“Such a star runs ever before the death of kings. It fell the night ere the Black One died,” murmured a fourth as though he spoke to himself. Only Dingaan, taking no heed of them, said, addressing Rachel: “Read thou the omen.” “Nay,” she replied upon the swift impulse of the moment, “I read it not. Interpret it as ye will. Here is my answer to thy question, King. _Those who lift the spear shall perish by the spear.”_ At this saying the captains murmured a little, for they, who desired war, understood that she counselled peace between them and the Boers, though others thought that she meant that the Boers would perish. Dingaan also looked downcast. Watching their faces, Rachel was sure that not even her hand could hold them back from their desire. That war must come. Again she spoke: “The star travels whither it is thrown by the hand of the Umkulunkulu, the Master of men; the spear finds the heart to which it is appointed. Read you the omen as you will. I have spoken, but ye will not understand. That which shall be, shall be.” She bent her head, and turned her ear towards the ground as though to hearken. “What was that tale of the last words of the Great Lion who is gone?” she went on. “Ask it of Mopo, ask it of Dingaan the King. It seems to me that I also hear the feet of a people travelling over plain and mountain, and the rivers behind them run red with blood. Are they black feet or white feet? Read ye the omen as ye will. I have spoken for the first time and the last; trouble me no more with this matter of the white men and your war,” and turning, Rachel glided from the court, followed by Noie with bowed head. CHAPTER XI. ISHMAEL VISITS THE INKOSAZANA When at last they were in the hut and the door-board had been safely closed, Rachel took Noie in her arms and kissed her. But Noie did not kiss her back; she only pressed her hand against her forehead. “Why do you not kiss me, Noie?” asked Rachel. “How can I kiss you, Inkosazana,” replied the girl humbly, “I who am but the dog at your feet, the dog whom twice it has pleased you to save from death.” “Inkosazana!” exclaimed Rachel. “I weary of that name. I am but a woman like yourself, and I hate this part which I must play.” “Yet it is a high part, and you play it very well. While I listened to you to-night, Zoola, twice and thrice I wondered if you are not something more than you deem yourself to be. That beautiful body of yours is but a cup like those of other women, but say, who fills the cup with the wine of wisdom? Why do kings and councillors fear you, and why do you fear nothing? Why did dead Seyapi talk to me of you in dreams? What strange chance gave you that name of yours and made you holy in these men’s eyes? What power teaches you the truth and gives you wit and strength to speak it? Why are you different from the rest of maidens, white or black?”