And no more he restrained himself, but cried, With heavings of the heart, "O hateful day! O day that shuts the door upon delight. A slave! to wed a slave! O loathéd wife, Hated of Japhet's soul." And after, long, With face between his hands, he sat, his thoughts Sullen and sore; then scorned himself, and saying, "I will not take her, I will die unwed, It is but that"; lift up his eyes and saw The slave, and she was sitting at his feet; And he, so greatly wondering that she dared The disobedience, looked her in the face Less angry than afraid, for pale she was As lily yet unsmiled on by the sun; And he, his passion being spent, sighed out, "Low am I fallen indeed. Hast thou no fear, That thou dost flout me?" but she gave to him The sighing echo of his sigh, and mourned, "No." And he wondered, and he looked again, For in her heart there was a new-born pang, That cried; but she, as mothers with their young, Suffered, yet loved it; and there shone a strange Grave sweetness in her blue unsullied eyes. And Japhet, leaning from the settle, thought, "What is it? I will call her by her name, To comfort her, for also she is naught To blame; and since I will not her to wife, She falls back from the freedom she had hoped." Then he said "Amarant"; and the damsel drew Her eyes down slowly from the shaded sky Of even, and she said, "My master's son, Japhet"; and Japhet said, "I am not wroth With thee, but wretched for my mother's deed, Because she shamed me." And the maiden said, "Doth not thy father love thee well, sweet sir?" "Ay," quoth he, "well." She answered, "Let the heart Of Japhet, then, be merry. Go to him And say, 'The damsel whom my mother chose, Sits by her in the house; but as for me, Sir, ere I take her, let me go with you To that same outland country. Also, sir, My damsel hath not worked as yet the robe Of her betrothal'; now, then, sith he loves, He will not say thee nay. Herein for awhile Is respite, and thy mother far and near Will seek again: it may be she will find A fair, free maiden." Japhet said, "O maid, Sweet are thy words; but what if I return, And all again be as it is to-day?" Then Amarant answered, "Some have died in youth; But yet, I think not, sir, that I shall die. Though ye shall find it even as I had died,-- Silent, for any words I might have said; Empty, for any space I might have filled. Sir, I will steal away, and hide afar; But if a wife be found, then will I bide And serve." He answered, "O, thy speech is good; Now therefore (since my mother gave me thee), I will reward it; I will find for thee A goodly husband, and will make him free Thee also." Then she started from his feet, And, red with shame and anger, flashed on him The passion of her eyes; and put her hands With catching of the breath to her fair throat, And stood in her defiance lost to fear, Like some fair hind in desperate danger turned And brought to bay, and wild in her despair.