9. No Miracle

THEY had a tale on which to gloat,

The gossips sitting in a row:

How Feylimeed took wife by throat

And broke her beauty with a blow.

And one, and then another, said:

Ah, fortunate if now she die;

For piteous is a cloth-bound head

Instead of beauty’s flashing eye.

Else to some desert let her go

From women’s words and eyes of men,

But ancient Eefa whispered low:

“Simply you read the story then.”

No other word old Eefa spoke

But smiling blinked from side to side,

Till Enna, breathless, on them broke

Her mouth and eyes with horror wide.

“He gropes his way, his eyes are out!”

“Who gropes his way?” “Why, Faylimeed!”

“The blind cat’s fingers, without doubt

Got at them sleeping?” “Nay, indeed,

“No fingers but his own plucked, flung

Them dazzling in the sullen tide,

For ah, they say his heart was wrung

To see the wreck of beauty’s pride.”

Then Eefa whispered from her place:

“As Faylimeed gripped wife by throat

Her eyes flashed love into his face

And his heart blazed while his hand smote.”