"Welcome! welcome, my children!" he cried. "Even so should ye come to the holy place, riding upon one horse, even as one thought shall henceforth bear you both through life till the end. Come, my son, trust thy wife a moment to me, that I may lift her down. Then take her to thy breast for ever."
A faint flush overspread Penelophon's wan face as the hermit held up his arms to take her. And as for Kophetua, he felt his heart leap in a kind of reckless ecstasy; the blood rushed tingling through his veins, and the whispering thought that had lain so quiet seemed to spring up and speak aloud.
The moments flew by, and Kophetua let them go with never a word. Penelophon gazed with wide eyes upon him, in shy wonder that he still held back the truth. But Kophetua could not speak. The long romantic ride, the almost unearthly scene about him, and the abbot's unexpected welcome had strangely affected him. That plain little word "wife" was full of magic. It seemed to have transformed his life into an old tale and himself into its unreal hero. An excitement of a delicacy he had never known took possession of him. It was like playing in a masquerade, where the audience believed what they saw was real. It was play with all the spice of earnest, and he could not bring himself to break the spell. It would be time enough to explain to-morrow, he thought. To-night, at any rate, the hermit's mistake would assure them of shelter, which it was possible he might deny if he knew the truth.
So Kophetua put his horse in the great cave on the abbot's side of the stream, and then they all went together up to his cell, where his wife prepared a frugal meal. Long they sat together, listening to the anchorites as they talked of the blessedness of the married state; and each time they spoke of them as man and wife Kophetua's heart beat with fresh delight, and the beggar-maid blushed anew.
Night fell at last, and the hermit led them further up the long winding stair, all dark and slippery with the dripping moisture, to the cell that was to be theirs. There he placed a flickering lamp in a little recess, and then, with his blessing, left them alone in the heart of the living rock.
For a little while they occupied themselves examining the gloomy abode. But the feeling of oppression, from the vast masses of rock that encompassed them, grew insupportable to the King, and he led the beggar-maid to the mouth of the cave. There they stood in silence, side by side, looking out upon the night. Before them was the giant wall of grey rock, pierced here and there with dark holes, that were caves like their own. In one glimmered a feeble light, and from it crept a weird, low sound, as of a man and a woman monotonously chanting a weary prayer. Then it ceased; the light died out with the chant, and, save for the voice of the heedless river, as it hurried on far below them, all was hushed in the majesty of the night.
The sense of perfect solitude that fell upon Kophetua then was strangely sweet. Far beyond the dark fringe of jungle that crowned the cliff rolled the solemn stars, but even they seemed nearer than the world he had left. As the last sign of life disappeared, he turned instinctively to the companion of his place. He saw her dimly in the faint starlight gazing wistfully at him. As their eyes met she leaned earnestly towards him, and half put out her hand in an unfinished gesture of supplication.
"Trecenito!" she said, and then stopped abruptly; but into the one word was gathered such intense emotion, such a world of inarticulate entreaty, that it made him start, and his breath came fast. For some moments they stood looking at each other, each deeply moved, and it was Penelophon who braved the evil silence and spoke first.
"Trecenito," she said again, "why did you let them call us man and wife? Tell me, am I—am I indeed your wife?"
Once more her voice seemed to shed around the dim figure an inviolable holiness, and make him suddenly calm. Without a word he quietly stepped towards her, and deliberately put his signet ring upon her finger. Then, taking the grey form in his arms, he gently kissed the pure, pale face. In another moment she heard his firm step on the rocky stairs, and he was gone.