Again the young man buried his face in his hands and shook his head mournfully; and like one whose thoughts erred, again he wailed his lament: “Alas, alas! my beautiful bride! I do love thee; I loved thee, but I did not know thee and killed thee! Alas! Ah, my beautiful bride, my beautiful bride!”
At last, as the great star rose from the sky-land, the dead maiden spoke softly to the mourning lover, yet her voice was sad and strange: “Young man, mourn thou not, but go back to the home of thy fathers. Knowest thou not that I am another being? When the sky of the day-land grows yellow and the houses come out of the shadows, then will the light whereby thou sawest me, fade away in the morn-light, as the blazes of late councils pale their red in the sunlight.” Then her voice grew sadder as she said: “I am only a spirit; for remember, alas! ah, my lover, my husband knew not me from the other—loved me not, therefore killed me; even though I had hoped for love, loved me not, therefore killed me.”
But the young man would not go until, in the gray of the morning, he saw nothing where the light had appeared but the dark sand of the grave as it had been. Then he arose and went away in sorrow. Nor would he all day speak to men, but gazed only whither his feet stepped and shook his head sadly like one whose thoughts wandered. And when again the houses and hills grew black with the shadows, he sought anew the fresh grave and sat down by its side, bowed his head and still murmured: “Alas, alas! my beautiful wife, I loved thee, though I knew not thee, and killed thee. Alas! Ah, my beautiful wife!”
Even brighter glowed the light in the grave-sands when the night was divided, and the maiden’s spirit arose and sat in her grave-bed, but she only reproached him and bade him go. “For,” said she, “I am only a spirit; remember, alas! ah, my lover, my husband knew not me from the other; loved me not, therefore killed me; even though I had hoped for love, loved me not, therefore killed me!”
But he left only in the morning, and again when the dark came, returned to the grave-side.
When the light shone that night, the maiden, more beautiful than ever, came out of the grave-bed and sat by her lover. Once more she urged him to return to his fathers; but when she saw that he would not, she said: “Thou hadst better, for I go a long journey. As light as the wind is, so light will my feet be; as long as the day is, thou canst not my form see. Know thou not that the spirits are seen but in darkness? for, alas! ah, my lover, my husband knew not me from the other; loved me not, therefore killed me; even though I had hoped for love, loved me not, therefore killed me!”
Then the young man ceased bemoaning his beautiful bride. He looked at her sadly, and said: “I do love thee, my beautiful wife! I do love thee, and whither thou goest let me therefore go with thee! I care not how long is the journey, nor how hard is the way. If I can but see thee, even only at night time, then will I be happy and cease to bemoan thee. It was because I loved thee and would have saved thee; but alas, my beautiful wife! I knew not thee, therefore killed thee!”
“Alas! Ah, my lover; and Ah! how I loved thee; but I am a spirit, and thou art unfinished. But if thou thus love me, go back when I leave thee and plume many prayer-sticks. Choose a light, downy feather and dye it with ocher. Wrap up in thy blanket a lunch for four daylights; bring with thee much prayer-meal; come to me at midnight and sit by my grave-side, and when in the eastward the day-land is lighting, tie over my forehead the reddened light feather, and when with the morning I fade from thy vision, follow only the feather until it is evening, and then thou shalt see me and sit down beside me.”
So at sunrise the young man went away and gathered feathers of the summer birds, and cut many prayer-sticks, whereon he bound them with cotton, as gifts to the Fathers. Then he found a beautiful downy feather plucked from the eagle, and dyed it red with ocher, and tied to it a string of cotton wherewith to fasten it over the forehead of the spirit maiden. When night came, he took meal made from parched corn and burnt sweetbread, and once more went down to the plaza and sat by the grave-side.
When midnight came and the light glowed forth through the grave-sands, lo! the maiden-spirit came out and stood by his side. She seemed no longer sad, but happy, like one going home after long absence. Nor was the young man sad or single-thoughted like one whose mind errs; so they sat together and talked of their journey till the day-land grew yellow and the black
