ou no harm. I will not hurt you."

As she looked at me further she seemed reassured. "I thought," she said,
"at first that one of the gods had come to take me."

"What gods?" I asked.

"The gods that walk on four legs and against whom no man can do
anything. Your dress is of the same colour that they wear."

"I am no god, but an ordinary man enough--a shipwrecked mariner cast up
on this island a few weeks ago, and now planning to escape from it
again."

"There is no escape," she said mournfully. "The gods know everything."

"Let me come down and speak with you."

"Come," she said. "I am not afraid any more."

"What do you do here?" I asked, as I sat beside her.

"I have fled from death. It was ordained by the gods that I should die
at sundown seven days ago. I escaped and hid myself here. But there is
no escape really. Sooner or later they will find me. They never fail. In
their coming and going they are unseen. Suddenly before you stands one
of the gods, and he points his rod at you and you are dead. It is not
possible to hide from those whom one cannot see in their approach."

"Has no one ever escaped?"

"Years ago a girl like myself fled to the forest, and for three months
in the summer she lived there. It was I myself who found her lying dead.
Her garment over her breast was scorched by the lightning of the gods,
and her heart was burned within her. It was all one; for in the winter
she would have perished of cold and starvation. I love life. I want
every day and hour that I can get. But I have no hopes."

"Tell me, what is your name?"

"To the gods I have no name. When I am at work a number is put upon me;
it may be a different number every day. Among my own people I am called
Dream."

"And why was it that seven days ago you incurred the anger of your
masters and were to die?"

"Seven days ago I had the care of a loom. By sundown so much work was to
be finished. It is easy work. Our gods never give the women hard work.
All the same, that which is appointed must be done. It was just at the
beginning of the first spell of hot weather. The forest called me. It
was stronger than I was. When I went to my midday meal I slipped into
the forest and swam in the pool, and could not go back to the loom
again. After that I dared not go back, for those who have disobeyed die
instantly. Such is the will of the gods, and we cannot alter it."

"Listen to me," I said. "Those whom you call gods are not gods. They