a hand both broad and strong. His hair is black, his
eyes are full of human thoughts, his heart pours lava in every word he
utters; he could kill you with caresses. Let him be your beloved, your
husband! Yes, thine be Wilfrid!"

Minna wept aloud.

"Dare you say that you do not love him?" he went on, in a voice which
pierced her like a dagger.

"Have mercy, have mercy, my Seraphitus!"

"Love him, poor child of Earth to which thy destiny has indissolubly
bound thee," said the strange being, beckoning Minna by a gesture, and
forcing her to the edge of the saeter, whence he pointed downward to a
scene that might well inspire a young girl full of enthusiasm with the
fancy that she stood above this earth.

"I longed for a companion to the kingdom of Light; I wished to show you
that morsel of mud, I find you bound to it. Farewell. Remain on earth;
enjoy through the senses; obey your nature; turn pale with pallid men;
blush with women; sport with children; pray with the guilty; raise your
eyes to heaven when sorrows overtake you; tremble, hope, throb in all
your pulses; you will have a companion; you can laugh and weep, and give
and receive. I,--I am an exile, far from heaven; a monster, far from
earth. I live of myself and by myself. I feel by the spirit; I breathe
through my brow; I see by thought; I die of impatience and of longing.
No one here below can fulfil my desires or calm my griefs. I have
forgotten how to weep. I am alone. I resign myself, and I wait."

Seraphitus looked at the flowery mound on which he had seated Minna;
then he turned and faced the frowning heights, whose pinnacles were
wrapped in clouds; to them he cast, unspoken, the remainder of his
thoughts.

"Minna, do you hear those delightful strains?" he said after a pause,
with the voice of a dove, for the eagle's cry was hushed; "it is like
the music of those Eolian harps your poets hang in forests and on the
mountains. Do you see the shadowy figures passing among the clouds,
the winged feet of those who are making ready the gifts of heaven? They
bring refreshment to the soul; the skies are about to open and shed the
flowers of spring upon the earth. See, a gleam is darting from the pole.
Let us fly, let us fly! It is time we go!"

In a moment their skees were refastened, and the pair descended the
Falberg by the steep slopes which join the mountain to the valleys of
the Sieg. Miraculous perception guided their course, or, to speak more
properl