"In one moon you will be a beast
of the woods, and in two you shall return to the Queen that loves you,"
said Councillor Tuloo, with a sly little grin.
But Twemlow was robbed of no self-respect by the growth of a forest
about him; and when he was sent again to Queen Mabonga, and the dewy
glance of love died at the very first wink into a stony glare--because
of his face being covered with hair--he said to himself that he knew
where he could inflict a very different impression upon ladies. For
these cannot have too much hair in England, at the back of their own
heads, and front of their admirers'.
Councillor Tuloo was gifted with a deep understanding of a thing which
looks shallow to a man who has never yet heard of false bottoms. He said
to King Golo: "I know what women are. As long as she never had thought
about men, you might crawl, and be only a hog to her. But her eyes have
been opened to this white man, and there is room for a black one to
go into them. And unless you are at hand, it will be done by some one
else."
In short, all was managed so beautifully that in six more moons the coy
Mabonga split the Durra straw with King Golo, amid vast rejoicings and
in din almost equal to that which a wedding in Wales arouses. But
from time to time it was considered needful to keep up her Majesty's
repulsion by serving Erle Twemlow with another dose of that which would
have created for the English fair capillary attraction.
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