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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40950 ***
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original lovely illustrations.
+      See 40950-h.htm or 40950-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40950/40950-h/40950-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40950/40950-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://archive.org/details/dreamerofdreams00sylv
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DREAMER of DREAMS
+
+by
+
+THE QUEEN of ROUMANIA
+
+Illustrated by Edmund Dulac
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Hodder & Stoughton
+London, New York, Toronto
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Everything about her was white, glistening and
+shining._]
+
+
+                 Dedicated
+               TO MY DAUGHTER
+                  ILEANA
+
+    "I LOOKED INTO HER EYES AND THEREIN
+    I SAW HOPES AND DREAMS AND ALL THE
+    PROMISES LIFE CONTAINS."
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+    EVERYTHING ABOUT HER WAS WHITE, GLISTENING AND SHINING          17
+
+    ERIC LAY NOW, STRETCHED AT THE FEET OF THE WOMAN HE
+    COULD NOT LEAVE                                                 39
+
+    A CIRCLE OF MIST SEEMED TO BE SETTLING AROUND THEM              72
+
+    IT WAS THE MIRACULOUS BUBBLES                                  100
+
+    AND THERE, LEANING AGAINST A MOSS-GROWN CRUMBLING
+    TREE, WAS A SPIRIT-LIKE BEING OUT OF ANOTHER WORLD!            125
+
+    KING WANDA SAT UPON HIS MARBLE TERRACE BASKING IN
+    THE FIRST WARMTH OF THE SEASON                                 173
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+    And I dream in my waking dreams, and deep in the dreams of sleep.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Consternation reigned in King Wanda's castle,--the great Northern King
+before whose will so many trembled, before whose smile so many crouched
+in expectation. His favourite painter had suddenly lost his wits and
+refused to finish the picture he had begun on the walls of the ancient
+hall where all the great banquets were held--a beautiful hall, where a
+frieze was being conjured into life by the incomparable art of Eric
+Gundian, a quite young man of wonderful talent, who had been discovered
+by the King one sunshiny morning.
+
+Each day that Eric Gundian had spent within the King's walls his
+reputation had grown, and he had, all unconsciously, become the Court
+favourite. His every whim had been an order; and his gay handsome face
+had been loved by old and young.
+
+The creeping jealousies around him had died down of themselves before
+the sweetness of his smile and the wonder of his art.
+
+The sound of his voice was like spring birds singing of love in
+green-clad forests, and when the sun shone on his head it was like the
+haze of a summer's evening over a ripe cornfield. In his eyes slumbered
+the beautiful peace of mountain lakes, and in his heart there lived the
+simple trust of a pure soul ... and now Eric Gundian, Eric of the
+golden locks--Eric the fairy-fingered, Eric the sweet-voiced had lost
+his wits!
+
+One morning he awoke, and no one could understand the meaning of his
+talk; he declared he had had a dream, and in his dream he had seen two
+eyes, the eyes he needed for the completing of his picture; and without
+those eyes he never again could touch either colour or brush. King Wanda
+had called for him to be brought before his presence, but Eric had
+sullenly refused to answer his command.
+
+At first King Wanda had been furiously angry, but then he remembered
+Eric's wonderful art, and had deigned to go out to where his favourite
+sat on the cool marble steps, that led down to the lake, before the
+King's white palace of beauty.
+
+Eric had risen before the crowned figure that bent towards him a stern
+face of inquiry, but to all the King's questions, to all his
+persuasions, flatteries, threats, and entreaties Eric had replied with a
+sad gesture of resignation, that never again could he take up his brush
+till he had found those eyes which had haunted his dream. His pain and
+his despair were so evident, that King Wanda felt that no words had
+force to move the distracted young man. Sadly he departed, and mounted
+one by one the shallow marble steps which reflected in glowing colours
+the costly clothes that he wore. Once more he turned and looked down
+upon his favourite, who sat, his head in his hands, gazing across the
+sparkling lake; he heaved a deep sigh and felt like quarrelling with
+Fate who had despoiled him of one of his great joys.
+
+As he reached the palace door, he was met by the sweet little figure of
+his daughter, who came out into the sunshine, gathering up her long
+trailing dress, a golden ball clasped in her hands. The King smiled upon
+her, and bade her go down to the water's edge to try and console the
+young painter with her radiant youth. With a gay laugh Oona rolled her
+golden ball down the snow-white steps, and it fell with a splash into
+the water at the young man's feet, making great circles that spread,
+always widening, over the blue expanse; but Eric never moved, he kept
+staring into the distance as if he were following a vision no other eye
+could see. Oona came noiselessly down the steps, rather awed by the
+silence and stillness of the young man who had always been her gayest
+playfellow.
+
+Gently she drew near to where he sat, and dropped down at his side--then
+like a playful kitten she nestled quite close to him and peered up into
+his face. The smile faded from her soft lips and gave way to a look of
+wonder and distress. She put both arms round her young friend's neck,
+and pressing her blossom-like cheek against his shoulder, she asked him
+gently if he would not come and play with her beneath the flowering
+apple-trees.
+
+Eric looked at her as if she were a stranger; his eyes seemed to wander
+over her fair face without any recognition. Suddenly little Oona was
+afraid, and drew back; what had come to her friend? Why was he so
+changed? Why did she begin to shiver in the warm sunshine so that all
+around her lost light and colour?
+
+Once more she drew near, her warm little heart longing to help, longing
+to bring the smile back to the eyes of her companion. She wore a
+dark-red rose in her belt, and drawing it out she pulled the red petals
+off, one by one, letting them drop over his bent head down upon the
+white marble at his feet. But Eric never looked up; the velvety petals
+lay, a fading little heap, unnoticed upon the marble step, till a small
+gust of wind swept them into the water which carried them away far out
+of sight.
+
+Poor little Oona rose to her feet; a great fear had come over her; and
+gathering up her long white skirts she fled back into the palace as if
+she were being pursued.
+
+Still Eric sat, gazing into space, till night came down and blotted out
+all things from his sight.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+     I run across hills and dales, I wander through nameless lands ...
+     because I am hunting for a golden dream.
+
+     TAGORE.
+
+
+The road was long and dusty, and stretched out before the wanderer's
+feet. He carried a small wallet on his back, and in his hand was a
+strong stick. The little birds on the trees sang glad songs because it
+was spring-time, and the branches were weighed down by the wealth of
+their blossoms. The wanderer was young, and his face was good to look
+upon; his clothes were new, and round his neck he wore a golden chain
+which was the royal gift of a King. His step was light and eager, and
+there was a look of hope in his eyes; he had a flute in his pocket upon
+which he played from time to time a sweet little tune--a little tune the
+end notes of which always sounded like an unanswered question.
+
+None had been able to keep him back; Eric of the golden locks, ... Eric
+the fairy-fingered, ... Eric the sweet-voiced, ... Eric the mad painter,
+had left the white castle of beauty, to wander the wide world over
+seeking for two eyes that had come to him in a dream.
+
+In the great hall King Wanda stood, looking on the unfinished frieze; it
+was a marvellous painting in glowing colours that ran all round the
+room. A master hand alone could have been capable of such perfect
+composition, such rich colouring, such charm and poetry. The great
+procession represented the triumph of Love.
+
+It was like a wondrous wedding-feast, and all the figures were moving,
+an army of joyous youths and maidens, towards a golden throne. On the
+throne sat a woman whose golden robe flowed, like a river seen at
+sunset, down towards the youths and maidens who were singing songs of
+praise, whilst they swung bloom-laden branches over their heads and cast
+white roses before the throne of Love. Behind this vision of youth came
+stern-faced warriors on snorting chargers, and pearl-crowned queens who
+led golden-haired children by the hand. Then came musicians who were
+followed by troops of beggars and the tattered forms of the poor, all
+hurrying, pressing, streaming towards that golden throne.... But the
+woman on the throne had no face.
+
+The fairy fingers of the artist had stopped here, suddenly; before the
+final accomplishment, which was to have crowned his whole masterpiece,
+Eric's brush had failed him. In his dreams he had seen the face he
+wanted, the eyes that haunted him; but the moment he woke his vision
+paled, and no effort of will could call back the look of those eyes
+which he needed for the woman on the throne.
+
+So Eric--the Eric whom every one loved, who had been the stern King's
+joy--had gone mad because of the desire for those eyes of his dream.
+
+The light began to fail in the great hall; still King Wanda stood gazing
+at the figure on the throne which had no face. Great rage seized him
+because of his helplessness, and a great longing for the fair-haired
+youth who had been his joy and pride. Little Oona came up to where he
+stood, and slipped her cool hand into his, laying her curly head against
+his arm. He turned to her with a deep sigh, and together they passed out
+into the flowering garden.
+
+The wanderer sped along the endless road always farther and farther from
+the palace of the King. His shoes were covered with dust, and when his
+steps began to lag he would take from his pocket the flute upon which he
+played that sad little tune with the questioning notes at the end.
+
+It was mid-day--Eric had already walked many miles, and now the sun beat
+down with great force on his head. He wondered where he was, but only
+vaguely, because since his dream he seemed to have another head on his
+shoulders, and none of the tidy thoughts of other days would come to
+him. He had no notion where he was going; he only knew that he could not
+rest until he found that face he needed for his picture, and above all
+those great eyes that haunted his dreams.
+
+He sat very still at the edge of the road where he had thrown himself.
+He closed his eyes, and the moment he did so those he was seeking were
+before him, great and luminous, with an expression he had never seen in
+any other look. How clear they were, and how steadfastly they rested
+upon him with never a droop of the eyelids. It did not strike him that
+he might be on a fool's errand, he had no doubts and no fears; the great
+genius had become like to a little child, confident and with no thoughts
+of failure. He had no plan, he simply meant to travel all the world over
+till he found what he was seeking; God would care for him as He did for
+the birds of the air, and time did not count. He wiped his damp brow,
+and then looked about him; all was very still, the air was laden with
+the sweet perfumes of summer flowers; the sky was blue, and not a leaf
+stirred on the trees. Eric smiled to himself, and played on his flute;
+he liked to listen to his own little tunes; they were very sweet to him,
+and he quite forgot everything whilst he piped away like a bird. He
+began many different melodies, but they always ended on the same
+questioning notes. He never remarked that each of his little tunes had
+the same ending; to him they were infinitely varied. And intensely sweet
+they were, with a haunting sound like human sighs mixed with the
+laughter of little children. And now the clearest bird notes rang out,
+and then again the sob of a nightingale or the trickling sound of
+running water, clear and crystalline, as if a little source were
+bubbling forth close by. He was completely absorbed by the music, and
+more than one passer-by had stopped a moment to listen; but Eric had
+only nodded and smiled as if each one had been a personal acquaintance.
+
+Then he rose and wandered onwards, always keeping straight along the
+road that stretched before him, never inquiring his way, serenely
+confident that all would go well with him if he only held his one great
+aim in view.
+
+Before the King's palace Oona, flitting hither and thither, like a gay
+butterfly, played with her golden balls in the sunshine, occasionally
+tripping over her too royal apparel, her clear laugh sounding through
+the summer-laden air.
+
+But within the still, white palace sat King Wanda, and all the time his
+eyes beheld a small cloud of dust, raised by the feet of a golden-haired
+youth, who had been the joy of his days, leaving him and all his kingly
+splendour to follow a vision which the grey-haired man could never
+understand,--and it seemed to him that the little cloud of dust became
+always smaller and smaller till he could see it no more.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+    From my heart comes out and dances before me the image of my desire.
+
+    TAGORE.
+
+
+The town was tiny and the streets so narrow that conversation could be
+held by neighbours across the road beneath the gables. The high pointed
+roofs had all the shades of red and brick, and before nearly each small
+window bunches of scarlet geraniums bloomed in profusion,--a sleepy
+little place, where the grey cats lazily slept in the middle of the
+pavement quite undisturbed by any passer-by, quite safe from being run
+over. They blinked their eyes in the bright sunshine, and stretched
+their supple limbs to the kindly warmth.
+
+Over the sea of red roofs the different-shaped chimneys sent up their
+bluish smoke that hung like a transparent cloud waving slowly backwards
+and forwards in the still air. Now steps came along one of the quiet
+streets, and the silence was such that they were heard long before the
+walker came into sight. He was a quite young man, tired but light of
+step, and his uncovered head shone like gold in the sunshine. Round his
+neck he wore a heavy golden chain, and his clothes were new; within his
+eyes there was a searching look, but a smile was on his face, and the
+world seemed to him just one long road upon which he could follow his
+dream. He chose the shady side of the street because the day was warm
+and the sun had poured down for many hours upon his way.
+
+All the time he glanced right and left as if expecting to find what he
+was looking for; but he was in no hurry, and often a glad little song
+broke from his lips, whilst the sound of his strong stick on the cobble
+stones had a cheery note that echoed along the houses. Eric felt like a
+bird of the air, that could fly whither it would, and for which each
+tree was a resting-place.
+
+He cared little for how long he had wandered, nor for what he had left
+behind, nor where he was going; all he needed was a long road that would
+lead him on and on until he reached his goal. And his goal might be
+reached any day, any hour, any minute. Hope was always within his heart;
+but it mattered not if its fulfilment were to-day or to-morrow.
+
+His smile was so sweet and his face so fair that all were ready to open
+their doors to him; so he feared neither hunger nor thirst, neither heat
+nor cold, neither night nor storm.
+
+Now he was feeling rather weary, so he sat down on a doorstep, drew his
+flute from his pocket, and began to play soft little runs up and down;
+his fingers, as if they were dancing, moving lightly over the small
+holes.
+
+The flies buzzed around him trying to tease him, but he was indifferent
+to all except the sweet notes of his flute. So absorbed was he that he
+did not hear the door open behind him, and only looked up when a hand
+was laid upon his shoulder.
+
+'Twas the trembling hand of a quite old woman, very bent, her face lined
+with many wrinkles, her eyes dim and tired. Eric sprang to his feet and
+craved pardon for being in her way.
+
+She looked hard at him, at first with annoyance; but his wonderful smile
+disarmed her, so she hobbled away shaking her head, turning round more
+than once to look again at the youthful stranger. She had left the door
+into the crooked little house wide open.
+
+Eric sat down once more upon the steps and continued his music. It was
+wonderful the peace it gave him; he needed nothing else--did not even
+try to think, leaving Fate to shape events around him.
+
+From the upper window trails of scarlet geraniums hung down over his
+head; a faint breeze fanned them, making some loose petals fall upon his
+knees.
+
+With a smile he gathered them in his hand, enjoying the beauty of their
+colour, letting them drop through his fingers, playing with them like a
+child.
+
+And now from inside the house he caught sounds of a sweet voice singing
+softly some old, old song. The notes rose and rose until they entirely
+filled the small house behind him.
+
+He looked up to the window, but could see only the red flowers against
+the rusty old wall.
+
+He rose and stood in the doorway, and listened to the voice that sounded
+like a bird singing in a wood, singing, singing to its mate a song of
+Love.
+
+It did not make his heart beat as it would have done the hearts of other
+youths, but it dawned upon him that the voice was human, and that it
+could only belong to a girl or a woman.
+
+Thoughts came but slowly to him as through a mist, because we know that
+since that fatal morning Eric Gundian had lost his wits.
+
+But Eric Gundian was still, to all outward appearance, the same
+beautiful young man, with the same face, the same golden hair, the same
+luminous smile that bespoke the simple trust of a pure soul.... Now,
+moved by some irresistible impulse, Eric walked into the house, and, led
+by the glorious voice, climbed the narrow dark stairs, up, up, as if he
+were mounting into the skies. Then before the open door of a small
+sunlit room, he suddenly paused, seized with wonder....
+
+Sitting near the window, her fair head bent over her work, was a lovely
+maiden: she drew stitch after stitch through the snow-white linen, and
+the hand which held the shining thread moved backwards and forwards like
+a dove hovering over a gateway.
+
+As she worked the song burst from her lips; she sang and sang, with the
+glorious gladness of youth which has not yet known either sorrow or
+disappointment. There was nothing sad in her tune, it was all hope and
+joy and sweetness. Behind her head the geraniums made a fiery haze where
+the sun smote upon them with the blinding rays of summer. Then it was
+that Gundian felt all his soul awake with the longing that she would
+look up, so that he might see her eyes....
+
+Perhaps they would be the eyes he was searching for. To-day, to-morrow,
+this hour, or the next he was sure to meet them.
+
+The maiden, all unconscious of his presence, sang on and on, from one
+song to another, the sweetness of her voice ringing through the
+stillness like glad Easter bells.
+
+The wanderer held his breath; and, both hands pressed against his
+breast, waited in a sort of agony for her to raise her head.
+
+At last she did so, but it was towards the window she looked.
+
+She even left her chair and reached far out over the red geraniums to
+glance into the street below.
+
+As she sat down her eyes turned to the door where the stranger stood
+watching. With a little cry of fear she crumpled the white linen against
+her and stared at him without finding a word.
+
+Impulsively Eric sprang forward, and taking her with a quick movement by
+both shoulders, he whirled her round to the light, peering with a hungry
+longing into her eyes.... All was done in a flash; the astonished girl
+was so taken by surprise that she had no time to defend herself against
+so sudden an onslaught.
+
+But hardly had he seen her eyes than he let her go again, and putting
+his two hands over his face, with a cry of disappointment, he turned and
+fled.
+
+Down the dark narrow stairs he sped, out into the bright sunlight; there
+he paused a moment to pick up his stick and flute, then ran as if
+possessed; and before long he had left the sleepy red-roofed little town
+far behind.... Still he ran, ran, eager to get away from the eyes which
+were not the eyes he wanted.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+    I have come far, led by my dreams and visions.
+
+    TAGORE.
+
+
+The moon was shining down upon an endless expanse of snow--as far as the
+eye could reach, snow, snow, white and dazzling, strewn with a million
+glittering diamonds.
+
+It had ceased snowing; the storm was over; but the wind still blew in
+biting blasts, forcing the wanderer to draw his cloak more closely
+around him, and to bend his head, as he slowly advanced over that
+everlasting desert of white.
+
+He walked and walked; there was no end to this frozen snow-field over
+which his feet had made a narrow little path that alone disturbed the
+shroud-like surface. And always longer and longer it grew, zigzagging
+beneath the quiet face of the moon.
+
+From time to time the wind blew snowflakes against him, and they beat in
+his face like a thousand pins, obliging him to shut his eyes not to be
+blinded.
+
+Each flake had another shape; there were stars and crosses, moss-like
+flowers and strangely shaped butterflies, all dancing in mad circles
+around the lonely wayfarer.
+
+Some kept their beautiful shape even when fallen to the ground, and the
+moon would light them up like precious jewels out of a queenly casket.
+
+The young man was the only living thing in this wilderness of ice and
+snow.
+
+He could not have told how he had got there; what will was driving him
+always onwards upon his mad search; but nothing had power to stop him,
+nor had fear any place in his soul.
+
+Now, even the wind died down and a hush fell over all things.
+
+The light of the moon became intenser in the growing stillness.
+
+Looking up, Eric saw myriads of stars twinkling down upon him from
+unknown heights, like friendly eyes encouraging him on his way. For a
+moment he stood still; the silence was now as overpowering as the storm
+had been; everything around him was bathed in a cold hard light, the
+whiteness of which ceaselessly burnt into his brain. Suddenly a little
+bluey flame came dancing out of the distance, then another, and another,
+always more numerous, till the whole expanse was covered with them; a
+wavering army of little lights, like thousands of lost souls coming
+together for a last parade in this land of the forgotten. Eric tried to
+seize one with his frozen fingers, but no sooner had he thought to grasp
+it than it slid away like a shape in a dream.
+
+Then with childlike eagerness he began a mad chase after the elusive
+little flames, running to and fro in the moonlight in an effort to catch
+them, yet never succeeding; there were always more and more lights
+tempting him onwards over that desert of snow.
+
+At last he laughed aloud, standing still to watch the little blue flames
+float away into the unknown out of which they had come, one after
+another like a long procession of pilgrims in the night....
+
+They became always smaller and smaller, seeming to beckon to him as they
+disappeared, inviting him to follow once more in a mad chase over the
+hard frozen snow.
+
+A glow had spread over Eric's cheeks, his eyes sparkled, and the moon
+reflected herself within them. He uncovered his head, throwing back his
+golden locks with a boyish gesture, whilst he stood still to watch the
+wonder of this northern night so clear and dazzling.
+
+As he waited with arms outstretched trying to grasp all the beauty to
+his heart, the artist in him keenly alive to his surroundings, he
+discerned a shadow approaching, followed by a second and then a third.
+And as they came nearer he realized that they were great white bears
+hardly to be distinguished from their background.
+
+Our wanderer felt no thrill of fear, the great beasts were so completely
+in keeping with their surroundings; their white skins harmonized
+perfectly with the immaculate snow. They came slowly towards him, quiet
+and majestic, slightly swinging their heavy bodies as they glided
+onwards. He could count about twenty.
+
+Their huge soft feet marked also a little road on the even surface which
+would soon join the one Eric had made from the opposite direction. Now
+they were quite near; their warm breath made little clouds before them
+that surrounded their pointed heads like a mist.
+
+Eric watched, fascinated, and made no movement to get out of their way.
+
+The first reached him, and without taking the slightest notice passed
+on, making a small circle, but did not pause in his quiet march; and the
+others followed in the traces his feet had left behind him, ten, twenty,
+thirty. Eric counted them and always more and more came noiselessly over
+the snow.
+
+But now there was another shape rising out of the distance, apparently
+as white as the watchful animals that led the way, the form of a tall
+woman whose garments fell around her in glittering folds.
+
+Eric could not yet discern her features, she was too far off; but he
+saw how more than once she paused, bending down to gather from the snow
+something which she held within her hands, gazing upon it with curious
+intensity.
+
+Nearer and nearer she glided, her bare feet hardly touching the ground.
+She seemed shaped out of floating mists.
+
+All the splendour of the night, the dazzling brilliancy, the vast
+snow-field, the glory of the moon, the myriad stars, all paled before
+the beauty of the woman that now approached.
+
+Everything about her was white, glistening and shining; so shining that
+the human eye could hardly bear the radiance. Her long white hair hung
+about her; a circle of glow-worms surrounded her forehead. Her head was
+bent, still gazing on that which she held in her hand. On either side
+marched one of the great bears like two guardians. Just as she neared
+the spot where Eric stood she once more bent to the snow, and with
+almost loving precaution raised something in her hand.
+
+As she did so her eyes met Eric's--they were beautiful eyes--large,
+dark, blazing like two burning coals. The young man felt a great emotion
+when they rested upon him, yet he knew directly that they were not the
+eyes he was seeking; but greatly did he long to know who the beautiful
+woman was, and what she was gathering in the snow.
+
+As if guessing his thoughts she spoke in a clear, soft voice, always
+keeping her eyes fixed on his, "Thou wouldst know who I am, O lonely
+wanderer? I am the queen of these vast regions of snow--my home is
+yonder, where none dare dwell--and on nights when the moon shines bright
+I come out of my castle of ice and wander over this desert of white,
+searching for the broken hearts that have been banished here. It is only
+when the moon shines bright that I can find them, for they are hidden so
+far and wide that in the dark nights I could not see them,--and in the
+day never can I wander about,--the night alone is made for me. See, I
+will show thee those I have found."
+
+And opening her hand, Eric perceived three little pulsing hearts,
+beating, beating like frightened birds--and each little heart was
+broken, and drops of blood stained the white fingers of the snow-maiden.
+
+She leant towards them and very gently touched them with her lips.
+
+"I carry them home with me," continued the strange woman, "and I put
+them there where they are safe, and where they can await God's last
+call. I send my little dancing lights before me, and my ice bears walk
+with me everywhere. They come from great distances; the moment the moon
+shines bright they all assemble before my palace to let me know it is
+time for me to begin my search. They make my way, so that I should not
+go where the snow is too deep, or where the ice would wound my feet.
+
+"Come! if thou art not afraid, and I shall show thee where I keep my
+precious treasure of broken hearts."
+
+Stretching her hand out to the young man, she clasped his, and he found
+himself being drawn along across the great white plain, quicker, always
+quicker--till all was but a mist before his eyes; yet he felt that even
+if it were to death he was being hurried he could not but follow this
+wonderful vision of the night.
+
+Faster and faster became their pace.
+
+Eric hardly knew how he was moving; on both sides of them ran the white
+bears keeping step with their racing.
+
+All of a sudden his beautiful guide stopped.
+
+And pointing before her Eric looked ... and there, rising out of the
+mist, hanging in the air, was a gigantic castle, built out of ice, that
+glittered and sparkled above the clouds--a marvellous sight, the
+dream-like vision of another world.
+
+The snow-maiden again seized her companion's hand, and now she was
+leading him up a thousand slippery steps, hewn out of ice, that seemed
+to wind through the clouds. Eric's breath came in gasps; but still on
+rushed the fair woman, as with winged feet, till they reached a large
+space before the palace portals.
+
+They stood wide open, and from within streamed forth a blue light that
+gleamed far out over the smooth snow. "Come," said the snow-maiden, and
+she put her finger to her lips.
+
+Still holding Eric by the hand, she led him through the wide-open doors
+into a vast hall, made of ice and snow. Great columns supported the
+domed roof, and the windows that were of transparent ice gave a strange
+blue light that filled the whole place.
+
+The hall was quite empty; the floor was put together out of small pieces
+of ice forming wonderful patterns that shimmered in different shades of
+white. In the middle a small descending staircase interrupted the smooth
+surface--a sort of dark well, the first steps of which shone bluish and
+ghost-like. A great light came up from somewhere far down in the heart
+of the earth.
+
+The snow-maiden, still tightly clasping Eric's hand, now began to
+descend the narrow stairs, and the deeper they went the stronger became
+the light, till they reached a low vaulted chamber of great size and
+quite round, in the middle of which burnt a blinding circle of light. At
+first Eric was too bewildered to grasp the meaning of that ring of
+flame; then he recognized the little tongues of fire that had mocked him
+out yonder in the wilderness. The snow-maiden had sunk on her knees, and
+beckoning Eric to come nearer, she raised one of the little fluttering
+blazes that remained balanced on her hand like a luminous butterfly.
+
+Eric stared, his head close to his beautiful companion's, and saw a
+small hole made in the snow, where lay a tiny red heart which was split
+right across.
+
+"This," whispered the snow-maiden, "is the heart of a poor little child,
+whose mother abandoned it, and who died of grief. I found it several
+years ago.
+
+"Every day I come here to all my hearts, so that they shall not feel
+lonely; and these little flames are their guardians. Each little
+will-o'-the-wisp protects one of the hearts and keeps it warm, so that
+it shall not perish.
+
+"And see! This one is my favourite, but it is very difficult to keep
+alive because it spent its life too rapidly, too passionately. It is the
+heart of a poet and a lover; a lover whose passion was so violent that
+he died quite suddenly, one flower-scented night, when his hope had been
+torn from him, and his heart broke right in two. Behold I had to bind it
+together with the silver threads of my hair--and often, very often, must
+I lay my warm lips against it because it cannot bear its longing."
+
+The white woman held the bound pieces in both hands, and gazed upon them
+with yearning tenderness, whilst two of the little blue lights hovered
+near, throwing a beautiful radiance over her face.
+
+"Beside this one I always keep two little flames, because it needs more
+care than all the others; a poet's heart is so frail a thing; and how
+much more so a poet that was a lover!"
+
+With the utmost gentleness she laid the heart down and bent towards
+another.
+
+"This is the heart of a mother who lost all her blessed treasures; see
+how cruelly wounded it is; but it is the strongest of all, because the
+strength of a mother's heart is unequalled by any other--and God has a
+special place awaiting it when the great Day comes."
+
+From heart to heart the snow-maiden moved, with bent head and gentle
+hands.
+
+The circle of glow-worms round her brow flickered and sparkled like a
+magic flower.
+
+"This heart," said the snow-maiden, raising a very dark object in her
+hand, "is black, because it is that of a great sinner; and sometimes the
+glow that guards it becomes quite small and dim, almost goes out;
+because the heart suffers greatly of its own wickedness; it was saved
+because it broke.
+
+"I found it very far off, in a place amongst rocks; and when I tried to
+raise it, it began to roll away from me, always farther, so that I had
+to run, to run after it with an anxious feeling that I would not be able
+to save it. It left traces of blood wherever it passed, so at last I
+discovered it in a dark hole beside a skull that grimaced at me with a
+hollow grin: when finally I held it in my warm hand I knew that it was
+at rest, and I carried it home very slowly.
+
+"Whilst I retraced my steps along the weary way I had come, I sang to
+it, soft simple songs that children love. As I sang I felt the warm
+blood trickle through my fingers, and upon the snow I saw that all the
+drops of blood had run together into the form of a small red cross,
+which marked upon the whiteness a sign of forgiveness.
+
+"I looked at my hand and noticed that the drops of blood had turned into
+tears which left no more stain where they fell, but had washed from my
+fingers all traces of soil. This heart also needs me, but in another
+way; I always sing to it those simple songs, for it must forget all else
+except the days when it was at its mother's knee." Stretching her hands
+across the circle of light the tall vision in the dazzling robe seemed
+to bless the many waiting throbbing hearts.
+
+"I call this place my garden of expectation! And one day a great joy
+will arise from it; ... songs of praise sung by myriads of heavenly
+voices; ... and this light is but feeble compared to the light which
+will shine that day."
+
+Eric was still on his knees; he looked up at that glorious form beside
+him, and as entranced he watched, her long white hair turned into a soft
+misty veil that flowed down upon the ice like the mantle of a saint, and
+the circle of glow-worms had become a halo round the face, that was the
+face of one of God's own angels.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+     And though blind and deaf for a hundred years I would see her more
+     fair than any poet has sung.
+
+     FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Eric had now left the snow-maiden far behind, had left her there amongst
+the broken hearts she tended with such gentle hand and deep
+understanding.
+
+He had gazed his last upon her as she stood in the circle of light all
+shining and bright; and then, knowing that he must go, he had torn
+himself away, feeling that otherwise he would not have the strength to
+continue his road, and part from a being so full of radiance and
+wonderful beauty.
+
+And now he was wandering in a great forest of fir-trees, his feet
+skimming quickly over the crackling snow. It was still night around him,
+but all the trees were lit with millions of candles. Each tree was an
+enormous Christmas tree. The whole wood was one blaze of light ... this
+he knew was the snow-maiden's garden!
+
+It was an astonishing sight; but he fled along; he dared not stay.
+
+As he ran he heard the sound of many wings following him. He lifted his
+head; in and out through the great branches of the candle-lit pines he
+saw huge white birds appear and disappear, but so rapidly that he could
+never distinguish what kind they were.
+
+Now he came out of the forest, and saw a vast frozen sea before him. As
+he stepped from the shelter of the trees the whole air was filled with
+white wings. He looked up and saw endless flocks of wild swans; and
+circling far above them were eagles as white as they, which flew always
+higher, higher, farther, farther, settling at last upon the blocks of
+ice that formed forbidding barriers between sea and land.
+
+All these feathered creatures were the companions of the beautiful woman
+he had left.
+
+He turned, and there, rising above the illuminated forest, far above the
+clouds, seemingly suspended in the air, was the castle of ice, revealed
+a last time to his enraptured sight.
