Heinrich of Ofterdingen

Chapter 9

That evening the grandfather drank to the health of the young couple with some guests, and promised to arrange a beautiful wedding-party. 'What's the point of a long delay,' said the Grandfather 'Early wedding, long love. I've always found that early marriages were the happiest. In later years there is not as much devotion as with youth. A happy youth spent together forms an eternal bond. Memory is the surest foundation of love.'

Several more guests arrived after dinner. Heinrich asked his new father to fulfil his promise.

Klingsohr announced to the company 'I promised Heinrich today that I would tell a fairy tale. If everyone is happy to hear it, I am ready .

That is a clever idea of Heinrich,' said old Schwaning 'it's a long time since you've given us such a treat.'

They seated themselves around the blazing fire. Heinrich sat beside Matilda, and put his arm around her. Klingsohr began.

The long night had just begun. The old hero struck on his shield, and it chimed out through the empty streets of the city. Three times he repeated the signal. The high stained glass windows of the palace began to brighten from within, and the figures on them began to move. The stronger the reddish light grew, the alleys began to illuminate. One could see the great columns and walls begin to lighten, until finally they stood in a milk white glow, and bathed in the most subtle of colours.

The whole region was now visible, and the reflection of the figures, the turmoil of spears, swords, shields and helmets deferring to the crowns that appeared on every side, which finally vanished and was replaced by a green garland and about which was a broad circle. All this was mirrored in the lake that surrounded the mountain on which the city stood, and also in the distant mountain ranges that surrounded the lake which were bathed in the soft glow. One could not distinguish anything clearly, however one could hear a strange noise, as if coming from a distant giant workshop.

In contrast, the city appeared bright and clear. Its transparent walls reflected back the beautiful radiance, and one could now see the beautiful symmetry and noble style of the buildings. Before all windows dainty vases full of the most varied ice and snow flowers glistened gracefully.

More beautiful than all was the palace garden, in which were precious metal trees and crystal plants, with colourful gem blossoms and fruits. The diversity and delicacy of forms, and the profusion of lights and colour provided the most splendid spectacle, consummated by the splendour of a high fountain which had turned to ice and which stood in the middle of the garden.

The old hero went slowly past the gates of the Palace. A voice called his name in the within. He leaned against the gate which opened with a gentle clang, and he stepped into the hall. He held his shield up in front of his eyes.

'Have you still discovered nothing?' asked the beautiful daughter of Arcturus with a plaintive voice. She lay on a silk upholstered throne, fashioned out of a single huge sulphur crystal. Some girls rubbed her tender limbs which were a blend of milk white and crimson. From beneath their hands she emanated a delightful light that set the palace gleaming, and a scented breeze wafted through the hall.

The hero was silent.

'Let me touch your shield.' She said softly.

He approached the throne and stepped onto a delightful carpet. She took his hand and pressed it with tenderness to her sublime breast, and touched his shield. His armour rang out, a penetrating strength infused his body. His eyes flashed heart beat audibly against his armour. The beautiful Freya seemed happier, and the light which emanated from her grew more brilliant.

'The King is approaching' cried a resplendent bird, hovering behind the throne.

The girls placed a sky blue blanket up over the princess, covering her bosom. The hero lowered his shield and looked up to the dome, from which two wide staircases descended down both sides of the hall.

Music softly accompanied the king as he descended from the dome, accompanied by a large retinue.

The gorgeous bird spread his shining wings, and moved them softly as he sang to the King like a chorus of a thousand voices:

Not long will line the beautiful foreign parts.

The heat [naht], the eternity begins.

The queen awakens out of reaches reverie,

If sea and land in love-emberses melt away.

The cold night will evacuate this place,

If fable first the old law wins.

In [Freyas] lap itself will ignite the world

And each longing their longing finds.

The king embraced his daughter with tenderness. The spirits of the stars arranged themselves around the throne, and the hero took his place among them. An innumerable number of stars filled the hall in beautiful constellations. The girls brought a table and a box in which lay a quantity of pages which bore sacred symbols composed of patterns of stars. The king kissed the pages reverently, mixing them carefully, handing some to his daughter, and retaining the rest for himself.

