“‘You will stand at his side in the battle,’ said your reverend father, ‘and those things which you desire you will do, as it is fitting that you should. And afterwards, Hans, you will make report to me of how the battle went and of what honour my son has won therein. Moreover, know this, Hans, that though while you live in the world you seem to see many other things, they are but dreams, since in all the world there is but one real thing, and its name is Love, which if it be but strong enough, the stars themselves must obey, for it is the king of every one of them, and all who dwell in them worship it day and night under many names for ever and for ever, Amen.’ “What he meant by that I am sure I don’t know, Baas, seeing that I have never thought much of women, at least not for many years since my last old vrouw went and drank herself to death after lying in her sleep on the baby which I loved much better than I did her, Baas. “Well, before I could ask him, or about hell either, he was gone like a whiff of smoke from a rifle mouth in a strong wind.” Hans paused, puffed at his pipe, spat upon the ground in his usual reflective way and asked: “Is the Baas tired of the dream or would he like to hear the rest?” “I should like to hear the rest,” I said in a low voice, for I was strangely moved. “Well, Baas, while I was standing in that place which was so full of quiet, turning my hat in my hands and wondering what work they would set me to there among the devils, I looked up. There I saw coming towards me two very beautiful women, Baas, who had their arms round each other’s necks. They were dressed in white, with the little hard things that are found in shells hanging about them, and bright stones in their hair. And as they came, Baas, wherever they set a foot flowers sprang up, very pretty flowers, so that all their path across the quiet place was marked with flowers. Birds too sang as they passed, at least I think they were birds though I could not see them.” “What were they like, Hans?” I whispered. “One of them, Baas, the taller I did not know. But the other I knew well enough; it was she whose name is holy, not to be mentioned. Yet I must mention that name; it was the Missie Marie herself as last we saw her alive many, many years ago, only grown a hundred times more beautiful.”[2] [2] See the book called _Marie_ by H. Rider Haggard. Now I groaned, and Hans went on: “The two White Ones came up to me, and stood looking at me with eyes that were more soft than those of bucks. Then the Missie Marie said to the other: ‘This is Hans of whom I have so often told you, O Star.’” Here I groaned again, for how did this Hottentot know that name, or rather its sweet rendering?