erty and not cooped within his narrow breast, is in
touch with that soul of the Universe, which men know as God Whom they
call by many names. Therefore it has all knowledge and perhaps all
power, and at times the body within it, if it be a wise body, can draw
from this well of knowledge and abounding power. So at least can I. And
now you will understand why I am so good a doctoress and how I came to
appear in the battle, as you said, at the right time, and to leave it
when my work was done."

"Oh! yes," I answered, "I quite understand. I thank you much for putting
it so plainly."

She laughed a little, appreciating my jest, looked at the sleeping Inez,
and said,

"The fair body of this lady dwells in a large soul, I think, though one
of a somewhat sombre hue, for souls have their colours, Allan, and stain
that which is within them. She will never be a happy woman."

"The black people named her Sad-Eyes," I said.

"Is it so? Well, I name her Sad-Heart, though for such often there is
joy at last. Meanwhile she will forget; yes, she will forget the worst
and how narrow was the edge between her and the arms of Rezu."

"Just the width of the blade of the axe, _Inkosikaas_," I answered.
"But tell me, Ayesha, why could not that axe cut and why did my bullets
flatten or turn aside when these smote the breast of Rezu?"

"Because his front-armour was good, Allan, I suppose," she replied
indifferently, "and on his back he wore none."

"Then why did you fill my ears with such a different tale about that
horrible giant having drunk of a Cup of Life, and all the rest?" I asked
with irritation.

"I have forgotten, Allan. Perhaps because the curious, such as you are,
like to hear tales even stranger than their own, which in the days to be
may become their own. Therefore you will be wise to believe only what I
do, and of what I tell you, nothing."

"I don't," I exclaimed exasperated.

She laughed again and replied,

"What need to say to me that which I know already? Yet perhaps in the
future it may be different, since often by the alchemy of the mind the
fables of our youth are changed into the facts of our age, and we come
to believe in anything, as your little yellow man believes in some
savage named Zikali, and those Amahagger believe in the talisman round
your neck, and I who am the maddest of you all, believe in Love and
Wisdom, and the black warrior, Umslopogaas, believes in the virtue of
that great axe of his, rath