He perched beside her, smoothing her feathers with his bill, still
with that droll absurd look of guilt. The female responded to his
caresses; she was very soft and tender; but behind this tenderness
could be detected her great strength and power over the male: perhaps
she realized it herself.
In the language of instinct, she said to her mate:
"Yes, you may."
The male succumbed to his passion, and she yielded to him.
V
It was thus for a week or ten days.
Then at last, when the male came to her one night-time, she said:
"No! Enough!"
She spoke instinctively, for another time had come--the time for the
birth of her children.
The male-bird, abashed, as though conscience-stricken at not having
divined the bidding of his mate earlier, went away from her only to
return at the end of a year.
VI
From Spring-time, all through the Summer until September, the male
and female were absorbed in the great, beautiful, indispensable task
of breeding their young. In September the fledgelings took wing.
The Spring and Summer developed in their multi-coloured glory: they
burned with fiery splendour; the pine-trees glowed with a resinous
phosphorescence. There was the fragrance of wormwood. Chicory, blue-
bells, buttercups, milfoil, and cowslip blossomed and faded; prickly
thistles abounded.
In May the nights were deeply blue.
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