XIV
A long time afterward, he lifted up his head. The sunbeams shone obliquely in, bringing a rosy glow. They resembled straight bars of gold.
"Father, father!" whispered Johannes.
Outside, the sun was pouring over everything a flood of shining, golden, glowing splendor. Every leaf hung motionless, and all was hushed in solemn worship of the sun.
Along with the light there fell into the room a gentle soughing—as if the sunbeams were singing.
"Sun-son! Sun-son!"
Johannes lifted up his head, and listened. It tingled in his ears.
"Sun-son! Sun-son!"
It was like Windekind's voice. He alone had named him that; should he call him now?
But he looked at the face beside him. He would listen no more.