"That is your hue"-- and I touched a copper bangle she was wearing--"a very lovely hue, Mameena, like everything else about you." "Lovely," she said, beginning to weep a little, which upset me very much, for if there is one thing I hate, it is to see a woman cry.

"How can a poor Zulu girl be lovely?
Oh, Macumazahn, the spirits have dealt hardly with me, who have given me the colour of my people and the heart of yours.

If I were white, now, what you are pleased to call this loveliness of mine would be of some use to me, for then-- then-- Oh, cannot you guess, Macumazahn ?" I shook my head and said that I could not, and next moment was sorry, for she proceeded to explain.
Sinking to her knees--for we were quite alone in the big hut and there was no one else about, all the other women being engaged on rural or domestic tasks, for which Mameena declared she had no time, as her business was to look after me--she rested her shapely head upon my knees and began to talk in a low, sweet voice that sometimes broke into a sob.
"Then I will tell you--I will tell you; yes, even if you hate me afterwards.

I could teach you what love is very well, Macumazahn; you are quite right--because I love you." (Sob.) "No, you shall not stir till you have heard me out." Here she flung her arms about my legs and held them tight, so that without using great violence it was absolutely impossible for me to move.

"When I saw you first, all shattered and senseless, snow seemed to fall upon my heart, and it stopped for a little while and has never been the same since.