The princess placed them on the table, row by row. The king looked at his own pages carefully, deliberating intently before laying one of them down one. Occasionally he seemed compelled to choose one page or another, however his joy was visible, when a good configuration enabled him to place a page into a beautiful harmony of signs and patterns.

As the game began the faces and gestures of everyone present showed every sign of keen interest and active involvement, as if each one held some invisible instrument in his hand, with which he was working. Soft and deeply moving music filled the air of the hall. It seemed to originate from the interweaving and other strange movements of the stars. The stars moved, now slowly, now quickly, as they formed patterns in concert with the music and the artistic arrangement of the pages. The music changed constantly with the changes to the pictures on the table, and despite difficult and strange transitions a simple theme seemed to connect the whole.

The stars flew in conjunction with the patterns of the pictures with astonishing ease. Now together in one big cluster, then into smaller beautiful constellations, and then scattered as innumerable sparkling stars. From there coming through and growing from smaller circles and patterns, a surprising new overarching pattern would come to light.

Meanwhile the colourful shapes in the windows remained quietly still. The bird displayed his precious plumage in constantly changing patterns within his alcove. The old hero had until now been about his hidden own work, when all at once the king cried out with joy :

'All will now be well! Irons, throw your sword into the world, that they may experience where peace may be found' The hero tore out the sword at his hip, held it up to the sky, then grasped it and threw it out of the open window over the city, and beyond the sea of ice. It flew through the air like a comet, and appeared to splinter with a bright ringing sound, in a loud shower of sparks.

It was at this time that the beautiful boy eros lay sleeping peacefully in his cradle, while Ginnistan his wet-nurse rocked the cradle, and gave her breast to his milk-sister Fable.

She had placed colourful scarfs over the cradle so that the scribes bright burning lamp would not disturb the child. The scribe wrote endlessly, looking up only occasionally to give the children a sour look, or to scowl darkly at the wet-nurse, who simply smiled back pleasantly and said nothing.

The children's father was constantly coming in and going out, and each time he would see how the children were going, and kindly greet Ginnistan. He always had something to say to the scribe, who would listen attentively, and after he had transcribed it would lean over and hand the pages to a noble godly woman who was leaning against an altar who had a dark bowl full of clear water. She dipped the pages into the bowl, and looked into it with a cheerful smile. If when she drew them out the writing remained and had become shining, she would hand the leaf back to the scribe to be fastened into a large book. Often, if his efforts had been in vain and were washed away, the scribe's countenance would turn sullen.

From time to time, the woman would turn to Ginnistan and the children, dip her finger into the bowl, sprinkle some drops on them. As soon as the drops touched the wet-nurse, the child or the cradle, they would melt into a blue haze, displaying a thousand strange sights, always changing. If a drop were to perchance fall on the scribe, it would result in a shower of numbers and geometrical figures, which he would then industriously gather, thread them on a string, and then hang them as an ornament around his neck.

The boy's mother, the emanation of sweetness and grace came in often. She seemed to be constantly busy, and always left with some piece of household furnishing. If the suspicious scribe noticed this he would begin a long accusatory speech that was however ignored by everyone. They were all used to his pointless accusations.

Sometimes the Mother would give little Fable her breast, however she would be soon called away, and Ginnistan would take the child back, and the child seemed to prefer her breast anyway.

Suddenly the Father came in with a thin iron rod that he had found in the courtyard. The scribe took it and tuning it over in his hands examined it with great interest discovered that if hung in the middle by a thread, it would point to the north. Ginnistan also took it in her hand, bent it, pressed it, breathed on it...............

"Sophia," he said with moving voice to the woman, "let me drink from the vessel."

"You can start your journey immediately. Ginnistan may accompany you," said Sophia, "She knows the roads and is herself well known everywhere. She will take on the form of your Mother in order not to lead you into temptation. If you find the King, think of me and I will come to help you."

