nd the
sunlight lingered over the sea till late. There were no good dishes in
the hall, and the women who cooked never thought of the things my lord
liked. Hildur would go to her chamber early, and we all would wander out
along the sea-shore, away from the clatter of dishes the women made. And
when it grew dark we would come in and sing over great beer-tankards;
but we loved the beer better than the soon-died-out singing.

We were weary in the sunshine, and old sea-sagas came to us so easily.
The women were cross, and children cried, instead of running about in
the forest. I do not know what is in man, or how himself works on
himself; we are parts of the woods, the sea, the far light. The spring
was running into summer; the free air in the night made us gasp like
tired dogs, and we felt smothered.

That night my lord sat on a piece of rock overlooking the sea, I was
behind him. All in front of us was dark, but we could hear the sound of
the water come from away and all along the coast.

Then, out of the silence that lies under the world, came over the edge
of the sea, the bare, silver, edge of the moon, lighting slowly the tips
of the waves. No mist around her; the unroofed, upward depths of the
sky, full of suspended stars, that seemed to wink, being alive. She rose
out of the sea, reaching toward us the elves-bridge she carries, over
which we cannot see the spirits pass; sending out her still beckoning
that she sends to all men. The little waves danced joyously in the
light; there was no sound at all from the shore, only the water
whispering on the sands.

My lord sat black, in the moonlight. After a while he got up and
returned toward the shadowy hall.

He went in and took a great tankard of beer from my hand and drank, then
turned toward me.

"The beer is warm--too warm," he said. "What a beautiful night. The beer
is too warm." He waved his hand with one of his old indifferent
gestures, his mouth trembling. I filled him another tankard of beer; he
drank it at a drink and then asked for another, this he also drank and
threw himself down on a bench. "Drink!" he said, "drink!" laughing loud.

I drink with him again and again. He leans back on his bench laughing.
"Ah, old war-follower!" he cries, his voice ringing strange in the empty
moonlit hall. "Dost thou remember our first cruise? We took the
battleship! and that other; where we were caught in the ice. Dost thou
remember Lord Raud? Ah! that was a grand time