Kitabı oku: «The White Shield», sayfa 7

The plain beneath was covered with the blue cattle of the Bakoni, and, huddled in groups, were the women captives, frightened and sad. Other captives were there – men – and these had a set, still, stony look, for they reckoned themselves as already dead. To these were added the others we had brought down from the summit of the mountain – that fortified mountain which Tauane had boasted was able to defy the world. Yet we had ascended it so easily!

“Ha, Chief of the Blue Cattle!” I said mockingly. “Behold thy fortress! Behold the lion who roars louder than thee! Thou art already dead, thou who wouldst have done violence to the ambassadors of the Great King!”

“Perhaps not,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “Perhaps not. It may be that I can tell the King that which is worth my life.”

Now, Nkose, my heart stood still within me, for these were exactly the words of Maroane the slave. To how many was known the existence of Lalusini – the secret of her hiding-place? Had I dared, I would have slain Tauane with my own hand, but this was impossible. He was the King’s prisoner. Walking in the midst of the other captives, no colour had I for slaying him, and had I done so I should have drawn down upon myself the darkest suspicion. True, there was no direct proof, as yet, that I was aware of the secret, but the King’s distrust would be aroused and my undoing would then be a certainty. And, over and above all this, the thought that Lalusini might be reft from me filled my mind with a fierce and savage dread. I felt capable of slaying the King himself rather than that should befall.

Then the whole army mustered in two immense half-circles, and the tufted shields and waving plumes, and the quiver of assegai-hafts made a noise like that of a mighty wind shaking a forest, and amid the thunder of the war-song, the King appeared, preceded by several izimbonga. These were roaring like lions, trumpeting like elephants, bellowing like bulls, wriggling like snakes, each ornamented with the skin, or horns, or teeth of the animal he represented and which constituted the King’s titles.

Umzilikazi was arrayed in a war-dress of white ostrich-feathers and flowing cow-hair. The great white shield was held over him by his shield-bearer, but he himself carried a shield made of the skin of a lion, and a broad-bladed dark-handled spear similar to the one which he had given to me. It was not often the King appeared in all the war-adornments of a fighting leader, and now that he did the mad delight of the warriors knew no bounds.

“Elephant who bears the world!” they roared. “Divider of the sun! Black Serpent of Night! Black Bull, whose horns bear fire! Lion whose roar causeth the stars to fall!” were some of the phrases of bonga which arose; and, indeed, the King himself could hardly command silence, and then not for a very long time, so great was the excitement.

“Come hither, Untúswa,” said the Great Great One. “Thou shalt be my voice, for I talk not with the tongue of these dogs. Bring forward the dog who names himself a young lion.”

Tauane was brought forward. Deeming his obeisance not low enough, one of the body-guard seized him by the back of the neck and forced his face down on to the very earth before the King.

“Down, dog!” he growled. “Down before the Founder of Nations, the Scourge of the World!”

And in fierce, threatening chorus the warriors echoed the words.

Having contemplated with a scornful sneer the grovelling captive, Umzilikazi said —

“Speak now with my tongue, Untúswa. But wait. Let old Masuka be sent for. Two tongues are better than one.”

Now I saw myself again undone, Nkose, for in turning that language into our own I thought not to render it all, and therein lay safety. But the old Masuka would certainly render it word for word. Still, my snake was watching over me then, for a message came from the old isanusi that he was making múti, as befitted so serious a time. This answer, which no other man among us would have dared to send, unless he were more than tired of his life, seemed to satisfy the King.

“No matter,” he said. “Thou wert my tongue before, Untúswa, when I despatched thee to offer favour to this dog who calls himself a lion Thou shalt be my tongue now.”

Chapter Eleven.
The End of Tauane

As the King thus spoke, Nkose, I felt safe again, for old Masuka might not arrive before I had finished interpreting, and when that time had come I felt sure that the moments left to the captive chief of the Blue Cattle would be few indeed.

“So, brother!” said the Great Great One, speaking in that soft and pleasant voice which was the most terrible of all, “so, brother – who thought to rule the world? What bad dreams disturbed thy night’s rest to cause thee to make a mock of my messengers?”

This I put to Tauane. But he made no reply save a murmur, waiting for the King to continue.

