“And what would you do?”
“As your grandfather did, Brassid—if there were Indians.”
He retreated a little from her.
“Maybe I do love love a little, Brassid dear; but I adore the courage that dies without weakening—rather than weaken. I can’t help it. It was born in me. I wouldn’t do it. And if your grandfather had called for help, I should have hated him—and you,” she laughed.
And, after a silence, she said again, as if that was what she had been thinking about:
“Brassid, I love courage more than love.” And again:
“Brassid, your name is Courage.”
VI
HER ANCESTORS WORE SCALES
“For immediate evidence of my pusillanimity,” laughed Brassid, “let us return. We have never been half so far as this. And while you are a mermaiden, I am only a walrus.”
“Must we go back?”