Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 03.djvu/105

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THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL. 83

rose screaming from its nest and circled over the dunes, and three spotted birds rustled through the coarse grey grass and whistled to each other. There was no other sound save the sound of a wave fretting the smooth pebbles below. So she reached out her hand, and drew him near to her and put her dry lips close to his ear. "To-night thou must come to the top of the mountain," she whispered. "It is a Sabbath and He will be there." The young Fisherman started and looked at her, and she showed her white teeth and laughed. "Who is He of whom thou speakest?" he asked. "It matters not," she answered. "Go thou to-night and stand under the branches of the hornbeam, and wait for my coming. If a black dog run towards thee, strike it with a rod of willow, and it will go away. If an owl speak to thee, make it no answer. When the moon is full I shall be with thee, and we will dance together on the grass. "But wilt thou swear to me to tell me how I may send my soul from me?" he made question. She moved out into the sunlight, and through

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