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Dreamer of Dreams

<h2>VII</h2> Yet there was round thee such a dawn of light ne'er seen before. Wolfe. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> 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. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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