III

"Dear Eros," said Ginnistan, "we must hurry in order to get to my father, who has not seen me for a long time and who has sought for me so longingly all across the earth. Do you see his pale and careworn face? Your testimony will make me known to him in my strange form."

Love walked upon his darkling way

Glimpsed by the moon alone.

The shadow realm wide open lay

And with strange jewels shone.

A blue mist over them was shed,

Edged with a golden band,

And swiftly pressing, Fancy led

Him over streams and land.

High swelled his heart, and wondrously

Great courage filled the child;

A foresense of the joy to be

Engaged his ardour wild.

Yearning mourned and did not know

That Love was drawing near,

And on her visage deeper flow

Was ridged by hopeless tear.

The little serpent still was true,

It pointed to the north,

And both untroubled onward flew

As their fair guide sped forth.

Love passed through wastes and stepped full soon

Through welkin clouds to stand

Within the aura of the moon,

His daughter by the hand.

The Moon sat on his silver throne, -

With Grief he shared the place,

And then he heard his own child's tone,

And sank in her embrace.

Storm raged, and the night was illuminated with fearful meteors. With unheard-of cruelties the army of ghosts rent the tender limbs of the living. A pyre was built up, and amid the most ferocious howling the children of life were consumed by the flames. Suddenly from the dark heap of ashes a milk-blue stream erupted in all directions. The ghosts sought to take flight, but the flood swelled visibly and engulfed the hideous brood. Soon all the horrors were effaced. Heaven and earth flowed together into sweet music. A wondrously beautiful flower floated gleaming on the gentle waves. A gleaming bow arched over the flood, and upon it, down both its sides, sat godlike forms on resplendent thrones. Uppermost sat Sophia, the vessel in her hand, at the side of an imposing man with an oakcrown about his locks and a palm of peace held instead of a sceptre in his right hand. A lily leaf bent over the chalice of the floating flower, and upon it sat little Fable singing the sweetest songs to the accompaniment of a harp. In the chalice lay Eros himself, inclining over a lovely slumbering maiden who held him in close embrace. A smaller blossom adjoined the pair, so that from the hips they seemed to be transformed into one flower.

Eros thanked Ginnistan with a thousand raptures. He embraced her tenderly, and she returned his caresses. Weary from the burdens of the journey and the manifold objects which he had seen, he yearned for comfort and rest. Ginnistan, who felt herself intensely attracted by the handsome youth, took good care not to mention the drink which Sophia had given him to take along. She guided him to a remote bath, removed his armour, and herself put on a night-gown, in which she looked strange and seductive. Eros plunged into the perilous waves, and emerged again intoxicated. Ginnistan dried him and rubbed his strong limbs taut with youthful strength. With ardent longing he recalled his beloved and embraced the charming Ginnistan in sweet illusion. Recklessly he yielded himself to his own stormy tenderness, and at last, after the most voluptuous delights, fell asleep on the lovely bosom of his companion.

IV

Meanwhile at home a sad transformation had come about. The Scribe had involved the servants in a dangerous conspiracy. His hostile mind had long been seeking an opportunity of making himself master of the government of the household and shaking off his yoke. He had found it. First his followers had seized the Mother, who was put into iron fetters. The Father was likewise kept on bread and water. Little Fable heard the uproar in the room. She crept off behind the altar, and when she perceived that a door was concealed on its rear face, she opened it with much dexterity and discovered a stairway leading down inside. She pulled the door to after her and clambered down the steps in darkness. The Scribe came rushing in with violence to take his revenge on little Fable and to take Sophia captive. Neither was to be found. The vessel, too, was missing, and in his fury he smashed the altar to a thousand pieces, without, however, discovering the secret staircase.

For some time little Fable went on climbing down. Finally she emerged upon an open square which was adorned round about with a magnificent colonnade and closed by a huge gate. Here all forms were dark. The air was like a monstrous shadow. In the sky one black gleaming body was to be seen. Everything could be distinguished quite plainly because each figure exhibited a different shade of black and cast a faint shining behind it. Light and shadow seemed here to have exchanged roles. Fable was delighted to be in another world. She examined everything with childish curiosity. At last she came to the gate in front of which, upon a massive pedestal, lay a splendid Sphinx.

