“Did any one ever see such a fool?” and even Marie smiled.
Then Piet Retief appeared from somewhere dressed in tall boots and rough riding clothes, such as the Boers wore in those days. Handing the _roer_ he was carrying to one of his sons, after much fumbling he produced a book from his pocket, in which the place was marked with a piece of grass.
“Now then,” he said, “be silent, all, and show respect, for remember I am not a man just now. I am a parson, which is quite a different thing, and, being a commandant and a veld cornet and other officers all rolled into one, by virtue of the law I am about to marry these young people, so help me God. Don’t any of you witnesses ever say afterwards that they are not rightly and soundly married, because I tell you that they are, or will be.” He paused for breath, and someone said, “Hear, hear,” or its Dutch equivalent, whereon, having glared the offender into silence, Retief proceeded:
“Young man and young woman, what are your names?”
“Don’t ask silly questions, commandant,” broke in Vrouw Prinsloo; “you know their names well enough.”
“Of course I do, aunt,” he answered; “but for this purpose I must pretend not to know them. Are you better acquainted with the law than I am? But stay, where is the father, Henri Marais?”
Someone thrust Marais forward, and there he stood quite silent, staring at us with a queer look upon his face and his gun in his hand, for he, too, was ready to ride.
“Take away that gun,” said Retief; “it might go off and cause disturbance or perhaps accidents,” and somebody obeyed. “Now, Henri Marais, do you give your daughter to be married to this man?”
“Very well, that is just like you, but it doesn’t matter, for she is of age and can give herself. Is she not of age, Henri Marais? Don’t stand there like a horse with the staggers, but tell me; is she not of age?”
“I believe so,” he answered in the same soft voice.
“Then take notice, people all, that this woman is of age, and gives herself to be married to this man, don’t you, my dear?”
“All right, now for it,” and, opening the book, he held it up to the light, and began to read, or, rather, to stumble, through the marriage service.
Presently he stuck fast, being, like most Boers of his time, no great scholar, and exclaimed: