Still there was
silence between the woman and myself as we sat side by side. I
wondered if she realized that this strange dance was still further
confirmation of what we had done; that it was part of the ceremony of
our marriage. It was a picture as unreal, as incomprehensible, as the
fate we had invited. The sun was westering, and shone full upon the
dancing braves. Their corded muscles and protruding eyes made them
ghastly as tortured wretches of some red-lit inferno. There was no
laughter nor jesting. The kettle-drum rumbled like water in a cave,
and the chant of the singers wailed, and died, and wailed again. And
this was for my wedding. I looked down at the woman's hand that bore
my ring, and saw that the strong, nervous fingers were gripped till
they were bloodless. What was she thinking? I tried to meet her look,
but it was rapt and awed. A wave of heat ran through me; the wild
music beat into my blood. This savage ritual that I had looked at with
alien eyes suddenly took to itself the dignity of the terrible
wilderness that bound us. The pageantry of its barbarism seized upon
me; it was a fitting setting for one kind of marriage,--not a marriage
of flowers and dowry, but the union of two great, stormy hearts who,
through clash and turmoil, had found peace at last.
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