+
+He threw out his arms full of longing, as if he too had left his heart
+within those translucent walls ... then the heavy snow-laden clouds
+descended and wiped out the dream like a vision of the night.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+    Joy rises in me like a summer's morn.
+
+    COLERIDGE.
+
+
+It was evening; the sea was calm--so calm that it looked like an
+enormous mirror into which the sky was reflecting its manifold hues,
+resembling a crowned woman trying on before her glass various gorgeous
+robes of glowing colours. Eric Gundian sat at the helm of the boat, his
+hands folded, gazing before him at the burning horizon; above him the
+huge rusty sail spread like the giant wing of a bird. The boat moved
+slowly, and yet it cut steadily through the water, whilst the deep green
+waves ran along each side like racers--Gundian was waiting ... he knew
+not for what, but a great peace was over his soul, and his eyes had a
+steadfast look of happiness.
+
+The sky was unfurling before him its most precious colours, all the
+tones of red and gold and orange, reminding him of the palette he had
+put away.
+
+Now his hands were idle, no doubt, but the artist was still keenly
+alive, and this beauty and peace seemed part of the very depth of his
+nature.
+
+Far down within him he knew that his great talent slept, awaiting the
+day when his hands would be untied to finish his great work.
+
+His hope and trust were simple, and his smile was sweeter than ever.
+
+The red of the sky began now to stain the quiet endless sea--it sank
+beneath the surface till the whole moving mass was an ocean of flame
+and light; the little waves that ran along on both sides were like
+sea-maidens trailing their shining tresses over the water.
+
+Gundian rose and stood at the very extremity of the boat, his slim
+figure outlined by a circle of light. Then he raised his clear young
+voice, and sang an old song of his country, a song so strange and sweet,
+that the sailors behind him took up the chorus and the deep manly voices
+joined in, forming a long echo to the triumphant notes of their young
+companion.
+
+He turned round to them, his golden locks thrown back, his beautiful
+eyes full of dreams and the strength of all his hopes; they had the
+feeling that with his youth and beauty he was the very incarnation of
+life and love. Now his voice was softer; the song became a great sigh of
+longing, like a long-drawn effort towards the boundless, unreachable
+promises of life.
+
+The old men sank on their knees and the young ones covered their eyes
+with their hands; each saw before his mind the dreams of his manhood,
+the loves he had left, the hopes he had buried, the future he longed for
+or feared.
+
+The glorious colours had paled, only a faint reflection remained; the
+wind began to fill the sail, the boat seemed to bound forward on its
+course.
+
+Eric's upright figure had lost its circle of light; his dark form at the
+helm of the boat was seen now above, now beneath the horizon.
+
+The waves grew in size, and were no longer like slim racers keeping pace
+with the friendly vessel, but more like great angry beasts longing to
+consume the frail craft that so confidently rode upon their restless
+heaving backs.
+
+The sail suddenly filled and expanded ready to burst; and the seamen
+tightened the cords, being tossed from side to side as they moved
+about.
+
+Gundian's face was wet with the spray; his bright young eyes peered
+before him into the growing darkness.
+
+A lantern had been lit and shone far above him like the Star of
+Bethlehem, flashing on his uncovered head, casting in turn lights and
+shadows over the fairness of his face. The boat bounded and creaked and
+groaned; the wind began to howl, frightened gulls flew around the sail
+with cries of distress, their white wings passing in and out of the
+gleam of the lantern.
+
+The waves grew greater and greater, beating the sides of the vessel,
+throwing huge masses of water over the low rail. Eric had to keep a firm
+grip on the ropes so as not to be hurled into the restless, surging,
+wailing deep--to him this growing storm was a mighty joy; he revelled in
+the wind with its many tormented voices; he loved the salt water that
+dashed in his face, drenched his clothes, and tore at the chain he wore
+round his neck.
+
+He loved the heaving and sinking of the vessel under him; he loved the
+weird shrieks of the birds, the flashing of their white wings when they
+came within the halo,--loved the shimmer of the lantern on the enormous,
+rolling, always advancing waves.
+
+He trusted the seaman that sailed the ship--trusted the strong boards on
+which he stood,--above all he trusted with a child's simplicity the
+great God above.
+
+All through the night the storm howled, and raged, and sobbed; and the
+brave little craft fought her way through the foaming masses, till the
+morning slowly overcame the darkness, bringing with the new day a hush
+that held a promise of peace and rest. Thus did day follow on day, night
+on night.
+
+Gundian either basked in the sun, or hardened his hands working with the
+sailors, or sang them sweet songs that melted their hearts, fired their
+blood, awoke their longings, brought tears to their eyes, or a laugh to
+their lips. But at times he would also play his little flute; then, all
+else vanished from his mind, and always, always did the flute hold the
+same questioning notes that were like the cry of his soul for the
+unknown vision he was pursuing, that dreams alone allowed him to grasp.
+
+The rough men in the boat looked upon him as a bright being of another
+sphere. They imagined he brought luck to their voyage, that his presence
+calmed the storm and had power over the elements, that his wonderful
+voice and magic flute enchanted the striving, ever-changing winds and
+waves. They loved him, and were in fear of the day when he would bid
+them good-bye and withdraw his sunny presence from their lives.
+
+They felt that he was but a bird of passage, that it lay not within
+their power to keep him for ever amongst them, and each day that they
+looked on his guileless face and on the light that kindled in his eye,
+was a gift from on high, a day of blessing and plenty.
+
+Eric could not explain why he remained, neither did he know why all of a
+sudden, one day of calm and gladness, he felt he must take up again the
+call of the road that lay before him.
+
+It was on a distant and lonely shore; the boat lay drawn up on the
+shell-covered beach.
+
+The golden-haired youth looked up into the sky and saw a small bird
+flying into the limitless distance.
+
+Then Eric knew that he must follow the direction in which the bird had
+disappeared.
+
+They could not stop him, he had to go. He took his thick stick in his
+hand, put his flute in his pocket, hung his cloak over his shoulder;
+then, turning round many a time to wave his cap to the rough companions
+of yesterday, he walked away into the growing heat of the day.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+    Yet there was round thee such a dawn of light ne'er seen before.
+
+    WOLFE.
+
+
+The shore was endless and straight, Eric felt no fatigue; his face was
+browned by the wind, the waves, and the sun. His eyes had taken some of
+the blue of sea and sky. His clothes were soiled, and looked less new
+than the day he had left King Wanda's palace.
+
+But the chain around his neck glistened in the heat of the noon.
+
+Eric walked and walked, advancing but slowly, because his feet sank into
+the deep sand as he went.
+
+As usual his heart was full of joy, and it mattered little to him where
+he went, although no changing beauty of the coast, no small cloud in the
+sky, no light in the sea passed by unnoticed.
+
+To him each separate beauty was like a picture his soul had conceived.
+
+Now high rocks began to change the aspect of the flat lonely coast, and
+soon all the young man's activity was needed to climb the obstacles that
+blocked his way.
+
+From that moment his advance became slower and more painful, he had to
+draw breath; more than once he had thrown himself down upon the soft
+sand, his golden locks hidden amongst the wet pebbles, his heart
+thumping against his side. But he loved it all, rocks and sea and
+burning sun; and each difficulty that arose on the road made him feel
+but all the happier. A joyful heart is one of God's most precious
+gifts.
+
+It was late afternoon; and, having climbed over some slippery rocks,
+Eric reached a quiet little bay, narrow, and rounded by precipitous
+cliffs on all sides.
+
+There the sea was very silent, very green and transparent, and the flat
+little waves hardly made a sound as each in turn left a white line of
+foam along the powdery sand.
+
+Eric lay on his back, his cap drawn over his eyes, his cloak rolled up
+under his head, a pleasant drowsiness filling his being after the
+efforts he had made.
+
+Suddenly he sat up with a start, wide awake now, all his senses alert.
+He had heard something which sounded like the deep tones of a bell,
+coming from afar off, but distinctly, like a dismal and yet persistent
+voice, calling ... calling.
+
+He looked around him full of excitement, keenly interested, and ready
+for any new adventure.
+
+He rose to his feet and stood, his hand to his ear, listening.
+
+For a moment there was silence, and then again distinctly the sound of a
+deep-toned bell--and this time he distinguished that the sound came from
+the rocks that bounded the farther side of the little bay.
+
+Eric felt he must follow that sound; it drew him towards it; he could
+not resist those deep tones calling, calling.... A voice full of warning
+or invitation?...
+
+He could not make out which, neither did he worry his mind about
+it,--was he not a bird of the air free and joyful, always a song on his
+lips, loving the sun that shone down upon him, the air that caressed his
+cheeks, and the good firm earth on which he stood?
+
+The notes of the bell were now louder, now softer; but their tone could
+not be resisted, and the beautiful youth felt he must follow; so he
+began moving towards the spot whence the sound seemed to be coming.
+
+Soon he stood before a high cliff over which long creeping plants were
+growing, hanging flexible branches covered over and over with some
+coral-coloured berry, more like long chains of bright beads than a
+living plant.
+
+This was the only rock on which anything grew, and the shoots took root
+apparently out of the dark hard stone high above his head. He lifted
+some of the long trailing branches in both his hands, and as he did so
+the sound of the bell was distinctly heard, as if quite near.
+
+Eric knelt down and noticed with surprise that there was a large opening
+in the rock, beneath the coral-coloured plant, like the entry to a cave;
+he stooped, carefully avoiding the hanging growth, and advanced
+gropingly to find himself in a dark tunnel.
+
+The sound of the bell was more and more distinct, the calling more
+insistent. With crouching gait Eric moved along, feeling his way with
+his hands; it was quite dark, and the passage was narrow, with damp
+rough sides, against which he often bruised his fingers.
+
+Now a curious greenish light began to relieve the complete obscurity in
+which he had been for some minutes, and little by little Eric
+distinguished in the far distance what was probably the end of the
+mysterious entry.
+
+The green light became always stronger; and now our wanderer found
+himself inside the most marvellous place he had ever seen.
+
+It was a grotto, the walls and domed roof of which had the hue of
+transparent emeralds; and all around was green--the rocks, the sand, the
+deep pool of water at his feet, all radiated rays of liquid green light.
+
+The strip of beach he stood upon was quite shallow, so that his feet
+almost touched the deep dark water. In the middle of the tiny lake that
+filled this wonderful grotto hung a bell, also green and wondrously
+shining; and although the rest of the water was absolutely calm, strong
+short waves rose from the centre and hit against the bell, bringing
+forth the deep boom that had first lured Eric into this magic hall.
+
+Straight across the dark water a narrow bridge was stretched, both sides
+resting on the tinted sand, passing in the middle quite near to the
+calling bell.
+
+The bridge was but a yielding plank, a hand's-breadth wide, overgrown
+with slippery, dripping moss as green as grass on a spring day when the
+sun shines over it.
+
+The bell gave out weird sounds, sometimes like a cautioning voice
+warning him against some danger--then again it was full of love and
+entreaty, containing an endless promise of joy and sweetness.
+
+But Eric was too young and happy to hear within its notes anything but
+entrancing melodies existing solely to delight his ears.
+
+Unhesitatingly he stepped on to the swaying board, upon which he could
+only advance by carefully putting one foot before the other, almost like
+balancing himself on a tight-rope. This gave him great joy, and his
+merry laugh echoed round the green walls as if he were joking with gay
+comrades. An immense curiosity was upon him to look at the bell from
+near, and to see what lay on the other side of the dark lake.
+
+He had the intuition that something still more surprising was hidden not
+far off.
+
+The slippery plank dipped beneath his weight; he could hardly keep his
+footing on the slimy moss that clung to it. But Eric was nimble, young,
+and daring; besides, he could swim like a fish, and was absolutely
+fearless.
+
+The depth beneath him seemed bottomless; only now and again his eyes
+distinguished shadowy forms moving about, but what they were he could
+not see.
+
+Now he was close to the bell, and the little waves were striking it on
+all sides, making its tones so varied as to become a bewitching song of
+penetrating sweetness.
+
+Eric bent his ear down to the bell, which was whispering something to
+him under cover of the appealing notes,--but he did not understand, he
+only laughed and stroked the bell, quite heedless of the repeated
+warning that once again came from the depths of the lake.
+
+He stood up on the quivering footway, and in answer to the old bell's
+voice he raised his own, clear and ringing, within which lay all the joy
+and gladness of an untouched heart and an unsoiled life, pure,
+crystalline, like the voice of an angel.
+
+Stronger and stronger came the floods of melody; all round the green
+sides the glad notes resounded like a thousand answers, responding to
+the boundless life-joy that this human voice contained.
+
+Again he bent to the old bell and touched it with both hands; then
+hurried on over the perilous bridge, eager to reach the other side and
+to see what lay beyond.
+
+Now he stood on the farther shore; all about him the light streamed
+green and transparent; but it was not only the green light that shone
+upon him; another one was penetrating within the dim grotto, showing him
+a second dark passage beyond; a golden light as if all the rays of the
+sun had been concentrated into a fiery river.
+
+Eric ran forward like an impetuous child following a butterfly, full of
+tremendous eagerness for whatever might be waiting there in the middle
+of that dazzling radiance.
+
+But such beauty met his gaze, such overpowering enchantment, that he
+stood still completely overcome.
+
+His breath came fast, his eyes stared wide open, enraptured, his
+artist's soul quivering with ecstasy before what he saw. He was within a
+hall of purest marble, the walls, and floor, and roof all white and
+glistening like freshly-fallen snow, upon which myriads of crystals
+shone, resembling hoar frost on a sunny winter's morn.
+
+In the centre, on a throne, sat a woman whose dress was even whiter than
+her surroundings. It lay in long straight folds, and the hem was a thick
+mass of blazing diamonds. It rippled down the steps of the throne, and
+spread over the spotless floor where the gems flashed in all colours of
+the rainbow.
+
+The throne was carved out of a gigantic block of pale-green jade that
+was smooth and polished like ice. The woman's feet rested upon a lion
+whose skin was as white as the draperies on which he couched. His
+immense head lay upon his formidable paws, his eyes looked out, with a
+watchful intentness, beneath his tousled mane. On each side of the
+throne, fixed into the marble floor, two tall thick tapers burned,
+whilst the wax ran dripping down their sides like small frozen rivers.
+
+The candles were crowned by flickering blue lights and exhaled a
+delicious perfume; a vapour rose from them in hazy clouds towards the
+ceiling, where they hung like a thin mist.
+
+Round throne and tapers garlands of milk-white anemones with golden
+hearts were wound.
+
+They had shed many of their petals, which lay like snow upon the marble
+floor.
+
+The woman sat rigid, upright, a mass of fair hair covering her shoulders
+and streaming down her back.
+
+On her head she wore a thick wreath of the same white anemones fitting
+closely to her forehead; but the strangest of all was that the woman's
+eyes were covered with a bandage.
+
+A plain white cloth was bound round her temples beneath the wreath of
+flowers.
+
+No movement came from the throne; the queenly apparition sat motionless
+like unto a statue; the light of the candles alone flickered in the
+still air, and the little bluey mists that arose from them hung over the
+silent woman's head like a soft veil.
+
+Eric was too entranced by the gorgeous sight to make a single step
+forward. Yet he longed to tear the bandage from the covered eyes, in the
+great hope that it might hide the look for which he was ever restlessly
+searching. Suddenly the beautiful vision rose from her throne, and the
+great beast at her feet also got up, standing beside her like the
+guardian of some ancient temple.
+
+Slowly the woman descended the four polished steps, her long robe
+trailing behind her, sweeping away the fallen leaves of the flowers, the
+precious gems making a tinkling sound as they hit against the cool green
+jade.
+
+Her feet were bare, and Gundian noticed, as she placed them by turns on
+the steps, how marvellous they were.
+
+Slowly she came towards him, both hands outstretched before her, with
+the searching movement of the blind.
+
+Then Eric, too, advanced with the feeling that he must take one of those
+groping hands and lead this divine creature wherever she might wish to
+go.
+
+Now her voice rose soft and bewitching: "Long have I waited thy coming,
+fair stranger. I have been sitting here on my throne in sadness and
+silence, because thou hast tarried on the road.
+
+"Thou lovest sky, sea, earth, and sun overmuch, but now that thou hast
+reached me I shall open unto thee other joys of which thou hast never
+dreamed.
+
+"Thy way hath been long, and thou hast wasted many a precious day, but
+let that be of no account now that thou art here," and so saying, with a
+gentle movement she laid one of her arms about the boy's shoulders and
+drew him quietly to her over the snowy floor in the direction of her
+throne.
+
+Eric was speechless, quite unprepared for so warm a reception; but
+without resistance, as in a trance, he let himself be led by this
+matchless being of light, and sank down upon the steps of the throne at
+her feet where the lion had had his place.
+
+And there, his head close against the wondrous woman's knees, he
+listened in a dreamy transport to the witchery of her voice--not quite
+conscious of all she was saying, but the sound was so sweet, and the
+touch of her hand so restful and loving, that all his life throbbed
+within him in unspeakable delight.
+
+He had entirely forgotten his desire to tear the bandage from her eyes.
+He felt his will melt beneath her caress and the sound of her voice.
+
+He had no wish left but to sit there for ever, listening and drinking in
+all the inimitable glory of the place. Now the soft voice was telling
+him--her face bent down to his, her hair falling in golden waves around
+him--about all the wonders she was going to show him if he would only
+remain with her,--of all the riches she would strew before his feet, the
+music she would play him, the many-tinted flowers she would give him,
+the costly apparel in which she would clothe him, the variety of
+sweet-tasting dishes she would set before him to choose from ... if he
+did not leave her!
+
+Eric looked up in surprise; certainly he would not leave her! Why should
+he go from anything so white, so beautiful, so good, and so fair.
+
+He bent his head and kissed one of the clinging hands that caressed him
+so softly; oh, without doubt he would stay as long as she wished!
+
+The woman threw back her head and laughed.
+
+Somehow that laugh was the only discord Eric had felt since he was
+within those walls; but he thought nothing of it, only it was like a
+little icy drop of water running down between his shoulders--and he
+wished she would not laugh; far better did he love to feel her soft
+breath on his cheek, and her gentle fingers passing through his wavy
+locks.
+
+He rose to his knees on the step at her feet and, seizing both her
+hands, he begged to be allowed to remove the bandage from her eyes.
+
+But the fair enchantress drew back, disengaging herself from his eager
+hands.
+
+"For shame!" she cried, and once more her laugh rang out sharply.
+
+"Who would be so rough! And wish all the mysteries to be revealed at
+once? This cloth over my eyes must remain till I give thee leave to
+remove it. But much hast thou to learn before that hour strikes.
+
+"It deems me thou art but a reckless youth, understanding but badly how
+to spend thy riches, little realizing the charm of expectation!"
+
+And again bending her tantalizing face quite close to his, her lips
+hidden amongst his curls, she murmured:
+
+"I shall teach thee, oh so many things; but first of all must I know thy
+history and why thou art thus wandering aimlessly through the wide, wide
+world."
+
+Then Eric, still on his knees, his hands pressed against her lap like an
+anxious child, told her his tale, and how his whole soul was full of the
+ardent need of finding the face and eyes he wanted for completing his
+masterpiece. "And perhaps thou hidest behind that cloth the very eyes I
+have been searching for the wide world over!--that is why my hands are
+so eager to tear from thy brow what may be masking all my happiness!"
+
+And then Eric began to plead, his beautiful face flushed and excited,
+his bright eyes entreating, his body quivering; indeed, a sight for the
+gods in all his youthful perfection.
+
+The woman, although her eyes were covered, seemed aware of what was
+going on, and replied again laughing, "Not yet, not yet!--but give me
+thy hand and I shall lead thee through the joys I have in store for
+thee, and at the end thou mayest quite forget what now thou deemest thy
+only aim in life;" and like tinkling, cold, silver bells the woman's
+laugh echoed round the snowy vaults.
+
+Fascinated and unresisting our young painter clung to her cool hand, and
+let himself be drawn away from the white chamber.
+
+He followed her noiseless steps, feeling that wherever she led he would
+follow, follow, because he had given over his will into those
+outstretched hands, that had quite taken possession of his heart, and
+soul, and senses.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+    I am restless, I am athirst for far away things.
+
+    TAGORE.
+
+
+Eric lay at the feet of the enchantress. Days had passed, and from one
+beauty to another she had been leading him. But her laugh had become
+always harder, a note of impatience had stolen into the silken tones of
+her voice.
+
+[Illustration: _Eric lay now, stretched at the feet of the woman he
+could not leave._]
+
+This youth was in truth but a child, his hands grasping at the sun-rays,
+plucking the flowers, taking the joys that were offered him, lightly
+laughing at the birds, sublimely unconscious that perhaps something
+might be asked of him in return.
+
+Often he begged the one who held him captive to uncover her eyes,
+explaining that although he was happy in his new surroundings he could
+not tarry for ever; the open world lay before him through which he was
+still pursuing the same vision.
+
+But again and again his companion put him off with fresh
+promises--heaping upon him new joys and pleasures, till he felt weary of
+so much ease and comfort; there were even times when he had a longing
+for the dusty roads,--the heat of the sun--the dangers of the dark
+night--for storm and wind.
+
+At those moments the strange woman seemed to read his thoughts in spite
+of the bandage over her eyes; and she would redouble her kindness,
+always having a fresh joy in store for him, something unexpected and
+enchanting.
+
+Eric lay now, as the lion used to lie, stretched at the feet of the
+woman he could not leave.
+
+To-day she sat upon a marble bench within a garden where nearly all the
+flowers were blue. The garden was small and square, paved with marble;
+two narrow water channels, lined with peacock-blue tiles, ran crossways
+through it. In the centre stood a marble well; those who leaned over the
+side to look into the depths noticed that the water was blue as the sea,
+and strange voices seemed calling from below with monotonous entreaty.
+
+On all sides high walls encircled the garden, and shady trees spread
+over the whole enclosure, casting mysterious lights and patterns upon
+the cool floor.
+
+The flowers were so blue that they also had the colour of the summer sea
+when the sun beats on it in all his force. Small marble paths ran along
+between the beds, and each path was bordered by some low-growing
+fire-coloured flower that glowed with the intensity of a furnace.
+
+Each day the woman was clad in a garment of gorgeous magnificence, each
+day more splendid than the last; but never again had she been robed in
+the snowy folds of the first day, which Eric had loved best of all.
+
+Now, as she leaned against the carved bench, her dress seemed woven out
+of the changing colours of the rainbow. It was golden at the shoulders,
+turning gradually into green, blue, and violet, always richer in hue,
+till at the foot it deepened into bright-toned purples upon the dark
+carpet where Eric rested quite close to her feet.
+
+As always, those little feet were bare, with only thin sandals to
+protect the soft soles from the hardness of the stone.
+
+Round her forehead lay a thick dark wreath of corn-flowers, beneath
+which the bandage showed startling white.
+
+Her hands were ceaselessly playing with long chains of sapphires and
+emeralds. She gathered them into her palms, and let them slip between
+her fingers, down upon her golden robe, like bright water splashing out
+of a precious jar.
+
+Around the well, upon low marble seats, were grouped the fairest maidens
+that earth could give, and they were like unto a wreath of many-shaded
+flowers.
+
+They all had coronals of blossoms on their heads in the shades of the
+robes they wore; and each held a golden harp on which she played tunes
+that melted heart and soul.
+
+All the maidens turned their eyes towards the beautiful lad who lay
+among the folds of the woman's dress--but none, oh! none had the orbs of
+his dream!
+
+He had searched their faces in turn, and it had been all in vain.
+
+Fair faces they had; their arms were soft and white; their long hair
+trailed on the ground mixing with the petals that had fallen from the
+wreaths.
+
+The air was heavy with the perfume that came from the flowers, and the
+sweet tones of the harps sighed amongst the spreading branches of the
+trees.
+
+But Eric was restless, he felt cramped in this garden of beauty;
+resentment began to grow in his heart against this fair being who played
+with him as a child plays with a toy. She lured him on, yet never did
+she satisfy the longing of his soul!
+
+Every time that he extended his hand to tear the covering from her eyes,
+with a word or gesture she changed the current of his thoughts.
+
+When he asked to be shown the road that would take him back whence he
+had come, the woman would laugh--the laugh he had begun to hate,--and
+cover his face with soft caresses which seemed to drain all his manhood
+and leave him without will or power to think.
+
+Within his heart he made plans how he might escape. The sweet perfumes,
+the melting voices, the endless well-being, the tropical fruit he was
+ever feasting upon, wearied and sickened him; and yet he felt he could
+not leave this bewitching sorceress before he had seen the colour of her
+eyes.
+
+But somehow, although he wished it with a fevered longing, he also
+dreaded the disappointment it might bring.
+
+And there he lay in this enchanted garden eating his heart out with the
+longing for freedom, and yet unable to break through the silken bonds
+that held him as with chains of iron!
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+      L'espoir même a des portes closes;
+    Cette terre est pleine de choses
+      Dont nous ne voyons qu'un côte.
+
+    V. HUGO.
+
+
+Eric was wandering through the maze of gardens, grottos, and domed halls
+that formed the dwelling of the sorceress. It was night--but a clear
+night; almost as light as day because of the radiant moon that lay low
+in the sky; she was oppressively near the earth, intruding her wise
+rays, that had seen all too much, into every corner and hiding-place.
+Eric hated her indiscretion; he had hoped to wrap himself in the mantle
+of the dark so that he might steal away at last.
+
+He could stand no longer the suffocating oppression which had gradually
+been coming over him. To-night he had slunk away from the luxurious
+feast his fair jailer had been giving him.
+
+He had left her there, upon her throne of gold, amidst priceless
+draperies, amongst the garlands of red poppies that had been entwined
+round the tables at which richly clad, loud-voiced youths were
+gathered--youths who drank and sang, and whose eyes had a strangely
+tired look, always straining after some pleasure that seemed to pass
+them by and leave them with empty outstretched hands.
+
+All had clamoured round that golden throne, pressing near to the queenly
+figure who sat there in a scarlet robe, her eyes still bandaged beneath
+the wreath of poppies which was pressed upon her shining tresses.
+
+Her penetrating laugh had sounded clearly above all the din, and she had
+lifted her hands high in the air throwing the gorgeous-coloured
+poppy-leaves over their bowed heads; and she had drunk out of a golden
+goblet which she had held in turns to their thirsting lips.
+
+One of the youths was as young as Eric himself and of marvellous beauty,
+with eyes like flashing jewels, but which held a look of such intense
+suffering that Eric could not bear the sight.
+
+This boy had dragged himself on his knees to the steps of the throne,
+uttering incoherent prayers, the hot tears running down his cheeks; then
+he had hidden his face within the scarlet folds of her dress and had
+cried as if his heart would break, whilst the wild woman in red had
+laughed, laughed, mocking his sorrow with hard words, till all the
+others had laughed with her.
+
+It was then that Eric had fled, with a mad desire to get out into the
+cool night and flee as far as he could from all these revels of which
+his simple soul could not grasp the meaning.
+
+Yet the wonderful woman had dropped some of the poison into his veins,
+because, in spite of his great desire to escape, he felt a burning
+regret in his heart at the thought that he was leaving without having
+seen the woman's eyes. At the same time he almost dreaded to find the
+face of his dreams behind that white cloth which had become uncanny to
+him ... and yet?... why was this burning pain at his heart? Why had he
+come here? Why had he not turned back when the old bell had so
+persistently warned him? Suddenly he felt older, wiser, as if years had
+elapsed since he left the sea-shore and lost his way within this
+labyrinth so full of beauty and temptation.
+
+He thought he felt once more the soft touch of the woman's hands, that
+he saw the glowing flower of her lips, the soft yielding figure, the
+white arms, the rippling fair hair, the tiny feet, and he stood still
+clasping his hands over his burning eyes.
+
+Why had he not torn the bandage from her brow, and pressed his lips upon
+that tempting mouth, crushing it beneath his own? Indeed he had been a
+fool! And no doubt it was thus she considered him, and was now deriding
+his memory amongst those shameless guests who crowded around her tables;
+those tables that were bending under the weight of the costly dishes,
+and where the brilliant poppies were shedding their petals as they faded
+and drooped amongst hundreds of lighted candles.
+
+Eric groaned in his distress; he longed to go back before that golden
+throne and tell the beautiful woman that he hated her ... hated her!...
+
+But now he must escape--but why was the moon so bright? Why could he not
+find his way to the snow-white hall, and from there, over the deep
+water, past the mysterious well, out into the wide world once more?
+
+Why did his head ache and throb? Why did his throat feel dry with
+ill-contained sobs? What had come to him? Never had he felt thus.
+
+All the sweet peace of his soul had been replaced by waves of unknown
+sensations and desires; and beneath it all, that burning pain at his
+heart, that unsatisfied yearning for something he could not grasp.
+
+The moon flooded everything in a hard, merciless light; he ran from
+place to place seeking an issue, only to find everywhere blank walls to
+stop him. He knew that he was losing his head, the blood beat in his
+temples, his eyes could no more clearly see.... With a stifled cry of
+distress he dropped down, and all became dark around him.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+    For in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge
+    increaseth sorrow.
+
+    ECCLESIASTES.
+
+
+After a short time Eric's senses came back; he looked up and saw that he
+was in a small, very dark chamber. How he got there he did not know, he
+had never seen the place before. Then he rose to his feet with a start.
+A curtain had been quietly drawn aside, and he could see now into an
+inner chamber out of which a faint light shone.
+
+Forgetting all his fear and misery he ran forward, hoping to find an
+outlet whence he could reach the old moaning bell, and thence escape to
+liberty under God's great sky, free like a bird once more to wander
+wherever he would. But the sight he saw riveted his feet to the ground:
+upon a low narrow couch lay the woman he had learnt to hate. She was
+stretched motionless, asleep on her back, her wonderful face only
+faintly discernible--and oh! marvel, her eyes were no longer covered.
+
+All about her seemed wrapped in grey vapours; the soft draperies with
+which her body was covered were also grey, like finely woven cobwebs.
+
+At each side of her couch, close to her head, stood large jars of
+tarnished silver, filled with irises the colour of autumn clouds.
+
+At her feet, rigid and unblinking, as if cast out of steel or carved in
+granite, his eyes gazing into space, was an eagle of unusual size; there
+he sat in quiet majesty at the feet of this vision of beauty, like a
+ghost of the mountains that had been turned to stone. A faint haze lay
+over all, something mysterious and grave-like; nor was it to be
+discovered whence the light came. There were no windows, no opening
+anywhere, and yet everything was distinctly visible.
+
+The face of the woman was more perfect than it had ever been. Eric was
+now bending over it with a feeling of awe and wonder.
+
+Was ever sleeper so still, was ever living face so pale, lips so
+blanched? Gradually a cold sensation of fear began to creep over the
+startled youth; he bent lower, his face close to that silent one. He
+sprang back with a cry of horror ... beneath the long lashes he saw that
+the woman was looking at him, and yet....
+
+Oh! What was it? What horrible nightmare was this?... She was looking,
+she was staring ... yes, she was staring with sightless eyes--eyes out
+of which the light of life had gone for ever! for ever!...
