her in his arms, for it seemed to him that this alone would mend its
breaking. Or if he might not do this, at least to send his need of
her in a great cry across the Pond. And as his passion grew she
slowly lifted her arms and opened them to him as though to bid him
enter; and her lips parted, and she cried out, as though she were
uttering the cry of his own soul:

"Beloved!"

All the joy and the pain, fulfilled, of the bird's song were
gathered in that word.

Glorified he leaped up, his whole being answering the cry of hers,
but before his lips could translate it he was gripped by a mighty
agony, and sneeze after sneeze shook all his senses, so that he was
utterly helpless. When he was able to look up again he saw the woman
moving towards him round the Pond, and suddenly he clapped his hands
over his eyes and fled towards the Ring, as though pursued by
demons. Here he passed the remainder of the night, but in what sort
of prayers I leave you to imagine; as also amid what ravings he
passed his Sunday.

On Monday the Lad was again before him at the forge, and a crow's
wing had looked milky beside his face. He did not raise his eyes as
the King came in, but said:

"You look very ill." He said it furiously.

"I have had nightmares," said the King. "Pardon me if you can. I
will get to work and make my final shoe."