And so saying, the king's body-guard set down the litter upon a rock, and plunged into the multitudes below. They soon returned, however, and bore the king down into the middle of the lake. All the Shadows came crowding round him, respectfully but fearlessly; and sure never such a grotesque assembly revealed itself before to mortal eyes. The king had seen all kind of gnomes, goblins, and kobolds at his coronation; but they were quite rectilinear figures compared with the insane lawlessness of form in which the Shadows rejoiced; and the wildest gambols of the former were orderly dances of ceremony beside the apparently aimless and wilful contortions of figure, and metamorphoses of shape, in which the latter indulged. They retained, however, all the time, to the surprise of the king, an identity, each of his own type, inexplicably perceptible through every change. Indeed this preservation of the primary idea of each form was more wonderful than the bewildering and ridiculous alterations to which the form itself was every moment subjected. "What are you?" said the king, leaning on his elbow, and looking around him. "The Shadows, your majesty," answered several voices at once. "What Shadows?" "The human Shadows. The Shadows of men, and women, and their children." "Are you not the shadows of chairs and tables, and pokers and tongs, just as well?" At this question a strange jarring commotion went through the assembly with a shock. Several of the figures shot up as high as the aurora, but instantly settled down again to human size, as if overmastering their feelings, out of respect to him who had roused them. One who had bounded to the highest visible icy peak, and as suddenly returned, now elbowed his way through the rest, and made himself spokesman for them during the remaining part of the dialogue. "Excuse our agitation, your majesty," said he. "I see your majesty has not yet thought proper to make himself acquainted with our nature and habits." "I wish to do so now," replied the king. "We are the Shadows," repeated the Shadow solemnly. "Well?" said the king. "We do not often appear to men." "Ha!" said the king. "We do not belong to the sunshine at all. We go through it unseen, and only by a passing chill do men recognize an unknown presence." "Ha!" said the king again. "It is only in the twilight of the fire, or when one man or woman is alone with a single candle, or when any number of people are all feeling the same thing at once, making them one, that we show ourselves, and the truth of things." "Can that be true that loves the night?" said the king. "The darkness is the nurse of light," answered the Shadow. "Can that be true which mocks at forms?" said the king. "Truth rides abroad in shapeless storms," answered the Shadow. "Ha! ha!" thought Ralph Rinkelmann, "it rhymes. The Shadow caps my questions with his answers. Very strange!" And he grew thoughtful again. The Shadow was the first to resume.