I seek no throne over white or black, Mameena, who walk my own path to a quiet grave that shall perhaps not be without honour of its own, though other than you seek.

I will keep your counsel, Mameena, but, because you are so beautiful and so wise, and because you say you are fond of me--for which I thank you--I pray you put away these fearful dreams of yours that in the end, whether they succeed or fail, will send you shivering from the world to give account of them to the Watcher-on-high." "Not so, O Macumazana," she said, with a proud little laugh.

"When your Watcher sowed my seed--if thus he did--he sowed the dreams that are a part of me also, and I shall only bring him back his own, with the flower and the fruit by way of interest.

But that is finished.

You refuse the greatness.