"You could make me love you," was his answer.

So they were quiet for a while. She watched the sea-birds circle about
his shining horse which seemed ever ready to plunge from the cathedral
tower into the spaces of the air, yet remained always the toy of the
winds. She listened to the hoarse voices of the huge bells that swung
beneath her.

At last she rose and unbound her hair so that it floated like a golden
banner in the wind. "Come," she whispered.

Then the Golden Archer felt all the pain of those who must turn away from
the voice of love. His eyes looked towards the sunset, but his heart
seemed drowning in a strange, sweet, throbbing darkness. "Come nearer,"
he whispered.

So she went so near that her golden hair floated all about him and he saw
the landscape through a yellow cloud. "Kiss me," she said.

But he set his lips steadfastly, and tried to turn to the north, which he
could not do, for the wind was steadily from the south.

"I am cold," she whispered. "Let us go down to the warm orchards."

"Go!" he answered, "for your words pierce my heart, and I have made a vow
to tell the people about the coming and going of the great winds."

"My love is a great wind," she said.