“I offered thee life, and thou didst choose death; death for thyself and thy people. Go, ask such as remain of the tribes and peoples which have lain in and around our path – ask if the son of Matyobane was ever known to send forth his ‘word’ twice?”

Still the chief made no reply, save for a murmur. But there was a light in his eyes as of hope, for Umzilikazi’s voice was soft and pleasant, and therein he read mercy. Ha! we knew better than that – knew that for such a purpose the King’s voice had better have in it the roar of thunder.

“Not only didst thou turn a deaf ear to my offer of thy life and the lives of thy people, O Chief of the Blue Cattle,” went on Umzilikazi, “but to my messenger, Untúswa, thou didst offer violence, to him and to those who were with him. But for my arrival in time, he who was the tongue of the King would have been slain; slain by thee and thy people. What hast thou to say, Chief of the Blue Cattle?”

This I put to Tauane in glee, for I had not forgotten how they had smoked us like bees within the stone walls; how, but for our prowess and their cowardice, we should long since have been slain; how that we in our capacity of ambassadors should have been sacred, but, instead, had been set upon and assailed by these dogs of Bakoni. He urged eagerly in excuse that for what had happened he was not responsible, that he had been unable to control his people, which, when I had rendered into our tongue, raised an exclamation of derision from all who heard it; for to us the idea of a people refusing to listen to the voice of its chief, or any man remaining a chief who was unable to compel the implicit obedience of his people, seemed the most ridiculous thing in the whole world. If he thought to save his own life by throwing the blame upon his people, why then, never made any man a greater mistake, for never was cowardice in any form a way to the favour of Umzilikazi.

“And that is all thou hast to say, thou treacherous and cowardly dog?” said the King, dropping his soft and pleasant voice and pointing his spear at the captive chief.

“Not all, O Black Elephant,” was the answer; and now I felt on my own trial, for, if he mentioned the secret of Lalusini’s existence and hiding-place, how could I suppress it, or turn it into something else? I knew that none of the izinduna or others seated near by understood that language, yet many of the Amaholi, or slaves, did; and although these were in the background, I knew not how far Tauane’s voice might reach.

“There is yet more I would say,” he answered. “It is whispered that the great nation before whose irresistible bravery our race has gone down is followed by a hostile nation greater even than itself, before whom it flees. Now, O King, our weapons are good, and there are still some of our warriors left. Let them therefore konza to the Elephant of the Amandebeli, so when the Lion of the Zulu roars in pursuit behind, he will be met by many more spears than he had expected.”

This offer of alliance was so ludicrous that the warriors listening could not restrain their shouts of derision.

“Lo, a fighting bull! a lion indeed! Hau! listen to the trumpeting of the elephant!” they jeered, mocking the unfortunate chief. Then the King spoke, and again his voice was soft.

“Ha! That is what thou hast to say, Chief of the Blue Cattle? A noble alliance truly! An alliance between the elephant and the cricket, between the serpent and the frog! Ha! a people who in their armed hundreds are driven backwards and forwards like cattle by two men – only two! A people who in their armed thousands, and with fire to help them, are kept at a distance for half a day by two men – only two! Such are they who would fight side by side with us! Say now, chief of a nation of old women – if thy spears in their thousands could do nothing against two Zulu fighting-men, and that during half a day, how would they think to stand against a whole impi? The ostrich who vanishes beyond one sky-line when a man appears on the other is preferable as an ally to thee and thine. We want not such.”

So great were the murmurs of contemptuous hate which went up that I could hardly make myself heard as I rendered the King’s speech. It seemed to me, watching the countenance of Tauane, that hope had now left it, to be succeeded, however, by a rekindling gleam.

“I lie beneath the foot of the Elephant,” he said; “but there is that, which, if I am suffered to go untrampled, the Elephant would gladly know.”

I looked around. No sign of Masuka, and it seemed to me that none within hearing would understand this tongue. Now the moment had come, now was Tauane about to try and purchase his life by disclosing Lalusini’s secret and mine, and I was resolved that he should not. Yet it was a terrible thing to stand before the majesty of the Great Great One, and deliberately deceive him – a terrible thing! But I turned the speech of Tauane into a mere prayer that he might not be crushed beneath the foot of the Elephant.

“The house of the Great King should be full of beautiful women,” he went on; “yet the most beautiful of all is not there.”

Yes, the air was getting hot now; but I rendered the words so as to mean that the most beautiful women of the Bakoni had already fallen to the King’s possession.

