Their floating white robes and shining, flying hair were outlined on the blue sky. They were illuminated by a flood of golden sunshine. They were carrying something. We could hear their melodious song like the sound of a far-off bell. We could see wreaths of flowers, a mica-bright surface. The latter was a glistening car; therein, most gorgeous in apparel, like an Indian prince for brilliance of attire, was Regan, crowned and sceptered! He was followed at a distance, we now saw, by troops of his bird men.
It was a true misery to me. Whatever this villainous Regan did was always done with so much majesty that there was no use in trying to think it was ridiculous.
“He really is a monarch! It does not help me that he has made himself one!” I thought.
I raged at my own stupidity. There were my people; they would have borne me and have sung for me; they would have wrought fabrics and wreaths for me, but I came on foot; I arrived dusty and tired.
It was Regan first again!
We enjoyed our festival; that is, I suppose the rest did. We had torches by thousands at the feast, had music from sea shells, reeds and stringed instruments. We seemed to be in a magic land, the air was so soft, the star Venus so brilliant! The scene was bewildering! The sea was musical!
“The star is small, but it is all ours!” we said.
There were no warlike races to conquer, no insubordinate people to subdue. There was nothing to hinder the grand march of progress.
I noticed that Isabella looked pale and very sad. I had never seen such an expression upon her face before.
The walls of the house, where we went after the fête was over, were glittering with glass set in panels. The doors were hung with fabrics of gold-colored straw and of brilliant cloth. The floors were of polished woods, overlaid with grass rugs. Flowers were banked in corners, and a fire was upon the hearth, for we could not pass the hours of night without great fires, on account of the exceeding dampness of the air.