The people awaited the splendor and the music. The Prince at last led his bride toward the Temple of Dream; Charles, to-day blind to his Rabette, not _for_ her, took with him the glowing Count. In the outer temple nothing could be detected corresponding to its magic name; only the windows went from the roof of this Pavilion down to the very ground; and, instead of frames and window-sills, were set in twigs and leaves. But when the Princess had gone in through a glass door, the Pavilion seemed to her to have vanished away; one seemed to stand on a solitary, open spot, guarded with some tree-stems, which all vistas of the garden met and crossed. Wondrously, as if by sportive dreams, were the regions of Lilar intermingled, and opposites drawn together; beside the mountain with the thunder-house stood the one with the altar, and hard by the enchanted wood the high, dark Tartarus reared itself. The near and the far swallowed each other up; a fresh rainbow of garden-hues and a faded mock-rainbow ran on beside each other, as, when one wakes, the shadow of the dream-image glides away, still visible, before the glittering present. While the Princess was still sinking away into the dreamy illusion,[9] Liana--as if gliding out of the air through a glass side-door, in Idoine's favorite attire,--in a white dress with silver flowers, and in unadorned hair, with a veil, which, fastened only on the left side, flowed down at full length--came tremulously forth, and when the deceived Princess cried out, "Idoine!" she whispered, with a trembling and scarcely audible voice: "_Je ne suis qu'un songe_."[10] She was to say more and offer a flower; but when the Princess, with emotion, went on to exclaim: "_Sœur chérie!_"[11] and folded her passionately in her arms, then she forgot all, and only wept out her heart upon another heart, because to her another's vain languishing after a sister was so touching. Albano stood near to the sublime scene; the bandage was torn off from all his wounds, and their blood flowed down warmly out of them all. O, never had she, or any other form, been so ethereally beautiful, so heavenly-blooming, and so meek and lowly! When she raised her eyes out of the embrace, they fell upon Albano's pale countenance. It was pale, not with sickness, but with emotion. She started back, quivering, and embraced the Princess again; the pale youth had wrung from her agitated heart one tear after another; but the two did not greet each other,--and thus began their evening.