“The blood of the most beautiful of all is that of the Amazulu. There flows in her veins the pure blood of kings,” he continued.

“They are beautiful as those of the Amazulu, almost worthy to mingle with the pure blood of kings,” I translated.

“She is the Queen of the hidden mysteries of the Bakoni; beautiful as the mate of the Great King should be, and she has yet to be brought to the Elephant of the Amandebeli.”

“Some even are skilled in the hidden mysteries of the Bakoni; and all have been delivered to the Elephant of the Amandebeli,” I put it.

“The secret of her hiding-place is known to me alone,” he said. “She is there, safe and unharmed, awaiting the arrival of those who shall lead her before the King. She is of the Amazulu, and is called Lalusini.”

I started inwardly. Ha! The name! I might play tricks with the remainder, but the name! It sounded so plain – stood forth so unmistakably Zulu among the wretched monkey-like speech of these people, that I saw, or fancied I saw, a spasm of astonishment come into the King’s face. Then I saw light.

“None have been hidden away in secret hiding-places,” I translated; “all have been delivered safe and unharmed to those who should lead them before the King. They are worthy mates for the Amazulu or the Baqulusini.”⁶

Thus, Nkose, did I make use of the similarity between these two words, deeming that the King, if he detected any difference, would attribute it to the difficulty these people had in pronouncing Zulu words; and, in fact, he must have done so.

“And is this all thou hast to urge in favour of thy miserable life, rebellious dog, who barks at my messengers?” said the Great Great One, haughtily.

“And is this secret, indeed, known but to thee alone, and to no other? Not even to a dog?” I put it.

“To me alone; not even to a dog, Black Elephant,” said the chief. But his answer I turned into:

“This is all I have to urge, O Black Elephant. If it is not enough, I must even die.”

And now I felt safe. Nor could I help smiling to myself, for the words I had put into the mouth of Tauane were the words of a brave man, whereas the chief of the Blue Cattle was the greatest of cowards when face to face with death. And, indeed, I deserved gratitude from him, for in any case he was as good as dead; and it was better to die with the words of a brave man on one’s lips than with the grovelling whine of a coward.

Yet, just then, the laugh disappeared from my mind, for, looking up, I beheld drawing near old Masuka. Bent double, tottering with age, he crept along, and squatted, just a little apart, behind the izinduna.

“Now,” I thought, “if the King chooses to converse yet longer with Tauane through the old Mosutu, then, indeed, I am undone.”

But the Great Great One seemed in no mood for further indaba. Signing me to approach, he whispered a few words, and seldom or never have a few words sounded more welcome. Springing up, I passed round my orders to the warriors, and in a moment Tauane and those that remained of his people were seized and bound with thongs.

Then the King spoke, and his tones never were softer:

“Yonder is a round wall within another. Within those walls two men, fighting-men of the Amazulu, fought throughout the shining of yesterday’s sun – fought against a twofold enemy, the whole might of the People of the Blue Cattle and against fire! And one of these two men was the tongue and mouthpiece of myself. This day, again, those walls shall witness a merry strife, but it shall not be against such great and overpowering odds. The remaining fighting-men of the People of the Blue Cattle, who still number a great many more than two, shall, to-day, strive within those round walls. But they shall fight there against one enemy only – one enemy instead of two – wherein I am more merciful than they. And that enemy shall be fire! Go now, ye who remain of the warriors of Bakoni! go now, and fight where my two warriors fought. Fare ye well, Hambani gahle!”

The wave of the hand with which the King concluded was our signal. The warriors hailed the Great Great One’s words with roars of acclamation, and, throwing themselves upon the prisoners – nearly a hundred in number – began dragging them off to the round stone walls, which stood up from the plain some little distance off, amid the smoking ruins of the town of the Bakoni. Others, fleet-footed, had run on in advance, and by the time we arrived at the ruins had gathered and piled up a dense ring of brushwood and dry grass. The prisoners, bound, and shrieking and kicking, were flung within the inner wall, where they were heaped up, one upon another, a tossing, struggling mass.

“Gahle – gahle!” I cried. “Not so fast! The chief must crown the pile. It is only due to his rank.”

The warriors laughed, and went on flinging in the wretched Bakoni.

