After that they walked home together, and in the empty street that led into her square a moonlight spirit of phantasy seemed to possess her, and she sang under her breath and danced in front of him, rather solemnly as she had done as a little girl:
"Come unto these yellow sands
And then take hands. . ."
He caught hold of her. Everything was unreal—they themselves and the unfamiliar street, painted with silver and black shadows.
"Don't—you're dancing away from me; there's nothing for you to dance to."
She smiled back wistfully.
"'The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices. . .'"
"I don't hear them," he muttered clumsily.
"Caliban heard them——"
"And you're Ariel," he said, with sudden, sorrowful understanding.
"Ariel!"
From the steps of the dark house she looked down at him, her eager face smiling palely in the white, still light.