dream! the nightmare! Why should it look to me so like truth? When
will the _true_ sun rise upon me?' Then he rushes to a sturdy pine,
embraces its rough trunk with both his arms, strikes his head against
it: 'Awake me, thou hard bark--awake me from this dreadful dream!'
Turning back, he seizes one of the nearest of his followers by the
throat, crying: 'Wrestle with thy lord, thou phantom of a servant, and
wake him from his dream accursed!'

The frightened servant slips away and flees. The old man sighs, raises
his eyes to heaven, an expression of submission to a divinely appointed
torment shines for a moment upon his quivering features, as if he humbly
offered to God the tortures of this cruel dream in penance for his sins.
He walks on calmly for a while, then says:

'The bride is certainly on the lake; we will find her there.'

The sun is fully up now, drinking the dews from the leaves, and lighting
up the waves of the lake with splendor. Large beaked boats with heraldic
banners are rocking in the coves. Fastening the roses he had gathered
for his child in his bosom, he walks to the shore, with fever burning
more and more vividly in his face. No one ventures to suggest a return
to the castle. Accustomed to obey the unbending will of their lord, they
still pay homage to it, though it is no longer a thing of this world.
Dark as midnight seems the day dawn to them; their own brains seem
seething into madness.

'Perhaps she sails in one of her own light boats round the lake with her
husband; she may be behind the fringe of willows, or among the little
islands. Hallo! six of you take the oars; we will soon find her.'

They obey, he seats himself within, they push from shore.

'Why do you breathe so hard and look so weary to-day; is the water
heavier than of old?'

They answer not, but row more rapidly. The larger boats are filled with
guests and retainers; many follow the old lord, many remain on shore
from lack of room. One after another the islets fly behind and hide
themselves from view, with their circling wreaths of reeds and sedges.
Rocks and bowlders are scattered over many of them, once sacrificial
altars of old and cruel gods, now draped with hanging weeds and trailing
mosses. Flocks of wild birds are startled up as the boats draw near
them, frightened by the noise and plashing of the oars. Black clouds of
them hang over the boat of the old man at every turn among the labyrinth
of islands. He claps his hand