I buried her by her father's side, and the weeping of the people who hadloved her went up to heaven. Even Indaba-zimbi wept, but I could weep nomore.
On the second night from her burial I could not sleep. I rose, dressedmyself, and went out into the night. The moon was shining brightly,and by its rays I shaped my course towards the graveyard. I drew nearsilently, and as I came I thought that I heard a sound of moaning on thefurther side of the wall. I looked over it. Crouched by Stella's grave,and tearing at its sods with her hands, as though she would unearth thatwhich lay within, was _Hendrika_. Her face was wild and haggard, herform was so emaciated that when the pelts she wore slipped aside, theshoulder-blades seemed to project almost through her skin. Suddenly shelooked up and saw me. Laughing a dreadful maniac laugh, she put her handto her girdle and drew her great knife from it. I thought that she wasabout to attack me, and prepared to defend myself as I best could, for Iwas unarmed. But she made no effort to do so. Lifting the knife on high,for a moment she held it glittering in the moonlight, then plunged itinto her own breast, and fell headlong to the ground.
I sprang over the wall and ran to her. She was not yet dead. Presentlyshe opened her eyes, and I saw that the madness had gone out of them.
"Macumazahn," she said, speaking in English and in an thick difficultvoice like one who half forgot and half remembered--"Macumazahn, Iremember now. I have been mad. Is she really dead, Macumazahn?"
"Yes," I said, "she is dead, and you killed her."
"I killed her!" the dying woman faltered, "and I loved her. Yes, yes, Iknow now. I became a brute again and dragged her to the brutes, and nowonce more I am a woman, and she is dead, and I killed her--because Iloved her so. I killed her who saved me from the brutes. I am not deadyet, Macumazahn. Take me and torture me to death, slowly, very slowly.It was jealousy of you that drove me mad, and I have killed her, and nowshe never can forgive me."
"Ask forgiveness from above," I said, for Hendrika had been a Christian,and the torment of her remorse touched me.
"I ask no forgiveness," she said. "May God torture me for ever, becauseI killed her; may I become a brute for ever till she comes to find meand forgives me! I only want her forgiveness." And wailing in an anguishof the heart so strong that her bodily suffering seemed to be forgotten,Hendrika, the Baboon-woman, died.
I went back to the kraals, and, waking Indaba-zimbi, told him what hadhappened, asking him to send some one to watch the body, as I proposedto give it burial. But next morning it was gone, and I found that thenatives, hearing of the event, had taken the corpse and thrown it to thevultures with every mark of hate. Such, then, was the end of Hendrika.