A beautiful landscape, diversified with hills and forests; a mountain in the distance.
The Man. That for which I have so long striven, for which I have so ardently prayed, is at last almost within my grasp!
The world of men lies far below me; the human pismires there may throng their ant-hills, and struggle on for crumbs and flies—may burst with rage if they fail to find them, or die with despair if they should lose them. I have left all to....
Voice of the Maiden. Here—this way—through—
She glides rapidly on.
Hills and mountains overhanging the sea. Clouds, mist, wind, storm.
The Man. Where is she gone? The morning breeze dies suddenly away, the thick mists gather, and the sky grows dark.
There! I have gained at last the very top of this steep peak;—heavens, what a frightful abyss yawns before me! How moaningly the wind howls up this rocky pass!
Voice of the Maiden (from a distance). Come! to me! to me! beloved!