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Be valiant, Domnule, and God be with you. May the soul of my Mariora direct the edge of your sword and darken his eyes. Hearken! is not that he approaching!" And it was actually he. The tall elegant figure was descending the moonlight rocks with a light, elastic tread, dressed from head to foot in a black atlas mantle.
I had known Mariora for a long time, while she still lived at home with her father, but since she became Juon Tare's wife we have only seen each other occasionally and at long intervals, and then too only when I visited her, for she, the poorly-married woman, never came to visit us the rich people.
"Listen, my lady, and I will tell you. After this had happened, Juon Tare's wife, Mariora, came to me at an unusual hour. Generally she only comes on a Sunday for prayers. What she said to me was not so much a confession made to a priest as a confidence reposed in a friend; I am therefore not committing sacrilege by retailing it to another person. That young woman is exposed to temptation."
Which of us would recognize those footsteps first? I did. It was he! he for whose sake I had brought down a curse upon my head. "For about as long a time as it would take one to repeat a Paternoster, he remained standing there before the door. Then he rapped lightly with his fingers and I heard the voice I knew so well: 'Mariora, are you asleep? "'I am awake. What do you want? she replied.
Not another word did they now speak, only their panting sobs were to be heard like the snorting of two wild boars as they dragged and dashed each other up and down on the sward. "I was obliged to restrain Mariora violently from rushing to her husband's assistance. She would only have distracted his attention. And besides I would not have it so. Let the men fight it out, I thought.
I will strike him dead with this see! And drawing a long goat-skin bag out of his girdle, the bottom of which was choke full of ducats, and whirling it round his head like a morning-star he turned forestwards and roared: 'Come hither, tattered Juon, thou ragged dog! 'Tis now maiden-market day if you want to buy Mariora! Come forth thou cowardly hound and let me beat you to death!
He groaned and shivered continually like one in a fever, and raised his failing eyes with such an eloquent appeal to his mistress, as if he would have spoken to her. Sometimes he pricked his ears as if he were listening and snuffed joyously. Perchance he expected his master, perhaps he wanted to lick his hands for the last time. Poor beast, how I pitied him! 'He will die, I whispered to Mariora.
Meanwhile Mariora sits at home and spins the wool from which she makes her own and her husband's clothes, or she pounds maize into meal in a stone mortar for household needs, playing at intervals with her child." "And an evil hand would destroy their simple joys!" "Hitherto the goatherd and his wife feared nothing. It is good to be in those solitudes. God dwells very near to them there.
"Now, of course such a famous beauty as Mariora had no need to go all the way to the Geina fair in search of a husband, especially as one had already been chosen for her who brought with him all the pride of riches.
"'Are not I and my child dearer to him than all his property? "Then I told Mariora that no time must be lost, and that she should blow the horn at once. It is a long tube made out of the bark of trees, with the end tilted upwards, and anyone who knows how to blow it can make its voice heard for miles. Mariora was too feeble with it.
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