figure that might have been made out of solid moonlight.

Then he said in a loud voice: "Who are you?" and the next moment
was seized by a sort of choking terror lest his question should
be answered. But the unknown preserved an impenetrable silence
for a long space and then only answered: "I must not say who I am
until the end of the world; but I may say what I am. I am the
law."

And he lifted his head so that the moon smote full upon his
beautiful and ancient face.

The face was the face of a Greek god grown old, but not grown
either weak or ugly; there was nothing to break its regularity
except a rather long chin with a cleft in it, and this rather
added distinction than lessened beauty. His strong, well-opened
eyes were very brilliant but quite colourless like steel.

MacIan was one of those to whom a reverence and self-submission
in ritual come quite easy, and are ordinary things. It was not
artificial in him to bend slightly to this solemn apparition or
to lower his voice when he said: "Do you bring me some message?"

"I do bring you a message," answered the man of moon and marble.
"The king has returned."

Evan did not ask for or require any explanation. "I suppose you
can take me to the war," he said, and the silent silver figure
only bowed its head again. MacIan clambered into the silver boat,
and it rose upward to the stars.