“Mother!”
“Go—go, but first let me grind this thing to powder with my foot; help me to spoil his face; you can pick up the diamonds from the dirt when I have done stamping on them!”
“No, mother, it is worth money—give it to me!”
The old woman unclutched her hand and flung the trinket against the wall of her cave, where it fell back with a rebound to her feet.
“Leave it,” she said, with a fierce laugh, “the thing is accursed—leave it and go.”
“Not till I have seen Aurora,” said the young man, looking wistfully at the jewel. “It is late, very late, she must be yonder in her nest, ashamed to come forth without a bidding from her betrothed. Step aside, mother, I have waited too long.”
The young chief strode forward as he spoke, and touching a door which was half concealed behind the old woman’s chair, flung it open, revealing, by the light that stood in its niche close by, an inner room, in which the outline of a low bed and some furniture was visible.
“Aurora,” said the young man, “come, come, I have waited long.”
“She is not there,” said the old woman, in a low voice, while her head drooped downward.
“Not there? Nay, nay, I know better, she is only shy, hiding away like a young fox. See if I do not find her.”