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once more stood before me； telling some history of his stormy and tragic
past in that quiet； measured voice that I have never been able to
forget。
The first manuscript I read was that entitled 〃Marie。〃 It deals with
Mr。 Quatermain's strange experiences when as a very young man he
accompanied the ill…fated Pieter Retief and the Boer Commission on an
embassy to the Zulu despot； Dingaan。 This； it will be remembered； ended
in their massacre； Quatermain himself and his Hottentot servant Hans
being the sole survivors of the slaughter。 Also it deals with another
matter more personal to himself； namely； his courtship of and marriage
to his first wife； Marie Marais。
Of this Marie I never heard him speak； save once。 I remember that on a
certain occasionit was that of a garden fete for a local charityI
was standing by Quatermain when someone introduced to him a young girl
who was staying in the neighborhood and had distinguished herself by
singing very prettily at the fete。 Her surname I forget； but her
Christian name was Marie。 He started when he heard it； and asked if she
were French。 The young lady answered No； but only of French extraction
through her grandmother； who also was called Marie。
〃Indeed？〃 he said。 〃Once I knew a maiden not unlike you who was also of
French extraction and called Marie。 May you prove more fortunate in
life than she was； though better or nobler you can never be；〃 and he
bowed to her in his simple； courtly fashion； then turned away。
Afterwards； when we were alone； I asked him who was this Marie of whom
he had spoken to the young lady。 He paused a little； then answered：
〃She was my first wife； but I beg you not to speak of her to me or to
anyone else； for I cannot bear to hear her name。 Perhaps you will learn
all about her one day。〃 Then； to my grief and astonishment； he broke
into something like a sob and abruptly left the room。
After reading the record of this Marie I can well understand why he was
so moved。 I print it practically as it left his hands。
There are other MSS。 also； one of which； headed 〃Child of Storm；〃
relates the moving history of a beautiful and； I fear I must add； wicked
Zulu girl named Mameena who did much evil in her day and went
unrepentant from the world。
Another； amongst other things； tells the secret story of the causes of
the defeat of Cetewayo and his armies by the English in 1879； which
happened not long before Quatermain met Sir Henry Curtis and Captain
Good。
These three narratives are； indeed； more or less connected with each
other。 At least； a certain aged dwarf； called Zikali； a witch…doctor
and an terrible man； has to do with all of them； although in the first；
〃Marie；〃 he is only vaguely mentioned in connection with the massacre of
Retief； whereof he was doubtless the primary instigator。 As 〃Marie〃
comes first in chronological order； and was placed on the top of the
pile by its author； I publish it first。 With the others I hope to deal
later on； as I may find time and opportunity。
But the future must take care of itself。 We cannot control it； and its
events are not in our hand。 Meanwhile； I hope that those who in their
youth have read of King Solomon's Mines and Zuvendis； and perhaps some
others who are younger； may find as much of interest in these new
chapters of the autobiography of Allan Quatermain as I have done myself。
CONTENTS
I。 ALLAN LEARNS FRENCH
II。 THE ATTACK ON MARAISFONTEIN
III。 THE RESCUE
IV。 HERNANDO PEREIRA
V。 THE SHOOTING MATCH
VI。 THE PARTING
VII。 ALLAN'S CALL
VIII。 THE CAMP OF DEATH
IX。 THE PROMISE
X。 VROUW PRINSLOO SPEAKS HER MIND
XI。 THE SHOT IN THE KLOOF
XII。 DINGAAN'S BET
XIII。 THE REHEARSAL
XIV。 THE PLAY
XV。 RETIEF ASKS A FAVOUR
XVI。 THE COUNCIL
XVII。 THE MARRIAGE
XVIII。 THE TREATY
XIX。 DEPART IN PEACE
XX。 THE COURT…MARTIAL
XXI。 THE INNOCENT BLOOD
CHAPTER I
ALLAN LEARNS FRENCH
Although in my old age I； Allan Quatermain； have taken to writingafter
a fashionnever yet have I set down a single word of the tale of my
first love and of the adventures that are grouped around her beautiful
and tragic history。 I suppose this is because it has always seemed to
me too holy and far…off a matteras holy and far…off as is that heaven
which holds the splendid spirit of Marie Marais。 But now； in my age；
that which was far…off draws near again； and at night； in the depths
between the stars； sometimes I seem to see the opening doors through
which I must pass； and leaning earthwards across their threshold； with
outstretched arms and dark and dewy eyes； a shadow long forgotten by all
save methe shadow of Marie Marais。
An old man's dream； doubtless； no more。 Still； I will try to set down
that history which ended in so great a sacrifice； and one so worthy of
record； though I hope that no human eye will read it until I also am
forgotten； or； at any rate； have grown dim in the gathering mists of
oblivion。 And I am glad that I have waited to make this attempt； for it
seems to me that only of late have I come to understand and appreciate
at its true value the character of her of whom I tell； and the
passionate affection which was her bounteous offering to one so utterly
unworthy as myself。 What have I done； I wonder； that to me should have
been decreed the love of two such women as Marie and that of Stella；
also now long dead； to whom alone in the world I told all her tale？ I
remember I feared lest she should take it ill； but this was not so。
Indeed； during our brief married days； she thought and talked much of
Marie； and some of her last words to me were that she was going to seek
her； and that they would wait for me together in the land of love； pure
and immortal。
So with Stella's death all that side of life came to an end for me；
since during the long years which stretch between then and now I have
never said another tender word to woman。 I admit； however； that once；
long afterwards； a certain little witch of a Zulu did say tender words
to me； and for an hour or so almost turned my head； an art in which she
had great skill。 This I say because I wish to be quite honest； although
itI mean my head； for there was no heart involved in the mattercame
straight again at once。 Her name was Mameena； and I have set down her
remarkable story elsewhere。
To return。 As I have already written in another book； I passed my youth
with my old father； a Church of England clergyman； in what is now the
Cradock district of the Cape Colony。
Then it was a wild place enough； with a very small white population。
Among our few neighbours was a Boer farmer of the name of Henri Marais；
who lived about fifteen miles from our station； on a fine farm called
Maraisfontein。 I say he was a Boer； but； as may be guessed from both
his Christian and surname； his origin was Huguenot； his forefather； who
was also named He