Fru Adelheid sat in her corner and dreamt in the silent, empty rooms.
Her white gown spread over the floor about her feet. Her eyes shone.
But high up, on the balcony of the old room, stood Finn and stared into the night that stretched round about him like a waveless sea.
It was silent. He did not think, did not dream. His soul mingled with the darkness, which was not evil and not good ... only silent.
He was like a dead man who had been put on guard on the brink of the tower and who still stood there, staring with glazed eyes. The fountain rippled ... it was as though the water rose over the edge of the basin and would rise and rise until it reached the dead man up there and washed him away.
Then a man came across the square.
He walked and sang, until he set eyes upon the man who stood up there, high and dark and motionless. Then he stopped and looked at him and shouted something.
And the man on the balcony answered with a shout. And the man below was seized with fear and ran away and vanished in the darkness.