I whispered her name, and she drew aside behind an aloe bush, and, making pretence that her foot was pierced with a thorn, she lingered till the other women had gone by.

Then she came up to me, and we greeted one another, gazing heavily into each other's eyes.
"In an ill day did I hearken to you, Baleka," I said, "to you and to the Mother of the Heavens, and save your child alive.

See now what has sprung from this seed! Dead are all my house, dead is the Mother of the Heavens--all are dead--and I myself have been put to the torment by fire," and I held out my withered hand towards her.
"Ay, Mopo, my brother," she answered, "but flesh is nearest to flesh, and I should think little of it were not my son Umslopogaas also dead, as I have heard but now." "You speak like a woman, Baleka.

Is it, then, nothing to you that I, your brother, have lost--all I love ?" "Fresh seed can yet be raised up to you, my brother, but for me there is no hope, for the king looks on me no more.

I grieve for you, but I had this one alone, and flesh is nearest to flesh.