Suddenly a dark shadow covered the roof; the change was so abrupt that everybody looked around.  What a moment ago was plunged in the silvery bath of the moon’s rays was now wrapped in transparent darkness.  But the valley below and the slope in front were as softly radiant as before.  The moon had disappeared behind one of the cliffs, and the shadow of the rocks was now cast over the houses of the Eagle.  It reminded the talkers that it was late, and it also reminded Hannay of her visitor.  She clambered hurriedly off and hastened home.  Again she looked through the circular vent.  It was dark inside, and still.  After listening a while she distinguished regular breathings.  It was easy to recognize them as those of Mitsha, who was soundly, peacefully asleep.  Hannay, as soon as she reached the floor of the apartment, called out,—­

“Sa uishe!” No reply.

“Sa uishe!” No answer.

She groped about in the dark until her hands touched the sleeping form.  She pulled the girl’s dress and shook her by the arm until she sighed and moved, and then asked,—­

“Sa uishe, has your father come?”

“No,” murmured the still dreaming child.

“Where is Okoya?”

“He has left.”

“Will he come again?”

“Oh, yes,” breathed Mitsha softly; then she turned over, sighed, and spoke no more.

Hannay was happy.  The boy would return!  That was all she cared for.  She really liked him, for he was so candid, so good, and so simple-minded.  With such a son-in-law much was possible, she thought.  Okoya could certainly be moulded to become a very useful tool to her as well as to Tyope.  The woman felt elated over the results of the evening; she felt sure that notwithstanding one egregious mistake, of which of course she would be careful not to speak, her husband would be pleased with her management of affairs.  It was long after midnight when that husband returned to the roof of his wife, and Hannay was already fast asleep.

Okoya had gone long before Hannay thought of returning.  He went home happy, and satisfied that Mitsha henceforth belonged to him.  And yet after all there was a cloud on his mind,—­not a very threatening one, yet a cloud such as accompanies us everywhere, marring our perfect happiness whenever we fancy we have attained it.  Mitsha had said to him, while they were alone,—­

“If you were only Koshare, the sanaya would give me to you.”

Okoya thereupon imagined that without Hannay’s consent he could never obtain the maiden.  On the other hand, the idea of joining the Delight Makers did not at all suit him.  He feared in that case the opposition of his mother.  After he had returned to the estufa and lain down among the other boys, who were mostly asleep, he revolved the matter in his mind for a long time without arriving at any conclusion whatever.  Had he been less sincere and less attached to his mother, such scruples would hardly have troubled him; had he owned more experience he would have known that his apprehensions were groundless, and that Hannay could not, if she wished, prevent him from becoming Mitsha’s husband.