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diff --git a/40950-0.txt b/40950-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcc333b --- /dev/null +++ b/40950-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6098 @@ +*** 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 *** |