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They missed the laughter and royalty of the King, and few men, and those old and weak, were left in the city. The pulse of life beat slower. And Dwaymenau took rule in the Golden Palace. Queen Maya sat like one in a dream and questioned nothing, and Dwaymenau ruled with wisdom but none loved her. To all she was the interloper, the witch-woman, the out-land upstart.
All the next day the King and Queen and little Princess Maya went about quietly among the doves in the woods and told them about Daimur, and about the tablets they hoped to get to release them from their enchantment, and begged them if they valued their lives to leave the fruit they were eating and come and live in the cave with them.
The plants drink us and we become a part of their growing and blooming until in time we rise again as sprites from out their flowers." "Then you were once another sprite?" asked Maya, tense, breathless with interest. The earnest eyes said yes. "But I have forgotten my earlier existence. We forget everything in our flower-sleep." "Oh, what a lovely fate!"
This worship of their heroes they undoubtedly carried, with other customs, to the countries where they emigrated; and, in due course of time, established it among their inhabitants, who came to forget that MAYAB was a locality, converted it in to a personalty: and as some of their gods came from it, Maya was considered as the Mother of the Gods, as we see in Hindostan and Greece.
Is the wife of Hoa, and her name is thought to signify the chief lady. But the Maya again gives us another meaning that seems to me more appropriate. TAB-KIN would be the rays of the sun: the rays of the light brought with civilization by her husband to benighted inhabitants of Mesopotamia. is the name of the moon deity; the etymology of it is quite uncertain.
No, I am not sad," he decided, "not now." Meanwhile Maya and the flower-sprite flew through the dense shrubbery of a garden. The glory of it in the dimmed moonlight was beyond the power of mortal lips to say. An intoxicatingly sweet cool breath of dew and slumbering flowers transformed all things into unutterable blessings.
The Maya artists seem to have used mostly vegetable colors; yet they also employed ochres as pigments, and cinnabar we having found such metallic colors in Chaacmol’s mausoleum. Mrs. Le Plongeon still preserves some in her possession. From where they procured it is more than we can tell at present.
Our common name is ladybird, my own name is Alois, I am a poet by profession. You know our common name, of course." Maya, afraid of hurting Alois' feelings, didn't dare to say no. "Oh," said he, "I live by the sunshine, by the peace of the day, and by the love of mankind." "But don't you eat, too?" asked Maya, quite astonished. "Of course. Plant-lice. Don't you?" "No. That would be that is...."
She examined the web carefully to see how securely Maya was entangled. "How about your sting?" she asked. Ugh, how mean and horrid she looked! Maya fairly shivered with disgust at the thought that she was going to touch her, but replied as pleasantly as she could: "Don't trouble about my sting. I will draw it in, and nobody can hurt himself on it then." "I should hope not," said the spider.
I'll tell Cheng to pick you up in one of the groundcars, and then Happy and Shadow can come back here to help us." "I'll do nothing of the sort," said Maya flatly. "You need them up here now, and I won't leave you. I'm going to stay here and help you. After all, I can handle a heatgun better than any of these Jellies." "But, Maya, I want to know that you're safe."
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