"The silence," she went whispering, "the silence."
Ha! ha! this was not so dangerous as song. She was leaning on her elbow, clutching the red blanket to her throat, with her long fingers twisting at the bag. Now my heart stumbled. Oh now, I thought, the gold is heavy against her; this is a misfortunate time to be forsaking her husband, isn't it? Look, the shadow was deeper in the cheek of this sailor. He saw nothing, I fancied, but the gold lying on the blanket.
What next I knew? Here was McGregor in his yellow skull, whispering,
"Is this the gold then at the foot of the rainbow? This is fool's gold where the heart is concerned."
Then, my friend, she threw it clear of the bed. Ay! I heard it falling on the ledge there, but at this time she did not know that Rainbow Pete was in the room.
When she had thrown it, then she saw him, standing behind that demon of a singer. Her eyes were strange then. By the expression of her eyes Pal Yachy saw that he was doomed. He was like a frozen man.
"Wait now," said Rainbow Pete, "am I in my house here?"
"Am I not your wife?" cried the dark woman from Regina.
Oh, the pleasant sailor. The song had touched him.
"Look now," he said to Pal Yachy, "you made a rainbow of me in the beginning. Do you bring gold here now to plant at my feet, generous man?"