“The dear queen!” cried one after another.
“Poor queen—she hath sorrowed and been meek.”
“And we have known it, and lifted not our voices,” rang Monon’s tones.
“Yea; and many of us wives have been treated as herself,” said a clear voice from among a group of women.
The male hearers accepted this in different ways. Some smiled scornfully; others glanced furtively at their fellows; a few appeared conscience stricken. A brave one exclaimed:
“I will own I have sinned. I wedded my niece, which was against the old law. But—there is Puppo—he wedded his aunt!”
“And tormented his first wife, the mother of Lota, to her death that he might do it,” screamed old Nogoa.
“Who put away five husbands?” yelled the unseen Puppo. There was silence. Then he answered sepulchrally, “Old Nogoa!”
Old Nogoa was speechless.
But Monon spoke up, “Nogoa is not the only one. How many are there who have done as she! Until these last years, how holy hath been wedlock; yet now, on every side, is its mockery. The handmaids and the animal gifts on the altar are but a few of the wicked changes in the laws of our olden fathers. Further, the curse of avarice is upon this island. And we have been steeped in pleasure, in sense. The body of flesh hath been our one thought. The inner body—the spirit—hath been forgotten, hath become of evil shape—is evil. Let us look to it! Should this storm pass by, let us begin a better growth of the spirit. Let us go back to the warmth and trust of our fathers. Then may we have the knowledge of heaven that was theirs.”