“‘Fool, hound, demented lunatic!’ they cried. ‘How dared you break your cage and let the birds fly?’ “The hunter spoke; but they would not hear him. “‘Truth! who is she? Can you eat her? Can you drink her? Who has ever seen her? Your birds were real; all could hear them sing. Oh, fool, vile reptile, atheist!’ they cried, ‘you pollute the air.’ “‘Come, let us take up stones and stone him!’ cried some. “‘What affair is it of ours?’ said others. ‘Let the idiot go!’ and went away. But the rest gathered up stones and mud, and threw at him. At last, when he was bruised and cut, the hunter crept away into the woods. And it was evening about him.” At every word the stranger spoke the fellow’s eyes flashed back on him,--yes, and yes, and yes. The stranger smiled. It was almost worth the trouble of exerting oneself, even on a lazy afternoon, to win those passionate flashes, more thirsty and desiring than the love-glances of a woman. “He wandered on and on,” said the stranger, “and the shade grew deeper. He was on the borders now of the land where it is always night. Then he stepped into it, and there was no light there. With his hands he groped; but each branch, as he touched it, broke off, and the earth was covered with cinders. At every step his foot sank in, and a fine cloud of impalpable ashes flew up into his face; and it was dark. So he sat down upon a stone, and buried his face in his hands, to wait in that land of Negation and Denial till the light came. “And it was night in his heart also. “Then from the marshes to his right and left cold mists arose, and closed about him. A fine imperceptible rain fell in the dark, and great drops gathered on his hair and clothes. His heart beat slowly, and a numbness crept through all his limbs. Then, looking up, two merry whisp lights came dancing. He lifted his head to look at them. Nearer, nearer, they came. So warm, so bright, they danced like stars of fire. They stood before him at last. From the centre of the radiating flame in one looked out a woman’s face, laughing, dimpled, with streaming yellow hair. In the centre of the other were merry laughing ripples, like the bubbles on a glass of wine. They danced before him. “‘Who are you,’ asked the hunter, ‘who alone come to me in my solitude and darkness?’ “‘We are the twins Sensuality!’ they cried. ‘Our father’s name is Human-Nature, and our mother’s name is Excess. We are as old as the hills and rivers,--as old as the first man; but we never die,’ they laughed. “‘Oh, let me wrap my arms about you!’ cried the first; ‘they are soft and warm. Your heart is frozen now, but I will make it beat. Oh, come to me!’ “‘I will pour my hot life into you,’ said the second; ‘your brain is numb, and your limbs are dead now, but they shall live with a fierce free fire. Oh, let me pour it in!’