"If I killed him," said Rain reflectively, "it would count for a good coup, like a scalp."
"Nay," the padre rebuked her ignorance, "a proper scalping lasts, but the more you chop a dragon the more he grows, and when you kill him he comes alive again."
"Anyway," said Rain, who had turned obstinate, "when Julia guides us, she is so busy showing herself off, that she always loses her way."
"Let's give her the slip," said Storm; so they got the padre out, by stretching him a little, through the back window, and went to see the dragon.
It took Rain and Storm some time before they mislaid the clergyman, and forgot all about the dragon, as they set forward upon that great adventure. At first they crossed part of a city, set in the midst of a park with very stately, formal gardens. They wanted to have a nearer view of the palace which rose beyond. It was made of silvery morning mist carved into colonnades, big shiny towers, and, far up in the sky, a dome all iridescent like the soap bubbles which have gliding colors. Rather frightened, daring one another to come on, expecting to be turned back at any moment, they crept into the vestibule. It had a sheen of pearl, and went away on either side into cool green distances. It was like the soul of the sea. Beyond it they found a courtyard with a pool reflecting its high walls, which were of opal, changing as one watched with color which rolled like sea waves towards the open doors upon the farther side. Within those doors was a big ante-chamber, where the light was all golden. Then there was a forest of columns, dusky and enormous, where footsteps echoed so that one went on tiptoe, until one looked through into the vast throne room. That seemed to be hewn out of the heart of a diamond, and in the midst of its flashing splendors there sat enthroned and all alone the King of the High Fairies. So dazzling was the light which came from him that the intruders went down on their knees and covered their faces.
"My thought has called you here," said the King, softly as though he whispered. "Do not fear, my children. Come to the step here at my feet, and rest while I speak to you."
Now, the story which was told by the King of the High Fairies is no invention, but real; not mine at all, but copied word for word out of a splendid book.[[1]]
[[1]] A Subaltern in Spirit Land, by J. S. M. Ward, B.A., F.R.Econ.S., F.R.S.S. (London: Rider & Son.)
Long ago I was one of the fairy folk, such as those you have just left, and so were we all. I dwelt in a castle, and did deeds of glamour, and hoped that a mortal would one day proclaim them to the world. But one day I fell into a strange trance, and dreamed of Earth, and of the sufferings of mortals, and their follies, and I saw how foolish were their griefs, and how easy it would be to relieve them.
And when I awoke, I pondered over these things, and it grew upon me that the life I lived was aimless and empty, since it was but glamour, and there was neither real sorrow nor sin, but only make-believe. For evil was only potential, but there it was real. Here the triumph of the good knight was always assured, but there it was uncertain.