Marie: An Episode in the Life of the Late Allan QuatermainHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
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Marie: An Episode in the Life of the Late Allan Quatermain
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
On this third day my mind was brought back from its wanderings by the
sound of a great noise about the house, above which I heard the voice
of Marais storming and shouting, and that of my father trying to calm
him. Presently Marie entered the room, drawing-to behind her a Kaffir
karoos, which served as a curtain, for the door, it will be remembered,
had been torn out. Seeing that I was awake and reasonable, she flew to
my side with a little cry of joy, and, kneeling down, kissed me on the
forehead.
“You have been very ill, Allan, but I know you will recover now. While
we are alone, which,” she added slowly and with meaning, “I dare say we
shall not be much in future, I want to thank you from my heart for all
that you did to save me. Had it not been for you, oh! had it not been
for you”—and she glanced at the blood stains on the earthen floor, put
her hands before her eyes and shuddered.
“Nonsense, Marie,” I answered, taking her hand feebly enough, for I was
very weak. “Anyone else would have done as much, even if they did not
love you as I do. Let us thank God that it was not in vain. But what is
all that noise? Have the Quabies come back?”
She shook her head.
“No; the Boers have come back from hunting them.”
“And did they catch them and recover the cattle?”
“Not so. They only found some wounded men, whom they shot, and the body
of Monsieur Leblanc with his head cut off, taken away with other bits
of him for medicine, they say to make the warriors brave. Quabie has
burnt his kraal and fled with all his people to join the other Kaffirs
in the Big Mountains. Not a cow or a sheep did they find, except a few
that had fallen exhausted, and those had their throats cut. My father
wanted to follow them and attack the Red Kaffirs in the mountains, but
the others would not go. They said there are thousands of them, and
that it would be a mad war, from which not one of them would return
alive. He is wild with grief and rage, for, Allan dear, we are almost
ruined, especially as the British Government are freeing the slaves and
only going to give us a very small price, not a third of their value.
But, hark! he is calling me, and you must not talk much or excite
yourself, lest you should be ill again. Now you have to sleep and eat
and get strong. Afterwards, dear, you may talk”; and, bending down once
more, she blessed and kissed me, then rose and glided away.
CHAPTER IV.
HERNANDO PEREIRA
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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