The King smiled, and laid his emaciated hand on her head, but she instinctively shrank away.
“You are sensible,” he said. “We came here to know your mind, and we are glad to find you so submissive. For the present farewell. We shall visit you again by and by.”
He ascended the steps of the verandah, and as he did so, he mumbled—
“She-dog of a hated race, we have humbled you, and we will humble you still more, and then give your carrion to the birds of the air.”
Flora felt relieved when the King had disappeared. His presence was hateful to her. She knew he was the very embodiment of deceit and treachery; and all the loathing and contempt that an honourable woman could feel for such a being she felt for him.
The hours passed wearily enough. It was true her apartments were well stocked with a miscellaneous collection of books and music, but she could not concentrate her thoughts upon these things. Her eyes wandered longingly to the English positions, where she could just discern the white tents of her country’s soldiers; and she wondered whether the city would fall, and if it did, whether she would live to see it fall.
She was very lonely. She paced restlessly up and down the terrace, but when either end was reached, she was confronted with the grim sentry. She peered over the wall, and could see lying on the plain what appeared like a little mound, but which she knew was the dead body of the unfortunate Zula.
As she thought of the ghastly crime her blood almost curdled, and she prayed in her heart that Heaven would bring speedy retribution on those who had been guilty of the foul murder.
Perhaps the prayer was heard, for, some hours later, in the quiet hours of night, there crept down from the ridge a little body of English troops. They were on a reconnoitring expedition, and their object was to examine some of the gates of the city, with a view of reporting upon the practicability of blowing them open.
As these soldiers made their way cautiously along, one of the number suddenly stumbled over something—the something was Zula’s body. The poor face was horribly distorted, and round the neck, deeply imbedded in the flesh, was a portion of a silken cord, showing how her death had been accomplished.