+
+Eric sank to his knees and hid his face against the still form, and as
+he did so he felt something wet upon his cheek, something that was
+trickling slowly down upon the floor where he knelt, something that was
+gradually spreading in a dark patch, which widened over the grey folds
+of the robe. And then Eric saw that within the woman's heart a dagger
+had been thrust.... A dagger within the very centre of her heart.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+     Over thy creations of beauty there is a mist of tears.
+
+     TAGORE.
+
+
+High and austere in their forsaken silence stood the walls of the great
+church--God's own sun looked in through the crumbling windows, and God's
+own sky was its only roof. Many of the columns had fallen, but others
+stood, erect and rigid, frowning down from their immense height, grey
+and lonely, like giant trees in winter.
+
+Large heaps of stones lay about the mosaic floor that still showed signs
+of a beautiful design; statues had fallen from their pedestals and lay
+in helpless attitudes, their arms broken, their vacant eyes gazing with
+stony indifference into the sunshine. Sometimes their heads were
+missing, having rolled away as they fell.
+
+Nature was rapidly doing her work; she was spreading her consoling
+mantle of verdure and flowers over this crumbling work of art, which
+human hands had once, long ago, built with pious vows and prayers.
+
+Growths were bursting out of every crevice and crack in rambling
+confusion. Even the wild plants of the heath beyond had begun to creep
+into the church, giving the forgotten monument a festive look as if
+flowers had been strewn everywhere on the floor for some blessed
+feast-day. In greater masses than any other plant, wild lavender had
+taken possession of the church, bursting the mosaic floor asunder in a
+thousand places and pushing its way everywhere, so that over all lay a
+bluey-grey shimmer like evening mists rising out of a bog.
+
+Through the wide-open portals the desolate land could be seen,
+stretching as far as the eye could reach, covered with the same dusty
+blue flower, and quite on the horizon it mixed with the sky, so that it
+was difficult to discern where the one began and the other ended.
+
+A peculiar stillness lay over everything; it was not easy to imagine
+that human feet had once crowded towards the now broken altar that shone
+like a death-cloth as the rays of the sun struck upon the still white
+stone. The thick carpet of lavender sent out a faint perfume of other
+days, within which a whole treasure of memories was stowed away ...
+forgotten. Peace, peace, peace was over all, the peace of things that
+are past.
+
+Before the altar, stretched out all his length on the ground amongst the
+blue of the lavender, lay Eric, his face pressed against the floor, his
+golden curls matted, his neat clothes soiled and dusty. He lay there,
+all his young body expressing one long cry of protest against the cruel
+things he had just learnt.
+
+He had fled and fled, blind instinct guiding his steps, quite ignorant
+as to how he had found his way out. And then, when he once more saw the
+great sky over his head, he had rushed unseeingly forward, climbing the
+rocks, leaving the sea far behind.
+
+On, on, in breathless haste to get away from that silent figure wrapped
+in grey folds, with the sightless eyes and the dagger within her
+heart ... neither did he know how he had reached this desolate place.
+
+He had seen this ruined fane standing grey and forsaken on a waste of
+blue-grey flowers; he had seen it outlined in magnificent solitude
+against the clear sky, and a great wish had come over him to take refuge
+there, in that holy place, after the atmosphere of tragedy and
+temptation he had just left behind.
+
+What mattered that the place was a ruin, that holy chants and fervent
+prayers were no more heard within the skeleton walls! It had been God's
+house, and the weary wanderer needed sanctuary.
+
+Motionless as one asleep or dead he lay.
+
+There was no sound around him except the buzzing of bees amongst the
+sweet-smelling lavender.
+
+They flitted hither and thither, fetching out of each blossom its
+treasure of honey and sweetness, whilst tiny blue butterflies danced in
+their midst in frivolous useless gaiety. All of a sudden a flight of
+doves came floating out of the summer sky and settled like white sunlit
+clouds on every window-sill, where they fluttered their wings, filling
+the whole place with flashes of light, as the sun gleamed on their snowy
+feathers.
+
+But still Eric lay without movement, his face among the crushed flowers.
+
+The doves cooed and kissed each other; the bees swarmed around, and from
+somewhere very far overhead a bird sang a glad song, his voice rising
+shrill and pure into the warm air.
+
+The sun began to slant his rays through the beautiful high windows,
+lighting up one of the sides of the building with sheets of gold.
+
+He sent his warm beams to kiss the young man's curls, and to caress the
+white hands that were clasped before him; then one of the rays fell upon
+a picture that still kept its place above the altar.
+
+At that very moment Eric, for the first time, raised his head--and
+there, smiling down upon him in angelic pity, was a face of such perfect
+sweetness, that he felt the hot tears come rushing to his tired eyes.
+
+With folded hands he knelt in a posture of adoration, and gazed into
+the wonderful countenance that looked into his. A long cloak of some
+indescribable shade flowed down, enfolding the Virgin's ethereal limbs.
+Her hands were outstretched in a gesture of blessing; upon her head she
+wore a high golden crown, and the sun beat upon it making it shine like
+real metal; and her eyes, her wonderful eyes, were full of tears.... But
+in her heart.... Oh! did he rightly see? or was he dreaming the same
+awful dream over again?... in her heart, too, a dagger had been thrust!
+Must all hearts be killed? What was this old world teaching him? Was
+sorrow everywhere? Were those that blessed treated alike with those who
+poisoned heart and soul?
+
+How ignorant he had been, singing like a bird in the sunshine,
+understanding nothing, feeling nothing but his own joy to be alive!
+
+Now all seemed changed; pain and temptation, hard words and sweet
+smiles, had replaced each other in bewildering confusion, and into the
+heart of this miraculous Mother of God, this most pure of all women they
+had also thrust a cruel blade--and yet she continued to smile, her fair
+hands extended to his helpless gropings to understand!
+
+His eyes riveted to the Holy Face, he approached the devastated altar
+around which the sun-rays had concentrated all their brightness, till
+the picture of the Virgin was no longer a painting, but a living woman,
+all light and radiance, Divine pity and love.
+
+The weary wanderer sank on his knees, his hands folded, his head bent on
+the altar, and as he knelt there murmuring old forgotten prayers of his
+childhood, real warm tears streamed from the eyes of the holy picture
+and fell drop by drop on his sunny locks.
+
+And it was like a gentle blessing which held within it a sweet promise
+of peace and comfort.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+The lavender-covered waste and the gaunt ruins of the church had been
+left far behind, and our traveller was now ascending the rocky pass of
+the great rugged mountains that rose high and forbidding above his head.
+He had felt a longing to climb somewhere very high, with a wish to be as
+near the blue sky as possible.
+
+Something of the peace that the holy picture had filtered into his heart
+still remained. Within his clear look there was a dreamy wonder as if he
+still saw pure visions before him, the warm tears of the Mother of God
+having consecrated him to a deeper understanding. But there remained a
+shadow upon his soul from his dark experiences within the dwelling of
+the sorceress.
+
+He was no more the gay, flitting, singing bird he had been. He strode
+forward with a more manly tread; something of the boyish eagerness had
+gone out of his step, some of the sweet confidence had gone from his
+eyes when they rested on those he met on his way.
+
+When he played on his flute he marvelled at the new tones it had taken;
+they seemed deeper, sadder, and his voice vibrated less with the joy of
+living.
+
+Yet the world was still wonderful and full of promise; these rocky
+mountains had shapes and colours that made his heart rejoice.
+
+In this he was still the same Eric Gundian whom King Wanda had loved: he
+was without fear, and not even the sight of these treeless giants of
+stone daunted his wanderer's spirit.
+
+Each night when he slept, no matter where he rested his head, the vision
+he was following always appeared to him clear, vivid, unchanged--those
+great solemn eyes that looked into his without ever a droop of the lids.
+He felt he must cross these enormous heights before he could reach what
+he was seeking; that as yet his road had been too easy, and that it
+would be needed of him to make some great effort before he was worthy of
+attaining his goal.
+
+He looked back in thoughts upon the way he had come, and there seemed to
+him a great difference between the Eric of yesterday and to-day.
+
+Dense clouds were enfolding the peaks of the mountains and creeping like
+soft monsters along the sides, filling the deep precipices with damp
+moving masses which were all coming towards him ready to swallow him up.
+
+Steeper and steeper became the road, the air rarer, whilst the clouds
+lay thick and impenetrable over all.
+
+Eric toiled on; only seldom could he look down upon what lay beneath
+because of the vapours that were wrapping themselves around him.
+
+He knew not where he was going, but he stolidly continued his way in
+spite of the hard rocks and stones that wounded his feet, in spite of
+the path becoming always more irksome and dangerous.
+
+Often he had but a narrow ledge to walk on, with a chasm on one side, a
+high wall of rock on the other; and as the clouds lay over everything he
+was in constant peril of life.
+
+There were moments when a straying sun-ray would break through the
+clouds, casting a sudden light upon them, transforming them into
+mother-of-pearl; and sometimes the shaft of light ran straight along the
+white mist as if a finger of a god were pointing downwards to the
+dwellings of men.
+
+Then out of the wall of mist a shadow rose and stood before him. It was
+faintly outlined against the whiteness that was about him, and the
+shadow was that of a man. And as he looked, full of surprise, another
+was at his side, and then a third, and these three shades pointed down
+the road he had been ascending.
+
+Eric turned, and there, behind him, was a whole procession of diaphanous
+figures all following his footsteps.
+
+They seemed transparent, yet all of them had personality; their faces
+although blurred and indistinct were full of different expressions.
+
+Some were old and bent, others strong, stalwart, upright. Several of the
+female figures were young and fair; there were even small children
+amongst them, and all appeared waiting for him to lead the way.
+
+He moved on, passing the three forms he had first seen, and with a
+shudder he realized that when he tried to touch them his fingers met
+nothing but space--his hand passed right through!
+
+And each time he turned his head there they were, all of them, pressing
+close on his heels, silent, persistent. Truly it was a gruesome company
+to be wandering with in this wilderness of rocks and clouds.
+
+Eric wondered how long it would last, and if they meant to go with him
+all the way.
+
+Who were they? And what did they want of him?
+
+Although many of them were beautiful, Eric thought them horrible and
+uncanny, and kept wondering in what way he could relieve himself of
+their presence; indeed he had not reckoned with such companions on his
+road.
+
+Should he turn back? But if he did he would have to pass them all, and
+he remembered with a shudder how his hand had gone right through those
+bodiless shapes when he had tried to touch them, so it was better to go
+forward instead of retracing his footsteps.
+
+Eric came now to a turn of the path where a great rock jutted out,
+barring his way in such a fashion that to pass it he would have to put
+one foot before the other on a ledge so narrow that the sight alone made
+him feel giddy and faint.
+
+Beneath him gaped the great sea of clouds covering unknown depths he
+could not penetrate; but forwards he must go! Was he not like a hunted
+animal with this procession of ghosts so remorselessly tracking him?
+
+He bravely set his face to the dangerous pass, and very carefully, his
+hands clutching at the rough surface of the rock, he managed to turn the
+dreaded corner; as he did so, there, right in the middle of his path,
+blocking his way, was a very old man.
+
+He sat with head bent, his long grey beard dragging on the ground;
+within his clasped hands he grasped a thick stick against which he was
+leaning.
+
+He looked sad and weary, and yet he was full of quiet dignity; a
+surprising figure to meet in a lonely place. His grey clothing hung
+loosely over his emaciated body, his wide mantle fell in thin folds
+about him; on his head he wore a broad-brimmed, weather-beaten hat.
+
+At the young man's exclamation of surprise he raised his head and looked
+keenly at him, but spoke not a word. Yet this old man was not a spectre
+like the others, but in verity a living human creature, and for that
+reason welcome to our lonely wanderer.
+
+"Speak to me," cried Eric. "I am half mad with the longing to hear a
+human voice. Tell me, if thou canst, who are these silent ones that dog
+my steps, and make these mountains horrible to me? Fain would I be rid
+of them!"
+
+He turned to look behind him and there they were, close upon his
+footsteps, huddled together on the narrow shelf he had just passed; and
+all of them looked at him with hungry, expectant eyes; and yet through
+their bodies the rocks could be distinctly seen. It was a grim sight!
+The old man did not reply, but turned his head towards the silent
+apparitions and scrutinized them long and earnestly, then a slow smile
+broke over his face.
+
+At last he spoke:
+
+"Be not hard upon those that are dead, my son; these here find no peace
+because they did not receive a holy burial, nor were prayers said over
+their silent hearts; they felt thy coming, so they have arisen from
+where they lay in waiting, to follow thee. Let thy heart be soft unto
+them. Their presence around thee speaks in thy favour, for they try to
+follow only those whose conscience is without stain, for those alone can
+help them whose lives have been pure."
+
+"Who are they?" asked the young man, and the old one answered:
+
+"They are the restless souls of those who died here amongst the
+mountains. They all had hopes in their hearts when they started, and
+dreams or ambitions; each thought himself strong enough to scale these
+cruel heights, but they dropped down on the way; few, very few, ever
+reach the top. They lose courage or weary and try to turn back; but it
+is difficult to go back for those who have started on these paths that
+lead so high."
+
+"Tell me, O wise man," cried the youth, "what mountains are these, and
+why did I feel that I must try to ascend them?"
+
+"They are called the mountains of Life, my son. For some they bear also
+the name of the mountains of Temptation; for others they mean Toil; for
+others Trouble; for some they are named Redemption, and for the fewest
+they are called the mountains of Attainment."
+
+"For me what shall they be called, my father?"
+
+"That remains to be seen, my boy," responded the solemn voice.
+
+"Tarry awhile beside me and I shall tell thee a few things that may be
+of use to thee. Thy fair face pleases me, and I wish thee well. But I am
+old, and my voice has no more the force as of a river in spring-time
+when the snows have melted; it is more like a sluggish stream over which
+a thick sheet of ice has been laid. But sit thee down close by me that I
+need not raise it overmuch."
+
+So saying he drew his cloak away, making room for Eric on the rock where
+he was resting. The waiting shapes had become fainter, and were like
+torn pieces of mist that had caught upon the rocks.
+
+"But before all else, I pray thee, tell me," said Eric, "why thou sayest
+these shadows have awaited my coming; and why thou dost not thyself lead
+them to peace? Thou who art so wise?"
+
+The venerable face turned to the young one with a sad smile, and the old
+solemn voice answered in a low tone, "To be wise is not the same as to
+be good. Long ago, in the days of my youth, and later also in the years
+of my manhood, I was a great sinner, and many a dark unavowed act have I
+committed. But wise I always was, and even magic have I understood.
+
+"There comes a time, my son, when the heart longs for peace; the white
+peace of solitude. Amongst men it could never be found, so I came up
+here; but that was only after my head had bent beneath the snow of age,
+after I had tasted all fruits both bitter and sweet; and this I tell
+thee: few are worth the eating. Yet thou shalt also eat of many; but
+have a care, I pray thee, and grasp not those that were best left
+untouched; and yet? and yet?
+
+"When I look back I know it all had some meaning behind it--something
+that was but a link of one long chain, and the chain is so long that the
+links are but of small importance, although each link deems itself the
+one which holds all the chain together; and it is better it should be
+so, because the long chain needs each separate link. My talk is dark to
+thee," added the old man, laying his hand on Eric's.
+
+"Forgive an old man whose thoughts ramble along; seest thou, up here in
+this wild solitude amongst the clouds and eagles, one learns to look
+down upon things and to realize their value; but it is useless to begin
+such knowledge too soon, for we, the weary ones, need all thy joy, all
+thy careless happiness, we need thy efforts, thy hopes, thy dreams, thy
+tears; none are wasted; they all go to make one great whole! Life is
+long and yet it is short, and many roads there are, but they all,
+without exception, lead to the same end. I am very near that end now;
+some reach it sooner than I. I know not what thou seekest, but all men
+are running after the same thing, though they call it by different
+names, not knowing that they can grasp but its shadow, because the thing
+itself is God's.
+
+"I have given it a name. I call it Happiness; but truly this I can tell
+thee: men know not when they have it ... they see it before them, and
+then they turn round and they see it far behind ... but whilst it is
+theirs they are blind. Dark are my words to thee, but I love thee the
+more, because I read within thy eyes that all I am saying is without
+sense to thee, dear beginner of Life."
+
+"But thou hast not told me," queried Eric, "why these phantoms hope to
+find salvation through me, and why with thy great wisdom thou canst do
+less for them than I with my foolish youth?"
+
+Sadly the old man replied:
+
+"Because, my son, youth and innocence have a strength that all the
+wisdom from over the seven seas cannot equal. Indeed, we who have lived
+and now look back, are far more willing to stretch out our hands in
+help; our hearts are larger, our patience greater, our understanding
+deeper; but it has thus been decreed that all this cannot be weighed
+against one little drop of thy pure innocence or of the faith thou hast,
+that removeth mountains."
+
+The old head bowed itself over the clasped hands, and on the long grey
+locks lay a mist that was silvery and lustreless, as if some one had
+breathed over a mirror.
+
+The sad, tired eyes gazed with a far-off look into space, following
+forgotten visions of long ago.
+
+There was a deep silence which the young man did not try to break. He
+bowed in awe before this gaunt old figure, and longed to hear more, to
+drink in the wise words that fell from his lips.
+
+Although many were quite incomprehensible to him, his instinct told him
+that he could learn much wisdom if he listened with all his soul.
+Strange it was that such a man should call himself a sinner when such a
+delightful peace filled Eric's whole being as he sat there close beside
+him.
+
+The old man turned his head and looked into the young man's eyes.
+
+"Fair thou art in thy glorious untouched youth. I did not hope to look
+again on so good a sight. I wish I could give thee some of my wisdom to
+keep thee from harm, but a loving, pure heart is also a shield, perhaps
+even better than any I could give thee; and yet when old age lifts its
+eyes to look upon youth, and sees it beautiful, a prayer comes to its
+lips that it may remain thus unsoiled for ever!
+
+"Thou must go forth without fear; and have patience, dear youth, with
+those quiet followers of thine. If thou art strong enough thou mayest
+lead them to peace; for this I must tell thee: thy way will be hard and
+long till thou reachest the end which is thy desire; but by the love of
+my snowy hair I entreat thee climb to the highest summit, let not thy
+soul be satisfied till thou hast scaled the last, steepest peak.
+
+"There may be easier roads, but take them not; others may tempt thee
+from thy giddy path, but listen not to their talk. I shall put all my
+faith in thee, and I will not that thou disappoint me. Before I die, I
+want to know that one has reached the greatest height."
+
+"But tell me," cried the youth, "will I find at the end that for which I
+am seeking, which I am wandering after all the world over?"
+
+"That I cannot answer thee now, my son," replied his companion. "Come
+with me to my dwelling; I shall gaze into my magic stone and perchance I
+shall be able to tell thee. Give me thy hand, for I am weary; we have
+not far to go, and it will be sweet to me to lean upon thy youth."
+
+With great care and solicitude Eric helped the feeble old hermit to his
+feet, and following the gentle pressure of his hand, he let himself be
+directed to the mouth of a dark cave, hewn out of the rock, close to
+where they had been sitting.
+
+"What a lonely place to live in!" cried the young man. "In truth it is
+like an eagle's nest hung on the very edge of the precipice!"
+
+"It is a good dwelling for me, who only want to look backwards and not
+forwards," said the old man.
+
+"Here I live in peace away from the clamouring of the crowd; I live
+with the thought of what has been, and what was evil drops away from
+what was good.
+
+"I remember far more clearly the sun that shone than the days that were
+dark. I see faces I loved, and those I hated have no more power over me.
+Even strange it seems that once I could hate; yet well do I remember how
+I loved; for this also shalt thou learn: that Love is the beginning and
+end of all things.
+
+"Love is the key that opens every door. Love is the answer to all
+questions. Love is the very centre of the heart of the universe. Love is
+the voice of God, the punishment and the recompense He gives to His
+people.
+
+"Love carries the heart to the verge of the unknown. In Love all is
+contained: joy and pain, hope and despair, the night and the day; what
+was, what is, and what shall be ... but again my tongue wanders away
+with me, soon thou shalt weary of my talk.
+
+"Look about thee and tell me if my dwelling is to thy liking."
+
+The cave in which they stood was dark; but when Eric's eyes had got
+accustomed to the dimness he saw that indeed it was but a poor abode.
+
+His host lit a small ancient oil lamp which spread a feeble light
+around. He placed it upon a table hewn out of the root of a tree, and
+sat heavily down on a stool near by, resting his head in his hand, his
+still keen eyes following the young man's movements as he looked about
+him.
+
+The cave was not large, and the sides were of bare stone. A cavity had
+been cut out at the farther end where a few rough skins were spread, and
+that was the bed, indeed more like a grave than a resting-place.
+
+In one of the corners there was a rude hearth with a few old pots;
+opposite was a shelf bending beneath the weight of many old volumes
+bound in shabby leather; a tiny aperture gave a very faint light
+somewhere near the roof, otherwise the door was the only opening; it was
+shut by a thick woollen curtain hung on a string.
+
+Against one of the walls stood a large wooden chest covered with an old
+shawl, once of fine bright texture, now so mellowed by age that its
+curious design was hardly discernible; a few low stools and a big heavy
+table completed the whole furnishing of this primitive dwelling.
+
+"Well," asked the hermit, "what sayest thou to my sumptuous apartment?"
+
+Smiling down upon his host Eric rejoined:
+
+"Somewhat gloomy it seems to me--and too near the edge of the precipice
+on dark nights. In very truth the thought makes me shudder, that if one
+had not a care one could step from the door over the brink!"
+
+The old man laughed softly, but with the sound of some one who for many
+a year had no more been accustomed to mirth.
+
+"Come and sit thee by me, for I still have much to tell thee. Take
+yonder stool, bring it close to my side that I need not raise my tired
+old voice."
+
+As Eric sat down he saw that two covered objects lay upon the table. The
+hermit stretched out his trembling hand and drew the smaller of the two
+towards him, raising the dark cloth that covered it.
+
+As he did so, a round ball, cut out of a stone the colour of smouldering
+ashes, became visible; it was resting on a small three-legged stand
+carved in old ivory.
+
+"I shall now look into this magic ball to see thy future, dear wanderer.
+Give me thy hand whilst I concentrate my mind upon the polished surface;
+thou must think with all thy might of that which is thy greatest desire,
+and thou must not speak or the charm will be broken."
+
+Eric laid his hand confidently within the dry wrinkled palm, and
+remained silent, as he had been bid, his face near to that of the old
+man, his fair locks resting against the silvery ones.
+
+With breathless intensity he watched the magic ball, and saw with wonder
+how it began to glow as if a fire were burning inside.
+
+The curious light became always more intense till the ball was one
+burning flame upon which he could hardly keep his eyes.
+
+He felt an unwonted drowsiness come over him, but with all his might he
+kept his mind fixed upon the eyes of his dream, and then out of the
+silence came the voice of his companion, inexplicably changed and
+musical, like far-off bells.
+
+"I see a great picture on a wall--in the middle of which there sits a
+woman on a throne, the woman has no face.... I see eager questioning all
+around thee, but there are tears in thy eyes.... I see a long road on
+which thou art wandering mostly in the brilliant sunshine, but sometimes
+it is the moon that lights thy way. Thy tears have dried, but thou
+knowest not where thou goest and thou singest like a bird. Many other
+faces cross thy road and mostly they smile on thee....
+
+"But somewhere there is a shadow that falls over thy path and thou art
+afraid--something there is that thou dost not understand and that
+contains sore temptations for thee ... then.... Yes, if I rightly
+see ... there is blood, it drips slowly to the ground, but thy own hands
+are without stain, yet thou art full of fear and fleest as quickly as
+thou canst.
+
+"Then again there is sunshine, and round thee all is blue, the sky as
+well as the ground--then once more there are tears, warm and wet, but
+this time they are not thine.... And now thou wanderest where the air is
+rarer and thy breath comes in gasps--thou mountest ever higher and
+higher ... there comes a moment's rest and again thou art wandering,
+and always thy road is steeper and thy step more weary.... All around
+thee there are shapes that make thee afraid.
+
+"And now I hear the voice of a child crying, crying ... again a shadow
+falls over thee ... this time like to the shadow of death."
+
+The chanting voice paused and the grey head bent closer down upon the
+fiery ball; the pressure upon the young man's hand became an iron grip.
+Drops of perspiration stood upon the wrinkled brow as if an enormous
+effort were being made. Then the voice spoke again:
+
+"What I now see is a long road through a country of sunshine and
+riches--it is evening, sweet music rises in the air, a haze of dust lies
+over the horizon; then all I see, at the end, is a face of wonderful
+sweetness, yet sad and full of yearning--and I see two eyes ... strange
+and wonderful, and somehow thy heart is at peace.... That is all."
+
+The voice had ceased; the grip upon the young man's hand had relaxed, a
+heavy silence lay over them.
+
+The glow in the magic ball died down till only the smouldering colour
+remained. Then Eric spoke like one in a dream:
+
+"Thou sawest the eyes! deep, grey, unblinking, sad, and yearning? So I
+shall reach them in the end! Canst thou not tell me whose they are?"
+
+The old man's head had fallen on his breast as if overcome by fatigue;
+now he raised it very slowly and looked long and lovingly at the young
+eager face.
+
+"Nay! that I cannot tell thee, but this I know: Happiness cometh not
+there where we seek it; it cometh like a breath out of the unknown, and
+then the heart is glad and a great light is spread over all that our
+eyes rest upon. Then we are full of strength and courage, and each man
+is our friend.
+
+"But the thing we clasp to our heart is never ours to keep, for thus it
+is in this world. Joy and pain lie so close side by side that there
+seems no line to cross between the two--and yet when crossed.... Well,
+my son, I shall show thee what no other eye but mine own has ever looked
+upon; it is all that remains to me of what was on the other side of the
+line...."
+
+The trembling hand removed the cover from the second object that lay on
+the table, and there, revealed to Eric's astonished gaze, was a face the
+like of which he had never seen before.
+
+It lay, the head thrown back, the eyes closed, the lips slightly parted
+as if asking for a last caress.
+
+The hair waved away from the delicate, somewhat sunken temples, forming
+the pillow on which it rested.
+
+A calm expression of peace lay over the angelically pure features that
+had the soft whiteness of ivory.
+
+There was no colour save a faint tint of pink on the beseeching mouth.
+Yes, it was peace that was the principal expression of that face, and
+yet there was also a sad yearning in it, as if the closed eyes longed to
+raise their lids a last time to look upon a face they loved....
+
+The old man's head now lay on the hard table upon his outstretched arms;
+he was overwhelmed by some tremendous emotion, unable to look at those
+silent features.
+
+The youth knew not what force moved him, but he knelt down beside the
+emaciated old figure and, taking it into his strong young arms, he drew
+the bowed head towards him, and held it long against his heart in a
+silent embrace.
+
+After a while both looked up and the grey hermit pressed one of his
+shaking hands on the young man's head; the other he laid with a
+caressing movement against the marble face.
+
+"I have worked at this with the last strength of my feeble old hands.
+And each day for many years I laboured to create the fairness of this
+face which I loved, but which never was mine!
+
+"I will not weary thee with the story of my life; it is dark and ugly,
+but this thou shalt know: I loved her, and she gave me all the passion
+of her pure heart. She knew not who I was, and when she found it out she
+could not bear the truth, so she searched a cold grave in the deep, dark
+floods. Thus she lay when last I looked upon her; the vision burnt
+itself deep into my brain for ever. For long, long years after she had
+crossed my path I continued to live a wicked life, full of dark deeds,
+full of treachery, keeping faith with none.
+
+"But when, old and bent, I came to these solitudes her face alone was
+always with me. Then I began to carve upon the snowy marble the features
+I had loved the most in this world.
+
+"Day by day I toiled, for my fingers were stiff and trembling, but I
+felt I could not die before I had completed this work of love. I felt
+that if I could conjure into life the marvel of her face as it was that
+day when they took her out of the cruel water and laid her, for ever
+silent, before me, her murderer, I would find forgiveness before that
+God I had always mocked but had learnt to believe in here in this vast
+solitude so near His sky!
+
+"It is but a short while ago that I completed my work; thou seest
+thyself how surpassing fair it is, and since that day peace at last
+seems to be spreading very slowly over my soul...."
+
+The old man paused, then drawing the youth quite near to him, he took
+his head in both his hands, bent it gently back, saying in a solemn
+voice:
+
+"Remember the words of a very old man, who has known all of pain and
+joy, who also has lived through the hell of remorse though it came too
+late ... too late.... Mayest thou never learn how sad is the word: Too
+late! Go thy way, my son. Search for the treasure thou dreamest of, and
+when it is thine hold it fast. It may come to thee in quite unexpected
+form--at first even thou mayest not realize that thou art so near; it
+may not come in splendid raiment with a crown on its head, but keep thy
+heart open as well as thy eyes; turn not away from the humblest call,
+never leave undone a deed of love.
+
+"I, in my solitude, well know what it is to bitterly regret. All the
+wisdom I have acquired is but ashes to me because never did I understand
+how to use my riches,--I cherished what was of brass, and what was pure
+gold, in my vanity, I trampled underfoot. Thou hast within thee
+something that makes me believe thou art of those who win! Now I have
+said enough, and thou must continue thy road; but that thou shouldst not
+forget the grey hermit of the hills, I have for thee a gift, which, in
+the days of my youth, was my most trusted friend. In thy hands it will
+have greater power than ever it had in mine."
+
+So saying the old man rose, went to the bed, and drew something out of
+the dark. When he came back he held within his hand a shining sword.
+
+"This sword have I loved in the pride of my youth, and even now, in my
+bitter old age, it was ever at my side. Whilst I worked at the cold,
+hard marble, it lay on the table near my hand; it alone felt my hot
+tears of gratitude on the day I had completed my work.
+
+"A legend is attached to it: it is said that if carried by hands that
+are clean of all sin it has unknown powers that reveal themselves in
+time of need. It may be true ..." the old man bowed his head.... "But my
+hands ... were never clean ... so no miracle shone on my road.
+
+"To me it was simply a good strong sword which I used in my own defence.
+I used it, too, against my country's foes, and many an evening has it
+dripped with blood. Gird it round thy waist and go forth with my
+blessing. I know not if the blessing of a man such as I hath worth in
+the eyes of God; nevertheless it comes from the deepest depths of my
+weary soul, and may it follow thee wherever thou goest and help thee to
+win."
+
+Eric bent his knee, and the hermit laid both his hands on his golden
+locks, lingering tenderly over them as if loath to take his fingers
+away.
+
+"One more gift have I for thee, my son, for I know the peril and
+loneliness of thy road. Here inside this box"--and he drew a small
+casket from his breast--"thou shalt find some tablets I once learnt to
+make, and which possess marvellous power to keep the traveller alive
+when he can find no food on his way; one of these alone is as much as a
+feast at the table of a king. Neither is this their only magic; for he
+who tastes of them to him is given command over all languages spoken
+under the sun."
+
+"But am I not taking thy daily bread from thee?" cried the young man, as
+he sprang to his feet.
+
+"Be without fear, dear youth; my days are numbered, and enough remains
+to me to keep my tired old body alive, as long as God still desires me
+to be of this earth. Go in peace, and have a kindly thought for the old
+sinner whose last joy has been to look into thy sunny eyes!"
