The hall lay in a subdued blue light that found its way in through the distant entrance.
“The moonlight!” Maya said to herself. She began to creep cautiously toward the exit, cowering close in the deep shadows of the walls, until she reached the high, narrow passageway that led from the hall to the opening through which the light shone. She heaved a deep sigh. Far, far away glimmered a star.
“Liberty!” she thought.
The passageway was quite bright. Softly, stepping oh so very softly, Maya crept on. The portal came nearer and nearer.
“If I fly now,” she thought, “I’ll be out in one dash.” Her heart pounded as if ready to burst.
But there in the shadow of the doorway stood a sentinel leaning against a column.
Maya stood still, rooted to the spot. Vanished all her hopes. Gone the chance of escape. There was no getting by that formidable figure. What was she to do? Best go back where she had come from. But the sight of the giant in the doorway held her in a spell. He seemed to be lost in revery. He stood gazing out upon the moon-washed landscape, his head tilted slightly forward, his chin propped on his hand. How his golden cuirass gleamed in the moonlight! Something in the way he stood there stirred the little bee’s emotions.
“He looks so sad,” she thought. “How handsome he is, how superbly he holds himself, how proudly his armor shines! He never removes it, neither by day nor by night. He is always ready to rob and fight and die....”
Little Maya quite forgot that this man was her enemy. Ah, how often the same thing had happened to her—that the goodness of her heart and her delight in beauty made her lose all sense of danger.
A golden dart of light shot from the bandit’s helmet. He must have turned his head.