When at length the god showed himself, there arose from the throng a great roar of adoration. The throng went down on its knees to him, flung up its arms to him, half-closed its eyes so as not to be blinded by the sight of him. His little mortal mate, knowing not that he was a god, thinking only that he was a brave man and her own, was astonished at the doings of her dear ones. The god himself, sharing her ignorance, was deeply embarrassed, and he blushed to the roots of his hair. ‘Laugh, O Thol,’ she whispered to him. ‘It were well for them that you should laugh.’ But he never had laughed in all his life, and was much too uncomfortable to begin doing so just now. He backed into the cave. The religious throng heaved a deep moan of disappointment as he did so. Thia urged him to come forth and laugh as she herself was doing. ‘Nay,’ he said, ‘but do you, whom they love, dance a little for them and sing. Then will they go away happy.’ It seemed to Thia that really this was the next best plan, and so, still laughing, she turned round and danced and sang with great animation and good-will. The audience, however, was cold. It gave her its attention, but even this, she began to feel, was not its kind attention. Indeed, the audience was jarred. After a while--for Thia’s pride forbade her to stop her performance--the audience began to drift away. There were tears in her eyes when she danced back into the cave. But these she brushed away, these she forgot instantly in her lover’s presence. * * * * * Love is not all. ‘I must go drive my geese,’ said the bride. ‘And I my sheep,’ said the bridegroom. ‘There is good grass, O Thol, round my geese’s pond. Let your sheep graze there always. Thus shall not our work sever us.’ As they went forth, some children were coming up the hill, carrying burdens. The burdens were cold roast flesh, dried figs, and a gourd of water, sent by some elders as a votive offering to the god. The children knelt at sight of the god and then ran shyly away, leaving their gifts on the ground. The god and his mate feasted gladly. Then they embraced and parted, making tryst at the pond. When Thia approached the pond, she did not wonder that Thol was already there, for sheep go quicker than geese. But--where were his sheep? ‘Have they all strayed?’ she cried out to him. He came to meet her, looking rather foolish. ‘O Thia,’ he explained, ‘as I went to the fold, many men and women were around it. I asked them what they did there. They knelt and made answer, “We were gazing at the sheep that had been the god’s.” When I made to unpen the flock, there was a great moaning. There was gnashing of teeth, O Thia, and tearing of hair. It was said by all that the god must herd sheep nevermore.’ ‘And you, beloved, what said you?’ ‘I said nothing, O Thia, amid all that wailing. I knew not what to say.’ Thia laughed long but tenderly. ‘And your sheep, beloved, what said they?’