+
+He led Eric to the door of the cave, and pulling the curtain aside, gave
+a strange, shrill whistle.
+
+As he did so there was a fluttering of wings, and somewhere out of the
+clouds a milk-white falcon swooped down to his hand.
+
+"This bird of mine will show thee the road. Follow him without
+faltering, even if he seem to lead thee where no foot can climb. Be of
+good cheer, may God be with thee!"
+
+Eric bowed his head, kissed the kind old hand, and then turned his face
+towards the lonely path he had to follow, the hawk flying before him
+like a white banner floating in the wind.
+
+The old man stood on his threshold casting longing looks after the
+retreating form. An expression of intense sadness and resignation came
+over his furrowed countenance; slowly, with all the fatigue of nearly a
+century's living heavy upon him, he went back into his dark abode. There
+he stood for a long while beside the rustic table contemplating the pale
+marble face, and all his soul was in his eyes. The flickering light
+played on the exquisite visage, throwing over it a living warmth, so
+that the eyelids appeared to quiver as if they were trying to open once
+more.
+
+Slowly and painfully the aged recluse bent down till his faded lips
+rested on the pure brow, the icy coldness of the stone penetrating
+through all his veins--then with a reluctant movement he laid the dark
+cloth over that vision of beauty, hiding it out of sight; and it was
+like the lid of a coffin being shut over the face of the dead.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+    And a strange song I have heard
+      By a shadowy stream,
+    And the singing of a snow-white bird
+      On the Hills of Dream.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+The white wings of the bird could be seen far overhead. Eric looked up
+and understood that at whatever cost he must scale those heights towards
+which it flew. Such had been the decree of the kind old philosopher.
+
+Firm was his resolution to obey him in everything, because never before
+had human being spoken thus unto him.
+
+Only one fact his mind refused to grasp: how could such a man be a
+sinner? He thought of the gentle, venerable face, of his wise and
+beautiful sayings; and dear to his memory was the sound of his voice.
+His feelings towards the silent ghosts, that still followed him, were
+quite changed, for the words of the master were ever in his mind.
+
+He felt now a kindly interest in their welfare, and hoped that strength
+would be given him to lead them to peace. The clouds lay no longer so
+dense over his road. He could advance with greater rapidity.
+
+Always steeper grew the way, and always higher flew the bird; often its
+white plumes were lost amongst the floating mist.
+
+Eric was full of courage and hope; whilst he walked he kept thinking of
+all he had heard. Tears came to his eyes at the remembrance of the
+silvery head lying so close to the cold hard marble which made no
+response, the face in its immaculate fairness so serenely unconscious of
+all the feeling its beauty called forth.
+
+Within the stern silence of that pale stone lay a punishment far greater
+than human justice could inflict.
+
+Night was coming on, but Eric still advanced with undaunted step,
+ignoring the fatigue that was again making itself felt through all his
+supple limbs.
+
+The sword at his side gave him a companionable feeling; his eyes rested
+upon it with pride, admiring the beautiful hilt that was carved out of a
+single piece of crystal in the form of a cross. In the centre had been
+set a large emerald the colour of a deep forest pool, transparent and
+dark, evoking a feeling of rest amongst glorious solitudes where the
+foot of man but seldom passes.
+
+The blade was as bright as silver, and flashed like a searchlight when
+Eric drew it from its sheath. He did so more than once, feeling its
+edge, with the joy of a child over a new toy.
+
+Never had he possessed so manly an arm, and his pleasure knew no bounds.
+
+Always darker grew the night, more perilous the path. Our valiant
+wanderer was now obliged to feel the way with his hands, and began to
+think about where he could lay himself down to rest. It was useless to
+press onward without seeing where he was going--useless to risk making a
+false step that might perhaps cost him his life by hurling him into the
+chasm that yawned at his side.
+
+His only fear was to lose sight of his feathered companion; it would be
+almost impossible to find it again in this desert of rocks. He stood
+still to think what he had better do, when out of the darkness, quite
+close before him, he saw the flash of white wings.
+
+He sprang forward in pursuit, regardless of the danger that gaped
+around him; and after a moment he found himself on a broad ledge under
+the protection of a jutting rock. There, just discernible, in the dense
+obscurity sat the white falcon, motionless, at rest, giving the sign
+that here they should make a halt.
+
+The great bird turned its head towards the youth, and as it did so
+something resembling a tiny light gleamed on its breast.
+
+Eric approached it cautiously for fear of frightening it away, but the
+beautiful creature showed no signs of alarm, and let him lay his hand on
+its head.
+
+Then Eric saw that around the strange bird's neck a tiny chain was
+clasped, from which hung a diamond of prodigious size; it radiated a
+strong bluish light much like that of a shimmering star. Here in this
+vast wilderness of unknown perils the little light shone brightly like
+unto a kindly eye that had been placed there to watch over him during
+the night.
+
+With a sensation of comfort Eric laid himself down close to the quiet
+guardian, wrapping himself up warmly in the folds of his cloak, for the
+night was cold.
+
+Indeed the rocks made but a hard and unfriendly bed, but Eric was young,
+and weary was his body, so it was not long before sleep came down and
+carried him off into the land of dreams.
+
+Upon the rock near his head sat the motionless, wakeful bird of prey,
+staring with unblinking eyes into the dark. The whiteness of its
+feathers was faintly visible, and the blue diamond burned steadily like
+the lamp of a lighthouse seen from far over the sea.
+
+Now there was a faint movement about the sleeping boy and that silent
+watcher of the Hills.
+
+[Illustration: _A circle of mist seemed to be settling around them._]
+
+A circle of mist seemed to be settling around them, like a giant wreath
+of grey poppies; but it was not the vapours of the night that were
+forming a ring round the man and the bird--it was the bodiless army of
+following ghosts; and there they sat a quiet company, forms out of
+another world, awaiting in mournful silence that this frail human being
+should arise to lead them over perilous ways to the height that would be
+their salvation.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+    Far off I hear the strain
+    Of infinite sweet pain,
+    That floats along lonely phantom land.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Eric had not slept many hours before he awoke with a start. All was
+pitch-black around him, only the form of the white hawk was outlined
+against the darkness, whilst the precious stone on its neck shone in
+lonely magnificence.
+
+Eric sat up wondering what had torn him so suddenly out of his restful
+slumbers; he felt rather stiff from the hardness of his stony couch, so
+sprang to his feet and stood erect, listening, awaiting any danger that
+might threaten him out of the unknown. And then, suddenly, a wailing cry
+broke out of the stillness; it rose like a frightened sob into the air
+and rang through the night with a sound so full of terrible loneliness
+that it made the heart stand still.
+
+The bird stretched its neck, its wings expanded ready to take flight,
+the light of the diamond twinkling on its breast.
+
+Eric waited, trembling with expectancy; there was something weird and
+heartrending about that helpless cry out of this boundless solitude;
+again the dismal sound was heard, distinct and piercing like the
+terrified voice of a very small child in an agony of fear.
+
+Eric could bear it no longer, and sprang in the direction whence the
+sound came.
+
+At that moment his beautiful winged companion rose in the air, circling
+close around the path he was on, so that the jewel flashed in moving
+patterns like a small lantern being swung over his head.
+
+Eric followed the tiny light, grateful for that dwarf spot of
+brightness, which shone in the thick darkness that hemmed him in on all
+sides. Many a time he stumbled over the stones that obstructed his road,
+often bruising his hands and knees, sometimes falling all his length,
+but always desperately aware how perilous and uncertain was this search
+in the impenetrable night.
+
+Now the wonderful bird paused in its flight, and Eric saw the small
+light, suspended in the air, hovering over one particular spot: he
+groped about, his hands feeling everywhere--what was he to find? All at
+once, close above his head the pitiful voice was again heard, but this
+time quite near. With breathless anxiety Eric scaled the rock, quite
+unable to see where he was going; but his hands were always
+outstretched, carefully seeking about him, and now his fingers suddenly
+came in contact with something soft and warm!
+
+With gentle precautions the young man drew the heavy object towards him,
+balancing himself with surprising agility upon the narrow ledge ... and
+there, in his arms, against his cheek he felt the soft face of a little
+child!... Yes, a little child, whose pitiful moan rose to the sky like a
+soul in distress. Clasping the small body close to his breast, the young
+man with an almost superhuman effort hoisted himself on to a shelf-like
+rock he had felt near by, and there he sat himself down with his
+precious bundle in his arms.
+
+As he did so the falcon swooped out of the air on to his shoulder, so
+that the light of the gem could just fall upon the pale small face that
+looked up into his.
+
+Such a sweet little face, out of which two frightened eyes stared up at
+him in speechless anxiety. Miserable rags alone covered the thin body
+that was shivering with cold.
+
+Eric drew his cloak close around the trembling form and held it tight
+against him, whilst with kindly words he tried to calm its ceaseless
+whimper.
+
+Long he sat thus in this vast black solitude, whilst upon his shoulder
+the friendly bird kept watch over the two forlorn young creatures who
+had been so strangely brought together in these lonely hills.
+
+Eric's eyes closed, and the child too, feeling comforted, was quiet now,
+its head hidden against the kind heart that had been its saviour.
+
+Probably both slept, because when Eric next looked up there was a faint
+red streak in the sky; the darkness of the night was slowly lifting.
+
+The little girl was huddled up close in his arms slumbering sweetly.
+
+Near by on a block of granite the beautiful hawk sat like a watchful
+guardian--his keen ever-open eyes fixed in an unblinking stare upon the
+rising sun.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Several days later Eric could have been seen advancing over the frozen
+ground holding a small child's hand safely clasped in his own. He had
+wandered and wandered, climbing always higher, never giving way, no
+matter how overpowering his fatigue. For ever ringing in his ears was
+the sound of the solitary man's voice begging that he should not
+disappoint him by turning back, urging him to have courage to go always
+forward till he had climbed the highest peak!--not to be afraid, because
+he believed Eric to be of those who win. Ah! but would he win? Would he
+ever reach the top of those lonely heights? would he ever look down upon
+the other side? At first the thought of having a companion on his
+arduous way was a comfort to him. The child's face was sweet, its eyes
+looked up into his with a trust and confidence that gladdened his
+spirit.
+
+But soon he understood how much more slowly he could advance; how he had
+to redouble his efforts at every step; how much more often he had to
+rest because of the toddling feet at his side, and often, very often the
+child's head pressed against his cheek; he carried it for many weary
+miles, till his powers were nearly spent.
+
+From whence the child came, whose it was, how it had been lost here
+amongst these drear solitudes Eric could not get it to relate.
+
+When he pressed it with questions it would only cry helplessly, and
+point always before it, as if longing to reach the most giddy heights.
+
+The only words it seemed to know were the strange little cry of: "Up,
+up," or "Over there, over there," and persistently with its tiny hand it
+pointed to the most distant horizons; and then a feverish shine of
+expectancy would light its eyes and a flush come over its wan little
+cheeks.
+
+He loved the lonely wee maid, but a frightful apprehension was pressing
+at his heart--would he be strong enough to save them both?
+
+The magic tablets out of the old man's box were diminishing day by day.
+He wondered how far he still must go before he had scaled the last rock.
+
+The child was frail and delicate: its feet were bare, the wretched dress
+it wore hung in discoloured rags round its thin body. Dark curls
+clustered round a face of angelic beauty, pale and haggard though it
+was, out of which the eyes looked like those of a frightened gazelle.
+
+With touching gratitude the little creature clung to this man who had
+saved it in its dire distress, and often Eric would feel the pressure of
+its warm lips against his hand as they trudged on side by side.
+
+Their weary feet were now carrying them across the precipitous incline
+of a great mountain, the most mighty of all the range, the one whose
+summit bore the highest peak, the one Eric had singled out as the
+ultimate object of his steep ascent. Their way lay across wide-spreading
+mountain meadows, now covered with a white sheet of snow and frost; far
+ahead lay a dark forest of pine which they would have to traverse before
+reaching the final ridges beyond.
+
+Always close upon his heels followed the silent army of ghosts, and the
+higher their leader climbed the more hopeful was the look of their
+eyes; it almost seemed that their bodies were becoming less transparent,
+that each separate form was losing something of its mist-like frailty.
+
+The little maiden was not afraid of them, and often, when weariness had
+obliged her and her companion to rest, she would stretch out both small
+arms in their direction, inviting them to share her repose. And then it
+would happen that out of that sad troop of followers other arms--perhaps
+the empty arms of what had once been a mother--would answer with the
+same yearning gesture of love, and yet all the distance of two worlds
+lay between them, and the bridge had not yet been built over which they
+could meet!
+
+The little one loved to hear Eric play on his flute; so even when most
+overpowered with fatigue, his breath coming in gasps, he would take it
+from his pocket and try to call from it its sweetest notes. But often he
+would have to lay it down, his lips were too dry, his hand shaking
+overmuch.
+
+The continual strain upon his youthful body was telling at last, and
+often he had to cover his eyes with his hands, because a sudden
+dizziness would overtake him.
+
+He was in such fear that the mysterious tablets in the small box would
+come to an end that he ate of them but sparingly, giving his companion
+the larger share.
+
+Eric had been accustomed to live in plenty; had he not been the
+favourite of a king? And now a precious life had been given unexpectedly
+into his hands--the bright singing bird, the gay flitting butterfly had
+to learn to live for another! His face had lost its roundness, the smile
+was still bright and sunny, but his eyes wore an anxious look that
+seemed for ever searching the distance. A new feeling of softness had
+stolen into his heart; those two slender arms, that tiny confiding hand
+within his own, those pattering feet beside him, awoke within his soul
+sensations of which he had never even dreamed. He felt that gladly
+would he suffer any pain, gladly lay down his life, if this sweet being
+that trusted in him could but remain unharmed.
+
+Once on a steep pass she had fallen, bruising her delicate feet and
+cutting her face. He had held her then in his arms as a mother would
+have done, and an indescribable feeling of tenderness had flooded his
+heart, whilst her warm tears had wetted his cheek as he pressed her
+close to him. The sensation of that soft little body clasped against his
+own during the cold nights they had slept side by side, his cloak
+covering them both, was to him like treading on Holy ground! And now
+with growing apprehension he saw the great forest opening its sombre
+paths before him.
+
+The falcon flew leading the way, its white plumage showing like some
+gigantic flower against the dark branches.
+
+What secret terrors were hidden within that green solitude? How would
+they find their way out? Indeed helpless did he feel; how could he
+protect this frail child against the cold that was always becoming more
+biting, searching its way under their skin trying to freeze their blood!
+
+Onwards! onwards! it was no good standing still; but the effort was
+greater with every step.
+
+Now the green forest had received them within its thickness; immense
+trees looked down upon them waving their branches, whispering together,
+astonished at the sight of two such defenceless travellers venturing
+themselves within their dreaded obscurity.
+
+The snow lay thick on the ground, always deeper the higher they climbed,
+and there came a moment when the little girl, clinging to her kind
+companion, cried bitterly, declaring that she could go no farther.
+
+In despair Eric looked around him--on all sides the awful solitude shut
+him in; rows on rows of giants frowned down upon his sorry plight, the
+wind rustled through their branches that looked like monstrous arms
+gesticulating in angry discussions over the heads of these two forlorn
+human beings. To Eric they suddenly appeared like enemies come together
+from all parts of the world to plan his destruction.
+
+Each tree was a living creature threatening him, trying to stop him, to
+turn him back! He clenched his teeth: he would not go back! He would not
+give up! He would not allow fear to fill his soul! Was he not to be of
+those who win? Had not the hermit believed in his courage? and his
+silent followers had they not put all their trust in his strength?
+
+There they stood, fantastic forms hovering on the verge of Eternity,
+faintly discernible against the trunks of the trees, their haunted eyes
+turned towards him, their transparent bodies all bending his way in
+hushed expectation.
+
+The wind came down in howling gusts, stirring up the withered needles
+that lay on the snow, bending the proud trees before its ruthless
+violence, dashing powdery clouds over the trembling child; then rushing
+in shrieking hordes through the sombre pines so that their boughs
+clashed together like an angry mob. Night was coming on; all around Eric
+could see nothing but trees, trees--an army of Titans allied against him
+to hinder him reaching his goal. To add to the horror of his pitiful
+situation, he thought he heard from afar the howling of wolves, and that
+he saw creeping forms slinking amongst the thickening shadows.
+
+Calling upon all his courage, he bent down and gathered the exhausted
+child into his arms, wrapping the folds of his cloak tightly round her
+shuddering limbs; and thus weighted he struggled on, his breath coming
+in gasps, his pulses beating, a mist before his eyes.
+
+He toiled through the snow, up, up, winding his way between the trunks
+of the hostile trees--often stumbling--hitting his weary feet against
+broken twigs--straining with a feeling that his veins would burst, so
+great was his exertion.
+
+But he would not give way! He would not lay down his precious burden
+before he could find some cover for the night! To rest there upon that
+bed of snow would be certain death; his weariness was such, he knew if
+once he fell it would be to rise no more--he would hide his head in that
+icy shroud dragging down the precious life with his, to never, never
+move again.
+
+On--on ... but was the child of lead? Why had his arms become so weak?
+Why were dark vapours floating before his eyes?... Why had he a beating
+heart in each tingling nerve of his aching body? Why did his tongue
+cleave to the roof of his mouth, whilst fire seemed to course down his
+throat? And now a great darkness suddenly wiped all things from his
+sight, and he fell with the impression that he was being suddenly hurled
+into the night....
+
+But it was not long that he lay thus--instinct was stronger than all;
+besides, the warm arms of the frightened child seemed to drag him back
+to life, infusing new vitality into his spent frame; so he struggled to
+his knees, the little girl still clinging to his neck.
+
+He looked around him, desperation in his eyes; they had reached an
+opening in the wood--a circular glade surrounded by gaunt trees, and
+nowhere a path to be seen, and nowhere the smallest sign how he could
+get out of this drear forest, that shut him in like forbidding walls.
+
+He pressed the maiden's face close to his, taking comfort from the soft
+cheek that was laid against his.
+
+And the child stood beside the kneeling man, and gently with timid hands
+stroked his tumbled locks, all the time peering at him with anxious
+attention.
+
+Eric was still too weak to rise to his feet, so he remained kneeling,
+scanning the solitudes with hopeless bewilderment. The wind still howled
+through the tree-tops, from which dismal voices seemed to be chanting
+ever the same dreary ditty, and sometimes it rose to such a din that it
+was more like unto the wild songs of savage hordes carrying their dead
+to the grave.
+
+The falcon was nowhere to be seen; even that companion had flown away,
+so that they were alone--quite alone--in this fantastic, oppressive
+wilderness.
+
+A last shine of daylight still rested over all, and with horror
+clutching at his heart Gundian now perceived that running in lines all
+over the snow that lay before him were small footprints resembling those
+of a dog! Ah! but no dogs could inhabit so forsaken a forest; the kindly
+friend of man would not lose his way amongst these impenetrable
+thickets; those marks in the snow had quite another explanation,
+confirming the fear he had had before;--but something must be done:
+action would revive him,--he could not remain thus to perish miserably
+without trying at least to save the treasured child.
+
+With a superhuman effort he rose to his feet,--for a moment his young
+body swayed like a sapling in the wind; but he would not--would not give
+way! What was to be done? He had heard that great fires frightened off
+beasts of prey--a small flame even was supposed to keep them at bay; and
+he remembered the legend of a maiden wandering alone in a forest with
+only a small lamp in her hand protecting her from harm,--surely he would
+not be weaker than she. Bending down to his companion he told her to
+help him to gather dry twigs in the underwood; he blew upon her frozen
+fingers which were stiff and icy like his own.
+
+From his pocket he took the precious box, and together they shared one
+of the remaining tablets which revived them in an extraordinary way; a
+smile even came back to the face of the wee innocent at his side.
+
+Now with feverish haste they were gathering fallen branches from under
+the hostile trees, that angrily bent their mighty heads towards them,
+but were unable to reach down to anything so far beneath.
+
+The bundle grew and grew, and in their absorbing work they for a moment
+forgot the terrors around; once even the small girl's voice rang out in
+a merry laugh, as she dragged a heavy log behind her, almost as large as
+herself. Soon Eric was crouching beside the stack they had collected and
+trying with his icy fingers to make the sparks fly from his flint;--many
+a time did he hit the hard stone in vain, but at last a welcome sound
+was heard--a soft crackling that became louder, till at last a bright
+flame shot out over the dry timber they had so patiently heaped up. Both
+frozen wayfarers stretched out their numbed hands to the saving warmth.
+As they did so they smiled at each other from either side of the burning
+faggots; the cheering glow lit up their pinched and tired faces, giving
+them again the radiant look of health.
+
+"Come to me, little one," cried the man, and the small creature flew
+into his arms; then settling himself down, his back against a tree,
+quite near the blazing fire, he folded the forlorn little being tightly
+within his arms, his cloak drawn close over her, regardless of his own
+comfort, only thinking how to protect her against the deadly frost of
+the night.
+
+He took his sword from its sheath and laid it down beside him within
+reach of his hand.
+
+Long he sat thus, trying to penetrate the darkness, whilst the rhythmic
+breathing of his tired charge told him that for a while oblivion had
+mercifully descended upon her.
+
+But it was a weary time before he dared close his own burning eyes, so
+afraid was he that something dreadful might happen to the child whilst
+he slept.
+
+At length Nature would have her way--his head sank on his breast, the
+strained arms relaxed their hold, and all the misery was wiped from his
+mind by the kindly wings of sleep.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Eric awoke because the intensity of the cold was eating into his bones.
+The fire had died down, only a faint glow remained under the ashes; and
+there, oh horror!... seated on the other side of the small smouldering
+heap that once had been their protection, sat a great tawny wolf with
+eyes that looked straight into his, two tiny specks of phosphorescent
+green.
+
+The awful beast lifted its head and gave a long-drawn, unearthly yell
+that echoed round the silence like the crying of a tormented soul in
+great agony; again and again he sent out his ghastly call, and now he
+was answered by other calls coming from every part of that fearful
+forest. The silent thickets gave forth from their secret depths stealthy
+pattering forms, slinking along, flashing their teeth, their tongues
+lolling from their dripping mouths.
+
+A late moon had risen above the peak of the mountain, and was now
+throwing her pale rays over the bleached opening that spread before the
+young man's feet, so that he could clearly see how these wraiths
+assembled from all sides, called together by the baying of their leader.
+
+So fascinated was Gundian by what he saw that for a while the immense
+danger he ran was almost forgotten; only the frightened cry of the
+child, who had awakened to see the awful creature staring at her with
+glistening eyes, brought him back to the reality of things.
+
+His exhausted condition, the heavy drowsiness produced by the cold that
+was gradually penetrating through all his veins, had thrown a torpor
+over his senses, so that all appeared as in a dream.
+
+He returned the green stare of his opponent, unable to make an effort to
+throw off the weakness that imprisoned his frozen limbs.
+
+The crumbling fire was dying out more and more; the last glowing twigs
+fell together with a faint fizzing sound, that made the leading monster
+rise in fear and move back a few steps, still kept in awe by the narrow
+frontier of heat that alone separated him from his victims.
+
+For one more deadly moment there was a pulsing silence and then ... the
+beast sprang with a great leap on the seated man.
+
+In a moment Eric was on his feet, sword in hand, throwing himself before
+the terrified child, that at all costs he meant to protect! And with a
+furious blow, although he had been quite unprepared for so sudden an
+attack, he split the skull of his raging enemy.
+
+Eric had never used arms before; war had not been his vocation; he loved
+peace and pleasure and all things that make life beautiful and sweet.
+
+But now he stood up like a tried warrior, his blade flashing under the
+rays of the moon; alone he advanced against the ferocious beasts that
+all rushed in upon him with sudden rage to avenge their fallen chief.
+
+He knew not from whence he took his strength; but he stood before them
+like a figure cast in bronze, defending himself, keeping them at bay
+with the point of his precious sword. But for each savage animal that
+fell beneath his frantic defence another seemed to spring up in its
+place--always more and more, till their baying filled the silent night
+with hideous clamour.
+
+Hell seemed to have opened its doors. All round Eric and the child, who
+was crouching in an agony of fear close behind him, were blazing eyes,
+sharpened fangs, ravenous bleeding jaws, a medley of dark fighting
+bodies falling over each other with angry yells, as they one and all
+rallied against the single youthful hero, who stood facing them, the
+blood streaming from the blade of his sword.
+
+Blood fell also in great dark drops from his lacerated hands, where more
+than one murderous tooth had left its mark. His pale brow was streaked
+with red; from off his shoulder his coat had been partially wrenched,
+and a great gash gaped through the torn tissue.
+
+Still he stood his ground; many a rugged body lay dead at his feet, but
+always more roaring foes seemed to descend upon him, a whole army of
+hungry, voracious fiends that had sworn his destruction.
+
+His force was giving out, he clearly felt that the unequal battle could
+last no longer; only a miracle could now save them both.
+
+His arm became inert; the blood flowed from the open wound in his head
+in a trickling stream down into his eyes, clouding his sight, so that he
+could no longer direct his strokes.
+
+Yes, all was over now; he was not to be of those who win.... This was to
+be the end ... the end.... But what was this? From beneath his clenched
+fingers a dazzling glare had suddenly broken forth--a glare so intense
+and blinding that for a moment he could see nothing but its luminous
+rays! Had really a miracle come to pass? Was he dreaming? But no ... his
+awful assailants were rapidly retreating with furious groans, as if
+unable to bear the sight of the thing he held in his hand!
+
+What was it that suddenly cowed their savage force? Then all at once he
+understood.... The crystal hilt of his sword was blazing with light!
+
+He fell on his knees, his forehead pressed against the shining cross,
+his eyes closed, his head bent in awful fatigue. But peace had come over
+him--a great and wonderful peace. The beasts of prey were backing,
+always farther, from this awesome light that had so miraculously fallen
+upon them.
+
+With hanging heads they retreated, their piercing eyes fixed upon the
+fiery symbol they dared not face. They backed and backed, till they were
+but a mass of darkness, out of which their eyes glowed like a circle of
+Easter tapers held by pious hands in adoration before that cross of
+flame. Alone in the middle of that moonlit glade knelt Eric, quite
+still, as in a trance; the point of his sword had reddened the snow on
+the ground; the hilt seemed fashioned out of the stars of heaven.
+
+The moon looked down upon his golden locks, transforming them into a
+mass of silver; even his torn and travel-stained clothes were turned
+into glowing metal like a knight of olden days.
+
+From the shadow of the giant trees the little girl came slowly forward,
+and on reaching the spot where Eric prayed with lowered brow, she, too,
+fell on her knees and advancing her innocent lips kissed the blade of
+the sword.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+Now also the forest had been left behind. Upon the snowy covering of the
+silent glade many a gaunt body lay still and cold, nor will we ask in
+what manner their hungry companions visited them when the flashing cross
+was to be seen no more.
+
+Eric was now fighting his way to reach the highest peak that shone far
+above the clouds. Never would he be able to relate how he had found his
+way out of that forest where at first all had seemed united against him
+to hinder his progress.
+
+The morning after that night of battle which had so gloriously ended,
+Eric had walked as in a dream, the cross-shaped hilt held against his
+breast like some crusader in a distant land. Alongside of him trotted
+the little girl clinging to a corner of his cloak. He knew not why, but
+everything around him had lost the hostility of the night before; his
+feet moved easily over the frozen snow without sinking beneath the
+surface.
+
+The giant trees were a wonder of brilliant white; during the early hours
+of morn a vapoury mist had fallen over the sleeping immensity, and the
+coming day had transformed all around into a fairy wood of dazzling
+gems.
+
+Each separate branch stood out in crystallized splendour, each needle,
+each hanging cone had become a transparent jewel, radiating all the
+colours of the rainbow.
+
+The tiniest plant that had pushed its way through the snow, the driest,
+humblest twig, the most common stone, all had been conjured into a
+miraculous treasure of light which the most cunning human art could
+never have fashioned. It was a joy beyond words to the eye, a splendour
+God's nature alone could produce.
+
+All was now peace and stillness; through the mighty rows of glittering
+tree-tops the sun shot slanting rays that lit up the snow like a field
+of golden flowers; and beyond, distant glimpses of the sky were visible,
+pink like roses of the East gathered together by some enamoured king to
+be strewn under the feet of his beloved.
+
+The sombre pines had other faces beneath their fairy coating of frost,
+and seemed now to greet him like some honoured guest, bending their
+crowns in sign of homage.
+
+On he walked without any feeling of fatigue, never once stumbling on his
+way.
+
+The falcon was again flying before him like a white kerchief waved in
+token of greeting; ... the higher they climbed the rarer became the
+trees and the wider did the blushing sky spread before their eyes.
+
+Now they were out in the open once more, climbing from rock to rock; and
+when Eric turned round to look down upon the forest that lay far
+beneath, like a magician's garden of gigantic frosted flowers, he
+perceived that the ghostly army of lost souls was once more following
+close in his rear. Where had they been during that night of terror? Had
+they lain in waiting till he had fought himself through that dangerous
+trial? Had they trembled and feared that he was to be overthrown and
+their forlorn hope destroyed?
+
+There was a great and frowning height still before him which he had to
+scale; but on this early morn so charged with brightness, his heart was
+full of faith, and again there was a song on his lips; but now it was
+one that had a deeper meaning. So with a shout of anticipation he lifted
+his hand and waved it to the silent followers; then, pointing to the
+rocky peak that appeared above the snow and clouds like a sunlit dream,
+he rushed forward with unfaltering step, as if he had only just started
+upon his ascent. The little girl was always near him; she, too, was full
+of the joy of the morning....
+
+But night came on, and still they were toiling. The shining peak had
+veiled itself with a cloud of darkness; the bitter cold of the mountain
+tops was laming their steps, so fresh and buoyant at the break of day.
+
+Now the man had to bend down and lift the weary little soul once more in
+his arms.
+
+Their friendship had turned into tender love, and as he held her in his
+safe embrace she covered his tired face with kisses sweet and soft like
+the touch of a butterfly's wing. One more awful night they spent lying
+fast locked in each other's arms, vainly trying to shut out the biting
+frost, as only protection Eric's thin black cloak.
+
+They had mercifully discovered a cavity in one of the rocks, and there
+on a bed of grey moss they had slumbered fitfully, almost too exhausted
+to find any deep repose. And when morning came it looked down upon two
+haggard mortals sitting side by side, crushed one against the other, in
+dire distress. Their faces were pinched and livid; their teeth chattered
+with cold; their eyes, surrounded by deep circles of fatigue, searched
+about them in questioning misery. Within their numbed fingers they held
+an empty box!... But Eric's spirit was still undaunted. He meant to win!
+That night his dream had risen again before his eyes, more vivid and
+fascinating than ever.
+
+Lately his advance had been so tedious, the efforts needed to overcome
+the difficulties so great, that all his faculties had been concentrated
+upon the single desire to save his own life and that of the child; so
+that the vision of the outset had been losing some of its power.
+
+He staggered to his feet; the child hung a dead weight round his neck,
+she was quite unable to make further effort. What should he do? He could
+not leave her to perish here, this dear companion of the mountain tops!
