blurred sun shone upon him, swimming to its rest. "Farewell, dear
earth!" said the King. "Since you cannot mount to me, and I may not
descend to you." And he knelt upon the turf and laid his cheek and
forehead to it, and then he rose, sealed up his lips, and passed
into the Ring.

Between the two tall beeches he sank down, and all sense and thought
and consciousness sank with him, as though his being had become a
dead forgotten lake, hidden in a lifeless wood; where birds sang
not, nor rain fell, nor fishes played, nor currents moved below the
stagnant waters. But presently a wind seemed to wail among the
trees, and the sound of it traveled over the King's senses, stirred
them, and passed. But only to return again, moan over him, and trail
away; and so it kept coming and going till first he heard, then
listened to, and at last realized the haunting signal of the bird.
And he went forth into the open night, his eyes wide apart but
seeing nothing until he stumbled at the Pond and crouched beside it.
The bird grew fainter and fainter, and presently the sound, like a
ghost at dawn, ceased to exist; and at that instant, under the Pond,
he beheld the lessening circle of the moon, and dipped his head.

Alas! when he lifted it, shivering and stunned, he saw the form he
longed to see on the other side of the Pond; but not, as he had
longed to see it, gazing at him with the love and glory of seven
nights ago. Now she stood on the turf, half turned from him, and the
wave of her hair blew to and fro like a cloud, now revealing her
white side, now concealing it. And he looked, but she would not
look. So he knelt on his side and she remained on hers, both
motionless. And suddenly the impulse to sneeze arose within him, and
at that instant she began to move--not towards him, as before, but