from the black tempest screams aloud in their shadowy halls. There, from
the high terraces, when the moon is at its full, we see the children of
Coradine gathered together, arrayed like no others, in shining garments
of gossamer threads, when, like thistle-down chased by eddying winds,
now whirling in a cloud, now scattering far apart, they dance their
moonlight dances on the wide alabaster floors; and coming and going they
pass away, and seem to melt into the moonlight, yet ever to return again
with changeful melody and new measures. And, seeing this, all those
things in which we ourselves excel seem poor in comparison, becoming
pale in our memories. For the winds and waves, and the whiteness and
grace, has been ever with them; and the winged seed of the thistle, and
the flight of the gull, and the storm-vexed sea, flowering in foam, and
the light of the moon on sea and barren land, have taught them this art,
and a swiftness and grace which they alone possess.

"Yet does this moonlight dance, which is the chief glory of the House of
Coradine, grow pale in the mind, and is speedily forgotten, when another
is seen; and, going on our way from house to house, we learn how
everywhere the various riches of the world have been taken into his soul
by man, and made part of his life. Nor are we inferior to others, having
also an art and chief excellence which is ours only, and the fame of
which has long gone forth into the world; so that from many distant
lands pilgrims gather yearly to our fields to listen to our harvest
melody, when the sun-ripened fruits have been garnered, and our lips and
hands make undying music, to gladden the hearts of those that hear it
all their lives long. For then do we rejoice beyond others, rising like
bright-winged insects from our lowly state to a higher life of glory and
joy, which is ours for the space of three whole days. Then the august
Mother, in a brazen chariot, is drawn from field to field by milk-white
bulls with golden horns; then her children are gathered about her in