As the red glow died in the sky, and the sand swam in shadows, the girl parted the silken curtains of her hair and looked at him.
"Ehó!" she whispered again in soft delight.
For now it was plain to her that he was the sun! He had crossed the bridge of stars in the blue twilight; he had come!
"E-tó!"
She stepped nearer, shivering, faint with the ecstasy of this holy miracle wrought before her.
He was the Sun! His blood streaked the sky at dawn; his blood stained the clouds at even. In his eyes the blue of the sky still lingered, smothering two blue stars; and his body was as white as the breast of the Moon.
She opened both arms, hands timidly stretched, palm upward. Her face was raised to his, her eyes slowly closed; the deep-fringed lids trembled.
Like a young priestess she stood, motionless save for the sudden quiver of a limb, a quick pulse-flutter in the rounded throat. And so she worshipped, naked and unashamed, even after he, reeling, fell heavily forward on his face; even when the evening breeze stealing over the sands stirred the hair on his head, as winds stir the fur of a dead animal in the dust.
When the morning sun peered over the wall of mist, and she saw it was the sun, and she saw him, flung on the sand at her feet, then she knew that he was a man, only a man, pallid as death and smeared with blood.