All he saw were sombre eyes, the colour of summer skies at midnight, looking at him with mistrust and disdain; was a mouth, red as the red arbutus-fruit, saying to him: 'though you ask me for ever, never will I come.'
The way seemed long to him, and his progress slow. Though Musa ran from there to the shore almost as quickly as the fox could do, it was because she knew her way at its shortest, and sprang over the bogs by a leap from tussock to tussock, and over the streams by shallow places that she and the fox alone had found. To him the path was tedious and entangled, and it was past noonday when he at last saw the blasted suber-oak which marked the place of the tombs.
Whilst it was still some distance from him he saw Musa herself coming across the moor. She had been gathering mushrooms and collecting wood; she had a bundle of dry boughs poised on her head. She walked easily and erect under the burden of it; some amber leaves which were still on the branches hung down and touched her shoulder.
There was nothing in her of the toil that
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