“Ha, Tauane,” I said, speaking in his own tongue, “it is not good to shake weapons in the face of the King’s messenger. And know this. Not to thee alone is the secret of the Queen of the mysteries of the Bakoni known. Through the darkness of the earth, to an outward chamber in the cliff, like unto the place of an eagle’s nest, there lies hidden she in whose veins runs the pure blood of the Amazulu, even the blood which is fit to mingle with that of kings. I know the place beside thyself – I alone.”

He stared at me with a strange, wild expression.

“Thou and the King – yes,” he muttered.

“Not the King – I only,” I jeered. “Not the King; thy words did not travel so far.”

“Yet he would have given me my life!” he said, in a bewildered way, looking giddily around. Then, as it seemed to burst upon him how he had been tricked, he began to scream aloud the story; but none there understood a word, and before he could say many words I had seized him by the neck. At a sign from me others seized him too, and, swinging him up, bound as he was, flung him right over the two walls, where he fell upon the living struggling mass of all that remained of his followers. Now fire was put in, and the great piles of dry stuff crackled and flared, and the flames and smoke drove across the bodies of those who had taken the places of myself and Mgwali, and were now suffering the death to which they had destined us. And, as the flames roared upward to the heavens, in a great circle our warriors formed around as near as the heat would allow them to draw, and the thunderous stamp of the war-dance drowned the wild shrieks of the last of the victims due to the insult and outrage offered to the King’s messengers. And that was the end of Tauane, the chief of the Bakoni, of the People of the Blue Cattle.

That night, when the fires were lighted, the King ordered a great dance of the Tyay’igama, or “calling of names,” when those named by their captains for deeds of valour should have an opportunity of recounting their claims to such distinction before the King and the whole nation. And, among others, I “named” my brother, Mgwali, who, in his manner of setting forth his deeds, when dancing alone amid the circle of warriors, reminded me not a little of my own performance when I was “named” by Gungana on a like occasion. However, the King “pointed at” him, and thereby he obtained permission to tunga. Yet his admiration for the female captives we had taken from the Bakoni was destined to bring him some disappointment; for the King exacted that, being young, he should choose his bride from among the girls of our own nation. For so jealous was Umzilikazi on behalf of keeping the old Zulu blood pure and strong, that, as yet, he would hardly ever allow a young man to take to wife captives or girls of an inferior race. And when the Tyay’igama dance was ended there was a great slaughter of cattle – the blue cattle of the Bakoni – and the night was spent in feasting and singing. And in the morning we moved on further away still from this place of death. And behind us, where the abodes of the destroyed race had been – although the houses had long since burnt out – yet above the smouldering cattle-kraals the grey smoke still went wreathing up; and, high overhead in the blue heavens, their pinions dazzling white in the sun, like flakes of driving snow, floated clouds of vultures. For in those days the march of our conquering and destroying nation might ever be followed and marked out by two things: a cloud of smoke and a cloud of vultures.

Chapter Twelve.
“You – An Induna?”

Many days went by before I was able to return and visit Lalusini in her strange hiding-place, and herein I found that it was not always an advantage to be great. For Untúswa the induna was a man of such consequence that, did any one meet him wandering abroad, heads would be turned to see whither he was going, whereas Untúswa the umfane and unringed might go where he would and nobody would be at the trouble to so much as wonder concerning his business. Howbeit, I was ever known as a great hunter, and keen in the pursuit of game; wherefore, on this ground alone, I found opportunities of wandering afar.

I climbed the mountain of death, and there, indeed, so plenteous had food been that there were not enough vultures and crows and jackals to devour it all; for more than half the dead bodies were untouched, and lay, shrivelled and withered, just where they had been slain. For it is our custom, Nkose, to rip the bodies of those who fall beneath our spears, in order that they should dry up and spread no disease; and, remembering how we “ate up” whole nations in those days, the custom was a wise one. Carefully I took my way across the flat summit, stepping in and out between the skulls and fleshless ribs, and fearful lest I might be seen from beneath, whether from far or near. But when I gained the cleft in the ground, and began to descend into cold darkness, I felt a strange feeling, for all was silence, and I wondered whether I should indeed find Lalusini still there. So I began to sing, and presently I heard that soft voice answering, as I had heard it at first.

