The moon looked down upon his golden locks, transforming them into a mass of silver; even his torn and travel-stained clothes were turned into glowing metal like a knight of olden days. From the shadow of the giant trees the little girl came slowly forward, and on reaching the spot where Eric prayed with lowered brow, she, too, fell on her knees and advancing her innocent lips kissed the blade of the sword. XVII 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.