CHAPTER III
THE DAUGHTER OF THE MOON
For the fourth time since we were cast away on this island the huge full moon shone in a sky of wondrous blue. Kari and I watched it rise between the two snow-clad peaks far away that he had called a gateway to his land, which was so near to us and yet it would seem more distant than Heaven itself. Heaven we might hope to reach upon the wings of spirit when we died, but to that country how could we come?
We watched that great moon climb higher and higher up a ladder of little bar-like clouds, till wearying we let our eyes fall upon the glittering pathway which its light made upon the bosom of the placid sea. Suddenly Kari stared and stared.
“What is it?” I asked idly.
“I thought I saw something yonder far away where Quilla’s footsteps make the waters bright,” he said, speaking in his own language in which now we often talked together.
“Quilla’s?” I exclaimed. “Oh! I forgot: that is the lady moon’s name in your tongue, is it not? Well, come, Quilla, and I will wed and worship you, as ‘tis said the ancients did, and never turn to look upon another, be she woman, or goddess, or both. Only come and take me from this accursed isle and in payment I’ll die for you, if need be, when first I’ve taught you how to love as star or woman never loved before.”
“Hush!” said Kari in a grave voice, when he had listened to this mad stuff that burst through my lips from the spring of a mind distraught by misery and despair.
“Why should I hush?” I asked. “Is it not pleasant to think of the moon wearing a lovely woman’s shape and descending to give a lonely mortal love and comfort?”