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Dreamer of Dreams

<h2>XVII</h2> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> 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. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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