“Hold your chattering tongue, old woman,” said Marais furiously.  “Am I to be taught my duty to my conscience and my daughter by you?”

“Certainly you are, if you cannot teach them to yourself,” began the vrouw, setting her hands upon her hips.

But Retief pushed her aside, saying: 

“No quarrelling here.  Now, Henri Marais, your conduct about these two young people who love each other is a scandal.  Will you let them be married to-morrow or not?”

“No, commandant, I will not.  By the law I have power over my daughter till she is of age, and I refuse to allow her to marry a cursed Englishman.  Moreover, the Predicant Celliers is away, so there is none to marry them.”

“You speak strange words, Mynheer Marais,” said Retief quietly, “especially when I remember all that this ‘cursed Englishman’ has done for you and yours, for I have heard every bit of that story, though not from him.  Now hearken.  You have appealed to the law, and, as commandant, I must allow your appeal.  But after twelve o’clock to-morrow night, according to your own showing, the law ceases to bind your daughter.  Therefore, on Monday morning, if there is no clergyman in the camp and these two wish it, I, as commandant, will marry them before all men, as I have the power to do.”

Then Marais broke into one of those raving fits of temper which were constitutional in him, and to my mind showed that he was never quite sane.  Oddly enough, it was on poor Marie that he concentrated his wrath.  He cursed her horribly because she had withstood his will and refused to marry Hernan Pereira.  He prayed that evil might fall on her; that she might never bear a child, and that if she did, it might die, and other things too unpleasant to mention.

We stared at him astonished, though I think that had he been any other man than the father of my betrothed, I should have struck him.  Retief, I noticed, lifted his hand to do so, then let it fall again, muttering:  “Let be; he is possessed with a devil.”

At last Marais ceased, not, I think, from lack of words, but because he was exhausted, and stood before us, his tall form quivering, and his thin, nervous face working like that of a person in convulsions.  Then Marie, who had dropped her head beneath this storm, lifted it, and I saw that her deep eyes were all ablaze and that she was very white.

“You are my father,” she said in a low voice, “and therefore I must submit to whatever you choose to say to me.  Moreover, I think it likely that the evil which you call down will fall upon me, since Satan is always at hand to fulfil his own wishes.  But if so, my father, I am sure that this evil will recoil upon your own head, not only here, but hereafter.  There justice will be done to both of us, perhaps before very long, and also to your nephew, Hernan Pereira.”

Marais made no answer; his rage seemed to have spent itself.  He only sat himself again upon the disselboom of the wagon and went on cutting up the tobacco viciously, as though he were slicing the heart of a foe.  Even the Vrouw Prinsloo was silent and stared at him whilst she fanned herself with the vatdoek.  But Retief spoke.