"What do you seek?" said the Sphinx.

"My rightful property," replied Fable.

"Whence have you come?"

"Out of ancient times."

"You are still a child."

"And shall forever be a child."

"Who will stand by you?"

"I stand for myself. Where are the sisters?" asked Fable.

"Everywhere and nowhere," was the Sphinx's answer.

"Do you know me?"

"Not yet."

"Where is Love?"

"In the imagination."

"And Sophia?"

The Sphinx murmured inaudibly to herself and rustled her wings.

"Sophia and Love!" cried Fable triumphantly, and walked through the gate.

She stepped into the enormous cavern and walked cheerfully up to the ancient sisters, who, by the parsimonious night of a black-burning lamp, were plying their wondrous trade. They pretended not to notice their little guest, who with pretty blandishments busied herself among them. Finally one of them croaked with rasping words and squinting glance: "What do you want here, truant? Who let you in? Your childish bobbing about disturbs the quiet flame. The oil is consumed for nothing. Can't you sit down and take up some work?"

"Pretty cousin," said Fable, "truancy is no concern of mine. I really had to laugh at your doorkeeper. She would have liked to take me to her bosom, but she must have eaten too much: she couldn't get up. Let me sit outside the door, and give me a little something to spin; because I can't see very well here, and when I spin, I have to be allowed to sing and chatter, and that might disturb you in your earnest thoughts."

"You shall not go out, but in the side room a ray from the upper world breaks through the crevices of the cliff; there you may spin if you are so clever. Here lie enormous heaps of old odds and ends. Wind them together. But have a care: if you spin carelessly, or if the thread breaks, the strands will wind around you and choke you to death."'

The crone laughed malignantly, and span. Fable gathered up an armful of strands, took spindle and distaff, and skipped singing into the other room. She looked up through the opening and caught a glimpse of the constellation Phoenix. Happy at the sight of the lucky sign, she began to spin merrily, and, leaving the door ajar, she sang softly:

Within your cells awake now, You thralls of old Time's sway; Your posts of rest forsake now, Dawn is not far away.

I spin your threads at last Into a single strand; The time of feuds is past. You shall as one life stand.

Each one shall live in all, And all in each as well. With one breath's rise and fall One heart shall in you swell.

You are mere spirit still, Mere dreams and wizardry. Invade that cave with will And taunt the holy three.

The spindle swung with unbelievable swiftness between her little feet, while with both hands she wound the slender thread. Amid her song countless tiny lights became visible as they slipped through the crack of the door and swarmed through the cavern as hideous spectres. During this time the crones had gone on sullenly spinning and waiting for little

"I thank you for your good will," said Fable. "One can tell by looking at you that you are now in your heyday. All you lack now is the hourglass and the scythe, and you would look just like my pretty cousins' Brother. If you need any goose quills, just grab a handful of that soft down from your cheeks."

The Scribe made as if to attack her. She smiled and said: "If you prize your pretty growth of hair and your spirited eyes, watch out! Consider my nails. You don't have much more to lose."

With suppressed fury he turned to the hags, who were wiping their eyes and groping about for their distaffs. They could find nothing because the lamp had gone out, and they broke forth in abuse against Fable.

"Let her go," he said cunningly, "and catch you tarantulas for the preparation of your oil. I should like to tell you for your consolation that Eros keeps flying around without stopping and will keep your shears thoroughly busy. His Mother, who so often compelled you to spin the threads longer, will tomorrow be a prey of the flames."

He tickled himself to make himself laugh as he saw Fable shedding a few tears at this news. He gave the hags a piece of the root and walked away, wrinkling up his nose. With angry voices the sisters bade Fable go look for tarantulas, despite the fact that they still had oil on hand, and Fable hastened away.

She pretended to open the gate, but slammed it violently shut again, and softly slipped away toward the back of the cavern, where a ladder was hanging. She clambered quickly up and presently came to a trap door which opened into the chamber of Arcturus.

