V
And though blind and deaf for a hundred years I would see her more fair than any poet has sung.
Fiona Macleod.
Eric had now left the snow-maiden far behind, had left her there amongst the broken hearts she tended with such gentle hand and deep understanding.
He had gazed his last upon her as she stood in the circle of light all shining and bright; and then, knowing that he must go, he had torn himself away, feeling that otherwise he would not have the strength to continue his road, and part from a being so full of radiance and wonderful beauty.
And now he was wandering in a great forest of fir-trees, his feet skimming quickly over the crackling snow. It was still night around him, but all the trees were lit with millions of candles. Each tree was an enormous Christmas tree. The whole wood was one blaze of light ... this he knew was the snow-maiden's garden!
It was an astonishing sight; but he fled along; he dared not stay.
As he ran he heard the sound of many wings following him. He lifted his head; in and out through the great branches of the candle-lit pines he saw huge white birds appear and disappear, but so rapidly that he could never distinguish what kind they were.