After a long night, the fresh morning breathed when Albano was to find again the treasures of the most blessed dream, the flowers of fortune which the moon had opened, in broad sunlight. Life shouted to him exultingly, as he climbed again yesterday's heights, which shone overspread with the varnish of light; not to a rose-feast, but to all flower and harvest-festivals at once; to feasts of myrtles and lilies; to gleanings and blossom-gatherings. The sun went forth over the blessed region, and as a peacock with his trailing rainbow flies into a blossoming tree, so did the young day, heavy with colors and laden with gardens and full of reflections, mount the blue heights, and smile like a child upon the world. Albano looked now from his height down on the enchanted castle wherein yesterday the mighty enchantress had disappeared. He went down to it. A singing maiden on the flowery roof, who seemed to have been waiting for him, pointed out, leaning over without interrupting her singing, a near apartment below her into which he was to enter. He stepped in; it was empty. Through the windows of oiled paper streamed a wondrous morning light; on the wooden ceiling figures from Herculaneum were painted; in a Campanian vase stood yellow butterfly flowers and myrtle-blossoms, which diffused around them a sweet perfumed atmosphere. The singular environs enclosed him more and more closely, for he found, in fact, some pictures and articles of furniture which seemed familiar to him. At last he saw, to his amazement, on the table a half ring. He took out his half which he had got from the pretended sister in the Gothic chamber on that ghostly night, and which, to be ready for the opportunity of a comparison, he always carried about with him. He pressed the semicircles into one another; suddenly they closed, clasping, and formed a fast ring. "God!" thought he, "what arm strikes again into my life?"