And now, as I stood once more within this strange retreat, looking upon the beautiful and splendid form and into the shining eyes of her who dwelt in it, all thoughts of the danger I had incurred had fled as the morning mists when the sun mounts high. No longer did I call myself the king of fools – oh, no! I was the very induna of wisdom, so my feelings told me. I sprang forward to seize her in my arms, but she repulsed me very decidedly – though laughing.

“Not yet, Untúswa, not yet. The time has not yet come,” she cried. “But – are you come to fetch me for the King?”

And her eyes full of mockery, were laughing at me.

“The King? Hau! Not so. An indunas wife only shalt thou be, Lalusini – not the wife of a King.”

“Ah, ah! An induna’s wife? But I love not old men, and indunas are always old.”

“Not so, Lalusini. But yesterday I was only a boy, and unringed.”

“Ah, ah! son of Ntelani! You – an induna? You?”

And again she made the rocks ring with the music of her laughter.

“I? – yes, I,” was my answer, given with dignity, for my pride was ruffled. “I am only the second induna in command of the King’s army. Nothing very great. But a small thing. Laugh on, Lalusini; laugh on!”

But she did not laugh. Something in my words seemed to turn her suddenly grave. “Ah – the chance! The chance at last!” I heard her murmur. “I, too, am somebody,” she said. Then, turning to me, “Yes, Untúswa, I am somebody who is great – greater than any man among the Aba-ka-zulu; greater than Umzilikazi himself. And it may be that the day will come when you, too, shall be greater, son of Ntelani – greater than the King yonder.”

“Hau! We are talking in a ring!” I cried, but her words troubled me. “How now didst thou come among the people of the Blue Cattle, Lalusini? – for it seems to me the time has come for me to hear that tale.”

“The time has not come – not yet – but it will. And now tell me of the end of the Bakoni, for I think there must be few still alive.”

“Few, indeed,” I said. “But Tauane – was he the only one to know of this place?”

“The only one – he and the slave who brought you hither. What of them?” And her tone became quick and anxious.

“The slave, or what is left of him, lies above our heads. He got no further than the entrance hither when last I passed out through it. For Tauane, he is as the ashes of last season’s burnt grass.”

And then I told her all about the end of the prisoners, how the chief would have sold the secret of her hiding-place to save his own life, and how I had so misinterpreted his words as to prevent him from doing so. Lalusini’s eyes beamed with delight.

“Ha! You deserve to be an induna,” she said, “and a great one. The big, brave, strong fighting-man is frequently a fool in matters requiring head. But you, Untúswa, are no part of a fool. You have both the head and the strength. Lalusini – Baqulusini!” she repeated. “Whau! that was crafty indeed. But the King, did he have no suspicion?”

“He showed none,” I answered, in just the shadow of a cloud. “Yet how will I finally bring you in among ourselves? The name will bring back the King’s recollections.”

“Perhaps I will never go back among yourselves,” she answered. “There is a people into whose midst I will one day return, and there I shall be great indeed, and you through me. Come now, Untúswa – let us return to that people together.”

“Hau!” I cried, with a very dissatisfied shake of the head. “That which is distant is ever that which is uncertain.” For this proposition startled me. It reminded me too much of past foolishness. Once before I had sacrificed my chances as a warrior, had deserted my people, and had thrown away my life with both hands, all for the sake of a girl, and had found the position so little to my liking that I had willingly exchanged it for certain death. I had not found the death I expected, but life and great honour; yet that was a marvel, and such marvels do not occur twice within the experience of any one man. Now, I desired Lalusini greatly, but I desired her as a favourite wife of the King’s induna– not as the mate of a disgraced runaway. Wherefore her proposal found but little favour in my eyes; and, indeed, I thought she had made it only to try me.

Then we talked of other things, of Tauane and the nation we had destroyed; but of her powers as a sorceress she would tell me nothing, or how she had come among that people. And I sat and listened to her talk, for I was young in those days, and the sound of her voice was to my ears as the rippling of water in a sun-dried land. I know not how it is among you white people, Nkose, but among ourselves, when we are yet young, we are ever as fools in such matters; when we are older – ah, then it is different.

While we talked, her eye fell upon my broad spear – the King’s Assegai – and, reaching for it, she examined it knowingly.

“Worthy to be wielded by Tshaka himself,” she muttered. “A splendid spear! A royal weapon,” examining the haft, which was dark-red then, although it is now black with age. “Truly a royal weapon!”

