by an afterthought.
The old lady paused a little, staring at the ground. Then she looked up and said:
“Allan, my dear” (for she was really fond of me, and called me thus at times), “you didn’t take the advice I gave you, namely, to look for Pereira and not to find him. Well, I will give you some more, which you will take if you are wise.”
“What is it?” I asked doubtfully; for, although she was upright enough in her own way, the Vrouw Prinsloo could bring herself to look at things in strange lights. Like many other women, she judged of moral codes by the impulses of her heart, and was quite prepared to stretch them to suit circumstances or to gain an end which she considered good in itself.
“Just this, lad. Do you make a two days’ march with Marie into the bush. I want a little change, so I will come, too, and marry you there; for I have got a prayer-book, and can spell out the service if we go through it once or twice first.”
Now, the vision of Marie and myself being married by the Vrouw Prinsloo in the vast and untrodden veld, although attractive, was so absurd that I laughed.
“Why do you laugh, Allan? Anyone can marry people if there is no one else there; indeed, I believe that they can marry themselves.”