he hurt and pride and the strange new sudden emotions in him
not suffering him to talk. At last he said:

"Too-che, I love you and I cannot deny you anything. If you put this
shame upon me, I will bear it as my own. Consider this your home, and me
as your slave. If I did not love you, I would not bear this, but I do."

Too-che saw the conflicting emotions upon his face, how his dark red
lips struggled to remain firm, how his thin, wide nostrils trembled, how
his eyes were wet with unshed tears, how his shoulders bowed as with a
sudden burden.

"Oh my dear Chojon, I have no other friend to whom I can turn--and that
I thought of you, who has only loved me from afar with your eyes and
your soft, sad songs, should tell you that I bring you no shame or
insult. This is not the child of another man, for I have been with no
man, ever. This is a child of the legends, a son of a God in the skies,
our God, Mazda. He is a miracle, as hard for me to believe as for you,
but it is true."

Too-che could not stand the unbelieving eyes of Chojon, who thought that
Too-che lied, and looked down at the sleeping babe in her arms, saying
with a pitiful voice ...

"Please, little stranger who talks like a wise man, wake and tell my
Chojon that you are not the son of a man, but the son of one whom no
maid could resist or run away from, ever. Tell him, little one!"

And Mazda heard Too-che imploring speech of her child and made it to
speak with his own voice.

"Chojon, what my mother says is true. I am the child of the All-light,
endowed with powers beyond ordinary men to accomplish my Lord's
mysterious purposes here on earth. Do not hold my mother the less for my
birth."

Chojon sank slowly to his knees, realization stealing over him as he
heard the adult words issue from the suckling babe's mouth. The unshed
tears began to pour from his eyes in relief, for he knew now that
Too-che might not love him yet as she would when she learned love, but
at least she had given herself to no other mortal man. And the miracle
of the Child of a God there before him lighted up his face as his inward
soul, so that he took up his lute and lifted his rich, deep voice in a
joyous song--the Song of Zarathustra. For the legend of their people had
the name of the babe-to-come as Zarathustra, and Chojon knew that its
name was thus, now.

* * * * *

Too-che dwelt for some time in the house of Chojon, and the songs of
Chojon