"But I see you! Isn't that enough!"

Felice sighed, for she liked admiration, and the Golden Archer said no
more about gathering gentians, but went with her to the fair, which was a
sacrifice, for he loved fresh air and solitude; and the crowds, the heat,
and the dust made his head ache. Then, too, he was not used to fairs, and
more than once made Felice uncomfortable by the questions he asked. She
was always afraid that he would betray his origin when anyone spoke of
the wind. Someone, indeed, said it was south, and the Golden Archer with
a smile corrected him. "It is east," he remarked. "Oh, what difference
does it make!" Felice cried crossly.

Her ill-temper increased because people looked more at her husband than
at her. The Golden Archer was, indeed, very handsome, and he had lived so
much in the skies that he had a fine, free air. People could take long
breaths in his presence, instead of feeling choked and cramped, so they
wanted to talk with him.

He would have been glad to gratify them, but his wife's drooping lips
closed his own; and after a while both went sadly back to the inn,
wondering why all the glory was gone from the day.

But in their room he drew her into his arms, and loved her anew, and
talked to her of all the wonderful things that would come to them if they
were faithful.

"Don't you know, sweet Felice," he said, "that love is like the seed in
the ground, which comes up a little frail and tender plant; but through
storm and sunshine grows into a great tree. We must be patient with