young girls, and you ought to tell us tales while you drink
your tea. That is what we do, Monsieur Wilfrid, in our long Norwegian
evenings. Come, dear pastor, tell me some Saga that I have not
heard,--that of Frithiof, the chronicle that you believe and have so
often promised me. Tell us the story of the peasant lad who owned the
ship that talked and had a soul. Come! I dream of the frigate Ellida,
the fairy with the sails young girls should navigate!"

"Since we have returned to the regions of Jarvis," said Wilfrid, whose
eyes were fastened on Seraphita as those of a robber, lurking in the
darkness, fasten on the spot where he knows the jewels lie, "tell me why
you do not marry?"

"You are all born widows and widowers," she replied; "but my marriage
was arranged at my birth. I am betrothed."

"To whom?" they cried.

"Ask not my secret," she said; "I will promise, if our father permits
it, to invite you to these mysterious nuptials."

"Will they be soon?"

"I think so."

A long silence followed these words.

"The spring has come!" said Seraphita, suddenly. "The noise of the
waters and the breaking of the ice begins. Come, let us welcome the
first spring of the new century."

She rose, followed by Wilfrid, and together they went to a window which
David had opened. After the long silence of winter, the waters stirred
beneath the ice and resounded through the fiord like music,--for there
are sounds which space refines, so that they reach the ear in waves of
light and freshness.

"Wilfrid, cease to nourish evil thoughts whose triumph would be hard to
bear. Your desires are easily read in the fire of your eyes. Be kind;
take one step forward in well-doing. Advance beyond the love of man and
sacrifice yourself completely to the happiness of her you love. Obey me;
I will lead you in a path where you shall obtain the distinctions which
you crave, and where Love is infinite indeed."

She left him thoughtful.

"That soft creature!" he said within himself; "is she indeed the
prophetess whose eyes have just flashed lightnings, whose voice has
rung through worlds, whose hand has wielded the axe of doubt against our
sciences? Have we been dreaming? Am I awake?"

"Minna," said Seraphita, returning to the young girl, "the eagle swoops
where the carrion lies, but the dove seeks the mountain spring beneath
the peaceful greenery of the glades. The eagle soars to heaven, the dove
descends from it. Cease to venture into reg