towards the clouds. But there was something melancholy in the heavy
perfume. The flowers had filled their cups and spread their table
in expectation of their winged guests, but none came. They pined to
death in the deep loneliness of the dark, windless forest thicket.
They seemed to wish to cry and lament that the beautiful butterflies
did not come and visit them. Where the flowers grew thickest, he
thought that they sang together a monotonous song. "Come, fair
guests, come to-day, for to-morrow we are dead, to-morrow we lie
dead on the dried leaves."

Reor was permitted to see the joyous close of the flower adventure.
He felt behind him a flutter as of the lightest wind and saw a
white butterfly flitting about in the dimness between the thick
trunks. He flew hither and thither in an uneasy quest, as if
uncertain of the way. Nor was he alone; butterfly after butterfly
glimmered in the darkness, until at last there was a host of
white-winged honey seekers. But the first was the leader, and he
found the flowers, guided by their fragrance. After him the whole
butterfly host came storming. It threw itself down among the
longing flowers, as the conqueror throws himself on his booty. Like
a snowfall of white wings it sank down over them. And there was
feasting and drinking on every flowercluster. The woods were full
of silent rejoicing.

Reor went on, but now the honey-sweet fragrance seemed to follow
him wherever he went. And he felt that in the wood was hidden a
longing, stronger than that of the flowers, that something there
drew him to itself, just as the flowers lured the butterflies. He
went forward with a quiet joy in his heart, as if he was expecting
a great, unknown happiness. His only fear was lest he should not be
able to find the way to that which longed for him.

In front of him, on the narrow path, crawled a white snake. He bent
down to pick up the luck-bringing animal, but the snake glided out
of his hands and up the path. There it coiled itself and lay still;
but when the huntsman again tried to catch it, glided slippery as
ice between his fingers.

Reor now grew eager to possess the wisest of beasts. He ran after
the snake, but was not able to reach it, and the latter lured him
away from the path into the trackless forest.

It was overgrown with pines, and in such places one seldom finds
grassy ground. But now the dry moss and brown pine-needles suddenly
disappeared, the stiff cranberry bushes vanish