“Doesn’t she dance prettily?” said Swart Piet with a brutal laugh, at the same time motioning to the men to keep her thus a while.

Now Suzanne looked at the blackening lips and the little form convulsed in its death struggle, and could bear the sight no more.

“Let her down!” she cried, and, springing from the saddle, for all this while she had been seated upon her horse, she walked up to Piet, saying, “Take what you seek, but oh! for your sake I wish to God that my lips were poison.”

“No, no,” gasped Sihamba, who now was lying half choked upon the ground.

“That is not our bargain, dear,” said Piet; “it is that you should kiss me, not I you.”

Again Suzanne shrank back, and again at his signal the men began to pull upon the rope.  Then seeing it, with her face as pale as death, she learned forward and touched his lips with hers, whereon he seized her round the middle, and, drawing her to him, covered her with kisses till even the brutes with him called to him not to push his jest too far and to let the girl go.  This he did, uttering words which I will not repeat, and so weak was Suzanne with shame that when his arms were taken from her she fell to the ground, and lay there till the old Hottentot, her servant, ran to her, cursing and weeping with rage, and helped her to her feet.  For a while she stood saying nothing, only wiping her face, as though filth had bespattered it, with the sun kapje which had fallen from her head, and her face was whiter than the white cap.  At last she spoke in a hoarse voice: 

“Loose that woman,” she said, “who has cost me my honour.”

They obeyed her, and snatching up her skin rug Sihamba turned and fled swiftly down the valley.  Then Suzanne went to her horse, but before she mounted it she looked Swart Piet straight in the eyes.  At the time he was following her, begging her not to be angry at a joke, for his madness was satisfied for a while and had left him.  But she only looked in answer, and there was something so terrible to him in the dark eyes of this young unfriended girl that he shrank back, seeing in them, perhaps, the shadow of fate to come.  Then Suzanne rode away, and Swart Piet, having commanded his ruffians to fire the huts of Sihamba, and to collect her people, goods, and cattle, went away also.

Just at the mouth of the valley something stirred in a bush, causing the horse to start, so that Suzanne, who was thinking of other things, slipped from it to the ground.  Next moment she saw that it was Sihamba, who knelt before her, kissing her feet and the hem of her robe.

“Rise,” she said kindly; “what has been cannot be helped, and at least it was no fault of yours.”

“Nay, Swallow,” said Sihamba, for I think I have said that was the name which the natives had given to Suzanne from childhood, I believe, because of the grace of her movements and her habit of running swiftly hither and thither—­“Nay, Swallow, in a way it was my fault.”