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.