"It is true," said the King's daughter of Duntrine, "you are the
comer, and you have power upon the hour. Come with me to my stone
house."
So they went by the sea margin, and the man piped the song of the
morrow, and the leaves followed behind them as they went.
Then they sat down together; and the sea beat on the terrace, and
the gulls cried about the towers, and the wind crooned in the
chimneys of the house. Nine years they sat, and every year when it
fell autumn, the man said, "This is the hour, and I have power in
it"; and the daughter of the King said, "Nay, but pipe me the song
of the morrow". And he piped it, and it was long like years.
Now when the nine years were gone, the King's daughter of Duntrine
got her to her feet, like one that remembers; and she looked about
her in the masoned house; and all her servants were gone; only the
man that piped sat upon the terrace with the hand upon his face;
and as he piped the leaves ran about the terrace and the sea beat
along the wall. Then she cried to him with a great voice, "This is
the hour, and let me see the power in it". And with that the wind
blew off the hood from the man's face, and, lo! there was no man
there, only the clothes and the hood and the pipes tumbled one upon
another in a corner of the terrace, and the dead leaves ran over
them.
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