“What is this terrible thing that has happened?” he said, as he wept to see so terrible a change in that which he loved. “What have I done?” he moaned.
Then the woman wept and said: “You too have altered since you turned your face to the sun; it is wrinkled, and your cheeks look like the cheeks of that big toad.”
Hearing this, the man rushed off into the forest and prayed to his shadow in the lake, thinking it was Omnipotence!
Rushing back to see if his prayer had been answered, he saw a little heap of dust: it was all that was left of the beautiful woman. He shouted his hatred to the sky, then he fell prostrate and prayed fervently, and then—he was struck deaf, dumb and blind; and only the sun laughed over the hills again so that the flowers could blossom over their dust.
So one will see that it is natural that sorrow as well as rum and wild song should reign in Tai-o-hae.
When I went to say good-bye to the old priest, I was astonished to see the change in him. But I must confess that I was more astonished when he gazed steadily at me and said:
“My son, I have discovered the great secret. We are both nearer the sorrow of Calvary and the joy of Paradise than I ever dreamed!”
Saying this, the old man took my hand, and said in his rich, musical voice, that strangely thrilled me: “Come!”
In wonder I followed him beneath the palms.
As we passed down into the hollows, the sea-gulls swept swiftly away from the surfaces of the hidden lagoons, their wild cries sounding like the ghostly echoes of bugles.