THE PALE moon had risen fair in the sky, throwing down a silvery radiance upon all below. Toli stood alone on the bartizan outside the banquet hall, overlooking a portion of the garden. Laughter drifted out of the hall through the open doors, and flickering torchlight from the hall splashed the stones and turned them to gold.

The bard Larksong sang his ballads to the high acclaim of all gathered inside. Toli could hear his strong voice lifted up in song, but could not catch the words which were drowned now and again in waves of laughter. At the end of a song or story there came clamorous applause and cries for more.

But Toli did not attend to what was taking place inside. He had grown uncomfortable and slipped away quietly to be alone. No one, he thought, had seen him go. He breathed the soft night air and wondered what he would do when he met her once again.

He did not have long to wonder. He heard the sound of a soft brushing tread, turned, and she was there, standing in the doorway, the light framing her, shining all around her. A sharp pang arrowed through him. He turned away.

Then she was beside him. He smelled her delicate scent, warm and pleasing. Her nearness burned him with a glowing heat.

“Ah,” she sighed, “how peaceful and cool here. The hall, for all its light and laughter, grows stale.” She spoke softly. He did not reply. Then she touched his arm, and he felt a flame leap through him. “Hello, Toli,” she whispered. “I saw you leave the hall.”

He turned toward her. “Esme…” He could think of nothing to say. She, with the moonlight in her eyes and shining on her long dark tresses, was even more lovely than he remembered. And she had come back.