At the least he would have kept the ceremony for private celebration, if only out of respect to the feelings of others.

On this occasion John's entry was received in icy silence.
The old woman did not deign to look up, the young ones shrugged their shoulders and turned their backs, as though they had suddenly seen something that was not nice.

Only the countenance of the sardonic lover softened to a grin.
John walked to the end of the room where there was a vacant chair and stood by it.
"Have I your permission to sit down, ma'am ?" he said at last in a loud tone, addressing the old lady.
"Dear Lord!" said the old lady to the man next to her, "what a voice the poor creature has! it is like a bull's.

What does he say ?" The man explained.
"The floor is the right place for Englishmen and Kafirs," said the old lady, "but after all he is a man, and perhaps sore with riding.
Englishmen always get sore when they try to ride." Then with startling energy she shouted out: "_Sit!_" "I will show the _rooibaatje_ that he is not the only one with a voice," she added by way of explanation.
A subdued sniggle followed this sally of wit, during which John took his seat with such native grace as he could command, which at the moment was not much.
"Dear me!" she went on presently, for she was a bit of a humorist, "he looks very dirty and pale, doesn't he?
I suppose the poor thing has been hiding in the ant-bear holes with nothing to eat.

I am told that up in the Drakensberg yonder the ant-bear holes are full of Englishmen.