+
+Yet thus encumbered, how could he reach the final height? His strength
+was spent, his feet were bleeding, his clothes were torn, the wounds of
+the night before were a throbbing agony beneath the clinging arms of the
+little girl.
+
+He felt that they were breaking open anew, that his warm blood was
+slowly trickling down on to the snow, and with each drop that fell his
+life seemed to be oozing slowly away. And there far above, like the
+tantalizing vision out of an ethereal world, rose the peak of his
+desire.
+
+Again the rays of the sun reddened its crown like a glowing flower. Was
+it mocking him in his mortal distress? Was it luring him on to life or
+to death? But he must mount, always farther; he could not give up now
+within sight of his goal! Courage! Courage! He must conquer and win! But
+what were those white arms beckoning to him out of the morning mist?
+What were those veils of transparent vapour waving to him from the rock
+above? Were they apparitions out of some fantastic dream, some
+hallucination of his tired brain?
+
+Anyhow he would desperately follow them, perhaps they would help him in
+his distress; but the higher he climbed the farther did the beckoning
+figures always recede; each time he had thought to reach the height
+where they stood he saw them far away hovering above him on some steep
+boulder, which again he scaled only to be baffled anew.
+
+It was an awful pursuit, the heavy child clinging around his neck, his
+open wounds dripping, leaving red traces wherever he passed.
+
+His shoes had been cut almost to shreds by the rugged rocks, so that his
+feet suffered an agony of pain.
+
+A blind rage seized him against these spirits of the wilds who mocked
+his cruel plight; and yet, had he but known it, it was just their
+alluring aloofness that was helping him upon his final climb. His
+overwhelming longing to reach those ethereal beings with whom he hoped
+to find rest gave him the energy to clamber always farther, the
+intensity of his desire infusing almost superhuman force into his
+attenuated body.
+
+Suddenly he stopped with a gasp, almost letting the child fall from his
+arms;--other visions were now before him floating amongst the clouds.
+
+The indistinct apparitions had taken form, changing into white-winged
+angels all flying upwards, their long trailing garments mingling with
+the mist.
+
+Ah! these would lead him to his last height! These celestial beings had
+been sent from heaven to help him in his bitterest need.
+
+Looking down at the child in his arms, he saw that her face was deadly
+pale, her eyes were shut, the long lashes cast deep shadows on her
+sunken cheeks.
+
+Indeed it was time to reach some shelter where he could lay her down.
+
+Then raising his head a cry escaped his lips ... there close before him
+he espied the great peak which had always appeared so absolutely beyond
+his reach.
+
+There it stood, enormous and majestic, an overpowering revelation rising
+out of the filmy clouds--clouds that were one mass of white-robed
+angels, their wings bearing them upwards, their arms extended in
+gestures of welcome towards this pilgrim of the heights!
+
+Eric ran forward, all his remaining energy gathered together in one last
+supreme effort. The blood sang in his ears, his breath came in tormented
+gasps, his heart beat like a giant hammer, and wherever he passed the
+hard stones bore marks of his dripping wounds.
+
+With one arm he pressed his heavy burden against him, with the other he
+hoisted himself higher and higher, clambering with dogged persistence,
+ignoring both pain and danger, always onwards, his enraptured eyes fixed
+in an ecstasy of hope on the heavenly host that was showing him the
+way ... and now ... and now ... he was lying face downwards on the hard
+snow-covered rock, his arms outstretched over the motionless body of the
+little girl.
+
+He had reached the top, he had not failed!... he had really won!
+
+Long he lay in completest exhaustion unable to move, almost unable to
+think, or even to feel. Around him the mists rose and fell like a
+restless foam-covered sea!
+
+Slowly he lifted his head, and what first met his gaze was the face of
+the child.
+
+With a startled exclamation he took it in both his hands; but it rested
+there limp and inert with tightly shut eyes. Convulsed with fear he bent
+towards it, pressing his lips upon the silent mouth, covering the waxen
+face with eager caresses, chafing the frozen hands, the tiny bare feet,
+calling to it words of love and endearment, begging it to look up and
+speak.
+
+But all in vain; no responsive smile came to the blanched lips, and when
+he let her slip from his arms the wee body fell back, a poor little
+heap, upon the ground.
+
+Then Eric covered his face with his hands and sobbed as if his heart
+would break.
+
+Thus did he remain completely overcome, in frightful distress. Oh,
+why--oh, why had he been unable to save her treasured life? Why, why was
+he alive while she was dead? Why had all his efforts been in vain? Why
+had he reached his goal only to be crushed by this bitter grief? O God!
+O God! What was the use of such a thing?
+
+But what was that? Over his head the sound of wings.... He let his hands
+fall from his tear-stained face, and looking up into the blue, blue sky
+above, overcome with wonder he discerned two shining angels who held
+within their arms the form of the poor little maid....
+
+They mounted always farther into space, and as they did so he saw the
+humble companion of his wanderings all bright and transfigured, like
+unto the angels themselves.
+
+Before they disappeared into that vast splendour of blue, she bent
+toward him a face full of love and gratitude, bearing an expression of
+heavenly peace which descended upon his soul, revealing unto him that
+henceforward he need grieve for her no more.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+    But the joy that is one with sorrow
+     Treads an immortal way.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Eric remained for a long while, his face turned to the sky, his eyes
+fixed upon the spot where the bright vision had melted into the
+infinite.
+
+Indeed it had been a consoling sight to see the lowly little waif
+changed into a shining light, her tattered rags turned into a robe as
+immaculate as those of the ethereal beings who had borne her away into
+the sky.
+
+God had been merciful; it was better thus; all her fatigue and weariness
+were at an end, all the scars and wounds had been wiped from her
+starving body, and when she had looked down upon him it had been with a
+light of ineffable happiness within her eyes.
+
+But now Eric felt how completely exhausted he was; so throwing himself
+upon the naked rock, he lay face downwards like one who is dead.
+
+It was many hours before he had strength to raise his head; and when he
+did so, the glare of noon beat down upon him with life-giving force.
+
+He rose to his feet looking about him, then stood in rapture before what
+he saw.
+
+The peak upon which he had climbed was far above everything else,
+overlooking the entire universe; a frowning solitary mass. On three
+sides of him were mountains and steep, precipitous passes, dark and
+forbidding, a whole world of mystery and desolation, where human foot
+would not dare to penetrate; sombre secrets seemed hidden in every
+crevice.
+
+Over all brooded an implacable silence; light and shade played on the
+face of the mountains in startling contrast, almost white in places, in
+others deep indigo; and far away on the horizon the vast immensities
+dwindled into a mist of blue, like smoke rising out of some giant's
+caldron.
+
+But at his feet lay what might have been a vision of the promised land,
+a wondrous revelation of light and beauty--as far as the eye could
+reach, a blooming plain all shimmering in the radiant sun, out of which
+a glorious expectation seemed to rise and remain suspended, awaiting
+some great moment of fulfilment. A heavy ripeness saturated with the
+glow of harvest was spread over the earth; long roads like silver
+ribbons wound through this vast richness, and they were like
+never-ending illusions, leading always farther into a blessed region of
+dreams.
+
+Broad rivers shone like molten metal as they slowly flowed between
+fruitful banks, in places bordered by thick forests that stood out in
+delicate masses against all that treasure of sunshine. A happy country
+indeed, if only it did not melt away when the foot reached its border.
+
+Something near by now attracted his attention. Beneath where he stood
+there was a flitting to and fro, a movement in the air, something
+impalpable and that yet called him back to his more immediate
+surroundings.
+
+Not very far below he perceived a small dark lake like an enormous eye,
+sombre and watchful, encased between granite boulders. Around this deep
+bottomless pool stood all his ghostly followers, watching with absorbed
+interest the water at their feet.
+
+There was something mysterious and unusual about that green-black
+surface.
+
+It was dead still; and then, quite unexpectedly, anxious convulsions
+would shake its depth, and out of its quiet face bubbles would suddenly
+rise, spreading over the whole till the entire water was covered with
+enormous dewdrops, and each single drop reflected within its circle the
+blue of the sky.
+
+Then in places the transparent globes would detach themselves and rise
+into the air like giant soap-bubbles, floating away into space till they
+disappeared from sight; and all these bubbles were of such exquisite
+beauty, and so varied in hue, that Eric imagined he saw colours within
+them that his eye had never before looked upon.
+
+What was the meaning of it all? What were his silent pursuers doing
+around that bewitched mountain lake? What were they awaiting? Why did a
+feeling of silent expectancy rise to where he stood?
+
+Very carefully Eric climbed down towards that curious gathering.
+Noiselessly he approached, afraid of frightening them away.
+
+As he did so, the shadowy figures one and all turned his way and fell
+down on their faces in postures of sudden adoration; from over their
+heads a whispering wind waved towards him, a wind that was full of sighs
+and hushed voices, like a far-off crowd always crying the same thing.
+Eric started back abashed, quite at a loss to know what he should do;
+then to his utmost astonishment he saw how the foremost spirit arose,
+and, giving him a last look of gratitude, without the slightest warning
+quietly walked into that uncanny water and disappeared beneath the
+surface! Following his example all the others did the same! It was but a
+flash!
+
+Eric threw himself with an exclamation towards the edge, but it was too
+late! Every trace of them was gone, nothing remained but large circles
+on the face of the water. Eric looked down into the darkness, and there
+he saw something rising slowly to the top....
+
+It was the miraculous bubbles. One by one they appeared slowly like some
+fairy procession; and when they reached the light of day they grew in
+size, hovered a moment over the dark element, then rose light and joyful
+into the sky, and as they mounted their colours changed in infinite
+variety, transparent globes of exquisite beauty.
+
+[Illustration: _It was the miraculous bubbles._]
+
+Close over the water they were green and blue; in rising their hues
+turned into violet and purple, that gently graduated through every tone
+of gold and yellow till they were one blaze of flame that quite
+imperceptibly faded away into the blue of the sky, where they hung
+suspended, hardly discernible, till at last they were one with the
+infinite; and that was so high, so high overhead, that it might have
+been at the very gates of heaven!
+
+Then Eric understood.... These were the lost souls he had freed; all had
+found rest at last; all had been able to detach themselves from this
+weary world always higher into the sky.
+
+Had it really been given to him to be their salvation? Had they found
+eternal peace and joy because he had not fallen on the way? Then indeed
+no sacrifice had been too great, no trial, no fatigue too vast. And in
+sign of gratitude they had displayed before his wondering eye the most
+divine colours he had ever seen, filling his artist soul with the deep
+joy of beauty for which he never could be thankful enough.
+
+He turned again to look at the pool, and as he did so there on the
+opposite bank he saw an apparition which made his heart stand still.
+
+A very old man, tall and gaunt, wrapped in grey flowing folds, a thin
+cloak suspended from his shoulders, a weather-beaten hat shading his
+face, his long beard falling far down on his breast.
+
+In his hands he clasped a thick stick on which he leaned. With a cry of
+joy Eric stretched out his hands towards that shadowy figure, for was it
+not his old and venerated friend the hermit!
+
+The grey vision turned, and with hollow eyes looked at him long and
+earnestly, with such a wonderful expression of loving affection that it
+made tears gather in the boy's eyes.
+
+But his beloved old master was also transparent and ghostly like the
+lost souls that had at last found peace.
+
+Was this his spirit that had left his earthly body? Would God in His
+mercy grant the beautiful miracle that through his courage and
+persistence he should also have brought rest and redemption to this
+weary sinner whose precious words he could never forget?
+
+His whole soul yearned to hear the dear tired voice once more, to drink
+anew from that source of wisdom which had so refreshed his spirit. Yet
+he had the cruel apprehension that this joy could be his no more.
+
+"O Father, I want to hear thee speak," he cried, but no answer came from
+the other side of the dark water.
+
+The old man only continued to stare.
+
+Then an awful despair gripped at Eric's heart, for he felt as if he had
+lost his dearest treasure.
+
+Why was life so cruelly full of lights and shades? Why was the full cup
+always dashed from the lips?
+
+"Father, father," he cried, "I do so long for the sound of thy voice;
+speak, oh, speak, I beseech thee," but there was no response; only
+silence deep and absolute, and a second later a faint echo of his own
+words whispering round the granite boulders.
+
+Then something very wonderful was revealed to his sight; there beside
+the old man stood a shining translucid woman, a woman whose face he
+could but faintly discern.
+
+Her head was bent back and her two uplifted arms shone like rays of
+light, pointing to the sky.
+
+Her long robe flowed down, a trailing mist, into the quiet water, where
+it hung like a cloud. And this filmy vapour wrapped itself round the
+feet of the man, and as it slowly mounted towards his heart a marvellous
+change came over the aged hermit; his astounded pupil saw how very
+gradually all the years rolled from him, how his bent figure became
+upright, and for a short moment the vision of a manly face full of
+strength and beauty flashed before his eyes, and then ... everything was
+gone! A gust of wind swept the whole miracle into the dark lake, where a
+cloud of smoke alone remained.
+
+The smoke hovered for a second, blue grey over the face of the deep; and
+then out of the very centre shot a quivering flame, intense and
+dazzling, that mounted slowly like a tongue of fire, always higher and
+higher, till it was lost from sight!
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+    My eager hands press emptiness to my heart, and it bruises my breast.
+
+    TAGORE.
+
+
+Feeling weak and completely overcome by so many conflicting emotions,
+Eric now began slowly to descend from the mighty height, with an intense
+and overpowering desire for rest and food.
+
+He was entirely spent, knowing that he could not go much farther unless
+he found help in his need. This side of the mountain was much less steep
+than the other; it led down by soft green inclines to the happy land he
+saw calling to him from below.
+
+Snow and winter, rocks and wilderness were now a thing of the past; this
+was quite another world, smiling and at peace.
+
+With stumbling feet he dragged himself along.
+
+All zest of having won was wiped out and gone. He only felt an aching
+longing for the little companion who had abandoned him in the hour of
+attainment.
+
+Was this for ever the way of the weary earth? Were all victories so sad?
+He had also an unceasing desire for the voice of his old friend the
+hermit, knowing that he would have been able to explain what was but
+dark mystery to his searching mind.
+
+He had the sensation of being completely forsaken and useless, a weary,
+weary stranger who had no home in this world. As he was pondering, sadly
+discouraged, both body and mind overwrought with fatigue, he saw the
+wings of the falcon waving before him, beckoning to him like some
+trusted friend; and this, at least, gave him a feeling of not being
+entirely forgotten.
+
+So on he plodded, each limb stiff and painful, his unhealed wounds
+throbbing like tormented hearts, the hand at his side empty and lonely,
+missing the confiding touch of the childish fingers.
+
+Heavy with misery, his head sunk on his breast, he followed the bird
+with faltering step, mechanically climbing always farther down, but a
+poor ghost of his former self, looking neither to the right nor to the
+left, for once quite irresponsive to all the beauty around him. He knew
+not how he advanced, all had become blank and colourless. As the day
+drew to an end he came to a wide mountain-meadow where a flock of sheep
+was peacefully grazing.
+
+Before he could realize what was happening he was suddenly attacked on
+all sides by savage shaggy dogs that barked furiously, showing their
+teeth, jumping at him, and tearing at his ragged clothes.
+
+Eric was much too tired to oppose any resistance, and no doubt it would
+have gone badly with him had not a shrill whistle unexpectedly made the
+dogs stand still, all attention, their ears pointed, listening.
+
+A heavy stick was now flung in their midst scattering them on all sides,
+so that they turned and ran yelping after the peaceful sheep, masking
+their discomfiture by wildly scampering round the flock.
+
+Then a quite young boy came running towards where Eric stood in dejected
+misery, his strength all spent, incapable of moving another step.
+
+The shepherd youth, seeing how sorry was the plight of this stranger,
+went quickly up to him, and laying a strong arm round his waist asked if
+he could be of any help.
+
+Eric was unable to answer; he felt the earth yielding beneath his feet;
+so he simply laid his head on this sturdy peasant's shoulder and let
+himself be led away, he knew not whither.
+
+It was long before he came back to the knowledge of his surroundings. He
+must have lain in a deep swoon; but after a time he felt his head being
+lifted with rough kindness, whilst a bowl of warm milk was held to his
+parched lips. He drank in great gulps like one utterly famished; drank
+and drank till not a drop was left. Through his tired brain shot the
+thought, that hit him like an aching blow, if only his little companion
+were there to share this life-giving draught; then he sank back with
+closed eyes, still too weak to care where he was, indifferent if he was
+to live or die, all his nature one crying need of repose.
+
+He slept many hours; indeed, so deep was his slumber that after a time
+the shepherd came to where he lay, anxiously putting his hand upon the
+sleeper's heart, afraid of finding it silent beneath his touch.
+
+But he felt its regular beating against the tips of his fingers; so he
+left Eric where he had laid him within the humble hut and went out to
+his flock, leaning upon his long stick, his chin resting on his hands,
+looking over the mountains that were gradually fading into the shades of
+night. Here it was already summer, the grass grew thick and green; the
+cold and frost had been left up there upon the frowning heights; indeed
+it was a smiling contrast.
+
+Eric slept all that night and through the following day; darkness was
+again spreading over the world when at last he woke.
+
+He sat up, looking about him, trying with his numbed brain to grasp his
+whereabouts. The door of the hut stood wide open and close before it a
+big fire had been lit.
+
+Its crackling reminded Eric, with a pang, of the great blaze that had
+saved him and the little maid from almost certain death. He saw again
+the dear soft lips smiling at him from over the jumping flames,
+remembered how sunken had been her eyes, and with a groan he turned his
+face to the wall.
+
+But he could not keep still very long; a mighty hunger was gnawing at
+his vitals, he was in absolute need of finding food; so he rose stiffly
+from his couch, stretching his aching limbs as he went to the door to
+look out.
+
+There in the flickering light of the fire sat the shepherd, a beautiful
+boy with large brown eyes and dark hair hanging to his shoulders, a high
+fur cap on his head with a flower behind his ear.
+
+He was dressed in a white shirt and trousers, with linen bands wound
+round his legs; on his feet he wore sandal-like shoes kept in place by
+leathern thongs.
+
+About his waist was a broad leather belt within which a flute and a
+dagger had been stuck, and over his back hung a coat of shaggy
+sheep-skin. Chin in hand the peasant sat staring with dreamy content
+into the flames. In a circle around him lay his dogs, their heads
+resting on their paws, their unkempt coats the colour of earth and
+autumn-leaves. Only one enormous brute was white, which kept staring at
+his master with watchful eyes, whilst the others slumbered and snored.
+It was a peaceful sight; the stars coming out one by one, and not far
+off the flock lay, huddled together in attitudes of repose.
+
+Eric had moved so noiselessly that even the dogs had not heard his
+approach, but now as he ventured out of the hut they immediately were
+all upon him snarling and gnashing their teeth. The shepherd jumped to
+his feet and came quickly to where Eric stood with a joyful exclamation
+of greeting; but his guest fixed him with hollow eyes not able to utter
+a word.
+
+"I know what thou needest," cried the boy, and leading Eric back into
+the hut he took from a chest two earthenware dishes, one of which was
+filled with thick creamy cheese.
+
+"Eat," said the youth, "it will do thee good; but then I want thee to
+talk, for lonely forsooth are these hills; I want to hear the sound of
+thy voice. I live here in utmost solitude many months of the year: I
+guard my sheep and make this cheese. I play to the stars and sing to the
+sun, but they are too far above and care not to talk to me: I want to
+hear of thy wanderings and why thou lookest so sad. Tell me, I pray,
+didst thou verily come from the other side?"
+
+Eric seized the bowl with a hasty gesture, and greedily consumed the
+tasty food, feeling as he ate how new strength began gradually to course
+through his veins. Never had he been so hungry, and this simple fare was
+in truth the very best dish he had ever eaten in his life!
+
+Gratefully he looked at the young peasant, and at last he spoke:
+
+"I cannot thank thee enough for thy spontaneous hospitality at a moment
+when without thy help I would surely have died of exhaustion. Thou wast
+sent me from God, as a sign that in His mercy He desireth me to continue
+my road. I have come from far, so far that to me it seems as if I had
+been wandering all my life."
+
+He turned his trustful eyes to the youth, and with the smile which made
+him dear to every man's heart, he continued:
+
+"Once, it may be years ago, for I have no more count of time, I lived in
+the palace of a king."
+
+"Oh!" cried the boy, "why didst thou go?"
+
+"Because," answered Eric, "I am seeking for a face which I cannot
+find--a face that I see in my dreams; so I had to leave all that rich
+ease and comfort, all that had sweetened my days, and always am I
+searching and still may have to wander many a mile."
+
+The shepherd stared at him in growing astonishment, almost afraid that
+his strange guest might be crazy.
+
+"It seems to me," he said, "that there are many faces on this earth; and
+why must thou journey so far looking for what is so easy to find? Why
+didst thou leave the king's palace? Forsooth, I would have remained and
+lived in joy and plenty;" and merrily he laughed, showing two rows of
+splendid white teeth.
+
+Eric did not smile but replied:
+
+"Ah! thou dost not understand. Dearly did I love my kingly master; and I
+grieve that I could not listen to his bidding. But there is something
+within each of us that when the time comes calls with insistent voice,
+and then we must leave all and follow. I am but a foolish youth, but
+this I have learnt: we cannot choose our lives nor in what way we desire
+to live them; some power there is stronger than our human will that
+carries us forward upon a road we do not know. I had but a short while
+ago a venerable master, and these were his words: 'That each man runs
+after the same thing, although each calls it by a different name.' The
+master I loved said the name he had found for it was Happiness, but that
+none of us realize when we have it in our hands. Why he said this I do
+not know. Dearly did I love to hear him talk, but not always did I grasp
+the meaning of his words."
+
+"Happiness!" queried the peasant boy; "happiness! It soundeth sweet to
+the ear; dost thou think that thou shalt find it at the end of the way?"
+
+Eric looked out into the flames of the fire before he slowly replied:
+
+"The master said that we could grasp but the shadow, that the thing
+itself was God's. Deeply have I pondered over the sense of this saying,
+and this is what I have found in my mind: God hath not time for each
+man's clamouring, so He has strewn over the world things that shine and
+things that lie in the shadow; those that shine dazzle the eye and give
+pleasure, and those in the dark awake a longing to know, and thus God
+leads each man forward to search for himself, each according to his
+desire. But the wise man said that few reach it in the end, and when
+they do they seldom may keep it long. Ah! but I wish I knew! My heart is
+so full of longing, and yet I feel that some part of it will never be
+filled!"
+
+But the peasant boy wanted to hear of other things; to him this talk was
+but a waste of time.
+
+"Tell me, hast thou really climbed over this barrier of mountains; and
+how is it thou didst not perish on the way?"
+
+Gundian took his sword between both hands, and looked at it with tears
+in his eyes:
+
+"This sword kept me from death when I thought my last hour had come, and
+always, when all hope seemed at an end, something there was that saved
+me in my bitterest need.
+
+"The old man of the hills believed in my power to win, and
+then ..."--Eric's voice trembled as he spoke--"I had at my side a sweet
+little soul that providentially had been given into my care; and a
+curious thing have I learnt: we can do for others what we cannot do for
+ourselves. Many a time would I have given in and died, had not the soft
+hand of the child kept hold on my life by the desire I felt that it
+should not perish!"
+
+And then, his hands folded over the hilt of his sword, dreamily gazing
+afar off, Eric related, with many words, all he had seen and done.
+
+The eyes of the lonely rustic hung, with ever growing interest, upon the
+face of his wonderful companion, and many a time did a loud exclamation
+either of joy or fear break from his lips; and when Eric told of the
+vision of angels, the boy started to his feet, hands joined in an
+ecstasy of delight.
+
+"Thou didst see the heavenly hosts! Oh, tell me! Tell me! Were they
+indeed so fair? were their wings all shining and bright? had they crowns
+on their heads? And were their robes of snowy white? didst thou hear the
+sound of their voices? did they come quite near to thee? Oh! speak, I
+pray!"
+
+Eric smiled very sadly.
+
+"They brought peace to my soul at a moment when I thought my heart would
+break"; and within his mind our wanderer saw the face of his little
+friend smiling down upon him with lips that a breath of Heaven had
+already kissed.
+
+"And now," asked the youth, "where art thou going? Or wilt thou remain
+with me? I am very forsaken up here on this far-off meadow. But dost
+know, it is said that no human foot can cross those mountains that thou
+hast scaled; it is said that amongst those lonely heights there is
+eternal snow and ice, and that it is always winter there when summer
+smiles on us here."
+
+"Indeed it was cold; but what has crushed my joy is that it was not
+given me to save the child that Fate confided to my care; and this thou
+must know: that at the very instant I thought I had won, the Hand of God
+took from me what would have made my victory sweet. Indeed I reached the
+highest peak, and looked down upon the whole of the world beneath ...
+but ... well, I cannot explain--because I am too unlearned.
+
+"I fear that I may not yet understand--I know not if thus it is with all
+we touch; the master I loved would have told me for sure if there is a
+hidden explanation I cannot grasp.
+
+"He said that all our tears and hopes were needed for the making of a
+single whole--maybe my despair, at that moment which was loss and
+victory all in one, belongs also to some link of the chain. Alas! he is
+gone, to come no more, and I must grope alone in the dark to find the
+meaning of the many questions that weigh down my heart.
+
+"But thou must tell me now what is that sunny country I saw beneath me
+when I was yonder, so near the skies? It was like a land all peace and
+beauty, sending from below to where I stood a message of hope and
+promise, luring me towards its fertile plains."
+
+"It is my country," said the peasant. "I know not if it is full of
+beauty and promise, but I know that I love the village in which I live,
+that dear to me is the small cottage where my mother sits and spins, the
+old well from which the girls fetch water at the hour when the sun goes
+down. I love the great plain where the corn waves in the heat of the
+summer, and the long roads that are straight and dusty, upon which the
+carts are always rumbling never in a hurry to reach the end.
+
+"It is a good country; and on feast days we dance in the villages, and
+the girls wear skirts of many colours. But from the time when the snow
+has melted I come to these lonely hills with my flocks, and here I
+quietly remain--as sole companions my dogs, and occasionally the visit
+of a shepherd like myself or that of a wandering monk--till the cold
+blasts of autumn drive me back to the plains.
+
+"I do not mind the solitude--I have my flute, and the dear songs of my
+country; and we love not overmuch to live in a hurry, or to move about
+with busy hands.
+
+"My mother weaves and spins, and my sisters embroider strange designs on
+the shirts they will wear on the day of their marriage. Oh, indeed I
+love this country of mine!"
+
+"Tell me more," begged Eric. "I love to hear thee talk. I feel then the
+peace of thy plains steal over my weary body that has come from so far."
+
+"There is not much to tell," answered the boy. "Our cottages are small
+and are covered with shaggy roofs of thatch and maize. Large sunflowers
+look in at the tiny windows, and when a stranger all hot and tired comes
+along the road the dogs rush out from every door and the air is filled
+with their barking and noise.
+
+"At the fall of night the herds come home raising clouds of dust as they
+pass. Each one knows the corner where it dwells, and stops of its own
+accord at its own gate, while the small boys run about bare-foot
+clacking their whips. In winter everything is deeply enveloped with
+snow, which lies like a cover of feathers, keeping the fields warm from
+the frost, and when the sun goes to bed it lights up the sky with
+flaming red that spreads over the snow as well; and then black troops of
+crows fly across the horizon, and settle like a dark cloud upon the
+white immensity, flat and endless, as far as the eye can reach.
+
+"And when spring comes the wind blows in storms and dries up the lakes
+made by the melting snow. Then the fields are a patchwork of black and
+white; timidly the little flowers push their heads through the dead
+leaves in the woods, and the children run out of the villages to gather
+them in bunches which they sell to the passers-by. Thou must remain with
+me and I shall tell thee more!"
+
+But Eric explained that he must soon continue his road, for he knew not
+how far he still had to go:
+
+"All roads will feel soft to my feet after the mountains I have climbed;
+but my heart has lost its brightness and I begin to wonder what I shall
+reach in the end.
+
+"At first the gladness that filled my being found an echo in each thing
+I met as I went along. I used to sing and play on my flute. And then
+came days when all was strange and full of secret dangers I could never
+understand.
+
+"Later I climbed those awful mountains; much did I find there, and much
+did I lose. But I no more sing as once I did."
+
+Both boys had risen and gone to the door of the hut, where they stood,
+hands linked, looking out on the night; and there on the stump of a tree
+near by sat the beautiful falcon, and round his neck the blue diamond
+still blazed like a consoling star. Eric went to the bird and laid his
+hand on its head; the faithful creature turned his way and a bright
+light shone in its eyes.
+
+"This was my trusted scout, who showed me where I should go; but I fear
+he will no more follow me when I go down to the plains. If thou allowest
+I shall still spend this night under thy roof and then go my way."
+
+"I wish I could leave my flocks," cried the youth, "and follow thee; thy
+face is so fair, and never have I heard voice more sweet. I fear I shall
+see thee no more, for thou seemest out of a world of dreams."
+
+Eric did not reply, but stood looking into the night; then very slowly
+he unfastened the golden chain he still wore round his neck, and slipped
+it over the head of his host.
+
+"Keep this in token that really I have been with thee; but now let me
+rest on thy couch, for I must leave thee soon."
+
+He turned back into the hut, and throwing himself upon the sacks of dry
+leaves that formed the shepherd's bed, he was soon fast asleep, his head
+buried in the folds of his cloak. The sun stood already far over the
+mountain tops when Eric awoke after a refreshing sleep upon the
+primitive resting-place.
+
+Outside the shepherd-boy was watching his sheep, leaning on his staff in
+his wonted attitude.
+
+When he saw that Eric was awake he greeted him with a happy smile, and
+immediately set about getting him food, and a freshly milked drink, all
+white and warm.
+
+Upon Eric's bidding he led his guest to a little spring near by, where
+at last he could wash off all traces of his past wanderings.
+
+His wounds had been awkwardly bound up by the kind-hearted youth on the
+first night, while he lay in a swoon.
+
+Eric winced with pain when the cold water came in contact with his
+scarcely healed skin; but it was a glorious joy to bathe in the fresh
+running stream, and at last our traveller felt more like his old self.
+
+During his ablutions his host had carried off his once so neat clothes,
+and when he came back to the hut he found the faithful boy sewing up the
+rents in the rich black stuff with a long thread and needle.
+
+He had brushed away, as well as he could, all the spots and stains, but
+the velvet coat and silken hose had kept little resemblance to the neat
+apparel in which the King's favourite had started from the white palace
+of the north. Eric lay down in the grass, turning his bare back to the
+smiling sun-rays.
+
+Both youths joked happily together, as the peasant sewed away with
+diligent fingers. And when they had no more words to say, the shepherd
+lifted his young quavering voice and sang long-drawn ditties, which ever
+had a mournful ring in their notes, full of melancholy and patient
+longing.
+
+Eric felt almost happy. His recent adventures seemed far-away dreams of
+another life; but he knew he never would be able to forget all that he
+had suffered, knew that the gay thoughtless boy, who had started long
+ago, was for ever a thing of the past.
