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Updated: June 11, 2025
Gleameil laughed, but said nothing. "Now go to sleep," said Polecrab. "When the time comes, I will take you across myself." He lay down again, and closed his eyes. Maskull followed his example; but Gleameil remained sitting erect, with her legs under her. "Who was that other woman, Maskull?" she asked presently. He did not answer, but pretended to sleep.
Gleameil followed him with greater dignity, keeping her eyes fixed on the recumbent man as if fascinated. When Maskull reached the water's edge, he tried it with one foot, to discover if it would carry his weight. Something unusual in its appearance led him to have doubts. It was a tranquil, dark, and beautifully reflecting sheet of water; it resembled a mirror of liquid metal.
"I am not to be dissuaded," she replied. He stroked his beard in perplexity. "Is it time to start?" "It wants four hours to sunset, and we shall need all that." Maskull sighed. "I'll go to the mouth of the creek, and wait there for you and the raft. You will wish to make your farewells, Gleameil." He then clasped Polecrab by the hand. "Adieu, fisherman!"
The child was let down, and all the three formed a semicircle in front of Maskull, standing staring up at him with wide-open eyes. Polecrab looked on stolidly, but Gleameil glanced away from them, with proudly raised head and a baffling expression. Maskull put the ages of the boys at about nine, seven, and five years, respectively; but he was calculating according to Earth time.
But then, high up, far above the clouds, you suddenly catch sight of more mountain and even then it is not the top." "You read character well, and have great perception," remarked Gleameil quietly. "Now say what I am." "In place of a human heart, you have a wild harp, and that's all I know about you." "What was that you said to my husband about two worlds?" "You heard." "Yes, I heard.
"Neither you, nor any other person, can endure the thoughts which I put into my music. Still, you must have it your own way. It needed a woman to call it 'beauty. But if this is beauty, what is ugliness?" "That I can tell you, Master," replied Gleameil, smiling at him. "Ugliness is old, stale life, while yours every night issues fresh from the womb of nature."
When she spoke, it was in a rather weak voice, but full of lights and shades, and somehow intense passionateness never seemed to be far away from it. "Forgiveness is asked for listening to your conversation," she said, addressing Maskull. "I was resting behind the tree, and heard it all." He got up slowly. "Are you Polecrab's wife?" "She is my wife," said Polecrab, "and her name is Gleameil.
When Teargeld shines at night, and I sit on the shore here, listening to Earthrid's music travelling faintly across the sea, I am tortured I can't endure it.... I have long since made up my mind to go to the island, and see what this music is. If it's bad, if it kills me well." "What have I to do with the man and his music, Gleameil?" demanded Maskull.
"I don't know what my mood will be," returned Earthrid. "But when I have finished, you shall adventure your tune, and produce whatever shapes you please unless, indeed, the tune is out of your own big body." "The shocks you are preparing may kill us," said Gleameil, in a low, taut voice, "but we shall die, seeing beauty." Earthrid looked at her with a dignified expression.
When he awoke, the day was not so bright, and he guessed it was late afternoon. Polecrab and his wife were both on their feet, and another meal of fish had been cooked and was waiting for him. "Is it decided who is to go with me?" he asked, before sitting down. "I go," said Gleameil. "Do you agree, Polecrab?"
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