da came from her husband's hut when the sun was already high, and went
down through the rock gully to the river to bathe. On the right of
the path to the river lay the mealie-fields of the chief, and in
them laboured Zinita and the other women of Umslopogaas, weeding
the mealie-plants. They looked up and saw Nada pass, then worked on
sullenly. After awhile they saw her come again fresh from the bath, very
fair to see, and having flowers twined among her hair, and as she walked
she sang a song of love. Now Zinita cast down her hoe.

"Is this to be borne, my sisters?" she said.

"No," answered another, "it is not to be borne. What shall we do--shall
we fall upon her and kill her now?"

"It would be more just to kill Bulalio, our lord," answered Zinita.
"Nada is but a woman, and, after the fashion of us women, takes all that
she can gather. But he is a man and a chief, and should know wisdom and
justice."

"She has bewitched him with her beauty. Let us kill her," said the other
women.

"Nay," answered Zinita, "I will speak with her," and she went and stood
in the path along which the Lily walked singing, her arms folded across
her breast.

Now Nada saw her and, ceasing her song, stretched out her hand to
welcome her, saying, "Greeting, sister." But Zinita did not take it.
"It is not fitting, sister," she said, "that my hand, stained with toil,
should defile yours, fresh with the scent of flowers. But I am charged
with a message, on my own behalf and the behalf of the other wives of
our Lord Bulalio; the weeds grow thick in yonder corn, and we women are
few; now that your love days are over, will not you come and help us? If
you brought no hoe from your Swazi home, surely we will buy you one."

Now Nada saw what was meant, and the blood poured to her head. Yet she
answered calmly:--

"I would willingly do this, my sister, though I have never laboured in
the fields, for wherever I have dwelt the men have kept me back from all
work, save such as the weaving of flowers or the stringing of beads.
But there is this against it--Umslopogaas, my husband, charged me that I
should not toil with my hands, and I may not disobey my husband."

"Our husband charged you so, Nada? Nay, then it is strange. See, now, I
am his head wife, his Inkosikaas--it was I who taught him how to win the
axe. Yet he has laid no command on me that I should not labour in the
fields after the fashion of women, I who have borne him children; nor,
in