It would have been such a relief to talk about her. The Dorado usually had dressed well, as became a man of his station; but now he was fussy and particular to a noticeable degree. He taxed Alcamayn’s ingenuity to the utmost in devising suitable gifts for Kerœcia and her attendants, and insisted upon superintending the enameling of the medallion-shaped mirror which he was to present to the priestess. The bits of blue, green, and black enamel must be as shiny and lustrous as the gems they surrounded, and the burnished gold rim and handle must be as fine as the skill of his workmen could make it. This exchange of mirrors was a pretty compliment among the rulers of olden times—for by this flattering method each was assured of the faithful remembrance of the other. They had but to look into the mirror to discover the subject of the other’s thought—at least in theory. An oval of burnished bronze, framed in silver filigree, enameled with black and white, and set with turquoise, coral, moonstones, and amethysts was the regulation gift from Kerœcia. It was mannish enough to suit the requirements, but it was too formal to express her feelings. She made a strawberry of red cloth, and with fine brown floss dexterously worked in the seed specks. It was filled with fine sand and grains of musk. The little cup was cleverly imitated by green cloth, and the berry was fastened by a tiny eyelet to a piece of narrow red cord. Consideration for Orondo, constrained Yermah’s impatience to seek Kerœcia immediately, and the preparations for her departure were of such public character that he had no further opportunity of seeing her alone, until his chariot stood before the door of Setos’s house, waiting for her. Cibolo and his three companions tugged hard at their bridles, as a consequence of ten days’ idleness. They would have enjoyed kicking up their heels and running like the wind, especially when music, noise and confusion gave such warrant; but Yermah kept a vise-like grip on them, quieting them by a word now and then. Kerœcia’s pride found complete satisfaction in his excellent horsemanship. There were no gloves on his strong, white hands, wound up in the reins, but the wrists were as firm and hard as steel. It was a master-hand that held the lines, and she was not in the least distressed or alarmed when the horses reared and plunged and stood on their hind feet. The couple were nearing the round-house on the upper limit of the canal, and Yermah’s face was set and pale. He had suddenly forgotten all the pretty speeches he had intended to make. Finally, when there was not a minute to spare, he turned to Kerœcia with an agonized expression and tried to speak. His lips moved, but no sound escaped them, as they fashioned the words: “I love thee!” That was all he could remember to say, and he was dismayed when he realized that his voice had failed him. His eyes swam, and he instinctively clutched at his heart as he swayed from side to side.