Their huge soft feet marked also a little road on the even surface which would soon join the one Eric had made from the opposite direction. Now they were quite near; their warm breath made little clouds before them that surrounded their pointed heads like a mist.
Eric watched, fascinated, and made no movement to get out of their way.
The first reached him, and without taking the slightest notice passed on, making a small circle, but did not pause in his quiet march; and the others followed in the traces his feet had left behind him, ten, twenty, thirty. Eric counted them and always more and more came noiselessly over the snow.
But now there was another shape rising out of the distance, apparently as white as the watchful animals that led the way, the form of a tall woman whose garments fell around her in glittering folds.
Eric could not yet discern her features, she was too far off; but he saw how more than once she paused, bending down to gather from the snow something which she held within her hands, gazing upon it with curious intensity.
Nearer and nearer she glided, her bare feet hardly touching the ground. She seemed shaped out of floating mists.
All the splendour of the night, the dazzling brilliancy, the vast snow-field, the glory of the moon, the myriad stars, all paled before the beauty of the woman that now approached.
Everything about her was white, glistening and shining; so shining that the human eye could hardly bear the radiance. Her long white hair hung about her; a circle of glow-worms surrounded her forehead. Her head was bent, still gazing on that which she held in her hand. On either side marched one of the great bears like two guardians. Just as she neared the spot where Eric stood she once more bent to the snow, and with almost loving precaution raised something in her hand.
As she did so her eyes met Eric's—they were beautiful eyes—large, dark, blazing like two burning coals. The young man felt a great emotion when they rested upon him, yet he knew directly that they were not the eyes he was seeking; but greatly did he long to know who the beautiful woman was, and what she was gathering in the snow.
As if guessing his thoughts she spoke in a clear, soft voice, always keeping her eyes fixed on his, "Thou wouldst know who I am, O lonely wanderer? I am the queen of these vast regions of snow—my home is yonder, where none dare dwell—and on nights when the moon shines bright I come out of my castle of ice and wander over this desert of white, searching for the broken hearts that have been banished here. It is only when the moon shines bright that I can find them, for they are hidden so far and wide that in the dark nights I could not see them,—and in the day never can I wander about,—the night alone is made for me. See, I will show thee those I have found."