“And why should these dreams be denied me,” I exclaimed, mentally, “since the prologue of the vision has already been vouchsafed me? My foolish fears have hitherto rendered me unworthy and incapable of believing in Swedenborgian revelations, such as superior minds credit and which I have mistakenly ridiculed. But now I will gladly renounce these old illusions, and such sentiments will surely be more healthful and agreeable to the soul of a poet than the cold denial of our age. If I pass for a madman, should I even become one, what matters it; I will have lived in an ideal sphere, and will, perhaps, be happier than all the sages of the earth combined.” Thus I communed with myself, resting my head on my hands. It was about two o’clock in the morning and the most profound silence reigned throughout the castle and the surrounding country, when a sound of delicate and exquisite music, which seemed to proceed from the rotunda snatched me from my revery. I raised my head and pushed back the candlestick, so that I could see to whom I was indebted for this serenade, but the four candles which lighted my writing-table thoroughly, were not sufficient for me to distinguish objects at the end of the hall even, still less the rotunda beyond. I proceeded at once towards this rotunda and being no longer dazzled by another light, I could distinguish the upper portion of the beautiful group in the fountain, fully illuminated by the moon, whose rays penetrated the arched window of the cupola. The rest of the circular hall was in shadow. In order to assure myself that I was as much alone as I appeared to be, I drew back the bolt of the large glass door which opened on the parterre, and saw in fact that no one was there. The music had seemed to diminish and fade away in proportion to my approach, so that I now could scarcely hear it. I passed into the other gallery, and found it also deserted, but here the sounds which had so charmed me could once more be heard distinctly, and this time they seemed to proceed from the rear. I paused without turning around, to listen to them; they were sweet and plaintive and formed a melodious combination beyond my comprehension. It was rather a succession of vague and mysterious chords, struck as if by chance and executed by instruments that I could not divine, for their tones resembled nothing that I had ever heard. The effect although pleasing was exceedingly melancholy. I retraced my steps and convinced myself that these voices, if voices they could be called, issued decidedly from the shell of the tritons and nymphs of the fountain, increasing and diminishing in intensity as the water which now flowed in an irregular and intermittent manner, increased or decreased in the basins.