CHAPTER IV. PHOTOGEN.
Watho at length had her desire, for witches often get what they want:a splendid boy was born to the fair Aurora. Just as the sun rose, heopened his eyes. Watho carried him immediately to a distant part ofthe castle, and persuaded the mother that he never cried but once,dying the moment he was born. Overcome with grief, Aurora left thecastle as soon as she was able, and Watho never invited her again.
And now the witch's care was, that the child should not know darkness.Persistently she trained him until at last he never slept during theday, and never woke during the night. She never let him see anythingblack, and even kept all dull colours out of his way. Never, if shecould help it, would she let a shadow fall upon him, watching againstshadows as if they had been live things that would hurt him. All dayhe basked in the full splendour of the sun, in the same large roomshis mother had occupied. Watho used him to the sun, until he couldbear more of it than any dark-blooded African. In the hottest of everyday, she stript him and laid him in it, that he might ripen like apeach; and the boy rejoiced in it, and would resist being dressedagain. She brought all her knowledge to bear on making his musclesstrong and elastic and swiftly responsive--that his soul, she saidlaughing, might sit in every fibre, be all in every part, and awakethe moment of call. His hair was of the red gold, but his eyes grewdarker as he grew, until they were as black as Vesper's. He was themerriest of creatures, always laughing, always loving, for a momentraging, then laughing afresh. Watho called him Photogen.