The King was sitting surrounded by his councillors when Fable appeared. The northern crown adorned his head. In his left hand he held the lily, in his right hand the scales. The eagle and the lion sat at his feet.

"Monarch," said Fable as she respectfully made obeisance to him, "hail to your firm-founded throne!

Good tidings to your amazed heard

Present return of Wisdom!

Eternal awakening to Peace!

Rest to restless Love!

Transfiguration of the Heard

Life to Antiquity and form to the Future!"

The King touched the lily to her candid brow: "Whatsoever you request, it shall be granted to you."

"Thrice will I ask. When I come for the fourth time, Love will be at the door. Give me now the Lyre."

"Eridanus! fetch it here," cried the King. Rustling, Eridanus streamed from the ceiling, and Fable drew the lyre from his glittering waves.

Fable struck several prophetic chords. The King caused the goblet to be passed to her, from which she sipped and with many expressions of thanks hurried away. She glided in lovely

arcs across the sea of ice, while from the strings she drew forth joyous music.

Beneath her tread the ice gave forth the most magnificent tones. The cliff of Sadness took them for the voices of his returning children seeking their way and answered in echo a thousand-fold.

Fable soon reached the shore. She encountered her mother, who looked wasted and wan but who had become slim and solemn, and in her noble features showed traces of a hopeless sorrow and touching fidelity.

"What has happened to you, dear Mother?" said Fable, "You seem to me to be entirely changed. Without an inner sign I would not have recognised you. I hoped to take refreshment once again at your breast. I have long languished for you." Ginnistan caressed her tenderly and looked cheerful and friendly.

"I thought right away," said she, "that the Scribe would not catch you. The sight of you refreshes me. Things with me are bad and straitened enough, but I shall soon be comforted. Perhaps I may have a moment of rest. Eros is close by, and if he sees you and if you prattle to him, perhaps he will tarry for a time. Meanwhile you can lie upon my bosom. I will give you what I have."

Since the time when he rose and left me, conjure him movingly as I might and with the hottest tears to remain with me, I have followed him everywhere. He seems actually determined to torment me. I hardly catch up with him when off he flies, maliciously. His bow occasions devastation everywhere. There is nothing I can do but comfort the unhappy, yet I am in need enough of comfort myself. Their voices crying to me point out his way, and their mournful laments when I have to leave them again strike deep into my heart. The Scribe pursues me with monstrous fury and takes his revenge upon the poor stricken ones. The fruit of that mysterious night was a host of wondrous children who resemble their grandfather and who are named after him. Winged like their father, they accompany him constantly and torment the poor creatures who are hit by his arrows. But here comes the procession of the happy ones. I must go. Farewell, sweet child. The nearness of him rouses my passion. May you prosper in your undertaking."

Eros passed on without vouchsafing one tender glance to Ginnistan who hurried toward him. But to Fable he turned amicably and his small companions danced happily about her. Fable was delighted to behold her foster brother again, and to her lyre sang a sprightly song. Eros seemed on the point of taking thought and dropped his bow. The little ones fell asleep on the lawn. Ginnistan was able to seize him and he endured her tender caresses. At last Eros, too, began to nod, nestled in Ginnistan's bosom, and passed into slumber, spreading his wings over her meanwhile. The weary Ginnistan was infinitely glad, and did not avert her eyes from the lovely sleeper. During the singing, tarantulas had appeared from all directions, which now drew a glittering net over the blades of grass and made a lively movement upon their threads in time with the rhythm. Now Fable comforted her mother and promised her help soon. From the cliff resounded the soft echo of the music, making a lullaby for the sleepers. From her well-guarded receptacle Ginnistan sprinkled several drops into the air, and the loveliest dreams descended upon them. Fable took the receptacle and proceeded upon her journey. The strings of her lyre were not still, and the tarantulas followed along on the rapidly spun filaments of enchanting tones.

