Next morning a huge meteorite, a mile in circumference, hung, enveloped in a heavy cloud, above the surface of the star.
Father Renaudin would not return. He could not leave his people and his cathedrals. He gave orders for several sacred books, which Regan was to procure for him if he could do so.
“My place on the Earth is gone from me,” he said. “God is most kind. He gave to me a small sphere and more time. I shall belt this star with one holy faith.”
Isabella wondered that he was more pleased with his distracting congregations of elf men without much understanding than with all the assemblages of grand, sinless bird men.
“He thinks he can improve the little sinful elves,” said Roy. “It gives him something to preach to!”
The world was nearing. The meteorite must be launched. With tears, Isabella bade Father Renaudin an everlasting farewell.
“We shall not meet even in Heaven, for you will not get there for ages!” she sobbed.
But the angel folded them away and they whirled out into space.
“Father Renaudin must not return!” said the angel. “He has lived long past his allotted days. He is a dead man on the Earth!”
They flew much swifter than Earth or star. They swung into the clouds of a storm on Earth and, in a moment, were upon the height where they had been thirty-three years and four months before.