erau, of the Gods,
and of Pentaur. Now I should like to give you a part of it too."

"Only a part?" asked Rameri.

"Well, the whole will be reflected in you, you know," said Uarda, "as
the whole moon is reflected in each drop."

"It shall!" cried the prince, clasping the trembling girl in his arms,
and the two young souls were united in their first kiss.

"Now do go!" Uarda entreated.

"Let me stay a little while," said Rameri. "Sit down here by me on the
bench in front of the house. The hedge shelters us, and besides this
valley is now deserted, and there are no passers by."

"We are doing what is not right," said Uarda. "If it were right we
should not want to hide ourselves."

"Do you call that wrong which the priests perform in the Holy of
Holies?" asked the prince. "And yet it is concealed from all eyes."

"How you can argue!" laughed Uarda. "That shows you can write, and are
one of his disciples."

"His, his!" exclaimed Rameri. "You mean Pentaur. He was always the
dearest to me of all my teachers, but it vexes me when you speak of him
as if he were more to you than I and every one else. The poet, you
said, was one of the drops in which the moon of your soul finds a
reflection--and I will not divide it with many."

"How you are talking!" said Uarda. "Do you not honor your father, and
the Gods? I love no one else as I do you--and what I felt when you
kissed me--that was not like moon-light, but like this hot mid-day sun.
When I thought of you I had no peace. I will confess to you now,
that twenty times I looked out of the door, and asked whether my
preserver--the kind, curly-headed boy--would really come again, or
whether he despised a poor girl like me? You came, and I am so happy,
and I could enjoy myself with you to my heart's content. Be kind
again--or I will pull your hair!"

"You!" cried Rameri. "You cannot hurt with your little hands, though you
can with your tongue. Pentaur is much wiser and better than I, you owe
much to him, and nevertheless I--"

"Let that rest," interrupted the girl, growing grave. "He is not a man
like other men. If he asked to kiss me, I should crumble into dust, as
ashes dried in the sun crumble if you touch them with a finger, and
I should be as much afraid of his lips as of a lion's. Though you may
laugh at it, I shall always believe that he is one of the Immortals.
His own father told me that a great wonder was shown to him the very
day after his birth. Old Hekt has o