Now we were safe, but still we sped on till we reached the portico of our sleeping place.  Then Yva turned and spoke.

“It is horrible,” she said, “and my soul sickens.  Oh, I thank the Strength which made it that I have no desire to rule the earth, and, being innocent of death, do not fear to die and cross his threshold.”

“Yes, it is horrible,” I answered.  “Yet all men fear death.”

“Not when they have found love, Humphrey, for that I think is his true name, and, with it written on his brow, he stands upon the neck of Fate who is still my father’s god.”

“Then he is not yours, Yva?”

“Nay.  Once it was so, but now I reject him; he is no longer mine.  As Oro threatens, and perchance dare do in his rage, I have broken his chain, though in another fashion.  Ask me no more; perhaps one day you will learn the path I trod to freedom.”

Then before I could speak, she went off: 

“Rest now, for within a few hours I must come to lead you and your companions to a terrible place.  Yet whatever you may see or hear, be not afraid, Humphrey, for I think that Oro’s god has no power over you, strong though he was, and that Oro’s plans will fail, while I, who too have knowledge, shall find strength to save the world.”

Then of a sudden, once again she grew splendid, almost divine; no more a woman but as it were an angel.  Some fire of pure purpose seemed to burn up in her and to shine out of her eyes.  Yet she said little.  Only this indeed: 

“To everyone, I think, there comes the moment of opportunity when choice must be made between what is great and what is small, between self and its desires and the good of other wanderers in the way.  This day that moment may draw near to you or me, and if so, surely we shall greet it well.  Such is Bastin’s lesson, which I have striven to learn.”

Then she flung her arms about me and kissed me on the brow as a mother might, and was gone.

Strangely enough, perhaps because of my mental exhaustion, for what I had passed through seemed to overwhelm me so that I could no longer so much as think with clearness, even after all that I have described I slept like a child and awoke refreshed and well.

I looked at my watch to find that it was now eight o’clock in the morning in this horrible place where there was neither morn, nor noon, nor night, but only an eternal brightness that came I knew not whence, and never learned.

I found that I was alone, since Bickley and Bastin had gone to fill our bottles with the Life-water.  Presently they returned and we ate a little; with that water to drink one did not need much food.  It was a somewhat silent meal, for our circumstances were a check on talk; moreover, I thought that the others looked at me rather oddly.  Perhaps they guessed something of my midnight visit to the temple, but if so they thought it wisest to say nothing.  Nor did I enlighten them.