A marvellously beautiful woman she was
in her dazzling robe and headdress, and lighter coloured than any native
I had seen, almost white, indeed, in the moonlight save for the copper
tinge that marked her race; tall, too, yet not over-tall; slim and
straight as an arrow, but high-breasted and round-limbed, and with a
wild grace in her movements like to that of a hawk upon the wing. Also
to my fancy in her face there was something more than common youthful
beauty, something spiritual, such as great artists show upon the carven
countenances of saints.
Indeed she might well have been one whose human blood was mixed with
some other alien strain--as she had called herself, a daughter of the
Moon.
A question rose to my lips and burst from them; it was:
"Tell me, O Quilla, are you wife or maid?"
"Maid am I," she answered, "yet one who is promised as a wife," and she
sighed, then went on quickly as though this matter were something of
which she did not wish to talk, "And tell me, O Wanderer, are you god or
man?"
Now I grew cunning and answered,
"I am a Son of the Sea as you are a Daughter of the Moon.
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