Presently she saw from afar the high flame of the pyre rising above the green forest. Sadly she looked toward heaven and was happy to glimpse Sophia's blue veil that hovered rippling

E over the earth, eternally covering the immense abyss. The sun stood fire-red with anger in the sky, the mighty flame was sucking at its stolen light, and vehemently as she seemed to hold it to herself, she nevertheless became ever paler and more flecked.

The flame became whiter and mightier the more wan the sun became. It sucked the light ever more powerfully into itself, and soon the glory about the daystar was consumed, and she still hung there as a mere dull shining disk, while each new movement of envy and fury intensified the exodus of the fleeing waves of light. Finally nothing was left of the sun but a black, burned-out slag, which fell into the sea. The flame had become brilliant beyond power to express. The pyre was consumed. It rose slowly on high and moved toward the north

Fable stepped into the courtyard, which looked desolate; the house had meanwhile fallen in. Thorn bushes were growing in the cracks of the window ledges and vermin of all sorts swarmed over the broken staircases. She heard a frightful up roar in the room. The Scribe and his cronies had been gloating over the Mother's fiery death but had become terribly frightened when they perceived the collapse of the sun.

They had striven in vain to extinguish the flame, and on this occasion had not come off without harm. Their pain and fright were eliciting horrible curses and lamentations from

The Sphinx asked: "What comes more suddenly than lightning?"

"Vengeance," said Fable.

"What is most transitory?"

"Unjust possession."

"Who knows the world?"

"He who knows himself."

"What is the eternal mystery?"

"Love."

"With whom does it lodge?"

"With Sophia."

The Sphinx cringed miserably, and Fable entered the cavern.

"I bring you tarantulas," she said to the hags, who had lit their lamp anew and were working very busily. They started for fright, and one of them ran at her with the shears to stab her. Inadvertently she stepped on a tarantula, which stung her in the foot. She shrieked piteously. The others started to come to her assistance and were likewise stung by the enraged tarantulas. Now they could not lay hands on Fable, and they kept jumping wildly about. "Spin us light dancing garments at once," they cried furiously to the little girl, "for we cannot move in these stiff skirts, and we are about to expire from heat. But you must soak the thread in spiderjuice, so it won't snap, and work flowers into it that have grown in fire, otherwise you are lost."

"Gladly," said Fable, and went into the side room.

"I will get you three excellent flies," she said to the garden spiders that had fastened their airy webs around the ceiling and walls, "but you must immediately spin me three light pretty gowns. The flowers that are to be worked into them I will fetch directly." The garden spiders were ready and quickly began to weave. Fable stole over to the ladder and betook herself to Arcturus.

R "Monarch," said she, "the wicked dance, the good rest. Has the flame arrived?"

"It has arrived," said the King. "The night is over and the ice is melting. My spouse is visible from afar. My enemy is burned. Everything is beginning to live. I am not yet permitted to let myself be seen, for alone I am not the King. Ask whatsoever you will."

"I need," said Fable, "flowers that have grown in fire. I know you have a skilful gardener who understands how to grow them."

"Zinc!" cried the King, "Give us flowers!"

The Flower Gardener stepped forth from the ranks, brought a jar full of fire, and strewed gleaming pollen into it. It was not long before the flowers sprang up. Fable gathered them in her apron and started on her return journey. The spiders had been busy, and nothing remained but the fastening on of the flowers, a task which was directly begun with much taste and dexterity. Fable took care not to break off the strand-ends which still clung to the weavers.

She carried the gowns to the weary dancers, who had collapsed, drenched with sweat, and were resting a few minutes from their unwonted exertion. With much skill she disrobed the scrawny beauties, who were not lacking in abuse to their little servant, and dressed them in the new garments, which were very neatly made and fitted excellently. During this task she kept praising the charms and the courteous character of her mistresses, and the crones seemed highly pleased at her flatteries and at the daintiness of the clothes. Meanwhile they had caught their breath, and, animated with a fresh impulse 38 NOVALIS

to dance, they began to whirl about merrily, while craftily promising the little girl long life and great rewards. Fable went back into the other room and said to the garden spiders: "You can go ahead now and eat the flies that I put into your webs." The spiders were already impatient as it was, at the pulling and hauling-for the strand-ends were still inside them and the hags kept crazily jumping about-so they ran out and attacked the dancers. The latter attempted to defend themselves with their shears, but Fable had quietly made off with them. Thus they fell in defeat before their hungry fellow tradesmen, who had long not tasted any morsel so delicious and who sucked to the very marrow. Fable looked up through the cleft in the rock and caught sight of Perseus with his great iron shield. The shears flew of itself to the shield, and Fable requested him to use it to clip Eros' wings and then to immortalise the sisters with his shield and thus to complete the great work.

Now she left the subterranean realm and joyously ascended to the palace of Arcturus.

"The flax is all spun.

The lifeless is again dead.

The living will rule, forming and using the lifeless.

The inward is revealed, and the outward is hidden.

The curtain will soon rise and the spectacle have its beginning.

Once again I request, and then I shall spin days of eternity."

"Blessed child," said the Monarch, touched, "you are our liberator."

"I am but the godchild of Sophia," said the little girl. "Permit Tourmaline, the Flower Gardener, and Gold to accompany me. I must gather up the ashes of my foster mother, and the ancient Bearer must rise again, so that the earth may float and not lie upon chaos."

"Are you here once more, dear child?" said the old man. "I have dreamed about you constantly. I kept thinking you would appear before the earth and my eyes grew too heavy for me. I must have slept a long time."

"The earth is buoyant again, as it always was for the good," said Fable. "The ancient times are returning. Soon you will be among old acquaintances. I shall spin happy days for you, and you shall not want for a helper either, so that you can some times share in our joys and breathe youth and strength in the arms of a beloved. Where are our old guest-friends, the Hesperides?"

"At Sophia's side. Soon their garden will bloom again and the golden fruits will shed a fragrance. They are going about and gathering the languishing planes."

Fable withdrew and hurried to the house. It had fallen into total ruin. Ivy overran the walls. High bushes shaded the former courtyard, and soft moss cushioned the ancient steps.

"Dear child," said she, "your zeal and loyalty have won you a place among the eternal stars. You chose the immortal within you. The Phoenix belongs to you. You will be the soul of our lives. Wake now the bridegroom. The herald will call, and Eros shall seek out Freya and waken her."

Fable was indescribably delighted at these words. She called her companions, Gold and Zinc, and approached the bier. Ginnistan watched expectantly what they did. Gold melted the coin and filled the casket, wherein the Father lay, with a shimmering flood. Zinc wound a chain about Ginnistan s bosom. The body floated on the tremulous waves. "Bend, dear Mother," said Fable, "and lay your hand upon your beloved's heart." Ginnistan bent down. She saw her multiple reflection. The chain touched the wave, her hand his heart. He woke and drew the ecstatic bride to his bosom. The metal ran and became a bright mirror. The Father rose, his eyes flashed, and, beautiful and meaningful as his form was, his whole body seemed nevertheless to be a fine infinitely mobile liquid that revealed every impression in the most exquisite movements.

The happy pair approached Sophia, who pronounced words of consecration over them and admonished them to take counsel dutifully of the mirror which reflects everything in its true form, annihilates every illusion, and retains eternally the original image. And now she took up the urn and emptied the ashes into the vessel on the altar. A gentle effervescence gave sign of the dissolution, and a soft wind blew through the garments and through the hair of those standing by.

Sophia passed the vessel to Eros, and the latter passed it on to the others. All tasted of the divine drink, and within them, with ineffable joy, sensed the friendly greeting of the Mother. She was present in each, and her mystic presence seemed to transfigure them all.

Expectation was fulfilled and surpassed. All perceived what they had lacked, and the room had become a place of waiting for the blessed. Sophia said: "The great mystery has been revealed to all, yet remains eternally unfathomable. Out of sufferings the new world is born, and in tears are the ashes dissolved into the drink of eternal life. In each one dwells the heavenly Mother in order to bear each child eternally. Do you feel the sweet birth in the throbbing of your breasts?"

What remained in the vessel she poured down into the altar.

