The month was still young when the shattering day arrived. The sun had come out bright and clear over the fields and slopes of snow; and toward noon a few clouds had gathered, lazy and slow-drifting and scarcely disturbing the serene blue. Responsive to the tranquility of earth and sky, my mood was more placid than for weeks; and Yasma too seemed to feel the charmed peace, for her face showed a calm as of utter content, and the fever had apparently receded and left her cheeks almost their normal rose-hue. She did not speak much, but it seemed to me that her eyes had more alertness than for many days; and when she did break silence with a whisper, it was to assure me of her love in tones unforgettably tender. How often I was to remember those words in later days, to treasure them, to repeat them over and over to myself like some old tune whose magic never fails! But at the time I did not foresee how precious these few hours were to be. Even when evening was approaching and Yasma's eyes began to glitter as with some secret ecstasy, I did not realize that the present moment might dominate all other moments in my life; and when sunset was setting fire to the west and the stray clouds wore vermilion and purple, I was still unprepared for what the night had in store. Dusk was falling over the world and in our cabin a lively blaze was beaming, when I was surprised to see Yasma draw herself up to a sitting posture and throw out her hands as though invoking some unseen power. In her face there was a light as of one who gazes at some ravishing beauty; she seemed utterly overmastered and borne out of herself. "Yasma," I murmured, myself overawed at her fierce transport. "Yasma, what is it?" She turned to me with eyes that burned and sparkled as in the first ardor of our love. Her features were transfigured and glorified; it was as though she were yearning, straining upward toward something unspeakably lovely. "I see the birds!" she cried, with a passion she had not shown for months. "I see the wild birds! They are calling, calling! Oh, I must join them! I must go where the flowers are! I must go, my beloved, I must go!" "What are you saying, Yasma?" I burst forth, in a frenzy of terror. "Are you out of your senses? There are no birds near us now!" She bent upon me a gaze in which her ecstasy seemed to be crossed by a fugitive tenderness. "Yes, there are, there are! I hear them! They call to me! But do not be sorry, my beloved. I will be happier, oh, so happy! The birds are calling me--I must follow them, follow them south--only"--here she hesitated just the fraction of a second--"only, this time I shall not return!" "Oh, do not speak so strangely, Yasma!" I pleaded, half beside myself.