For a long time after the world was made, plentiful rains came; but there was neither thunder nor lightning. One day Tiegbe (a dove) is flying about, ‘taking breeze,” when she sees a handsome man up top. She wishes to have him for her husband; so every day she carries him new rice, fresh fish, and ripe palm-nuts for his chop. The handsome man eats, but says nothing. His silence vexes Tiegbe, until she provokes him into saying, “Mind, I tell you! Better leave me! If I speak just once, you will run away and never return!” — “I am not afraid,” answers Tiegbe. That night the winds rage, heavy clouds gather. From up top come loud mutterings. The handsome man has begun to speak. He blinks his eyes. When they are open, it is as bright as day; when they are closed, it is black. Peal after peal, terrific crashes, blinding flashes. Tiegbe clings to a tree that groans in the storm. Torrents of rain drench her. “After all,” she says, “one could not have such an ill-tempered monster for a husband.” — “Quite right you are,” says the handsome man. And from that day he has denied himself to women who make visits up top.