"That you were struck by lightning—and all melted away."
"I was struck by lightning," he answered. "Love slew me."
This pleased her. For awhile she showed herself loving and tender, but because she obeyed moods and not a strong, steadfast will, the old unhappiness came back. The Golden Archer felt more lonely than ever he had done on the high white tower, and loneliest of all when he held her in his arms.
One day he found her crying. "Why do you cry, Beloved?" he asked her.
"I am lonely," she said.
"With me?"
"Yes," she sobbed, "with you. What have you to tell me but your tales of the great winds? Other men have had their friends, their adventures. They can relate stories of their boyhood, of their early life, but you came from a far-off tower and know nothing of the world."
"It is true," he murmured. "I can only tell you of the skies; for all the time of my former days on earth is dim to me."
That night they sat before the fire, for it was now autumn, and the leaping flames showed her gold hair and her eyes like dark pools. Upon the Golden Archer they shone, too, where he sat still and hurt, but unable to tell his pain, because he had lived too high above the world. The low, hoarse winds drove the flying leaves against the window glass and whistled in the keyhole; at which Felice would shiver and cast sidelong glances at her strange husband.
All at once on the wind came a caroling voice. Felice rushed to the window and peered out. The voice sang: