w himself down and
started swimming on the face of the water. Joiwind turned her head, and
laughed so joyously that all her teeth flashed in the sunlight.

They landed in a few more minutes on a promontory of black rock. The
water on Maskull's garment and body evaporated very quickly. He gazed
upward at the towering mountain, but at that moment some strange
movements on the part of Panawe attracted his attention. His face was
working convulsively, and he began to stagger about. Then he put his
hand to his mouth and took from it what looked like a bright-coloured
pebble. He looked at it carefully for some seconds. Joiwind also looked,
over his shoulder, with quickly changing colors. After this inspection,
Panawe let the object--whatever it was--fall to the ground, and took no
more interest in it.

"May I look?" asked Maskull; and, without waiting for permission, he
picked it up. It was a delicately beautiful egg-shaped crystal of pale
green.

"Where did this come from?" he asked queerly.

Panawe turned away, but Joiwind answered for him. "It came out of my
husband."

"That's what I thought, but I couldn't believe it. But what is it?"

"I don't know that it has either name or use. It is merely an
overflowing of beauty."

"Beauty?"

Joiwind smiled. "If you were to regard nature as the husband, and Panawe
as the wife, Maskull, perhaps everything would be explained."

Maskull reflected.

"On Earth," he said after a minute, "men like Panawe are called artists,
poets, and musicians. Beauty overflows into them too, and out of them
again. The only distinction is that their productions are more human and
intelligible."

"Nothing comes from it but vanity," said Panawe, and, taking the crystal
out of Maskull's hand, he threw it into the lake.

The precipice they now had to climb was several hundred feet in height.
Maskull was more anxious for Joiwind than for himself. She was evidently
tiring, but she refused all help, and was in fact still the nimbler of
the two. She made a mocking face at him. Panawe seemed lost in quiet
thoughts. The rock was sound, and did not crumble under their weight.
The heat of Branchspell, however, was by this time almost killing,
the radiance was shocking in its white intensity, and Maskull's pain
steadily grew worse.

When they got to the top, a plateau of dark rock appeared, bare of
vegetation, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see.
It was of a nearly uniform width