“Behold, the sun is setting! The nightingale sings to the diamond star that mirrors itself in the waters. The fairies are seated at the foot of the sky, on the staircase of rosy crystal; they sing a lullaby to the child, who smiles in his downy nest; the child of the lake, more beautiful than the star of the evening!”
Once again it was the voice heard among the boulders that struck upon Christian’s ear, but it seemed, as it now chanted poetic words set to an agreeable and melodious air, far sweeter than before. The words were, perhaps, a modern song which the sibyl had understood and remembered exactly. However, it was in vain that Christian tried to catch the faintest glimpse of a human form. He could not even see the horse that was conducting him, or rather, to speak more correctly, which was no longer conducting him, for the sleigh was standing still, and Olof was not there. Far from feeling uneasy about his situation, Christian listened until the three verses were completed. The first had seemed to him to be sung a few steps behind him, the second nearer, and the third farther on; gradually the voice died away in advance of him.
The young man came very near jumping out of the sleigh, to try and seize the invisible singer as she passed; but, as he put out his foot, he became aware that there was a void under him instead of solid ground; and, as the tender words of the song had revived within him the instinct of self-preservation, he stretched out his hand, to find out where he was. He felt the reeking rump of the horse, and called Olof several times, without receiving any reply. Then, as the singer’s voice began chanting again, still farther away, he called her also, by the name of Vala Karina; but she either did not hear him, or would not answer. He resolved then to get out on the other side of the sleigh, and he found himself on a steep road, which he explored for about twenty steps, still calling Olof with the greatest anxiety. Could the child have rolled over a precipice during Christian’s brief slumber? At last he saw, gleaming through the fog, an imperceptible point of light, which came towards him, and soon he recognized Olof carrying a lighted lantern.
“Is it you, Herr Christian?” said the lad, who had not heard him approach, and who was terrified at meeting him thus suddenly face to face. “It was wrong of you to get out of the sleigh when you could not see well; this is a very dangerous place, and I told you not to budge while I went to light my lantern, at the mill close by. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Not at all; but you, did not you hear some one singing?”
“Yes, but I did not listen. You often hear voices on the shore of the lake, and it is not good to understand what they sing, for then they will lead you into places from which you never return.”
“Very well, for my part, I listened,” said Christian, “and I recognized the voice of your aunt Karine. She must be close by—Let us look for her, since you have a light, or call her; she will, perhaps, answer you.”
“No no!” cried the boy; “leave her alone. If she is in her dream, and we wake her up, she will kill herself!”
“But she is in just as much danger of killing herself if we leave her walking on the edge of this ravine, where you can’t see your hand before you!”
“Where we cannot see, she can; be quiet, unless you wish to bring some misfortune upon her, and to prevent her from returning to the house, where I am very sure I shall find her as usual.”