We set him down, fortunately uninjured, on some rugs, and also in the shadow.  Then, after a little while, we moved both of them into the sun.  It was quite curious to see them expand there.  As Bickley said, what happened to them might well be compared to the development of a butterfly which has just broken from the living grave of its chrysalis and crept into the full, hot radiance of the light.  Its crinkled wings unfold, their brilliant tints develop; in an hour or two it is perfect, glorious, prepared for life and flight, a new creature.

So it was with this pair, from moment to moment they gathered strength and vigour.  Near-by to them, as it happened, stood a large basket of the luscious native fruits brought that morning by the Orofenans, and at these the Lady looked with longing.  With Bickley’s permission, I offered them to her and to the Ancient, first peeling them with my fingers.  They ate of them greedily, a full meal, and would have gone on had not the stern Bickley, fearing untoward consequences, removed the basket.  Again the results were wonderful, for half an hour afterwards they seemed to be quite strong.  With my assistance the Glittering Lady, as I still call her, for at that time I did not know her name, rose from the chair, and, leaning on me, tottered a few steps forward.  Then she stood looking at the sky and all the lovely panorama of nature beneath, and stretching out her arms as though in worship.  Oh! how beautiful she seemed with the sunlight shining on her heavenly face!

Now for the first time I heard her voice.  It was soft and deep, yet in it was a curious bell-like tone that seemed to vibrate like the sound of chimes heard from far away.  Never have I listened to such another voice.  She pointed to the sun whereof the light turned her radiant hair and garments to a kind of golden glory, and called it by some name that I could not understand.  I shook my head, whereon she gave it a different name taken, I suppose, from another language.  Again I shook my head and she tried a third time.  To my delight this word was practically the same that the Orofenans used for “sun.”

“Yes,” I said, speaking very slowly, “so it is called by the people of this land.”

She understood, for she answered in much the same language: 

“What, then, do you call it?”

“Sun in the English tongue,” I replied.

“Sun.  English,” she repeated after me, then added, “How are you named, Wanderer?”

“Humphrey,” I answered.

“Hum-fe-ry!” she said as though she were learning the word, “and those?”

“Bastin and Bickley,” I replied.

Over these patronymics she shook her head; as yet they were too much for her.

“How are you named, Sleeper?” I asked.

“Yva,” she answered.

“A beautiful name for one who is beautiful,” I declared with enthusiasm, of course always in the rich Orofenan dialect which by now I could talk well enough.