+
+The falcon still sat upon the stump of the tree and watched with quiet
+attention these two boys of such different races, the one so fair, the
+other so dark, both handsome and good to look upon; but no man can know
+what thoughts lay behind those piercing eyes.
+
+After a while the last stitch had been put, and the kindly youth held up
+the velvet coat in triumph, so that the sun shone upon it making it look
+quite new.
+
+"Never have I seen stuff so soft," he exclaimed, whilst he stroked the
+rich worn tissue with his hand.
+
+"And it is all silk within, silvery grey, like the rays of the moon! And
+thou hast given me thy golden chain! Was it indeed a gift from the
+northern King? And to think that thou left him and all his glory to
+wander all over the world in search of a face! Ah! never shall I know if
+thou hast found it in the end! That thought is sad to me. Forsooth, I
+wish I could call thee brother!"
+
+"Call me whatever thou willst," Eric replied. "I shall think of thee
+when I am far; for didst thou not tend me with loving care? Didst thou
+not feed me when I was famished and tired? Didst thou not save me when I
+knew I could move no farther? No brother could have done more; and one
+day, perhaps, we shall meet again. What is thy name?"
+
+"I am called Radu the shepherd, and my father possesses two fields and a
+cart, with oxen that are grey like the stones on the road; their horns
+are so long that it is difficult for them to hold their heads close
+together; but we are poor all the same, and that is why I tend my flocks
+on these mountain pastures so far from my village. But if thou dost
+tarry for a time in yonder plains I may meet thee yet when I return to
+my home; but one thing I must give thee before thou goest--thy shoes are
+quite beyond repair--I have a couple of new sandals meant for Sunday
+use; they may not be what thou art accustomed to wear, but my heart will
+be glad if thou wilt accept so small a gift from me. Also I must see to
+thy wounds. I have an ointment, made by the wisest woman of our village,
+that can heal any sore. Come into my lowly hut and it will be my joy to
+dress thee and bind up thy cruel cuts!"
+
+Eric gladly followed his kind friend, deeply touched by so much simple
+hospitality, and gave himself over into the clever hands of the boy: he
+was soon freshly bandaged with a soothing salve spread upon his aching
+scars.
+
+Then he put on his neatly patched clothes, and let his host fasten the
+sandals on his feet, wind the long leather thongs about his legs, and
+tie them firmly under the knee.
+
+Not yet content with all he had done, the boy searched about in the
+painted chest, and drew from its depths a long staff, richly decorated
+with patterns cut out of metal and fixed upon the wood with tiny nails.
+
+"This I have worked upon for years, inventing the most intricate
+designs. It has been the pleasure of my lonely hours, and I want thee to
+have it, because never have I loved a face as much as thine; nothing so
+fair has ever come my way! But don't forget Radu the shepherd! It would
+grieve me sore!"
+
+Now the beautiful sword was girt round our wanderer's waist, the
+much-used cloak hung over his back; and then, taking the boy's present
+in his hand, he drew the kindly friend into his arms and held him long
+in a warm embrace.
+
+When the peasant lifted his head from Eric's shoulder large hot tears
+were running down his cheeks.
+
+For a last time the two boys firmly clasped hands, and then Eric tore
+himself away. The falcon spread its white wings and flew before him
+leading the way.
+
+Several times Eric turned to look his last on the comrade who had been
+so kind; there he stood silhouetted against the sky, leaning as ever
+upon his staff, his flock around him, his dogs at his feet.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+     I saw her eyes like stars and her face pale and wonderful as dawn,
+     and her lips like twilight water.
+
+     FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Eric had now reached the base of the mountains, had actually set his
+foot within that fruitful, smiling plain.
+
+One of the long roads that he had perceived from the heights lay before
+him.
+
+It was covered with thick white dust, and on both sides the cornfields
+stood in ripening abundance, rippling in the soft wind like waves that
+had been dyed yellow by the rays of the sun. Bright-tinted flowers grew
+in the ditches--red, blue, and yellow--a feast for the traveller's eye.
+
+Eric walked quickly; new hope had risen in his heart, his body felt
+rested, his spirit eager; he wondered if this would be the land of his
+dreams? The sun shone upon him from a cloudless sky; the crystal of his
+sword reflected its dazzling blue, whilst the staff he held in his hand
+had turned into burnished gold.
+
+He passed many peasants as he went, and all of them turned and gazed
+after this stranger in silken clothes.
+
+Eric had never lost his radiant smile; and all whom he met felt better
+and richer because they had looked upon the light that shone in his
+eyes.
+
+Never had he seen roads so straight and so shadeless; they seemed to
+lead in an uncurving line from one end of the earth to the other; and
+those that walked upon them were never in a hurry.
+
+Strings of carts laden with freshly cut corn and hay moved slowly along,
+the heads of the patient oxen bent low to the ground, straining under
+the weight they dragged.
+
+High above the swinging loads long-haired youths stretched in lazy
+content, piped dreamy tunes upon their wooden flutes, their eyes hidden
+beneath broad-brimmed hats. All were dressed in the same white shirts
+Radu had worn.
+
+There were also old men walking beside the vehicles, bearing heavy
+scythes on their shoulders.
+
+Their faces were browned, the colour of sun-baked earth; and from under
+the shade of their hats silvery locks hung down covering the napes of
+their wrinkled necks.
+
+One friendly peasant had bidden Eric take a rest on the top of his hay,
+and our wanderer had gladly accepted, swinging himself up on the swaying
+mass.
+
+There he reposed among the fragrant green, half buried beneath the
+flowers of yesterday.
+
+The faithful hawk flew down from the blue and perched close to his feet.
+Eric closed his eyes, hugging his sword to his breast; and as he did so
+the vision of his dream stood before him with startling vividness.
+
+Never had he seen the face so distinctly; never had the eyes looked into
+his from so near. He sat up, almost expecting to find some unknown being
+at his side; but no--he was shut in all about by the withered grass that
+smelt so sweet and was so deliciously soft to his limbs.
+
+But why had he so clearly felt his vision's sweet presence? It made his
+heart beat with breathless excitement. How warm the sun was! How long
+the road!
+
+The clouds of dust raised by the wheels of the carts were so thick that
+Eric could no more see where he was going. But had he not always
+allowed Fate to shape events as she would? This time again he would not
+worry, but simply believe in his luck as he had done all along, and
+trust in God who had so mercifully guided his steps.
+
+Eric must have fallen asleep on his moving bed, because when he awoke
+the sun was already low and the carts had stopped beside a wood near the
+edge of the road. The peasants had unyoked their oxen, which were
+quietly chewing the cud, watching their masters with large humid eyes,
+their tails lazily flicking the swarms of flies from off their flanks.
+
+The men sat in groups; some smoking, some preparing their meal of Indian
+corn over a small fire they had lit in the ditch.
+
+Eric climbed down from his lofty resting-place, looking around him
+rather dazed from his sleep.
+
+The falcon rose noiselessly into the air and flew off, perching upon a
+tall tree in the wood beyond. It had not yet forsaken its travelling
+companion, and Eric followed its flight with an affectionate look.
+
+The men made room for the youth as they all sat around the boiling pot
+that hung over the fire from three crossed bars. One man stirred the
+thick dough with a solid rounded stick; from time to time they took
+draughts of cool water, putting their lips to the thick spouts of
+quaintly shaped earthen pots which were standing at their side.
+
+None could resist our traveller's charm, and every one treated him as an
+honoured guest, wherever he brought his sunny smile, his dreamer's eyes,
+and his golden locks.
+
+His new hosts asked him a few vague questions, about what he was doing,
+whither he was going, and whence he came; but they showed no great
+eagerness; it even appeared to Eric as if nothing could take them by
+surprise. In their quiet acceptation of all that came and went, they
+much reminded Eric of their own beasts of burden.
+
+They did not seem to think, but only to dream, and consider one thing as
+good as another; they were ready to share whatever was theirs with this
+stranger whom they had met on the way.
+
+In the distance a tiny village could be seen, hidden amongst thick
+shrubs and trees; but the peasants explained it was not their home; they
+still had far to go, so they meant to stop here for the night, sleeping
+either in the ditch among the dusty flowers or upon their loads of hay.
+
+They kindly proposed that Eric should remain with them and rest beside
+their carts, which he agreed to do; but before settling down for the
+night he felt inclined to wander through the wood and to discover what
+lay beyond.
+
+The peasants had suddenly espied the wonderful sword that hung from his
+belt, and they would not let him go before they had handled it in turns.
+
+For a moment they dropped their calm in loud exclamations of approval,
+and stood around him as he let the blade flash in the sinking light.
+
+Then he moved away, and soon was lost among the oaks of the wood that
+spread their branches over his head. Through their thick trunks the
+setting sun could be seen turning the sky into a burning furnace, and
+one side of every trunk seemed glowing hot as the fiery rays smote upon
+it.
+
+A thick carpet of green spread beneath his feet, and innumerable birds
+sang amongst the trees as he passed. The wood was small, and before long
+Eric had reached the farther side.
+
+In front of him stretched the broad bed of a river, now almost dry; but
+in several places the water flowed calmly along in separate streams.
+
+The banks were bordered with grey-green willows and on the small islands
+in the river's bed the same trees thickly grew. The water was dyed red
+by the sinking sun, and each stone shone like a jewel, as if some
+wasteful king had cast all his treasure away.
+
+There, where the river was dry, Eric perceived a group of small brown
+tents, like giant withered leaves, that the parting sun was turning into
+every shade of rust and orange.
+
+Little columns of smoke mounted into the air on all sides, throwing
+their blue veil of filmy vapour over the bushes in the background.
+
+Tied up to some trees near by were lean, hungry-looking horses of all
+sorts, and solemn grey donkeys wandered about amongst the loose stones
+cropping each blade of grass they could find.
+
+Eric descended the small bank that separated the wood from the river and
+hesitatingly approached the shabby tents. As he did so a whole swarm of
+nut-brown children came running towards him, from every corner, with
+outstretched, begging hands, their rags hanging in tatters around their
+thin little bodies.
+
+Some were quite naked and as dark as mahogany, with enormous black eyes
+and feathery lashes. They screamed and chattered, and many of them
+turned mad somersaults over the stony ground to attract the wanderer's
+attention.
+
+In a second the whole settlement was in a violent uproar of excitement,
+mixed with the barking of dogs.
+
+From each dwelling dark, curiously clad men and women trooped out.
+
+Many were beautiful, and all had marvellous eyes; the younger men wore
+their hair in thick black curls, hanging about their faces. There were
+frightful old hags amongst them draped in discoloured garments that
+almost fell from their withered limbs, held only together by broad
+scarlet girdles that were wound innumerable times around their waists.
+
+One or two young girls were startlingly handsome; they stood with heads
+thrown back, their hands on their hips, holding short white pipes
+between their flashing teeth.
+
+Their tresses were bound in gaudy rags, and each wore a flower of
+brightest hue stuck behind her ear. Round their necks they had hung
+strings of beads and shells, of all sorts and sizes, that shone in
+varying colours as they moved about.
+
+They were slim and upright, with narrow hips and beautiful feet and
+hands, but one and all were as dark as Indians, their faces having taken
+the tint of the long roads they were for ever pursuing.
+
+As Eric had immediately guessed, this was a troop of that mysterious
+race of gypsies that comes from no one knows whither, and wanders over
+the world with no destination in view. Everywhere they are dreaded by
+the quiet inhabitants of the villages, for they are ready to steal all
+that comes their way, and never respect what belongs to another.
+
+At the slightest provocation their knives are ready to spring from their
+belts; their tempers blaze like scorching flames; to them it seems but
+part of the day's work to leave a dagger within the heart of any who
+have awakened their resentment.
+
+Now they all clamoured and yelled as they dragged at his cloak, touched
+his clothes, fingered his sword, and nearly pulled the staff from his
+hand.
+
+But they were all laughing and excited, evidently enchanted to meet so
+fair a traveller who had so unexpectedly fallen in their midst.
+
+Eric felt quite confused by this turbulent greeting, and was wondering
+what was going to happen next, when one of the quite old women moved out
+of the mob, took hold of his cloak, and pulled him towards her tent.
+
+She was clothed in an old carpet-like cloth that she had wrapped round
+her loins over a discoloured shift that might once have been white, but
+was now the shade of the earth; the whole was held together by a long
+band of faded colours that was twisted several times round hips and
+waist. Her grey hair hung in thin strands over her face, that was
+wrinkled and brown like the bark of a tree, but which still showed signs
+of former beauty. She was bent almost double, and dragged herself along
+with the help of a twisted staff. Like all the others she had a short
+white pipe in her mouth, and her head was covered with a kerchief of
+brilliant colour.
+
+From her belt hung a curiously shaped shell, a sign that she was a
+teller of fortunes, and therefore a respected personage amongst this
+troop of nomads.
+
+Eric followed her without resistance, but hesitated at the entry to her
+dark dwelling, very reluctant to penetrate within anything so unclean;
+but the old woman was insistent, and our young traveller had to yield
+and even to take his place upon some indescribable rags that served as a
+bed and seat all in one.
+
+The air was stifling and full of smoke, the whole place so devoid of
+cleanliness that Eric hardly dared to look about. The gypsy took his
+hand in hers, but Eric found great difficulty in understanding what she
+was saying, in spite of the knowledge that had come to him through the
+old man's tablets. With her bony finger she began following the lines on
+his palm. Outside the tent the other gypsies stood jabbering and
+laughing.
+
+All of a sudden the old woman gave a start, and declared that whatever
+his fate had been, now he was near a critical moment in his life, and
+must expect either a great joy or a great pain, she could not tell
+which; ... "but," added the old creature, "great joy and great pain lie
+very near together, and often one rises out of the other; it is hard to
+say which is nearer truth.
+
+"I am the wise woman of this wandering people; from near and far they
+come to listen to my words; much could I tell thee of what I have seen,
+for there is not a road on this earth upon which my weary feet have not
+moved.
+
+"If thou wilt not hurry away I shall tell thee many a tale; but to-day I
+can show thee something which we call the treasure of our clan, though
+in truth it belongs not to us; we believe, however, that it brings luck
+to our wandering tribe. Come quickly, before the light bids us
+farewell."
+
+The strange old thing again seized our astonished traveller and dragged
+him after her out of the tent.
+
+The rest of the dark mob wanted to follow, but the fortune-teller, who
+seemed to be the respected head of this curious people, stopped them
+with loud imprecations, and none dared oppose her wishes. She told them
+to go back to their camp, because she alone had the right to lead the
+fair stranger whither she would--that he was her guest and she would
+have none of their noisy company.
+
+With incredible agility for her age she led the way, over several
+streams of shallow water, over rolling stones and wet sand, to a small
+island in the middle of the river's bed. Eric marvelled at the rapidity
+with which she moved along, helping herself with her stick; above their
+heads the white falcon flew, as always, showing the way.
+
+Here the willows grew thick and grey, trailing their sinuous branches
+down to the ground where they mixed with earth and sand.
+
+The gypsy parted the thick boughs, and as she did so a sound of sweet
+music came wafted on the air, dream-like, something within its notes
+that was at once both ghostly and unreal, something that made the heart
+stand still in an ecstasy of wonder.
+
+Eric's leader scrambled up the steep bank, still firmly clutching his
+cloak, and almost ran along, winding her way in and out, amongst the
+thick growth of shrubs.
+
+There was deep shade here in this silent place. A soft grey-green light
+was over all, only from between the leaves the sky could be seen
+blood-red.
+
+The ground was covered with a thick carpet of harebells the colour of an
+Italian sky; they swayed their heads with a tinkling sound whenever a
+breath of wind stirred the air.
+
+It was a spot where fairies would surely dwell, mysterious, cool, and
+full of secret promise.
+
+And there, in the midst of this carpet of blue, leaning against a
+moss-grown crumbling tree, was a spirit-like being out of another world!
+
+[Illustration: _And there, leaning against a moss-grown crumbling tree,
+was a spirit-like being out of another world._]
+
+No words can describe what Eric felt!
+
+He only knew he was at the end of his way ... that all his wanderings
+were not in vain--that something marvellous and unspeakably sweet had
+suddenly flooded earth and sky, that the entire universe had become one
+song of praise, one cry of hope, one yearning desire of fulfilment....
+
+There, before him in all their wonder and perfection, were the face and
+eyes that had stolen the peace from his soul and the art from his hands.
+
+He fell on his knees, overcome by the surging emotion that filled heart
+and brain.
+
+He could not grasp this amazing miracle that completely overwhelmed his
+being; the hermit's words alone rang in his ears: "It may not come in
+splendid raiment with a crown on its head, but keep thy heart open as
+well as thy eyes...." Yes, his eyes and heart both were open and a
+glorious light swept over his life, like a warm wave before which all
+resistance gives way, covering both past and future, with an immense
+longing for perfect achievement.
+
+And this was the vision that had been at last revealed to the eyes that
+had searched with such tireless persistence, with such strong and
+faithful belief in the ultimate crowning of their desire: A girl, slim
+and ethereal, clad in the garment of poverty, a shirt-like dress over
+which a colourless scarf had been many times wound till the delicate
+figure resembled that of an Egyptian fresco; feet and arms were bare,
+and of utmost perfection.
+
+From under a wreath of fragile harebells streamed the most exquisite
+tresses ever seen--rich brown in tone, but the sun had shone on them so
+lovingly long, that a haze of golden red had been breathed over them by
+all the rays that had ceaselessly caressed their softness.
+
+She stood, her head thrown back; within her hand she held an old violin
+on which she was playing like one in a far-off world, for whom neither
+turmoil nor strife can exist, playing like an angel from the regions
+above, where no sin and no sorrow can have place....
+
+But her face. Oh! her face ... in truth it was not of this world!
+
+A radiance seemed to illuminate it from within, a shine that could come
+but from a soul in touch with the infinite, a soul full of light and
+love and hope, that no material distance could sever from its perfect
+communion with God. And then her eyes! Large and grey, with a far-away
+look--eyes that see visions and dreams past the knowledge of man; starry
+and clear, yet deep as a summer sea; eyes in which lay hidden all the
+boundless illusions of our human race, mixed with a peace that has no
+name.
+
+Above her head the leaves rustled with a whispering sound; the flowers
+trembled, shaking their bells in waves of blue. The last glow in the sky
+fell slanting through the branches upon the girlish figure, till she
+appeared to be a transparent apparition out of the legends of yore.
+
+Serenely indifferent to the two who watched her in rapture and silence,
+she played her heavenly music, a distant hymn to a being she alone could
+see; and upon invisible wings the gentle evening breeze carried the
+rippling notes far away into the fading red of the sky....
+
+The old woman came quite near to Eric and whispered in his ear:
+
+"They say that she is mad; but I know things that lie deeper than the
+deepest ocean, which they never can understand; however, I shall teach
+thee some of my wisdom: God has pressed His lips on her eyes, so she
+ever sees visions we earthly mortals have not the power to conceive.
+
+"She is not one of us! She is of a race as far removed from ours as the
+sky is removed from the earth. But those that live in the dust, whose
+feet move amidst the mud of the roads, cannot believe that a creature so
+spotless and pure can exist in this world and yet never soil its
+perfection!
+
+"So they say she is daft and turn lightly away from a problem too deep
+for the comfort of their shallow souls: for verily it is easier to
+disbelieve what the common brain cannot fathom."
+
+"But who is she?" queried Eric, with bated breath.
+
+"Ah! that we shall never know.
+
+"In a distant land far over the sea we were once wandering on a
+rich-coloured autumn morning, and there we found, on the grey steps of a
+church, an infant of marvellous beauty. Her pearly limbs were enfolded
+in fine linen and lace. We had mercy upon the innocent babe, for our
+hearts have not the colour of our faces; and since that blessed day she
+has been the joy of our tribe and the pride of both young and old.
+
+"But when she grew to the age when she could talk, not a syllable could
+we understand. Her eyes for ever were searching the skies, and her words
+spoke of things she alone could perceive. Even I, who am wise, could not
+follow her sayings.
+
+"But gradually an inner voice told me that there was something holy
+about this stranger maiden, something which removed her far from us,
+something that mortal hands should not touch.
+
+"Then I understood that God had laid His hand upon her brain. Now she
+seldom speaks, but always plays these heartrending notes. Hark, fair
+stranger, listen if it is not unearthly and sweet."
+
+Eric listened with all his soul; never before had such music come to his
+ears.
+
+It was full of tears, and sighs, and hopes, and dreams; it was heavenly
+indeed, and yet a sobbing human chord pierced the whole, with a
+never-ending cry for the things that every poor mortal needs. It rose
+and fell, carried upon the changing tides of love and hope; it contained
+a yearning effort, a boundless longing, towards that land of chimeras
+and dreams beyond the boundaries of the earth.
+
+Every chord seemed strung to a pulsing heart bound and fettered, yet
+gasping to be free.
+
+Then it changed into an intensity of peace, like the soft winds of night
+descending slowly upon the heat and toil of the day; dying away into
+fading notes always fainter and sweeter, like the first breath of spring
+over sleeping woods, like the hushed voice of a great sadness that can
+still hope and believe ... and then, quite suddenly, there was silence,
+and only the summer breeze stirred amongst the boughs of the trees.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+                                        At last!
+    The fount of beauty, Fountain of all dreams,
+    Now am I come upon my long desire.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Each day Eric came to this spot of beauty to look upon the being who was
+the realization of his soul's desire.
+
+But the terrible mystery, that God allowed, was that this girl never
+even seemed to see that he was there.
+
+Eric Gundian, who was adored of all--Eric of the golden locks, Eric the
+sweet-voiced,--could not make her eyes realize his presence.
+
+The wandering people had received him into their hearts, as every man
+did upon whom he turned and smiled. They gave him a tent and begged him
+never more to depart.
+
+But the living dream he had come so far to seek remained in a world of
+her own, to which he could not find the key. The dark tribe felt no
+rivalry towards this being of light who had so suddenly appeared in
+their midst. They saw that he was a creature apart, made of another
+clay, filled with another life; something that they could dearly love,
+but never completely understand.
+
+Like the rough seamen on the ship, they hoped he would for ever cast in
+his lot with theirs and not depart as suddenly as he had come.
+
+Zorka, the old fortune-teller, was his daily guide; and they all
+considered it natural that this glorious youth should have fallen
+beneath the spell of the mad girl, who was their greatest pride and
+deepest grief.
+
+Had they not sought in turn a smile from her lips, a look out of the
+wonder of her eyes, and had she not always seen past them, far beyond,
+into horizons all her own, never noticing the glowing worship that was
+cast at her feet?
+
+Now they watched with growing anxiety if this handsome stranger would
+move her heart and bring her eyes down to this earth. They both hoped
+and feared.
+
+They longed that the miracle should come to pass, and yet, in the
+deepest recesses of their hearts, there was not one who did not
+jealously dread the moment when, perchance, she might turn in love to
+this youth they knew was not as they. But none feared so much as old
+Zorka the witch--because had she not read within the flames of the fire,
+within the flight of the birds, within the forms of the smoke, within
+the ripples of the wave-kissed sands, that this maiden was not for
+earthly love, that the day when mortal lips should touch her with human
+caress she would fade away like vapour on the sea!
+
+Indeed she may have erred in the reading of the signs, but it would be
+for the very first time in her life. So she cursed the day when she had
+led this beautiful boy into the presence of the girl she adored. And
+yet--and yet--can ever Fate be turned from the path upon which she
+glides? Must not one and all drink from the cup which has been fashioned
+for each separate lip?
+
+Stella she had called the stranger maiden--Stella, because of her
+shining orbs; and no doubt when God needed her amongst His other stars,
+He would then take her for His very own. Ah, the wise woman, with her
+weak and trembling hands, how could she change the course of the moving
+worlds!
+
+So she sat by her fire and stared into the bluey flames, her old head
+bent, her knotted palms resting on her knees, puffing away at her pipe
+of clay, seeing weird shapes in the smoke that rose quivering to the
+sky.
+
+So much had she seen, so much ... so much:
+
+Lands of sunshine and regions of snow, storm-tossed waves and calmest
+sea, visions of beauty and visions of pain; men that live in the clear
+light of day and men that crawl in the shadows of night. She had seen
+things that had their beginnings in joy, and things that ended in
+sorrow, creatures that live and creatures that die, women that love and
+others that hate. Murder she had seen; and her ears had heard the last
+groaning sighs of the dying, as they had hearkened for the sounds of
+hope when the human soul was being cast naked into this world of sorrow.
+
+The beginnings and the ends. Yes, everything had come her way,--her eyes
+were dim and tired from having seen all too much!
+
+And now as she waited here not far from that island of promise, she knew
+that the youthful wanderer was giving all his soul in an agony of hope
+and expectation. She knew she was poor and helpless before these
+mysteries of life; that at times even the wisest hands must hang in idle
+rest.
+
+Yes, day by day Eric came and sat beside this treasure he had found, and
+yet it was still as far removed as in the days when he was only
+dreaming.
+
+Instead of in sleep, now his waking sight drank in the vision which was
+part of his living being. But although he had poured out every
+supplication and ardent prayer his mind could conceive, he never could
+imprison a single look that he knew was conscious of his presence.
+
+She sometimes would talk, but more often she would play upon her beloved
+violin, and then Eric would feel that each drop of his blood was rushing
+through his veins like a mountain torrent; or he would be possessed by
+a frantic longing to be free of his body to soar with the music far up
+into heaven.
+
+It would happen that she would take hold of his hand and lead him to
+places of strangest solitude, and there her visionary words would try to
+describe the marvellous things her brain was seeing.
+
+He followed the flight of her extraordinary thoughts; but each day he
+was filled with deeper depression, knowing that never had she
+consciously looked at his face, never had she realized that it was an
+unusual companion who was now at her side, that she was alone with a
+being consumed by love.
+
+She talked in a confiding voice as a child speaks to its mother, or as
+one that had the habit of conversing alone in the night.
+
+The things she said, and conjured up before his eager mind, were
+saturated with such unheard-of sweetness that Eric lived in a world he
+had never known.
+
+And so the days passed one by one; the bluebells faded and died, and
+still Eric clung to the forlorn hope that Stella's eyes would suddenly
+open and see him at her side. The gypsies folded their tents and moved
+farther on, roaming from spot to spot.
+
+Wherever they went Eric was always with them.
+
+For hours he would walk in the dust of the roads, keeping pace with the
+bare feet of the woman he loved.
+
+The falcon was always there, and still flew like a white banner before
+him, as it had done on the very first day. But now Eric no more followed
+the shine on its wings; he was following a lowly maiden who held his
+beating heart within her careless hand.
+
+He passed through many villages such as Radu had described: the savage
+dogs rushed out and surrounded their wandering procession, the
+maize-thatched cottages had their doors wide open, and it was true that
+the tall sunflowers could peep in at the tiny windows, and that the
+maidens sat upon the thresholds drawing their tireless needles through
+the snowy linen that lay in their laps.
+
+The peasants looked at the earth-coloured travellers with glances of
+disdain; and seldom did a kindly welcome greet them as they came.
+
+Only for Eric they made an exception, and more than one dark-eyed girl
+would have given much to keep him at her side.
+
+Autumn was turning the leaves into glorious colours. The woods were a
+never-ending marvel of red, gold, and brown. On the freshly reaped
+maize-fields the Indian corn lay in small pyramids of ripest orange. The
+peasants sat about in groups singing the songs of harvest, whilst the
+early night did its best to hurry the glowing sunsets out of the flaming
+sky.
+
+Always smaller grew the hope in our wanderer's heart, always more weary
+were the endless roads.
+
+Stella still had her eyes turned upon things he could not see. He had
+not been able to make her grasp the fact that she had a stranger at her
+side.
+
+Each day he brought her another wreath for her burnished tresses--a
+wreath that he wound with his artist fingers from whatever flowers he
+could find along his road.
+
+They were becoming scarcer and rarer because of the descending autumn
+that lay like a hush over the tired world. He made them of pale-tinted
+crocuses that hung upon her forehead like tired sighs--he bound them
+with the brightest leaves of the season that resembled the spreading
+sunsets he so loved at the end of the day. Often he had plucked shining
+berries that surrounded her waxen brow like heavy drops of blood. And
+one day the wreath he brought her was all feathery and white, plaited
+with the fluffy ghosts of the wild clematis that climbs over rock and
+tree.
+
+On a morning when the clouds hung heavy over their heads he pressed
+above her lovely face a garland of sloe-berries entwined with grey
+leaves of the weeping-willow; they fell about her delicate temples,
+touching her rounded cheeks with loving caresses as a mother's hand
+would do.
+
+Once as she sat on a hard heap of stones, spent after the tramp of the
+day, he left her to glean from the barren fields ripe ears of corn that
+had been scattered by the reapers on their way.
+
+He made them into a golden crown which he laid at her feet in the dust,
+looking into her eyes, trembling under the weight of his love.
+
+And always he found some lowly plant which he plucked with the thought
+of bringing a smile to her lips. He even conjured into a circlet of
+silver the star-shaped thistles that grew amongst the wilting grass, and
+so that their prickles should not wound her delicate skin, he lined it
+with soft green moss that lay close against her forehead, guarding it
+from the slightest scratch.
+
+But the days when he found neither flower nor plant he felt like a
+beggar that dare not come before the face of his queen....
+
+Often when the roving tribe had pitched their tents for the night,
+Gundian would go and sit beside the fire with old Zorka the witch, and
+he never wearied of the tales she told, listening, with interest that
+was always new, to the quaint words that fell from her lips.
+
+Zorka's heart had made him her own, and she dearly loved to have him at
+her side; but never did she find the needed courage to urge him to
+relinquish his quest; yet, as the days rolled by, she feared more and
+more that the signs might really come true.
+
+On a night when all was dark and still, the very old woman and the
+beautiful youth sat side by side looking into the leaping flames.
+
+Zorka raised her careworn face and scanned his thinning cheeks, his
+sunken eyes, and the beautiful hands that were nervously clasped on his
+knee. Her old heart ached with fearful desire for all that could not be.
+
+"Son, my son!" she suddenly cried, "ah that I could tear the stars from
+the sky and throw them before thy feet! Oh that I could drag down the
+rays of the moon and hide them all in thy breaking heart to stop thy
+longing! that I could draw out all the richness of the earth and give it
+to thee, so that thou shouldst be at peace! But thus it is the wide
+world over; we think we have reached our soul's desire, and then we
+stand before it empty of all our hope."
+
+As she spoke, sweet sounds of music came floating out of the dark--the
+soft notes of a violin in which all the sorrow of the earth seemed
+concentrated beneath the rippling cadence of joy.
+
+Eric covered his face with his hands, and Zorka felt the burning tears
+rise to her dim old eyes, but she brushed them hastily away with the
+back of her hand.
+
+"Dear young one," she said, "what can I do for thee? Hast thou not told
+me that thou wast once a great artist with fairy fingers, and that thou
+didst come all this endless way through joy, sorrow, and danger, in
+search of a face ... and now.... Oh, I have guessed it since many a day
+thou hast found that face--but where is thy art?
+
+"Crave not for what thou canst not have, but cling to that which God has
+given thee. If I get thee brush and colour wilt thou try and create that
+face for a second time? Create it so that all should wonder how human
+hands could ever have been able to paint so glorious a treasure. When we
+cannot have the thing itself we must try and grasp its shadow."