' The earth quaked in its depths. Sophia said: "Eros, hasten with your sister to your beloved. You shall all see me again soon."

Fable and Eros departed quickly with their retinue.

A mighty springtime was spread across the earth. Everything was rising and stirring. The earth floated closer under ' the veil. The moon and clouds with joyous turmoil were moving northward. The King's citadel shed a magnificent radiance across the sea, and upon the parapet stood the King in full splendour with his retainers. Everywhere they glimpsed dust whorls in which known forms seemed to be taking shape.

They encountered numerous bands of youths and maidens streaming toward the citadel and welcoming them with exultation. On many a hill sat a happy pair just awakened, in long foregone embrace, taking the new world for a dream and unable to cease assuring themselves of the lovely truth.

"Venerable ancient," said Fable, "Eros needs your sword. Gold had given him a chain, one end of which reaches down into the sea and the other end of which is wound about his heart. Take hold of it with me and lead us into the hall where the Princess rests."

Eros took the sword from the hand of the ancient, set the pommel against his heart, and inclined the tip forwards. The double doors of the hall flew open, and Eros with ecstasy approached the slumbering Freya. Suddenly there fell a mighty thunderbolt. A bright spark leaped from the Princess to the sword; the sword and the chain flashed. The hero held little Fable who had almost collapsed. Eros' helmet-crest rose in undulations. "Cast away the sword," cried Fable, "and awaken your beloved." Eros dropped the sword, flew to the Princess, and ardently kissed her sweet lips. She opened her great dark eyes and recognised her beloved. A long kiss sealed the eternal bond.

"Hail to our ancient rulers!" cried the people. "They have always dwelt among us and we did not recognise them! Hail to us! They shall rule over us forever! Bless us also!"

Sophia said to the new Queen: "Cast the bracelet of your union into the air so that the people and the world shall remain bounden to you."

The bracelet melted in the air, and presently rings of light were to be seen around every head and a glittering circlet formed over the city and the sea and over the earth, which was celebrating an eternal festival of springtime. Perseus entered carrying a spindle and a small basket. He brought the basket to the new King. "Here," said he, "are the remains of your enemies." Within there lay a stone plate with black and white squares, and beside it a number of figures in alabaster and black marble. "It is a chessboard," said Sophia. "All war is charmed onto this board and into these figures. It is a memorial of the old troubled time." Perseus turned to Fable and gave her the spindle. "In your hands this spindle shall delight us forever, and out of yourself you will spin us a golden thread unbreakable." The Phoenix flew with a melodious sound to her feet and spread its wings before her; whereon she mounted, and it hovered with her above the throne without alighting. She sang a celestial song and began to spin, while the thread seemed to unwind put of her breast. The people were seized with new rapture and the eyes of all hung upon the lovely child. A new exultation arose at the door. The old Moon entered with his strange court, and behind him the people bore in Ginnistan and her bridegroom as in a triumph.

They were wreathed with garlands of flowers. The royal family received them with the most cordial tenderness, and the new regal pair proclaimed them their regents on earth.

The King accorded the request, little Fable nodded agreement, and the people looked forward with pleasure to the oddly entertaining pastime. The Hesperides expressed their best wishes upon the accession to the throne and their request for protection in their gardens. The King bade them welcome, and in this fashion followed countless joyous embassies. Meanwhile the throne had imperceptibly become transformed and had turned into a magnificent nuptial couch over the canopy of which hovered the Phoenix with little Fable. Three Caryatids of dark porphyry bore up the rear of it, and in front it rested upon a sphinx of basalt. The King embraced his blushing beloved, and following the King's example, the people embraced one another. Nothing was to be heard but sweet names and the whispering of kisses. At last Sophia said: "The Mother is among us, her presence will make us happy eternally. Follow us to our dwelling. In the temple there we shall dwell forever and guard the mystery of the world."

Fable went on busily spinning and with a loud voice sang:

Established is the empire of eternity, In love and peace concluded is all enmity, The long-drawn dream of dreary suffering departs, Sophia is forever Priestess in our hearts.