"Where hast thou left thy cloak? Thou art quite wet; and thy sword, thy beautiful sword, where hast thou left thy sword?"
Eric did not answer; he simply lifted both his hands, showing that they were empty; then he let them fall again at his sides with the hopeless gesture of one who has given everything up for ever more. Then only did Radu come quite near and peer with frightened eyes more closely into his face.
"What is it?" he cried. "What is it? What hast thou seen?"
"Heaven and Hell," answered Eric. "I have been in both!"
"And thy dream—didst thou find thy dream?" whispered the peasant.
"I found it and I lost it," was the answer he got. "It was mine for a short hour of bliss—mine; but again God beat me down with my face to the earth.
"I have been a dreamer of dreams, and it is not to be given to me to keep what I clasp. God allowed me visions to lead me ever on; they brought me to this land of promise.
"It was summer then; now thou seest what colour is over the earth. But I touched my dream; I held it within my human arms; but as sayeth the poet: 'How can the body touch the flower which only the spirit may touch,' so I killed my flower, killed it with my kiss."
"Can one kill with a kiss?" cried Radu, awe in his voice.
"One can kill with more things than with a sword. I found the face of my vision, I followed it step by step. I hunted it down with sighs and tears till at last it was mine. I held it one short moment in my arms, a moment within which I lived the ultimate triumph of my desire. Then it was gone. I myself destroyed it, consumed it, with the thirst of my soul!"