voice filled with a sense of awe, "our world, Sylvie, I'm master here.
There's no greater mind than my own in all that dark green circle.
It's pines, pines, pines to the edge of the earth, Sylvie, an ocean
of purple and green--silver where the wind moves, treading down, like
Christ walking on the water. And the sky is all gray, like stone."

"Can you see the flat, the cabin?"

"The flat, yes--a round green spot, way down there behind us. The
cabin? No. That's in a hollow, you may be sure, well out of sight.
I'm an outlaw, dearest, remember. There's a curve of the river, like
a silver elbow. And Sylvie, up above us, an eagle is turning and
turning in a huge circle. He thinks he's king. But, Sylvie, it's our
world--yours and mine. This is our marriage."

She drew back. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you a feeling for such images? We'll go before a
parson--don't be afraid. Would I frighten you, Sylvie? I love you
too much for that. Why, Sylvie, what's wrong?"

When his lips, clinging and compelling, had left hers, she bent her
face to his arm and began to cry.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't know. . . . But please don't kiss me like
that, not like that!"

He released her and half turned, but her hands instantly hunted for
him, found him and clung.