“This,” she said, “should be the hour of my return. They will be taking the bowl of my coffee into the hall where I sleep. The little officials and servants—you cannot dream how grave they are—will be stirring about their little duties.”
“They will wonder ... But I want to talk to you.”
She thought. “But I want to think too. I want now to think alone, and think out this change in things, think away the old solitude, and think you and those others into my world.... I shall go. I shall go back to-day to my place in the castle, and to-morrow, as the dawn comes, I shall come again—here.”
“I shall be here waiting for you.”
“All day I shall dream and dream of this new world you have given me. Even now, I can scarcely believe—”
She took a step back and surveyed him from the feet to the face. Their eyes met and locked for a moment.
“Yes,” she said, with a little laugh that was half a sob. “You are real. But it is very wonderful! Do you think—indeed—? Suppose to-morrow I come and find you—a pigmy like the others... Yes, I must think. And so for to-day—as the little people do—”
She held out her hand, and for the first time they touched one another. Their hands clasped firmly and their eyes met again.
“Good-bye,” she said, “for to-day. Good-bye! Good-bye, Brother Giant!”
He hesitated with some unspoken thing, and at last he answered her simply, “Good-bye.”