+
+"Oh!" cried Eric, "my old master said that the thing is God's."
+
+"I do not know," said old Zorka, "if we pray to the same God, thou and
+I. Human beings always need forms into which they press their worship,
+but I, who am old, can tell thee this: there is but one God for all, and
+each man shapes Him according to the depth and breadth of his own little
+soul.
+
+"When we are children and play on the ground we are taught to call Him
+Father! When we grow up we long for Him as a friend, but if He keeps His
+smile for others we curse Him and turn our backs and say we do not
+believe He exists. But when grief and despair knock at our door, we long
+to feel Him near us once more, but we have lost our way. We grope in the
+dark, we hit our hands and our heads, we cry, and we moan, we stumble
+and fall till we are laid low in the dust.
+
+"Then it is long till again we look up. Our hair is bleached, our backs
+are bent, our eyes are dim, and faltering our step; but gradually we see
+all things as they were meant to be--we have left hope far behind, all
+that shone and was sweet knows us no more; our way is without either
+light or shade, it is grey and smooth like the ocean after the storm has
+gone by.
+
+"We believe that its colour will never be anything but grey; but one day
+a faint light spreads very far over the most distant horizon and our
+tired brain begins to perceive that that light is coming slowly towards
+us, slowly--slowly--till it reaches our heart ... and that light means
+peace that passeth all human understanding; peace, the ultimate promise
+of that God we had cast away; peace, the blessing of our snow-white
+hair, the last hope of our ended pilgrimage. But, my boy, wilt thou do
+as I bid, and create with thy hands the face thou lovest so well?"
+
+"I cannot, I cannot," sobbed Eric, his face all convulsed with pain; "I
+have lost my art and lost my belief. I am now only one consuming
+passionate desire."
+
+"Dear one that I love," answered sadly the old nomad, "for what hast
+thou climbed so high if thou now wilt not look up? I tell thee that if
+thou wilt grasp the talent that belongs to thee thou shalt find a relief
+beyond all thou darest to hope.
+
+"I have been reading the signs out of the wind-swept clouds, and I know
+that thus help will come to thee."
+
+"Ah, but, Mother Zorka, tell me, will she ever look at me with eyes that
+see?"
+
+"Her eyes do see, my son, and although thy face be the fairest my old
+brain has ever conceived, canst thou know if the vision her mind is for
+ever adoring is not of a beauty far beyond our dreams?
+
+"Certain flowers are not there to be plucked.
+
+"Why the great Being of the skies has brought thee through pain and
+danger, drawn thee into this distant land, to dash the full cup from thy
+thirsty lips, after having smilingly led thee so far--is a mystery I
+cannot explain.
+
+"But dost realize what it would be if thou shouldst pluck the flower too
+soon and thy touch be too rough, and the petals fall fading to the
+ground; dost know how empty then thy hands would be?
+
+"Do as I tell thee, make that heavenly face thy very own by drawing it
+with the artist hands thy God has given thee! I love thee well, but I
+have loved her longer than thee. If the day is to come when her heart
+shall open to earthly passion, her eyes to the dear sight of thy face,
+let that day be blessed and hold it fast if thou canst.
+
+"I shall only look on; for that is the weary lot of those who live in
+the past: but once more I tell thee, paint, oh, paint her face--the time
+may come when it will be too late!
+
+"But now go to thy tent, for I am tired and the night is cold."
+
+Eric rose sadly and threaded his way through the sleeping camp, past the
+fires that were burning low, past the patient groups of tired horses,
+till he reached his bed.
+
+But Zorka sat still many an hour, following the shadowy road of her
+past, her dim eyes fixed upon the glowing ashes, speaking to the Being
+who rules our destinies, and asking over again the eternal, unanswered
+"Why?" looking up to the too distant sky which for ever keeps its
+mystery to itself.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+                                He seeks to know
+    The joy that is more great than joy
+    The beauty of the old green earth can give.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Zorka kept her promise; and one day, who knows whence, Eric found all he
+needed for beginning the picture the old woman had commanded him to
+paint.
+
+The tents had been pitched quite near to a forest all shining and
+shimmering in every shade of gold; gold under foot, gold overhead, gold
+falling softly from every bough.
+
+The sun threw his glinting rays upon all the beauty that was a last
+glorious farewell Nature was taking from the departing year. The smoke
+of the camps and the mist of the autumn mornings mingled like spirit
+souls, and waved in moving vapours, veils that some fairy might have
+hung over the branches to fill her dwelling with mystic shadows and
+shades. From within the shelter of the wood, the great naked plain could
+be seen as far as the eye could reach, but the waving ocean of corn was
+a past dream of the summer months.
+
+Now the fields and pastures looked desolate and barren, dark and cold,
+even beneath the face of the kindly life-giving planet that shone down
+upon it with a friendly face.
+
+The rusty tents resembled dwarf pyramids standing upon some desert seen
+from afar off.
+
+But the forest was a palace fit for a king, fashioned out of lustrous
+rays all woven together into a web of sunny yellows, and there sat Eric
+for many an hour trying to make his picture live.
+
+Stella never refused to let him take her hand, and followed him meekly
+whither he led. He seated her upon a bank of grass, having first covered
+it over and over with leaves of fiery red.
+
+For her lovely feet he made a nest of warm green moss, and at her side
+he laid a sycamore leaf full of jet-black bramble-berries as polished as
+agate balls.
+
+Out of their flexible branches he wound a wreath about her head; their
+fading leaves made a many-tinted crown, more beautiful than a queen
+could wear, all amber, topaz, and burnished gold, deep and rich in hue,
+splashed in places as with stains of blood.
+
+In and out among the rusty leaves he had plaited dark purple aster stars
+that nestled among her waving hair. Whilst his nervous fingers were by
+slow degrees laying hold of his forsaken art, Stella played him ancient
+tunes of such melting sweetness that often his hot tears flowed down and
+mixed in crystal rivulets with the colours on his palette. As she
+played, all the visions of the days of his wanderings rose up out of the
+distance and floated like shadows before his brain.
+
+He saw little Oona playing with her balls on the smooth marble terrace,
+saw the sleepy little town with the scarlet bunches of geraniums, heard
+the bird-like voice of the unknown girl singing her song of innocence.
+He walked again under the face of the moon into the ice maiden's snowy
+castle, and there he stood with her amongst the beating, broken hearts
+that lay awaiting the great trumpet call. He stood on the wave-tossed
+boards of the frail little vessel, mingling his voice with the cries of
+the sea.
+
+Then, wandering through the enchanted grottos, he came to the place
+where he shudderingly knelt by the murdered form of the far too
+entrancing woman. In the ruined cathedral the Virgin's eyes once again
+blessed his folded hands with her flowing tears.
+
+Above all, the venerated face of his dearly loved master rose
+startlingly vivid, waving to him with trembling hands, and his little
+travelling companion came running towards him, her dear arms
+outstretched in joyous greeting.
+
+The silent army of phantoms passed and faded into space, so that amongst
+the falling leaves of autumn he imagined he could clearly see the
+many-coloured bubbles rise like tropical butterflies floating always
+farther away.
+
+Last of all came Radu the shepherd, with eyes resembling two burning
+coals, his white teeth shining from between his smiling lips.
+
+And there was not one of these trembling apparitions that did not look
+down upon him with loving glances;--only this fair being playing at his
+side would not turn her look his way.
+
+Oh, those eyes that his fairy fingers at last were fixing on his canvas:
+deep, grey, wide open, surrounded by long black lashes that were like
+dark rays radiating from the unfathomed pupils, starry eyes overflowing
+with celestial dreams, eyes that never, ah, never would come down to
+look into his!
+
+He clenched his teeth, and, casting away his brushes, he threw himself
+down at her feet, laying his face close against them as they rested,
+pale twin sisters, amongst the mosses he had gathered.
+
+But Stella was as ever in a world of her own; and whilst the young
+painter was trembling with uncontrollable longing, his lips pressed upon
+the ground as close to her as he dared, she serenely played on her
+violin, making it cry out all the infinite yearning to which her
+ethereal nature had never yet awakened.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+    And know that the sorrow of sorrows is only a law of his being.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+The tired leaves were falling always thicker; the days were shorter;
+night came down with the rapidity of a swooping bird; and more than once
+in the early morn a white frost had covered the ground like crystallized
+sugar strewn all over the earth.
+
+The gypsies' camp was still pitched beside the wood. They had work to do
+in the villages close by, and often in the evenings the long-suffering
+donkeys came back heavily laden with vessels of shining copper, which
+the dark people mended and patched, as is the wont of their wandering
+race.
+
+Their voices could be heard, either in song or strife, as they hammered
+away on the rounded caldrons that shone from far, the colour of molten
+lead.
+
+The naked children played about in noisy groups, quarrelling like little
+brown monkeys, pursuing, with extended hands, every traveller that
+ventured too near their tents, and relating their misery with lamentable
+cries.
+
+There was word of moving to some warmer clime, but as yet no order of
+march had been given, though the nights were cold and the large fires
+that were lit, and glowed in the dark like funeral pyres, were hardly
+sufficient protection. When the young men had finished their work for
+the day they would sit around in groups, playing games of cards with
+packs all greasy and blackened by constant use, games which often ended
+in noisy discord, when more than one sharpened blade would have to be
+knocked out of angry hands. The old women came together and sat by the
+leaping flames, weird witches of ancient legends, talking and
+chattering, relating endless yarns of endless deeds both gay and
+sinister, often scolding the young ones for all they had left undone,
+threatening them with every curse if they did not mend their ways.
+
+The lean dogs walked about snatching at every remnant of food they could
+lay their hungry teeth upon, but the horses passively waited till the
+dark hour would sound for receiving once more their heavy burdens, which
+they would carry with patient resignation in spite of the scarcely
+healed wounds upon their tired backs.
+
+Only Zorka never joined those rowdy groups; she sat alone in her gloomy
+tent like some old beggared queen, thinking about long-past glories. Her
+pipe was ever between her lips; the smoke curled upwards in tiny wisps,
+forming odd shapes that quivered about like mystic signs mounting into
+the damp cold air.
+
+Each day she watched with growing anxiety the two young people, who, at
+the fall of night, would come slowly towards her out of the forest.
+
+Since long she had imagined that nothing more could touch her withered
+heart; but the sight of these mortals, so full of beauty, purity, and
+light, had filled her with a new benevolence, and she longed with an
+unspeakable longing to help them if she could.
+
+She was moved by conflicting feelings, asking herself if Stella's
+marvellous visions were worth one poor human kiss, one enchanted
+awakening to the wonders of love.
+
+Oh, what use was all her long-accumulated wisdom if it failed her at a
+moment like this! What should she do? Should she tell the enamoured
+youth to go his way, not to waste his days running after something that
+could never be?
+
+But it would break his heart; was he not a dreamer of dreams, and
+therefore a kindred soul to the solitary maiden who had never seen
+anything but pictures that certainly were not of this world.
+
+Sometimes she felt an overpowering desire that a sweet miracle might
+come to pass, and that these two lovely innocents should both at the
+same instant put their lips to the full cup of Life.
+
+Even ... even ... yes, death in attainment; would it be so terrible a
+thing! Ah! But does death ever mercifully cover with his wings two
+living hearts at once? Does he not always leave the one in cold misery
+to carry his despair alone? So many heavy problems! and she who had
+thought that her overburdened brain had already solved the mysteries of
+life! One evening she sat thus alone, pondering over all these questions
+to which she could find no answer.
+
+The early dusk was descending slowly over one of autumn's last fine
+days, and darkness was also rising out of the cold barren earth, meeting
+the coming night half-way.
+
+The sky was covered by leaden clouds, dashed by streaks of glowing red,
+where the sun resentfully opposed the grey shadows that strove to hide
+him out of sight. The air was chilly and the very old woman shivered,
+feeling forsaken and sad and useless.
+
+Over the sombre expanse that lay beyond, a faint mist mounted, like
+fleecy wool, giving each object the appearance of floating over the
+earth. The tents, the gypsies that moved about, the tethered horses, the
+slinking dogs, all seemed to have lost their bases and to be floating in
+the air.
+
+Zorka was weary, too tired to think. She was only allowing her mind to
+wander slowly through the past.
+
+The fire, that young hands always built up beside her venerable grey
+head, leapt and sprang like restless spirits eternally striving after
+unattainable heights, casting fantastic lights upon her crouching form.
+It was a picture of old age, in all its forlorn, colourless sadness,
+from which all else has been taken except the weary comfort of looking
+back.
+
+Zorka was remembering the distant years when she, too, had known wild
+love and scorching hate; when the day had been a long smile of promise,
+when for her also young hearts had beaten with passionate desire.
+
+She remembered many faces that rose like ghosts out of the past, calling
+to her with long-forgotten voices that once she had loved. She
+remembered hours of triumph when the ultimate dream of happiness had
+arisen and wrapped her around with its burning flame.
+
+But she had also lived through the long deadly years when nothing more
+was laid at her feet, when youth had carelessly trodden upon the heart
+that once had seemed to others a treasure impossible to obtain.
+
+Past--past--all past; but forgotten? Dear God! ah no! But old age, weary
+old age from which all flee, whose breath lies like white snow upon the
+bended head, contains also the balm and benediction of a frosty peace
+that resembles the face of the night, unstarred and moonless, covering
+over the glaring joys and gloomy sorrows of yore!
+
+As she was thus wandering on distant shores of her youth, a shadow
+crossed the space before her and she looked up. It took her a little
+time before she could come back to cold reality, till her brain realized
+that in truth she was now but Zorka the wise old witch.
+
+Eric stood at her side; the flames flared and hissed, covering him with
+changing jets of light.
+
+Between his hands he held a finished picture. Zorka gave a low cry of
+surprise, and rose trembling to her feet; there in the unsteady glow of
+the restless flames she looked upon a face the like of which human hand
+had never before fixed upon canvas or paper.
+
+The eyes of the painting seemed alive, and seemed to stare with
+unspeakable rapture upon a sight too marvellous for poor human words to
+translate into mortal language. There they were with all the
+extraordinary beauty the hoary woman had always known: and more than
+all, within these eyes the dreamer of dreams had put also another
+expression which contained all the yearning cry of his own passionate,
+hopeless love.
+
+For many a year old Zorka, the witch, had not shed a single tear--that
+source of emotion had dried since ages past; but now as she gazed with
+quivering emotion upon the glory of this unearthly visage she felt how
+something rose up from her heart, warm and suffocating, clutching at her
+strangled throat, till one by one warm drops ran down her furrowed
+cheeks, leaving shining wet lines upon her leathery skin like little
+streams of rain on hard-baked earth.
+
+Eric watched her, but never spoke a word; he stood motionless, his arms
+hanging at his sides, tired and resigned, as one who can fight no more.
+
+Overhead the white falcon circled and circled, uttering small weird
+shrieks like some one in pain; and as it moved about in the inky sky the
+blue diamond round its neck shone like a moving star.
+
+"My son," spoke Zorka at last, "thy work is great and wonderful; and
+truly it could never be said of one who had fashioned so blessed a
+beauty that his life had been lived in vain. But I perceive that thy
+human longing is for ever unstilled; and now some inner truth has broken
+in upon my far-seeing brain, and these are the words I have to speak to
+thee:
+
+"Go to the woman that thy heart loveth too well--go, for such is the
+unwritten law of this earth; go and take her in thy living arms and
+teach her with a kiss all the joy and all the sorrow of the world. And
+what the great God above desires that the end should be is not for us,
+who are but fashioned from His dust, to presume to foresee. Go, and I in
+the silence of the night shall remain here to watch and pray!"
+
+Eric did as he was bid; laying the picture his hands had created down by
+the side of the reader of signs, he silently vanished into the dark.
+
+The fire flared into a renewed burst of flame, and stretched out long
+arms of red glowing light as if endeavouring to call him back. Then a
+cold gust of wind swept over the waste and covered all around with
+clouds of smoke.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+          A song of deathless Love, immortal,
+    Sunrise-haired and starry-eyed and wondrous.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Within the tent where Stella lived each thing was sweet and pure.
+
+Her magic charm had spread over all she touched.
+
+Old Zorka had thus decreed that she should always have a dwelling that
+need be shared with none. It was as poor a place as those around, but
+within the folding walls was a haven of rest and peace.
+
+On its rustic canvas sides hung all the withered wreaths that day by day
+she had worn. The one she had just removed from her tresses was still
+quite fresh, and softly swayed over the door.
+
+Eric had found in the early morn, beneath a protecting tree, a whole
+bunch of scarlet strawberry leaves that the autumnal frosts had not yet
+touched; he had wound therefrom a lovely garland, all crimson and red,
+that throughout the day had crowned the loved one's brow.
+
+A fire close by cast a friendly light through every crevice, so that the
+humble dwelling looked warm and homely, in spite of its barren poorness
+and the drear solitude upon which it stood.
+
+Before the wide-open entry sat the mysterious maiden on an ancient
+wooden chest, her much-loved violin, as always, pressed tenderly beneath
+her cheek.
+
+She played and played, and out of the darkness Fate was coming towards
+her, treading with noiseless feet.... Still she played on, all else
+forgotten or never even seen, tunes almost too sweet for human ear to
+bear. But to-day there was something within them resembling the sighs of
+a wandering soul that longs for what it cannot reach.
+
+Something there was that perhaps the cold night air wafted to her
+sleeping soul--something that held a warning that the tides of life were
+at last gradually rising to creep close to her heart, for she suddenly
+laid down the faithful friend that would no more give forth the sounds
+she was wont to hear.
+
+Each time she drew the bow across its melodious chords, the notes it
+uttered were like the cry of a lost spirit in dire distress.
+
+So she sat gazing into the pitchy darkness with something unknown and
+frightening, fluttering amidst the strings of her heart. And there out
+of the shadows of the lonely night a human form rose and stood beside
+her, with arms outstretched. Then Eric was on his knees before her, and
+drew the slowly awakening maiden within the unbounded tenderness of his
+yearning arms.
+
+The whole world seemed alive with a leaping promise of coming
+fulfilment.
+
+And then, oh wonder of wonders, he laid his lips upon the heart of the
+girl, the girl who would not look upon his face.
+
+And as he did so he perceived how an indescribable light of dawning
+comprehension spread slowly over all her features, and awoke like two
+luminous torches in both her eyes.
+
+Then at last her gaze met his ... twin flames of purest beauty, in
+which, quite gradually, all the hidden treasures of unconceived
+ecstasies rose one by one in an overwhelming flood too strong for human
+strength to sustain. Awful, wonderful, terrifying ... and yet so sweet,
+so sweet that no halting tongue could ever describe such marvellous
+revelations. Almost imperceptibly she bent her angelic lips nearer his,
+so that the vision of his dreams was all at once looking into his
+upturned face, with eyes into which a God-given splendour had suddenly
+come in a burst of passionate understanding.
+
+Never had the exquisite orbs been so sweet, never had the ethereal face
+shone with a more divine light;--and a voice that seemed to come from
+the far-off distances of the land of mystery pronounced these words:
+
+"Where have I been? To what regions have I come? What is this dazzling
+splendour that rushes through my being like a leaping river of Life?
+What is this dear face I see gazing into mine, what is this bounding joy
+that wants to burst the confines of my overstrained heart? Oh what--oh
+what does it mean?"
+
+Drawing herself up she stood, both hands pressed on her heaving breast,
+as if her great pain were piercing her through and through.
+
+"What is it?... What is it?... What can it be? I do not understand!"
+
+Eric rose also, and stood trembling before this unheard-of miracle that
+had come to pass.
+
+A great fear came to him and swept with a cold wind over his immensity
+of joy. Would she suddenly close her mind again to his flaming love, now
+that he had at last aroused her sleeping soul?
+
+"Oh, my love, my love!" he cried. "It is I, it is I, who have come over
+the distant seas, who have travelled through sun and shade, through
+storm and calm, who have passed through the Shadow of Death to reach the
+heaven of thy face; look at me with thy awakening eyes, and tell me that
+life is sweet."
+
+"Life!" said the girl, her two hands still tightly clutching at her
+pulsing heart.
+
+"Life, what is Life?"
+
+"Life," cried Eric, "is contained in this one hour of perfect
+attainment. Life is the great promise of love fulfilled. Life is the
+sacred moment when my arms may clasp thee to my thirsting soul!
+
+"Come, my beloved, for I have waited so cruelly long, so tirelessly have
+I searched and yearned!"
+
+Stella, moved by some unknown, mysterious force, timidly drew near to
+this stranger man, whose face was as fair as the angels with whom in her
+visions she had always dwelt.
+
+But what was this waking joy--this tumultuous tide of intensest bliss?
+Something too strong, too strong, something that no living mortal could
+bear.... And yet now she lay within his passionate arms, her head hidden
+against his throbbing straining heart.
+
+In an agony of delight no words can describe, his lips, his warm living
+lips, were drinking her very soul away--drawing by slow degrees her
+sweet hardly-dawning life to mix with his boundless need.
+
+He knew that this was the ultimate limit of his soul's desire, a moment
+of such incommensurable joy, that body and soul flowed together into a
+sunrise of dazzling triumph. All that had been, was as if it had never
+existed. Past, present, and future were caught up and welded together
+into a blaze of unearthly rapture.
+
+He felt that he was being carried by the eternal wings of creation into
+the very heart of the throbbing world; he was one with Nature, he was
+one with God, one with his whole being's most sacred longing. And thus,
+closely locked in each other's arms, these two mortals of perfect beauty
+lived an hour that lies as a pulsing memory, deeply hidden within the
+dark lap of the ever-wakeful Mother Earth, and from which it rose like a
+song of undying, eternal perfection to the vastness of the sky above: a
+song that now floats in never-ending echoes on every passing cloud, on
+every ray of the sun. It was an hour when Nature stood still to listen
+to the accomplishment of one of her dearest dreams--when all life seemed
+concentrated within the happiness of those two frail human beings....
+
+A cold streak of dawn was slowly advancing with pale furtiveness out of
+the cover of night, when Eric bent once again to press his lips upon the
+perfect mouth; as he did so Stella looked up into his face with those
+eyes that had for so long been a living part of his most hidden self.
+
+Oh! was ever any earthly thing so marvellous, so wonderful, as those two
+grey stars of light! and a sweet whisper rose stealing into every drop
+of his blood:
+
+"I love thee, I love thee, as never have I loved a single one of my
+heavenly dreams; I have learnt in this hour the most limitless
+boundaries of human bliss. Lay now thy dear lips upon these eyes thou
+hast found at last, so that no other sight than thy fond face may ever
+trouble my inner vision.
+
+"Oh, see the day dawns; give me once more all thy bounding soul in the
+blessing of thy kiss."
+
+Eric lifted the beloved woman and pressed her in a frenzy of joy to his
+heart; then very gently laid his mouth upon her eyes, closing the
+delicate lids, shutting away within her starry orbs the visage she loved
+more than all else.
+
+Long did he remain thus holding her sweet face beneath his tender
+caress, whilst a heavenly smile parted her gentle lips.
+
+And it seemed to Eric that at that moment his life and hers were flowing
+quietly together in one great tide towards the shores of Eternity....
+
+But when old Zorka came at the break of day to see how her dear ones
+fared, she stood strangling a cry that rose in the air; then, throwing
+herself upon the ground, she hid her grey head in the dust.
+
+There sat Eric with wandering gaze, his eyes wide open, full of frantic
+misery, looking down upon a corpse he held pressed closely to his
+beating heart. And through the gold of his shining locks, soft silver
+threads were scattered like finely spun moonbeams entwined with the rays
+of the sun.
+
+Zorka lifted her haggard face and stared in awe at the ghost-like pallor
+of the girl. A wonderful light rested on her waxen features as she lay
+full of peace and rest, white and motionless in the arms of her lover.
+
+Her eyes were closed as one who has shut her tired lids over a joy too
+great for words, the vastness of which had burst asunder her human
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+    And thy first night of death
+      Belongs to our first sorrow....
+    What knowledge now is thine?
+      A deeper one than ours.
+
+    BARD OF THE DÂMBOVITZA.
+
+
+All day the dark men of the tribe had been building a coffin into which
+the beautiful maiden was to be laid to rest.
+
+One and all were bowed with sorrow; this death was to them a horrible
+unreality their simple minds could not grasp. Why was this creature of
+light cut down in her sweetest prime?
+
+What would their lives now be without the glamour and mystery with which
+she had filled their wandering day?
+
+The morning was bleak, and the rain fell in occasional showers that the
+wind swept, with moaning sighs, over the naked waste. The canvas of the
+tents flapped and creaked, straining against the poles and cords that
+held them in place.
+
+A heavy gloom brooded over the wretched camp, so that even the
+squabbling children spoke with bated breath.
+
+Within Stella's silent tent sat Eric of the golden locks, staring
+without tears upon the face of the dead. The eyes of his dream looked
+upon him no more; he had shut them for ever with the passion of his
+kiss. Beneath his living lips she had breathed her last, dying like a
+fading flower, scorched by the flame of his love!
+
+He had not known when she had passed away--only the growing chill he had
+felt beneath his cheek had pierced his soul with a sudden fear, and when
+he had called on her beloved name no answer had come in response. But
+we shall draw a veil over that hour of morn when he realized what was to
+be his fate. There are times of darkness and bottomless grief wherein
+the eye of a stranger must never descend. This was the end--the end!
+Hope was dead, life was a waste, and all had been but a passionate dream
+that ended with a kiss!
+
+The wind swept over the humble tent, but upon her lowly couch Stella
+still smiled the wise smile that removes the dead so far beyond the
+reach of those who weep.
+
+Not far off sat Zorka, the witch, her head bent down upon her trembling
+knees, whilst the storm played amongst the frosted wisps of her hair.
+From all sides weird chants rose into the wintry air where the old
+women, sitting round their blazing fire, were singing dirges for the
+dead.
+
+And now came the moment when the black-eyed, black-haired sons of the
+wild came to carry Stella to her last narrow bed.
+
+They had fashioned her a coffin with sides of shining copper the colour
+of the autumn that had now passed away. Eric had to stand by and see how
+they lifted the body he loved, and laid it, all rigid and small, within
+the three sides of the metal box that received in unmoved silence this,
+his faded dream.
+
+The gypsies had sullenly refused to let him carry her himself; they
+jealously desired to have at least her inert body within their arms,
+they who had never dared touch a single hair of her head.
+
+They did not know that she had died beneath the kiss of his lips, but
+they somehow guessed that at the end he had awakened her sleeping soul;
+and although they had dearly loved his beautiful face, Eric had always
+been an alien in their midst, all shining and fair, a being of light
+amongst their sombre race.
+
+Now she was dead--Stella was dead--the Luck of their tribe lay white
+and cold in her last resting-place. Now she was theirs, and this son of
+another clime must relinquish his right, and leave her pure perfection
+between their dusky hands.
+
+So while they were carrying her from out her tent Eric wandered with
+dragging feet into the forest where he had so often sat, painting her
+lovely face.
+
+Now all the gold had fallen to the ground, the trees stood gaunt and
+bare. Over his cruelly bowed head the branches stretched naked and grey;
+from every twig large dropping tears fell splashing on the carpet of
+faded leaves.
+
+Nowhere could he find the smallest plant or flower out of which to wind
+her a final wreath the same as those she had always worn. In vain he
+searched each sheltered corner; wherever he peered, all was dark and
+dead, killed by the frost of the night.
+
+When he came back to where she lay, pale and still, all that he had to
+bring to the woman he loved was a crown of thorns. These he pressed on
+her snowy brow where they rested, sharp and hard, amongst her silky
+tresses, so that verily she resembled a martyred queen upon the bier of
+a beggar.
+
+In a circle around her coffin the gypsies had lighted blazing fires, and
+now that their work was done they left the stranger standing in lonely
+communion with that silent shape that never again would look upon the
+light of day.
+
+As he knelt beside her lowly bed, his face hidden on the heart that beat
+no more, a sound of wings came wafted upon the wind, and there,
+fluttering above the lifeless maiden, was his trusted companion the
+milk-white hawk, holding in its sharpened beak the chain with the
+moon-coloured diamond.
+
+As Eric looked up with hopeless eyes, he saw how the beautiful creature
+swooped down quite close, covering the lovely vision with its large soft
+wings; and when it rose again, like foam against the darkening sky,
+Gundian espied upon the heart of the maiden the magic diamond, shining
+as if all her love were a last time bursting from her breast in mystic
+rays of enchantment.
+
+Night came down and still Eric knelt beside his shattered happiness. All
+about him the fires burned and crackled, and the dismal chants of the
+gypsies rose like curses to the heavens.
+
+The wondrous face of the sleeper lived again in the glowing shine, but
+Eric did not see this illusive light of life; when he looked up the
+fires had burnt out; the gypsies had gone to rest.
+
+The night had laid its darkness over the frowning solitude; no star
+shone in the sky; the only spot of brightness was the twinkling diamond
+that glowed there on Stella's bosom, where Eric had awakened her soul
+with his first burning kiss of love!
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+    The grey wind weeps, the grey wind weeps, the grey wind weeps. Dust
+    on her breast, dust on her eyes, The grey wind weeps.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Next day her grave was dug, there, upon that endless plain of silence.
+Eric had strewn the gaping hole with a lining of withered leaves,
+gathered from the weeping forest.
+
+Before they hid her marvellous face out of sight he had passionately
+covered its mask of beauty with desperate burning kisses. Zorka had
+stood close by, guarding him from hostile glances, so that this
+heartbroken lover might be for a last time alone with what had been the
+dream of his life.
+
+Then from his shoulders he took the torn black cloak he had worn during
+all his wanderings and draped it round those rigid limbs that froze his
+blood with their icy coldness.
+
+"Mother, dear old mother," he cried, "I want to keep her warm; the night
+before last she glowed in the arms of my passion, and now I must leave
+her to the chill mercy of the frozen ground. How can I bear such
+torture?"
+
+Zorka laid her withered hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Son, my son, I feel that no ice can harm her more--she looked upon the
+flames of Love, and died whilst they were folded round her; she closed
+her eyes upon the vision of thy burning worship, and that wonderful
+sweetness was the last thing she saw; now she is for ever happy."
+
+So Eric wound her from head to foot in the dark folds of his mantle; he
+hid away her white hands and her tiny feet. Then he pressed the wreath
+of thorns over the dusky drapery, placing the gleaming gem in the centre
+of her forehead. He fetched her dear violin and laid it so that her toes
+just touched its polished wood.
+
+Over the shabby black tissue of the weather-beaten vestment he spread
+the faded wreaths that once had rested upon her rippling hair. And after
+one long look of farewell he allowed the heavy lid to be shut down on
+his hard-won happiness.
+
+The damp earth was thrown with a hollow thud over the lid of the coffin,
+the ground was beaten down smooth and flat on every side, so that no
+wandering stranger should ever disturb her deep dark grave beneath its
+covering of sombre soil.
+
+The gypsies folded their tents with hasty rapidity, longing to steal
+away from a place where silence brooded amongst the whispering winds.
+
+Old Zorka came and stood upon the spot where her darling had been hidden
+for ever away, and there she murmured all the prayers she could call
+back to her flagging memory, whilst her streaming tears mixed with the
+mould that lay over that past dream of beauty.
