"I know you," said Tangle. "You are my fish."
"Yes. But I am a fish no longer. I am an a�ranth now."
"What is that?" asked Tangle.
"What you see I am," answered the shape. "And I am come to lead you through the mountain."
"Oh! thank you, dear fish—a�ranth, I mean," returned Tangle, rising.
Thereupon the a�ranth took to his wings, and flew on through the long, narrow passage, reminding Tangle very much of the way he had swum on before her when he was a fish. And the moment his white wings moved, they began to throw off a continuous shower of sparks of all colours, which lighted up the passage before them.—All at once he vanished, and Tangle heard a low, sweet sound, quite different from the rush and crackle of his wings. Before her was an open arch, and through it came light, mixed with the sound of sea-waves.
She hurried out, and fell, tired and happy, upon the yellow sand of the shore. There she lay, half asleep with weariness and rest, listening to the low plash and retreat of the tiny waves, which seemed ever enticing the land to leave off being land, and become sea. And as she lay, her eyes were fixed upon the foot of a great rainbow standing far away against the sky on the other side of the sea. At length she fell fast asleep.
When she awoke, she saw an old man with long white hair down to his shoulders, leaning upon a stick covered with green buds, and so bending over her.
"What do you want here, beautiful woman?" he said.
"Am I beautiful? I am so glad!" said Tangle, rising. "My grandmother is beautiful."