Men die, and Gabriel Druse, he will die one day, and
when the time comes, then it would be that you and I would beckon, and
all the world would come to us."
He stretched out a hand to her in the half-darkness. "I send the blood
of my heart to you," he continued. "I am a son of kings. Fleda,
daughter of the Ry of Rys, come to me. I have been bad, but I can be
good. I have killed, but I will live at peace. I have cursed, but I
will speak the word of blessing. I have trespassed, but I will keep to
my own, if you will come to me."
Suddenly he dropped to the ground, lighting on his feet like an animal
with a soft rebound. Stretching up his arms, he made soft murmuring of
endearment.
She had listened, fascinated in spite of herself by the fire and meaning
of his words. She felt that in most part it was true, that it was meant;
and, whatever he was, he was yet a man offering his heart and life,
offering a love that she despised, and yet which was love and passion of
a kind. It was a passion natural to the people from whom she came, and
to such as Jethro Fawe it was something more than sensual longing and the
aboriginal desire of possession.
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