They cut through the narrow continent, and so moderated its temperature by allowing the warm waters of the volcanic and torrid south to come into the cold northern seas; they made several such canals.
Regan was restless and very unhappy.
He had been wandering in his gardens one evening, when the star was white with Earthlight. After awhile he turned away and sought Father Renaudin where he sat beside the fire.
Regan drew a low couch to the side of the table and watched him, silently.
“Well?” asked Father Renaudin.
“Father Renaudin, it is all worth nothing, worse than nothing! It is endless repetition of misery with each day! It is a beautiful world, but it lasts forever! That is too long! It is a subject world, completely so! If I could see the face of that one woman whom I love on Earth, I would give all, all!”
“Now you speak the truth of years of sorrow!”
“Yes!”
“Why not have brought her here instead of this one?”
“I meant to do so, I would have done so. I looked that night at her fair, girlish face, so frail, her divine eyes, which always smiled at me. I noted how frightened she was, how weak and like a spirit; too ethereal to be brought to such a winter, to a land not done with its own creation, where no sunlight should brighten to gold her red hair, where her face must be ever blanched with danger! I left her, Father Renaudin, where kind Destiny—”