The moon rose and they wandered into the great chasm, and walked among the shadows of the toppling stones, until they came under a huge stone called Stoker, which stands like a mighty gravestone over a deep pit that is like a tomb. There they sat, with the white moon above and the red camp fires below them, and then the boiling, bubbling geyser of excitement in their breasts could be kept down no longer.
"You have had a great success to-day, Oscar," said Helga.
"So have you, Helga, so have you, for without your presence to prompt and inspire me I should have done nothing."
"I am happy if I have helped you, Oscar, but you must go on now, and never look back--never."
"You are right, Helga, you are right--to stop would be a sin--an unpardonable sin--almost like a sin against the Holy Ghost."
"Exactly like it, Oscar, for if any one has a gift he gets it from God, and to bury it, like the man in the parable----"
"There would be no fear of that if I could have you beside me always, Helga."
"And can't you, Oscar?"
A fragrance seemed to envelop him. He felt Helga's breath upon his face. It made him tremble all over.
"Would to God I could, but it is impossible. You will return to Denmark----"