“What are you helping her to do?” he went on.
“To go where she will get more help—help to open her hand, which has been closed for a thousand years.”
“So long? Then she has learned to do without it: why should she open it now?”
“Because it is shut upon something that is not hers.”
“Please, lady Mara, may we have some of your very dry bread before we go?” said Luva.
Mara smiled, and brought them four loaves and a great jug of water.
“We will eat as we go,” they said. But they drank the water with delight.
“I think,” remarked one of them, “it must be elephant-juice! It makes me so strong!”
We set out, the Lady of Sorrow walking with us, more beautiful than the sun, and the white leopardess following her. I thought she meant but to put us in the path across the channels, but I soon found she was going with us all the way. Then I would have dismounted that she might ride, but she would not let me.
“I have no burden to carry,” she said. “The children and I will walk together.”