As he entered he beheld a mighty beam of light which
sprang from the ground, shattering itself against the roof in
countless sparks, falling and flowing all together into a
great pool in the rock. Brighter was the light-beam than molten
gold, but silent in its rise, and silent in its fall. The sacred
stillness of a shrine, a never-broken hush of joy and wonder,
filled the cavern. Cool was the dripping radiance that softly
trickled down the walls, and the light that rippled from them was
pale blue.

But the pool, as the boy drew near and watched it,
quivered and glanced with the ever-changing colours of a
liquid opal. He dipped his hands in it and wet his lips. It
seemed as if a lively breeze passed through his heart.

He felt an irresistible desire to bathe in the pool.
Slipping off his clothes he plunged in. It was as if he
bathed in a cloud of sunset. A celestial rapture flowed
through him. The waves of the stream were like a bevy of
nymphs taking shape around him, clinging to him with tender
breasts, as he floated onward, lost in delight, yet keenly
sensitive to every impression. Swiftly the current bore him
out of the pool, into a hollow in the cliff. Here a dimness
of slumber shadowed his eyes, while he felt the pressure of
the loveliest dreams.

When he awoke again, he was aware of a new fulness of light,
purer and steadier than the first radiance. He found himself
lying on the green turf, in the open air, beside a little
fountain, which sparkled up and melted away in silver spray.