Swallow: A Tale of the Great TrekHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Historical fiction; South Africa -- History -- Great Trek, 1836-1840 -- Fiction; Transvaal (South Africa) -- Fiction
Well, up they rode to the _stoep_, the two Englishmen taking off their
hats to me, after their foolish fashion, while the interpreter, who
called me “Aunt,” although I was younger than he was, asked for leave
to off-saddle, according to our custom. I nodded my head, and having
given the horses to the Cape boys, they came up onto the _stoep_ and
shook hands with me as I sat. I was not going to rise to greet two
Englishmen whom I already hated in my heart, first because they _were_
Englishmen, and secondly because they were about to tempt me into sin,
for such sooner or later we always learn to hate.
“Sit,” I said, pointing to the yellow-wood bench which was seated with
strips of _rimpi_, and the three of them squeezed themselves into the
bench and sat there like white-breasted crows on a bough; the young man
staring at me with a silly smile, the lawyer peering this way and that,
and turning up his sharp nose at the place and all in it, and the
interpreter doing nothing at all, for he was a sensible man, who knew
the habits of well-bred people and how to behave in their presence.
After five minutes or so the lawyer grew impatient, and said something
in a sharp voice, to which the interpreter answered, “Wait.”
So they waited till, just as the young man was beginning to go to sleep
before my very eyes, Suzanne came onto the verandah, whereupon he woke
up in a hurry, and, jumping off the bench, began to bow and scrape and
to offer her his seat, for there was no other.
“Suzanne,” I said, taking no notice of his bad manners, “get coffee,”
and she went, looking less displeased at his grimaces than I would have
had her do.
In time the coffee came, and they drank it, or pretended to, after
which the lawyer began to grow impatient once more, and spoke to the
interpreter, who said to me that they had come to visit us on a matter
of business.
“Then tell him that it can wait till after we have eaten,” I answered.
“It is not my habit to talk business in the afternoon. Why is the
lawyer man so impatient, seeing that doubtless he is paid by the day?”
This was translated, and the lawyer asked how I knew his trade.
“In the same way that I know a weasel by its face and a stink-cat by
its smell,” I replied, for every minute I hated that advocate more.
At this answer the lawyer grew white with anger, and the young lord
burst into a roar of laughter, for, as I have said, these English
people have no manners. However, they settled themselves down again on
the yellow-wood bench and looked at me; while I, folding my hands, sat
opposite, and looked at them for somewhere about another hour, as the
interpreter told them that if they moved I should be offended, and, for
my part, I was determined that I would not speak to them of their
business until Suzanne had gone to bed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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