“And a royal weapon it is,” I answered, “for I had it from Umzilikazi’s own hand.”

“Ha! And how was that?” she asked eagerly. But I looked knowing and laughed.

“Nothing for nothing, Lalusini,” I said. “Tell me thine own tale; then thou shalt have that of the King’s Assegai. And I promise thee that it is a stirring one.”

But she would not. Nevertheless, I told her my own tale, or a part of it. At the mention of Nangeza she looked up quickly. “How many wives have you, Untúswa?” she asked.

“Only three. But my inkosikazi is more trouble than any thirty ordinary women, for she wants to be chief over me, too.”

Lalusini laughed.

“And that is Nangeza for whom you deserted your nation and incurred death under its most terrible form?” she said.

I answered that it was.

“And you want me to go and be second to your inkosikazi, Untúswa!”

“Not so, for you would ever be my favourite wife.”

“Until you found some other Mystery Queen hidden in a mountain cave,” she said, mocking me. But I took snuff and answered nothing, for a man who undertakes to answer everything a woman says is like one who begins to swim across a flooded river: he knows where he goes in, but cannot tell where he may get out, or if ever – at least, so it is among ourselves; I know not if it is the same among white people.

“And the King?” she said. “How many wives has he?”

“That question is hard to answer. A great many does he possess, yet he cares not for any of them, neither does he love women over-much. A woman, he says, is like the grains of the umbona (maize), which is tender and nice when young, but soon grows hard and tooth-breaking, and needs much pounding to turn it once more into any use at all. Thus has the King often spoken when we have been talking together.”

How Lalusini laughed, and it was good to hear her laugh, even as to hear her talk.

“Yau!” she cried. “I do not think I will enter the isigodhlo of Umzilikazi.”

“But what if no choice is allowed you?”

“But there will be. There is that by which Umzilikazi dare not wed me.”

Now I cried out in wonder, yet was my mind relieved.

“There is,” she went on. “And – I am greater than your King, son of Ntelani.”

“Then must you be of the root of Senzangakona himself, for there is but one who is greater than our King, and that is Dingane, who now sits in the seat of Tshaka.”

(Senzangakona was father of Tshaka, the founder of the Zulu military dynasty.)

This I said jestingly, and then, seeing that the shadows were getting long, I rose and, going to the entrance of the place, I dragged in the carcass of a buck I had slain on my way; for, besides what game I could bring her, Lalusini had no food but dry corn. Of water she had abundance, for a little clear spring trickled down the rock at the further end of the place, losing itself in a dark cleft; but only at night could she make a fire, for then alone there was no risk of the smoke betraying her, and the light – of a small fire, at any rate – was quite hidden from without.

“Au! it must be lonely here at night,” I said, looking upward at the great gloomy rock-roof. “Do you not hear the ghosts up above, wailing among the dry bones wherein they dwelt when alive?”

“I fear not such things, Untúswa. What I fear more is that yonder stone may not be heavy enough to keep out a lion I have heard upon the mountain the last two nights. He was snapping and growling among the bones, and I feared he might try to force his way in here.”

I examined the hole, which was only large enough to admit the body of a man creeping on his hands and knees. This hole Lalusini used to stop at night by rolling a stone against its mouth, yet the stone did not fill up the entire hole, but only enough to render it too small for the passage of any large body.

“It is safe,” I said, testing the weight. “Nothing large enough to be harmful could force an entrance, yet I must try and slay that lion. And now, Lalusini, I must return, for it will be dark by the time I arrive, and our people like not those who wander overmuch in the night-time.”

We took an affectionate leave of each other, yet Lalusini would not at that time tell me anything of her own tale, and I made my way back to the top of the mountain. And all the way homeward my mind was full of her whom I had left, and I pondered much and oft about the greatness she had hinted at, and how such was in store for myself, too, as though she were the chieftainess of some mighty nation – and mighty indeed must it have been were it greater than our own, as she had said it was. But most of all I pondered as to how I should ever be able to bring her in among ourselves so that the King’s suspicions should not take the right road.

Thus thinking, and alternately singing to myself, I got over the ground at a swift pace, yet by the time I entered the hut of my chief wife it was quite dark. Nangeza was seated within alone. As I entered she looked up with a frown upon her face; and, indeed, a frown was more often to be found there than a smile in those days.