CHAPTER VIII
After a long and impatient listening the echoes of Leo's calls seemed to prolong themselves into musical strains, which, faint and far away at first, gradually came nearer and nearer.
Soft as the sighing of the wind was this elfin music, but swelling into mimic bursts of harmony and clashing of small cymbals.
Leo leaned over the balustrade of the corridor, and gazed down into the depths of a cavernous abyss. Instantly the space seemed filled with sprites in every conceivable attire. Some were dressed in the party-colored habits of court pages, some in royal robes of ermine, others as shepherds with crooks, and again others as cherubs with gauzy wings; but all were whirling like snow-flakes to the strains of the music.
Leo looked in vain for Paz or Knops. Indeed, so many were the fantastic forms, and so rapidly did they move, that it was like watching
a snow-storm, and this effect was heightened by misty wreaths, upon which were borne aloft the more radiant members, who danced and flashed as heat-lightning on the clouds of a summer's night. The light, instead of being a bright glare, was soft and mellow, and fell from crescent-shaped lanterns on the staffs of pages, who moved in a measured way among the throng, producing a kaleidoscopic effect.
Leo watched them with eager eyes. Beautiful as the sight was, he yet was oppressed with fear, for he knew not how to reveal himself to these sportive beings, and he could not imagine how he should ever be released from his imprisonment.
Suddenly the dancers fled as if pursued, the music became martial, and the steady tramp of a host of elves was heard. They were clad in mail, with helmets and shields of flashing steel, and armed with glittering lances; half of them had blue plumes and half had crimson. And now began their mimic warfare. Ranged line upon line, facing each other, with shouts and drum beats and bugle blasts, they fell upon each other in the fury of combat. Swords clashed, javelins were hurled, and the slain fell in heaps;
but still the leaders charged, and still the martial blasts were heard; and over and over were repeated the manoeuvres of the advance, the retreat, the parrying of blows, the redoubled ardor of assault, until Leo's breath came short and hard with the excitement of the scene. It seemed a veritable battle-field, and to add to the glamour rays as of moonbeams, shone now and again clouded by the shadows of an approaching storm.
Gradually the rage of the combatants subsided. Those who were able withdrew with those of their companions who were disabled, leaving the prostrate forms of the dead and dying.
And now the music portrayed the rising of the wind, the falling of rain, the roar of thunder. This was succeeded by low, plaintive strains, as of people weeping, and a party of elves in the garb of monks headed a procession bearing lighted tapers and carrying biers, upon which they placed the inanimate forms of the warriors. Slowly they paced about, chanting in low tones, and constantly accompanied by the funeral dirge of the musicians.
And now to Leo's almost overtaxed vision
came a picture of a lonely graveyard in the mountains, where the procession stopped. Even as he looked it faded away; the sun streamed forth, shining upon a field of grain where merry reapers swung their scythes and sang with glee. Trees sprouted from fissures in the rock, birds flew about and perched undismayed, and little hay-carts, piled high with their loads, came creaking along, led by peasant elves, who were also seated on top of their fragrant heaps of hay. Then the sun beamed upon a party of drovers—elves in smock-frocks or blouses, driving flocks of sheep and horned cattle, while the bleating of the sheep and the blowing of the cattle were well imitated by the music. All this was succeeded by vineyards, grape trellises, and arbors, with busy elves gathering the fruit which hung in purple clusters, and beneath the arbors other elves rattling castanets, beating tambourines, and dancing.
Again the scene changed. Snow fell; the birds disappeared; the tree boughs were glittering with ice, and were bending over a wide field of the same glassy substance. On it were elves in bright costumes, merrily skating. They glided about, cutting curious figures, pausing to
bend and bow to each other, or to warm themselves at bonfires blazing on the banks.
Then night came again, and the darkness was only broken by twinkling stars. The music became softer and more plaintive; it sounded like little flutes.
A church tower loomed up, and then a blaze of light issued from its arched doors. Two by two, in white array, came forth the elves, and from the floating veils Leo saw that it was meant to represent a bridal procession. Garlands were on their arms, and ribbons fluttered from their caps. Roses were strewn in their path.
Again, these were followed by a company of elves in the habit of nuns and Sisters of Charity. The music became a hymn. The church grew dark and vanished. The space filled again with shadowy forms, as if all the little actors had poured in. The sound of their coming was like that of a bevy of birds with wings fluttering. Suddenly a starry cross appeared; it flashed and flamed with a light which was as if it were composed of myriads of gems, and then a clear radiance streamed from it, revealing the whole multitude of elves kneeling in devotion. This
lasted but a few moments, and again all was still and dark, and Leo was alone.
But he was no longer afraid. His mind was filled with the beautiful scenes he had witnessed, his imagination stirred to activity. Why might he not behold these things again as a reality, instead of only a semblance of it? How grand it would be to travel and see novel and beautiful sights, to learn also wonderful things! And as he quietly thought, he heard the click, click of little boots, and Knops was beside him, followed by Paz. Leo greeted them warmly.
"Did you suppose that we had deserted you?" asked Knops, sitting down by his side on the couch as if exhausted.
"Yes, I was a little alarmed; it was so strange to find myself alone in such a place, for of course I had no idea which way to turn or what to do."
"You were so soundly asleep that I had not the cruelty to disturb you, and it was necessary for Paz to go with me. From what you have witnessed you may guess how we have been employed and how much we have had to detain us; but you may rest assured that nothing would keep me from finishing what I have undertaken. You have now had a Vision of Life and a
Vision of Labor, for such I call our two pantomimes. Am I wrong in supposing that they have pleased you?"
"No, indeed," said Leo, quickly, his usual drawl giving place to a tone of bright animation. "I thank you a thousand times for your entertainment and instruction. I have been so pleased and delighted that I can hardly express myself as I ought to do. I am afraid I seem a very good-for-nothing fellow to you."
"Indeed you do not. Don't suppose I would waste time on a good-for-naught. Paz can tell you what attracted me to you—can't you, Paz?"
"Yes, sir; the Prince Leo's kindness of heart is the secret of his power with us."
Leo blushed as he looked up and asked, "How did you know I was soft-hearted?"
"By your kindness to animals and all living things. Ah! we are close observers, are we not, Paz?"
"Necessarily, Master Professor."
"Our powers of observation have revealed to us many of the mysteries which man longs to solve. There's the Gulf Stream, for instance. But you are not up in science yet. No matter. You have time enough before you if you will
only apply yourself. Has anything you have seen made you anxious to know more?"
"Oh, don't mention it!" exclaimed Leo. "I am so awfully ashamed of my ignorance that I would do anything to get rid of it. I want to know all about those curious things."
"Good! the seed is sown, Paz," said Knops, complacently, with the nearest approach to a wink Leo had seen on his grave little countenance. "Now you must rest again before we start for home."
Leo would have been very willing to do without more rest, remembering his alarm, but he could not be so selfish as to deprive his companion of it; so he at once assented, tempted to ask only that he might not be left quite so long again alone. But fearing this would imply distrust, and being really no coward, he said nothing. He was relieved, however, to hear Knops command Paz to remain with him.