head-wife, O
Umslopogaas."

"That I know well enough," said Umslopogaas, "what of it?"

"This, that you neglect me for other women, as you neglected Zinita
for Nada the Beautiful, Nada the witch. I am childless, as are all your
wives because of the curse that this Nada left behind her. I demand that
this curse should be lifted from me. For your sake I abandoned Lousta
the Chief, to whom I was betrothed, and this is the end of it, that I am
neglected and childless."

"Am I the Heavens Above that I can cause you to bear children, woman?"
asked Umslopogaas angrily. "Would that you had clung to Lousta, my
blood-brother and my friend, whom you lament, and left me alone."

"That still may chance, if I am not better treated," answered Monazi
with a flash of her eyes. "Will you dismiss yonder new wife of yours and
give me back my place, and will you lift the curse of Nada off me, or
will you not?"

"As to the first," answered Umslopogaas, "learn, Monazi, that I will not
dismiss my new wife, who at least is gentler-tongued and truer-hearted
than you are. As to the second, you ask that which it is not in my power
to give, since children are the gift of Heaven, and barrenness is its
bane. Moreover, you have done ill to bring into this matter the name of
one who is dead, who of all women was the sweetest and most innocent.
Lastly, I warn you before the people to cease from your plottings or
traffic with Lousta, lest ill come of them to you, or him, even though
he be my blood-brother, or to both."

"Plottings!" cried Monazi in a shrill and furious voice. "Does
Umslopogaas talk of plottings? Well, I have heard that Chaka the Lion
left a son, and that this son has set a trap for the feet of him who
sits on Chaka's throne. Perchance that king has heard it also; perchance
the People of the Axe will soon have another Chief."

"Is it thus?" said Umslopogaas quietly. "And if so, will he be named
Lousta?"

Then his smouldering wrath broke out and in a kind of roaring voice he
went on,

"What have I done that the wives of my bosom should be my betrayers,
those who would give me to death? Zinita betrayed me to Dingaan and
in reward was slain, and my children with her. Now would you, Monazi,
betray me to Cetywayo--though in truth there is naught to betray? Well,
if so, bethink you and let Lousta bethink him of what chanced to Zinita,
and of what chances to those who stand before the axe of Umslopogaas.
What have I done, I say, tha