“Carry me back to my bed, king. I want to sleep.”
I bore her to the death-chamber, holding her tight lest she should dissolve out of my arms. Unaware that I saw, I carried her straight to her couch.
“Lay me down,” she said, “and cover me from the warm air; it hurts—a little. Your bed is there, next to mine. I shall see you when I wake.”
She was already asleep. I threw myself on my couch—blessed as never was man on the eve of his wedding.
“Come, sweet cold,” I said, “and still my heart speedily.”
But there came instead a glimmer of light in the chamber, and I saw the face of Adam approaching. He had not the candle, yet I saw him. At the side of Lona’s couch, he looked down on her with a questioning smile, and then greeted me across it.
“We have been to the top of the hill to hear the waters on their way,” he said. “They will be in the den of the monsters to-night.—But why did you not await our return?”
“My child could not sleep,” I answered.
“She is fast asleep!” he rejoined.
“Yes, now!” I said; “but she was awake when I laid her down.”