How unsatisfactory, how paltry seemed his life work and aims! How completely helpless and discouraged he felt! But he must face the situation like a man. With the rising sun Orondo would come with a beaming countenance to recount his happiness. It would require all his fortitude to do and to say what was expected of him. Thinking thus, he drew aside the curtains and peered at the sky. The first mingling of pink and gray heralded the coming day. Performing the necessary ablutions, he wrapped his cloak about him and left the house. He did not notice particularly the direction he took, walking rapidly forward, with his head bent in strained attention. Once inside the main entrance to the gardens, he halted, listening for footsteps ahead of him. For the first time he observed the dew lying on the bent grass in drops separate and distinct from each other, but thickly studding each blade and leaf. Suddenly on the curving pavement a few feet in front of him, stood Orondo, irresolute, stricken and old. He had not yet caught sight of Yermah, but had merely paused in his erratic course, without definite idea whether to proceed or to retreat. “May truth and love be with thee, Orondo,” said the Dorado, in an unsteady tone of voice. “Mayst thou live by them, and by such means triumph over all hindrances.” “The goodness of this place and hour be upon thee,” responded Orondo, still not recognizing Yermah. As the men looked at each other, a family of deer roused themselves under the shelter of a friendly live-oak tree standing in the sward to the right of the pavement. The buck stood up and shook his graceful, spreading horns, until the leaves overhead quivered in the current of air set in motion. The doe licked the side of one fawn, while the other spotted creature wrinkled up its little nose, took a sniff of fresh air, and clicked its hoofs together in the very exuberance and joy of living. The two heavy-hearted men gazed at one another in an embarrassed silence. Finally, Orondo said: “I have seen the priestess Kerœcia.” “And—she?” Yermah finished the sentence with a supplicating movement and braced himself for the shock. “She—she is not for me,” responded Orondo, brokenly. Not to have saved his immortal soul, could Yermah control the wave of emotion which swept over him, making him stagger like a drunken man. The revulsion of feeling was so strong that he put out his hand to steady himself, while his senses fairly reeled. Like a flash the truth dawned on Orondo; but he would have suffered his tongue cut out rather than acknowledge even to himself what he had seen. Profound pity moved him, and under its influence he threw himself on his knees before the Dorado. “Give me leave,” he cried, “to take men and flocks and go into the valley of the Mississippi, to begin mound-building. My mission in Tlamco is finished.”