There was now no occasion to fly a step farther. Neither of them feared
any one but Watho. They left her there, and went back. A great cloud
came over the sun, and rain began to fall heavily, and Nycteris was much
refreshed, grew able to see a little, and with Photogen's help walked
gently over the cool wet grass.
They had not gone far before they met Fargu and the other huntsmen.
Photogen told them he had killed a great red wolf, and it was Madam
Watho. The huntsmen looked grave, but gladness shone through.
"Then," said Fargu, "I will go and bury my mistress."
But when they reached the place, they found she was already buried--in
the maws of sundry birds and beasts which had made their breakfast off
her.
Then Fargu, overtaking them, would, very wisely, have Photogen go to the
king, and tell him the whole story. But Photogen, yet wiser than Fargu,
would not set out until he had married Nycteris; "for then," he said,
"the king himself can't part us; and if ever two people couldn't do the
one without the other, those two are Nycteris and I. She has got to
teach me to be a brave man in the dark, and I have got to look after her
until she can bear the heat of the sun, and he helps her to see, instead
of blinding her."
They were married that very day. And the next day they went together to
the king, and told him the whole story. But whom should they find at the
court but the father and mother of Photogen, both in high favor with the
king and queen. Aurora nearly died for joy, and told them all how Watho
had lied, and made her believe her child was dead.
No one knew anything of the father or mother of Nycteris; but when
Aurora saw in the lovely girl her own azure eyes shining through night
and its clouds, it made her think strange things, and wonder how even
the wicked themselves may be a link to join together the good. Through
Watho, the mothers, who had never seen each other, had changed eyes in
their children.
The king gave them the castle and lands of Watho, and there they lived
and taught each other for many years that were not long. But hardly one
of them had passed before Nycteris had come to love the day best,
because it was the clothing and crown of Photogen; and Photogen had come
to love the night best, because it was the mother and home of Nycteris.
Were they not both ripening, however, to bear the power of a brighter
sun still, when the one should follow the other into a yet larger room?