“Is he very old?”

“None can tell how old.  Some say he is immortal.  Others think he is only the offspring of the snake worshipped by our forefathers.  He is guardian of the sacred fountain whose waters we are about to drink.”

When she had spoken, Alumion tripped to the flowing spring, and, taking a cup which was standing on the edge of the basin, filled it from the pellucid stream.

“Give me your hand,” she murmured, holding out her own, and lifting her celestial eyes, so full of love and tenderness, to mine.  It was a dainty hand, plump, lilywhite, and dimpled, with tapering fingers; and as I felt her warm and silk-soft touch for the first time, my soul melted within me, and my whole being thrilled with delight.  Her rosy lips parted with pleasure, and a delicate blush mantled her blooming cheeks and full white throat.

I gazed in rapture on her divine countenance, so like a speaking flower, the image of a beautiful soul on which neither sorrow, care, nor passion had ever left a trace.

She raised the cup, and having sipped of the water, handed it to me in silence.  I sought the place where her lips had touched the brim and drank.  Now whether it was phantasy or some foreign ingredient I cannot tell, but the water seemed to taste like nectar, and to run through all my veins like wine.

The glamour of the lights and the perfume of the waters wrought upon my senses, and, yielding to the intoxication of my love, I caught Alumion to my arms.

Suddenly the most appalling noise rent the air, and caused me to spring back from my bride in terror.  It came from the rattlesnake.  His grisly body swayed to and fro, his gaping mouth displayed all its horrid fangs, and his large eyes burned like two red-hot coals.

“Siloo, Siloo!” cried Alumion hastily in a tone of command.  “Down, Siloo!”

The serpent at once obeyed her voice and retired again to his dish.

“He thought I was going to harm you,” I exclaimed, not without a sense of relief.  “Or perhaps he was jealous of me.”

“Remember this is holy ground,” responded Alumion.

“Forgive me,” I said, feeling her reproof.  “My love—­your beauty—­must be my excuse.”

“We must part now,” she continued, with a blinding glance and a ravishing smile.  “I have some last offices to perform here.  We shall meet to-morrow at my father’s house.”

On my way home the blood coursed through my veins like an immortal ichor of the gods, full of sweet and inextinguishable fire.  Inebriated with the cup of bliss which I had only tasted, I began to repent me of my promise to leave Womla.

“To-morrow Alumion will be mine,” I reflected, “but for how long?  A few days at the most.  It is too bad!”

An idea struck me.

“Gazen,” said I that night as soon as I had a convenient opportunity to speak with him, “I have married Alumion.”

“Married her!” he exclaimed, completely taken aback.