+
+But no persuasion nor entreaty could make Eric move from that dark mound
+in the barren lonely wild; he meant to remain there that first night
+when she had been confided to the indifferent shadows that closed in
+around her.
+
+He promised Zorka he would follow next day, but this night he must lie
+on Stella's cold grave, to protect it from the biting frost.
+
+When all had gone and he was alone on that dreary vastness, he drew from
+its sheath his treasured sword and planted it like a cross, there where
+her eyes must be hidden away, never more to look upon the rising sun.
+
+Dreary blasts of wind blew over the gloomy desert; darkness came down
+and Eric stretched himself upon the frozen ground, his lips pressed upon
+the spot where, far beneath the heavy covering of soil, her beautiful
+mouth must have been.
+
+There he lay, forsaken, the only breathing being in that cruel night of
+sorrow. But not far off, amongst the dim shadows of the forest, the
+snowy falcon was faithfully watching, though the glinting light no
+longer shone on his breast, watching till day should mercifully break.
+
+Through the heavy hours Eric never moved; he was fighting alone a dreary
+battle against life and his God. Nor did he know, as his face lay hidden
+in his clenched hands, that the magic hilt of the sword was glowing like
+a shining promise far over the sleeping world. There it stood, a cross
+of flame, burning with sacred light, watching over this desperate mortal
+who longed to cast his life away.
+
+The wind howled with voices of terror and storm; the dust was whirled in
+clouds from the frozen waste, sweeping over the cross-shaped light and
+over the weeping man, trying to blot them out of sight.
+
+But deep down in eternal night, under the protecting arms of her lover,
+rested Stella in stony quiet, bedded in the lap of old Mother Earth.
+
+Beneath her closed lids her starry eyes were for ever guarding the last
+dear vision her waking brain had looked upon.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+    And in her two white hands like swans on a frozen lake,
+    Hath she not my heart, that I have hidden there for dear love's sake.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Morning dawned, and Eric rose from the ground, half-frozen from his long
+night's vigil, his eyes hollow, staring with a desperate look.
+
+The wan daylight was gradually spreading over the wilderness, on which
+he stood like a wounded soldier whom his comrades had forsaken,
+imagining he was dead. No, he was not dead, poor youth, he was alive,
+crying, with broken heart and thirsting soul, for what could be no more.
+He had lived his dream and shattered it all in one. Zorka had been
+right, some flowers must not be plucked; and now his hands were
+empty--empty. He himself had made the sweet petals fall, and no earthly
+power could give them back their bloom.
+
+Down there under the dark cold sod she lay, his dream of dreams, crushed
+by his passion and love. He had held his soul's desire pressed against
+his wildly beating heart, and she had left him in their hour of rapture;
+had died beneath the fire of his kiss.
+
+Once more he threw himself down upon the merciless earth that covered
+her sacred beauty. He pressed his mouth upon the dust of the ground,
+tracing the sign of the Cross with his lips, there where he guessed that
+her snowy brow, her silent heart, and closed eyes lay hidden for ever
+out of sight.
+
+Then kneeling before the cross-shaped sword, Eric prayed in words of
+glowing entreaty to the great Father above, that her sleep should be
+sweet and the earth soft to that body he loved, that the weight of the
+dark mould that wrapped her round should not be heavy to her delicate
+limbs.
+
+He cried to that silent brooding sky to be merciful towards that
+creature of light and soon to call her from the damp dark grave to a
+sunrise of glory and joy.
+
+"God! my God! it cannot be that Thou lettest her slumber for ever in
+that cold solitude and I not knowing if her sleep be sweet. She who was
+like a ray from the sun--she who carried within her orbs the whole glory
+of the summer skies, the entire mystery of the starry nights. She whose
+music was the most exquisite rendering of the beauty of life; she whose
+perfection was the gladness of each awakening day, whose soul and body
+were like the spotless snow of mountain heights where no human foot has
+ever passed. O God! O God! how can I leave her grave?" And again he lay
+there, stretched upon the relentless soil, groaning and shedding tears
+of blood, whilst the brooding silence of the naked wild lay over all,
+hostile and unheeding, with Nature's stony indifference to the sorrow
+and anguish of the human race.
+
+Then at last he tore himself away, feeling how useless were his grief
+and misery before those eternal laws of creation which for ever are, and
+for ever shall be.
+
+Now he was fleeing that silent wilderness, bending his head against the
+driving wind and rain, against the storm of dust and sand that the wild
+gusts were throwing in his face.
+
+Several times he turned in hopeless yearning towards that lonesome spot
+where his precious sword stood a lonely guardian of his lost happiness;
+then, covering his face in an agony too deep for tears, on he rushed as
+one who tries to escape from a sight he cannot bear.
+
+His faithful friend the hawk flew beside him, occasionally caressing
+his tear-stained face with the velvet touch of its wings.
+
+For several hours he had thus fought his desperate way, when, on raising
+his head, he saw a small cloud coming towards him out of the distance,
+growing in size the nearer it came.
+
+He stood still, vaguely wondering what it might be, when out of the
+midst of the moving dust a young boy emerged, driven along by the storm
+that strove to carry him off his feet.
+
+The first thing Eric discerned was a high fur cap, a shaggy coat of
+skins, into the wide sleeves of which the youth's hands had been deeply
+thrust, whilst a thick staff was pressed in the hollow of his arm.
+Behind this advancing figure came the pattering feet of innumerable
+sheep, raising beneath their steps the thick cloud Eric had first of all
+descried.
+
+Suddenly, with a glad cry, both youths ran towards each other with
+joyful recognition, for this was none other than Radu, the shepherd, who
+was leading his flocks home from the mountains, driven thence by the
+coming winter.
+
+For a moment both remained speechless, hands clasped, staring into each
+other's face that were wet and shining from the drizzling rain which had
+not yet been able to turn into mud the thick coating of dust that lay
+like powder on the roads. The one who spoke first was Radu, and it was
+anxiously to ask:
+
+"Where hast thou left thy cloak? Thou art quite wet; and thy sword, thy
+beautiful sword, where hast thou left thy sword?"
+
+Eric did not answer; he simply lifted both his hands, showing that they
+were empty; then he let them fall again at his sides with the hopeless
+gesture of one who has given everything up for ever more. Then only did
+Radu come quite near and peer with frightened eyes more closely into his
+face.
+
+"What is it?" he cried. "What is it? What hast thou seen?"
+
+"Heaven and Hell," answered Eric. "I have been in both!"
+
+"And thy dream--didst thou find thy dream?" whispered the peasant.
+
+"I found it and I lost it," was the answer he got. "It was mine for a
+short hour of bliss--mine; but again God beat me down with my face to
+the earth.
+
+"I have been a dreamer of dreams, and it is not to be given to me to
+keep what I clasp. God allowed me visions to lead me ever on; they
+brought me to this land of promise.
+
+"It was summer then; now thou seest what colour is over the earth. But I
+touched my dream; I held it within my human arms; but as sayeth the
+poet: 'How can the body touch the flower which only the spirit may
+touch,' so I killed my flower, killed it with my kiss."
+
+"Can one kill with a kiss?" cried Radu, awe in his voice.
+
+"One can kill with more things than with a sword. I found the face of my
+vision, I followed it step by step. I hunted it down with sighs and
+tears till at last it was mine. I held it one short moment in my arms, a
+moment within which I lived the ultimate triumph of my desire. Then it
+was gone. I myself destroyed it, consumed it, with the thirst of my
+soul!"
+
+"But was she happy?" queried Radu, with tears in his eyes.
+
+"Was she happy! Good God! was she happy!" cried Eric, clenching his
+fists towards the skies. "Yes, I believe she was happy! If I did not
+believe that I could not live. She said to me to kiss her eyes so that
+for ever she could keep the picture of what she had loved best in this
+world! At that moment she died! My warm touch of love was death! Canst
+grasp that frightful truth?... was death! My lips, my lover's lips
+closed her eyes for ever!... for ever ... over the vision of my face!
+
+"Before they laid her in the ground I wrapped her in my cloak; that is
+why it is gone. I would not leave her thus thinly clad within the cold
+shadow of her grave; and upon the spot where she lies I planted my
+sword. There, where the eyes I followed so far are for ever closed, I
+left my sword."
+
+"Oh," sobbed Radu, "and now I shall never see that face!"
+
+"Yes, thou shalt," answered his friend. "Come with me and thou shalt see
+the fairest being God ever made!"
+
+"Where?" asked the astonished peasant, "where?"
+
+"Follow me and thou shalt know!"
+
+"But my sheep,--they are tired; and see how tame are my dogs, exhausted
+by the length of the way."
+
+"It is not far from here--there thou canst rest; thou art not in a
+hurry, and I would thou shouldst know the eyes of my dream."
+
+Again Eric hid his face in his clasped hands, whilst a harsh dry sob
+rose to his throat.
+
+"Come, come! I, too, thirst for the sight of her face."
+
+Towards the evening the two lads arrived at the gypsies' camp.
+
+Along the dreary roadside several tall wooden crosses had been erected,
+tall and gaunt, with curious shapes, decorated with archaic saints in
+crudest colours.
+
+These weird crosses stood in a line like silent spectres, some bending
+sideways, as if tired of their vigil.
+
+It was here that old Zorka had told Eric he would find their
+halting-place. The fires had already been lit, the dark men and women
+sat about in groups. The tents stood out, dismal shadows, against the
+Western Bar.
+
+Eric holding Radu by the hand led him to where Zorka was cooking her
+evening meal in a blackened pot.
+
+Radu's flock had followed pitter-patter in their wake, hardly
+discernible in the dusk, their way-stained wool the colour of the ground
+they trod.
+
+When she saw her favourite the old seer ran forward and clasped him to
+her breast, anxiously scanning his haggard face, but saying never a word
+for fear of awakening his surging grief.
+
+"Mother Zorka," he said, "here is a friend who has come to look upon her
+face!"
+
+Zorka went to her tent, brought out the wonderful picture, and put it
+into the peasant's hands. He stared at it in enraptured silence. Then
+very slowly he laid it on the ground and knelt before it, making the
+sign of the cross over his brow, the tears flowing down his cheeks.
+
+Zorka brought the boys food in a dish, urging her dear one to eat, but
+Eric shook his head.
+
+"Mother Zorka, willst thou tend him and give him a bed? for he was good
+to me when I was in sore distress."
+
+Then taking the picture he went off alone in the darkness of the night.
+The wind howled, and the rain came down in heavier showers, beating upon
+the miserable tents.
+
+Zorka sat with the young shepherd in the shelter of her dwelling,
+looking out upon the darkness into which the lonely mourner had
+disappeared.
+
+"Was she an angel?" asked Radu, who had finished his meal, and whose
+face was still wet with tears.
+
+"I think she was," said Zorka, nodding her head.
+
+"Tell me," he continued, "why did she die?"
+
+"Why did she die?" repeated the tired old woman. "Because it is given to
+some never to wake from their dream of bliss, and those it is said are
+loved of the gods."
+
+"Why was he left alone? Do the gods not love him?"
+
+Zorka sighed: "Because some must learn to the bitter end to overcome all
+they reach; must learn to leave behind them both joy and pain; to rise
+above all their desires, and hopes, and fears, till their souls are as
+pure and bright as an archangel's sword; and those are the chosen of
+God."
+
+"But was she happy?" queried Radu, for the second time.
+
+"Yes," answered Zorka, with a solemn voice. "Yes, she was happy. She
+died of joy."
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+    A star has ceased to shine in my lonely skies,
+    Sometimes I dream I see it shining in my heart.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+Zorka could not bear to part from Eric of the golden locks, and begged
+him to remain at her side.
+
+He, too, for a while felt that he dared not leave the old woman who had
+led him to his love; so all that winter he wandered about with the
+travelling clan, from clime to clime, leaving far behind him the country
+of his dream. Wherever he went the falcon followed, flying as near his
+head as it could.
+
+Radu had parted from Eric with tears in his eyes; both boys felt as they
+joined hands for the last time that nothing could wipe out the deep
+affection they had conceived for each other.
+
+Radu had gone off on an endless road, playing a melancholy tune on his
+wooden flute, his flock following him, his cowed dogs at his heels, his
+feet splashing about in the mud, the patient sheep leaving thousands of
+small footprints wherever they passed.
+
+But Eric played no more, neither did he sing; and over the gold of his
+locks the silver began to spread more and more, like foam on the sea.
+
+Wherever he stopped he bought canvas and paint, but each of his pictures
+showed always but the one and only face.
+
+He painted the features of his dream in every form his heart could
+remember.
+
+He represented her as first he had seen her, crowned with a wreath of
+bells, her old violin pressed under her cheek, her eyes full of the
+visions she alone could see. He painted her seated in the dust of the
+road with a circle of corn-ears round her delicate brow. He conjured up
+her beauty against the setting sun, whilst the coronet she wore was of
+autumn leaves all glowing as the blazing sky.
+
+One of his sketches showed her shimmering and pale, lit by the rays of
+the moon, and this time it was a halo he had painted round the pureness
+of her heavenly face.
+
+And once his restless fingers had created the picture of her marble
+features as she lay motionless on her bier, her face still and white
+under the brooding clouds, with the crown of thorns on her head, her
+wonderful eyes closed beneath the heavy lids, a smile of peace and
+happiness hovering like a blessing over her lips.
+
+But one picture alone no human eye but his was ever allowed to see; on
+that one he had awakened, for a second and last time, the look her eyes
+had borne when he had closed them with his lips.
+
+This sketch he kept jealously hidden beneath all the others, and it was
+never shown--not even Zorka had the right to cast a glance upon that
+expression which was too holy for mortal to look upon.
+
+One of his pictures he had given to Zorka in sign of gratitude. It
+represented the lost Luck of the wandering tribe. She stood on a lonely
+plain, her hands joined behind her back, her eyes looking straight
+before her, her head slightly raised as if listening for the coming of a
+being she could not see.
+
+A marvellous picture of unearthly beauty before which the old
+fortune-teller daily said her curious prayers, prayers to a God who had
+no form, but who lived in every breath of the wind, and who filled her
+weary old soul with the hope of coming peace.
+
+They wandered slowly from land to land, amidst scenes of beauty, and
+often also through countries bleak and joyless; but the heart of the
+painter was always yearning for a far-off desolate plain where he had
+planted his shining sword over the face of his love.
+
+When at night he closed his lids over his eyes heavy with unshed tears,
+that wilderness always rose before him, cold and lonely, filling him
+with a haunting dread that the sword might be slowly descending to
+pierce her innocent heart. That vision would suddenly awake him out of
+his sleep, and horror would stand at the foot of his wretched bed, till
+he could bear it no more and would rush wildly out into the night.
+
+Zorka knew all his suffering, and bowed her head always lower to the
+ground.
+
+When spring was covering the earth with a new smile of youth, Zorka felt
+that the moment she dreaded had come, and that the loved wanderer would
+soon leave her to go his way.
+
+She had heard him speak of a wonderful picture he was one day to finish
+in the palace of a mighty king. With her seer's certainty she knew that
+the time was close at hand--had he not found the face of love,--and
+slowly the desire must strengthen within him to terminate the work he
+had begun.
+
+She accepted the coming of this final suffering as one who knows that
+her days are surely numbered.
+
+One morning Eric Gundian, the last joy of her eyes, stood tall and slim
+before her dimmed sight.
+
+"Mother Zorka, I feel I must go. I thank thee for all thy bounteous
+kindness, and I want thy blessing as once the dear master gave me his!"
+
+He knelt down as a little child might have done, and laid the frosted
+gold of his locks amongst the folds of her earth-coloured rags. She
+placed her trembling hands upon his head and raised her quavering voice:
+
+"Go in peace, my loved one, take up thy burden and finish thy great
+work; it is thy duty to return to the kingly master who loved thee so
+well, and when thy pain seems too heavy to bear, remember these words of
+old Zorka the witch.
+
+"Those who die of happiness are blessed, but thrice blessed is the man
+who carries without complaint the burden of his broken heart. Thou hast
+known the sublimest fulfilment of joy. Be for ever grateful for that
+hour of bliss, and remember that she died at the moment of attainment,
+which is given to so few; therefore do not mourn as if her lot had been
+cruel. There are others who fall before winning the race; thou hast
+known what it is to reach thy goal; so, thou must not weep. Go, and
+carry joy with thee wherever thou treadest, because thou art a Chosen of
+God. It is I, the old seer, who thus does speak."
+
+She bent low over him and pressed her quivering lips to the silver
+threads in his hair; then he rose, and stood with his head thrown back,
+his arms reaching up towards the vault of blue, as one who longs to be
+received within the far-off clouds.
+
+"But, Mother Zorka, I can sing no more; God has drowned my voice in a
+sea of tears!"
+
+"My son, thou hast thy wonderful art. Go and live amongst those who
+believe in thee. Thou hast a great work to complete, and the face of thy
+love shall shine for ever upon the generations to come. This thou canst
+still do for her memory's sake, and that power is given to few.
+
+"There was a time when I believed I ought to guard our beautiful Stella
+from all touch of mortal love; but now I know that thus it is best. Each
+human being must fulfil his destiny, and Stella's destiny was to be the
+realization of thy dream.
+
+"The days of each man's life are counted, and not any of our poor
+knowledge can add an hour to the length of time Fate has decreed we
+should live.
+
+"Thou didst not kill her with thy kiss; she lived as a flower from some
+unknown land, yielding her sweet perfume to but one single being; then
+God took her for His own, and thus her life was to end. Cry not out
+against what had to be. Go thy way, and one day perhaps thou wilt know
+the meaning which now our mortal mind cannot fathom. My blessing is with
+thee. Go in peace."
+
+And that day Eric Gundian left the dark wandering people and old Zorka
+the witch.
+
+When he had reached the crest of a hill he turned round and waved to the
+trembling old woman who had been so faithful a friend.
+
+Over his head his inseparable companion fluttered like a snow-white sail
+caught by the wind.
+
+Zorka stood leaning on her crooked staff, her hand raised to protect her
+eyes, that were blinded with tears, against the glare of the rising sun.
+
+She stood watching the departing youth she had so dearly loved, and it
+seemed to her that he walked away from her straight into the glittering
+sky.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+Spring in all its beauty was covering the world with blossoms pink and
+white. Within the tender sprouting grass pale anemones were raising
+their delicate faces to peep at the radiant sun. Humble sweet-smelling
+violets covered the lawns with a carpet of richest hue. Everywhere the
+birds were singing hymns of praise to the sweet resurrection of life and
+joy. The larks were for ever mounting into the sky in eternal adoration
+of the shining sun.
+
+A haze of green was beginning to spread over the awakening woods, and
+innumerable flowers were pushing out their tiny heads from beneath the
+thick carpet of fallen leaves. Over all lay a sweet hush of promise,
+timid yet spreading far and wide.
+
+King Wanda sat upon his marble terrace basking in the first warmth of
+the season. Close beside him was Oona in a new dress of gold, a
+marvellous book upon her knees containing pictures in glowing colours,
+relating of fairies, both good and bad. She piped away with sweet clear
+voice, explaining all the wonders she saw; but King Wanda sat with a
+frown on his brow; nothing seemed to bring a smile to his lips; he had
+become morose and silent, and vainly his courtiers had tried to replace
+the favourite who had so suddenly left him long ago.
+
+[Illustration: King Wanda sat upon his marble terrace basking in the
+first warmth of the season.]
+
+King Wanda could find no joy since that day when Eric Gundian, the mad
+painter, had gone from his palace in search of his dream. He had given
+up all hope of seeing him again, although many a night he lay tossing
+upon his kingly couch, harking if he could not discern some sound of the
+step that once he had loved.
+
+Other painters had proposed to finish the frieze in the beautiful hall,
+but sternly the King had repressed their zeal. He himself kept the keys
+of that now silent chamber, and none save himself had entry through
+those massive doors. He raised his head as some one came towards him
+over the sunlit terrace. It was a page, and this was the news he
+brought. Outside the palace doors a stranger was standing in the garb of
+a beggar, demanding admittance, saying he had come to do King Wanda's
+bidding, and entreating to be allowed to speak to the master himself.
+
+"He is all travel-stained," said the page, "and upon his back he carries
+a load wrapped in a cloth. His feet are bare, his head uncovered, his
+clothes all torn and soiled; within his hands he bears a staff wrought
+with unknown designs. The hair on his head is long and covered with
+dust, and his eyes are horribly sad; most strange of all, upon the
+beggar's shoulder a curious bird is quietly seated. In truth the man
+seems to have come from the end of the earth."
+
+"I will have word with him," said the King, "as it is his desire to talk
+with me. Am I not here for all those who call at my door? None, it shall
+be said, go unconsoled or are sent away without receiving their heart's
+desire."
+
+Now the tattered traveller was standing upon the terrace before the
+presence of the King. His load had been laid upon the marble floor. The
+white bird sat motionless upon his shoulder, like a ghost in a dream.
+The rays of the sun shone upon his bent head, and as they lit on the
+long locks of the stranger's hair, making them sparkle and flash in the
+light, King Wanda gave a sudden cry, clutching at his heart. Then he
+sprang forward, and all the courtiers were witness of an astounding
+sight: a beggar lying against the heart of their King, who was sobbing
+as if his heart would break!
+
+And then Eric was on his knees, his head hidden in the hands of the good
+old King he had left to wander so far away. He was telling the crowned
+man that he had come back to finish the picture he had once begun,
+because now he knew what was the face of the woman who sat on the golden
+throne.
+
+"Give me leave, O most royal master, to complete the work of my hands;
+but let me tell thee that Eric Gundian, thy singing-bird, died one early
+morn under an alien sky at the break of day--it is only his spirit that
+has come to thee, because the Dreamer of Dreams has a last great wish to
+paint the face of love upon thy gilded walls!"
+
+So the King himself led the weary wanderer into his gorgeous hall,
+unlocking the heavy door with the key that hung from his waist.
+
+Like a soft white cloud the falcon glided into the room before them,
+settling upon the tall stone fire-place, whence it watched the strangely
+assorted couple.
+
+When alone together, for the first time Eric of the golden locks raised
+his haggard face and looked straight into the eyes of the King.
+
+The old man felt as though a dagger were piercing his heart when he met
+that hopeless gaze. Certainly those were the features of the boy he had
+loved, but oh, what was it he had gone through to be so cruelly changed?
+His cheeks were hollow, the sunken orbs stared with a far-away look too
+sad for the language of men, and his golden hair was covered with a fine
+web of silver that lay like an early frost over a ripe field of corn.
+
+Long did King Wanda stand mute, not finding a word; he felt that he
+stood in presence of a grief so deep that he dared not come too near. It
+was Eric who spoke:
+
+"May I remain within thy palace, O King, to complete the work that once
+I began? I feel that now I can verily put the finishing touches to a
+picture that in ages past was the pride of my painter's art.
+
+"And above all, I crave thy pardon for having left thee on that summer's
+morn so long ago. It must have seemed as if I were void of both
+gratitude and love, but it was not thus.
+
+"I have wandered far, and have returned from the regions of dreams to
+fulfil the task that thou didst once demand of me, so that thy belief in
+Eric Gundian should not have been in vain! I see by thy look, O most
+royal master, that still thou dost trust in me."
+
+"May the completing of thy work bring peace to thy heart!" was the
+King's reply; and once more he drew the dusty wayfarer within his
+fatherly arms. Within a few days Eric was again established in his old
+place, working with all his soul.
+
+King Wanda had given orders that he should be left entirely undisturbed;
+and there he painted from early morn as long as the daylight lasted.
+Even King Wanda dared not trouble his peace--he had a feeling that this
+work was being done with a love that no stranger's eye should watch.
+
+Indeed, it was with his very life's blood that the painter was now
+completing his masterpiece; he felt that each day he was giving some of
+his strength--that little by little his force was going with each fresh
+stroke of his brush.
+
+At times his face was corpse-like, as one no more of this earth.
+
+Once little Oona had peeped through an opening in the window-curtain,
+and had then run quickly back, with a feeling that she had seen a ghost.
+
+But the face that Eric was creating upon King Wanda's wall was of a
+beauty no words can describe.
+
+The woman on the throne, with the golden dress that flowed down like a
+river seen at sunset, was leaning slightly forward, her eyes looking
+away over the heads of the crowd that was calling upon her name in
+praise.
+
+She seemed to see no one; but other visions more beautiful than earthly
+eyes could conceive filled her gaze. The two palms of her hands were
+pressed down at her side in a strained attitude, as one who is half
+afraid, or perhaps awakening to some astounding knowledge.
+
+But her eyes was the spot within which Eric Gundian had concentrated all
+his inimitable art: they were the most marvellous wells of light and
+shade that had ever been painted by mortal hand.
+
+They were a mighty realization of his eternal dream--that dream that had
+led him through distant countries and deadly dangers to the very fount
+of love. Eric now lived only sustained by his feverish desire to leave
+those eyes, he had so loved, for ever upon that frieze that would be a
+living incorporation of his one great aim.
+
+But behind those shut doors he was wasting away; he was but a spirit
+whose body was an overcome burden, living by the soul alone, only a
+breath of that human life he had spent in the eternal effort to reach
+his glorious dream. Near by sat the snow-white hawk, who would never
+leave his side except for short moments when Eric opened the window,
+upon the beauties of spring, letting the bird out to search for its
+daily food.
+
+Eric himself seemed to dread the light of the sun; neither would he eat
+of the royal dishes that were brought him; he sipped from time to time
+a little water, otherwise he lived sustained by the love of his work.
+
+Eric Gundian--Eric of the golden locks--was now but a wavering breath,
+kept alive by the desire to finish his wonderful picture.
+
+One morning, when all had been stiller than usual behind those silent
+walls, King Wanda, with anxious face, opened the heavy door--and there,
+upon the ground, stretched all his length before his finished
+masterpiece, lay Eric Gundian, the dreamer of dreams, his wet brush
+still clasped in his hand.
+
+Near him, as always, sat the strange white bird watchfully motionless,
+but this time there were actually tears in its piercing eyes.
+
+The lids of the dreamer were closed for ever, as one, dead-tired, who
+mercifully has found rest at last....
+
+But on the golden throne of the picture sat a woman more beautiful than
+any brain can conceive,--within the expression of her eyes lay a world
+of joy and sorrow, that had blended into a look of unearthly glory
+impossible to describe.
+
+King Wanda stood staring, unable to move, overcome with a sorrow too
+deep for words; yet he had the feeling that whoso had been able to
+accomplish such a miracle could only die at the moment of attainment,
+because such a marvel must verily be paid for by the life of the one who
+thus was allowed to create it.
+
+All the courtiers now came trooping together and stood in awe behind
+their King, staring and whispering, hushed by the dark mystery they
+could not understand.
+
+Then a murmur went from lip to lip.
+
+"Oh, why has the marvellous woman a crown of thorns upon her head? Why,
+oh why did he paint the face of Love crowned with a wreath of thorns?"
+
+King Wanda bowed his weary head: then he knelt on the floor and kissed
+the brow of the favourite he had loved so well--and, looking into that
+pale and silent face, he thought he understood what the Dreamer had
+meant when, with the last touch of his brush, he had crowned Love's
+immaculate visage with a wreath of thorns.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+    And Beauty, Peace, and Sorrow are dreams within dreams.
+
+    FIONA MACLEOD.
+
+
+In a distant land Spring was also spreading over hill and dale.
+
+But on a bare plain, where nothing grew, a miracle had come to pass: a
+peasant, returning home one starry night, had espied, from the road upon
+which he was slowly sauntering, a strange light in the form of a cross,
+gleaming far over the barren waste.
+
+Full of astonishment he had run to the spot, and there he had discerned
+a magic crystal, all charged with radiance, in the shape before which
+every Christian bends the knee. And the most curious of all, this
+burning cross was the hilt of a glistening sword which must have dropped
+from heaven, to remain thus firmly planted in the ground.
+
+Awed and filled with wonder the youth had spread the astounding news
+from village to village, and all the simple folk had run together,
+falling down in worship before this miraculous sign, which God had put
+in so desert a place, as a blessing on the land.
+
+From far and wide, rich and poor, old and young, men, women, and
+children came in pilgrimage to that holy site.
+
+None ever knew, except one humble little peasant, from whence the cross
+had come.
+
+But Radu, the shepherd, held his peace, thanking the Kind Mother of
+Christ for having thus ordained that so many pious believers should go
+and pray on the grave where the dreamer of dreams had buried his love.
+
+One morning when the warm rays of the sun were lying like a blessing
+over the deserted waste, a white bird might have been seen descending
+out of the blue.
+
+It hovered for a time over the gleaming sword, circling very slowly, so
+that its outspread wings resembled a snowy cloud floating in the air.
+
+Then down it swooped out of the heavens, there, where Stella lay beneath
+the dark heavy mould. Within its beak this unknown bird was holding a
+simple seed, which it dropped on the very spot where the dead girl's
+heart rested under the sod--a seed it had carried from a distant land of
+the north from the tenderly tended grave in a great king's garden.
+Hardly had the seed touched the barren earth than it sprang up and
+spread all over the tomb a thick network of rambling thorns covered with
+countless roses--as crimson as the broken heart of a lover.
+
+And these roses bloomed, even in the winter months, upon the icy
+covering of snow, red as the reddest blood, till all the simple folk
+declared that indeed the place was Holy Ground.
+
+And thus it was that God blessed the Love of him who once had been
+called Eric Gundian, the Dreamer of Dreams.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LILY OF LIFE
+
+A FAIRY STORY
+
+BY THE
+
+QUEEN OF ROUMANIA
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY HELEN STRATTON
+
+
+"A graceful and charming work of fancy.... To every imaginative child it
+will prove a rich delight."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+"It is distinctly a book to possess and delight in. The few words of
+preface contributed by 'Carmen Sylva' are an appreciation, expressed
+with true felicity, of the charm of this prose poem, and the illustrator
+has caught its spirit admirably."--_World._
+
+"A noble picture-book. A graceful and poetic tale marked by real talent,
+and not a few touches of genuine feeling. Miss Stratton's pictures are
+very clever and effective."--_Guardian._
+
+"Great beauty pervades it all, and every situation is so entirely
+picturesque. All readers of fairy lore will find it true and
+beautiful.... The illustrations are delightful."--_Daily Express._
+
+"Graceful fancy, elevated sentiment, and simple but dignified expression
+ensure a high place among the fairy tales of the publishing year for the
+Queen of Roumania's charming work, _The Lily of Life_.... The merit of
+the telling is unusual, and it has the further advantage of being
+presented in an exceedingly handsome and artistic form. The coloured
+illustrations of Miss Helen Stratton show graceful drawing and fine
+gradations of tone. They are not merely a pictorial summary of the
+story, but genuine works of art, and a distinctive feature of the
+volume."--_Scotsman._
+
+"A tale of great beauty.... The author shows considerable powers of
+imagination and direct expression."--_Spectator._
+
+"The story is beautiful in its conception, and floats from incident to
+incident in the wondrous glamour of that atmosphere of fairyland so dear
+to the hearts of little readers.... The illustrations in conception,
+drawing, and reproduction are in perfect harmony with the beauty of the
+story and the volume."--_Northern Whig._
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40950 ***