One morning he awoke, and no one could understand the meaning of his talk; he declared he had had a dream, and in his dream he had seen two eyes, the eyes he needed for the completing of his picture; and without those eyes he never again could touch either colour or brush. King Wanda had called for him to be brought before his presence, but Eric had sullenly refused to answer his command. At first King Wanda had been furiously angry, but then he remembered Eric's wonderful art, and had deigned to go out to where his favourite sat on the cool marble steps, that led down to the lake, before the King's white palace of beauty. Eric had risen before the crowned figure that bent towards him a stern face of inquiry, but to all the King's questions, to all his persuasions, flatteries, threats, and entreaties Eric had replied with a sad gesture of resignation, that never again could he take up his brush till he had found those eyes which had haunted his dream. His pain and his despair were so evident, that King Wanda felt that no words had force to move the distracted young man. Sadly he departed, and mounted one by one the shallow marble steps which reflected in glowing colours the costly clothes that he wore. Once more he turned and looked down upon his favourite, who sat, his head in his hands, gazing across the sparkling lake; he heaved a deep sigh and felt like quarrelling with Fate who had despoiled him of one of his great joys. As he reached the palace door, he was met by the sweet little figure of his daughter, who came out into the sunshine, gathering up her long trailing dress, a golden ball clasped in her hands. The King smiled upon her, and bade her go down to the water's edge to try and console the young painter with her radiant youth. With a gay laugh Oona rolled her golden ball down the snow-white steps, and it fell with a splash into the water at the young man's feet, making great circles that spread, always widening, over the blue expanse; but Eric never moved, he kept staring into the distance as if he were following a vision no other eye could see. Oona came noiselessly down the steps, rather awed by the silence and stillness of the young man who had always been her gayest playfellow. Gently she drew near to where he sat, and dropped down at his side--then like a playful kitten she nestled quite close to him and peered up into his face. The smile faded from her soft lips and gave way to a look of wonder and distress. She put both arms round her young friend's neck, and pressing her blossom-like cheek against his shoulder, she asked him gently if he would not come and play with her beneath the flowering apple-trees. Eric looked at her as if she were a stranger; his eyes seemed to wander over her fair face without any recognition. Suddenly little Oona was afraid, and drew back; what had come to her friend? Why was he so changed? Why did she begin to shiver in the warm sunshine so that all around her lost light and colour?