I returned to consciousness by degrees. My faithful ears were, as usual, the first friends to renew acquaintance with me, and the sound they brought was so soothing that I wished for nothing more than to remain as I was, ears only, and listen to it forever. But this was impossible, as I was slowly recovering my other senses and becoming a thinking being once more. I now recognized the pleasant sound as the music of a familiar voice; yes, it was Mona’s voice in conversation. I was sure of that, but it seemed so natural that I was not startled. I felt that I must remain perfectly quiet, or the spell would be broken and the music cease. Then I began to wonder where I was and who were with me. I recalled the circumstances of our descent into the moon and my fall as I was running to meet Mona. My mind was active, but I feared that I was physically weak, for I did not seem to have even a desire to move. I wanted to see the face of the dear girl, and it is remarkable that I did not open my eyes at once and call her by name. But I was not in a natural state. The feeling was not sufficiently strong to move me to action. I was just conscious enough to be passively happy, content to lie there quietly and enjoy one thing at a time. Hitherto I had not tried to distinguish the words, so satisfied was I with the exquisite tones, but now my attention was compelled by this yellow expression: “So I understand you to say he would not give me up as lost?” It was the pink voice of Zenith that answered: “No, indeed. He never faltered in his faith that you would be found. You owe it to him that you can soon leave this worn-out world with us, and we are indebted to him for giving us such a dear friend.” “And he admired my singing?” said Mona in a questioning tone. “Yes, and everything pertaining to you. He never tired of rehearsing your perfections, and the doctor tells us he loved you from the very first. He certainly seems most devoted to you. I hope, my dear, that you love him.” I was now recovered enough to feel some compunctions about listening further to this conversation, but that is not saying that I had any great desire to stop listening. I knew that in Mona’s answer to Zenith’s implied question lay my fate, and my moral doubts were not strong enough to make me do anything to keep it back. It has been said on the earth that people who surreptitiously hear themselves spoken of are never pleased, but things must be quite different inside the moon, for, without a shadow of hesitation and in the sweetest air that ever floated from her lips, came Mona’s answer: “Love him? Certainly I love him. Why should I not? I loved him when he was here before, and I should be very ungrateful if I did not care a great deal more for him when I know what he has done for me, and that he now lies here suffering for my sake.” “Oh, Mona,” I said to myself, “if this be suffering, let me never know happiness.”