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increasing thoroughness. Gradually, however, she found herself becoming more reluctant to submit to these examinations. She began to feel that her body should be private and she was sure she was perfectly capable of keeping her whole body clean, including these parts that he insisted in examining. On the other hand, she did not want to offend her brother; after all, he was only doing this for her own good, wasn’t he?
    Then came the day when the usual inspection was called for and Maretta was conducted to the familiar spot behind the shack. On this day she was unhappy, now very reluctant to bare her body and she communicated this to her brother in no uncertain terms. Her brother insisted. It was his responsibility to look after her, he said. She should not be so ungrateful. He was very disappointed in her.
    Thus rebuked and hanging her head in shame, Maretta complied with his wishes but winced as his hands touched her. This time, the examination was particularly thorough: ‘This is taking a long time,’ she thought, wriggling uncomfortably, ‘I wish he would hurry up.’ Hard on the heels of this thought, there came a sudden blinding flash of revelation that made her lift her head suddenly and look deep into her brother’s eyes. It was in the depth of those eyes that she saw the truth .
    In an instant, her brother’s face flushed deeply; then he broke away from her accusing gaze and mumbled something incomprehensible before stumbling away. This was the last inspection of her body that Maretta had to endure. More importantly, at that moment Maretta the girl-woman had gained a timeless wisdom about men and women and life.
    It was that same wisdom that kept her body motionless on that day in the forest, lying prone upon the soft bed of leaves, pretending to be tangled in the folds of her dress and fully aware of the astounded gaze of her beloved and beautiful Malik.
    Maretta was more than happy to leave the next move to Malik. Whatever it was, it would be the right action for the moment, she told herself. Nevertheless she was a little disappointed when the heavy material of her skirt wafted away the intoxicating caress of the cool air on her sensitive skin before moulding itself to the contours of her body.
    Within seconds, his strong arm had lifted her to her feet. For a moment they stood close together, looking at each other with new and knowing eyes.
    Finally he spoke quietly but with great firmness: ‘Not until we are man and wife. I love you too much for that.’
    She understood and loved him all the more, hardly realising that he had just made a proposal of marriage. That night, she had agonised over what had happened in the forest and eventually decided she must set him free. She was not a suitable wife for such an important man. She was a poor serf who would never be anything else. And she wept the night away.
    When they met on the following day, she blurted out her decision to part from him but he held her arms gently, looked straight into her eyes and rejected the suggestion with such force that her resolve shattered into delightful submission. From that time her life turned into a whirlwind of preparation, anticipation and joy, all spiced with a tinge of fear.
    At the farm, Maretta was delighted with her new home and settled in to become the new and loving wife who worked tirelessly to make everything perfect for her handsome and attentive husband.
    ‘What very happy days these are,’ she thought as she cleaned the shack and its surrounds until everything was neat and bright.
    She was deeply grateful to Young Malik’s father who had welcomed her into the family with open arms. She had become very fond of the old man.
    With a woman’s instinct, she knew why her mother-in-law acted at first with stiff formality towards her and she right away began to work hard to forge a friendly, slightly subservient relationship with the older woman. In the event, this proved to be quite easy. Maretta was quick to help with