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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 171 pages of information about In the Wrong Paradise.

   And o’er the hills, and far away
      Beyond their utmost purple rim,
   Beyond the night, across the day,
      Through all the world she followed him.

LA MORT WHY-WHY.

Two years had passed like a dream in the pleasant valley which, in far later ages, the Romans called Vallis Aurea, and which we call Vallauris.  Here, at a distance of some thirty miles from the cave and the tribe, dwelt in fancied concealment Why-Why and Verva.  The clear stream was warbling at their feet, in the bright blue weather of spring; the scent of the may blossoms was poured abroad, and, lying in the hollow of Why-Why’s shield, a pretty little baby with Why-Why’s dark eyes and Verva’s golden locks was crowing to his mother.  Why-Why sat beside her, and was busily making the first European pipkin with the clay which he had found near Vallauris.  All was peace.

* * * * *

There was a low whizzing sound, something seemed to rush past Why-Why, and with a scream Verva fell on her face.  A spear had pierced her breast.  With a yell like that of a wounded lion, Why-Why threw himself on the bleeding body of his bride.  For many moments he heard no sound but her long, loud and unconscious breathing.  He did not mark the yells of his tribesmen, nor feel the spears that rained down on himself, nor see the hideous face of the chief medicine-man peering at his own.  Verva ceased to breathe.  There was a convulsion, and her limbs were still.  Then Why-Why rose.  In his right hand was his famous club, “the watcher of the fords;” in his left his shield.  These had never lain far from his hand since he fled with Verva.

He knew that the end had come, as he had so often dreamt of it; he knew that he was trapped and taken by his offended tribesmen.  His first blow shattered the head of the chief medicine-man.  Then he flung himself, all bleeding from the spears, among the press of savages who started from every lentisk bush and tuft of tall flowering heath.  They gave back when four of their chief braves had fallen, and Why-Why lacked strength and will to pursue them.  He turned and drew Verva’s body beneath the rocky wall, and then he faced his enemies.  He threw down shield and club and raised his hands.  A light seemed to shine about his face, and his first word had a strange tone that caught the ear and chilled the heart of all who heard him.  “Listen,” he said, “for these are the last words of Why-Why.  He came like the water, and like the wind he goes, he knew not whence, and he knows not whither.  He does not curse you, for you are that which you are.  But the day will come” (and here Why-Why’s voice grew louder and his eyes burned), “the day will come when you will no longer be the slave of things like that dead dog,” and here he pointed to the shapeless face of the slain medicine-man.  “The day will come, when a man shall speak unto his sister in loving kindness, and none shall

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