“I longed for a companion to the kingdom of Light; I wished to show you that morsel of mud, I find you bound to it.  Farewell.  Remain on earth; enjoy through the senses; obey your nature; turn pale with pallid men; blush with women; sport with children; pray with the guilty; raise your eyes to heaven when sorrows overtake you; tremble, hope, throb in all your pulses; you will have a companion; you can laugh and weep, and give and receive.  I,—­I am an exile, far from heaven; a monster, far from earth.  I live of myself and by myself.  I feel by the spirit; I breathe through my brow; I see by thought; I die of impatience and of longing.  No one here below can fulfil my desires or calm my griefs.  I have forgotten how to weep.  I am alone.  I resign myself, and I wait.”

Seraphitus looked at the flowery mound on which he had seated Minna; then he turned and faced the frowning heights, whose pinnacles were wrapped in clouds; to them he cast, unspoken, the remainder of his thoughts.

“Minna, do you hear those delightful strains?” he said after a pause, with the voice of a dove, for the eagle’s cry was hushed; “it is like the music of those Eolian harps your poets hang in forests and on the mountains.  Do you see the shadowy figures passing among the clouds, the winged feet of those who are making ready the gifts of heaven?  They bring refreshment to the soul; the skies are about to open and shed the flowers of spring upon the earth.  See, a gleam is darting from the pole.  Let us fly, let us fly!  It is time we go!”

In a moment their skees were refastened, and the pair descended the Falberg by the steep slopes which join the mountain to the valleys of the Sieg.  Miraculous perception guided their course, or, to speak more properly, their flight.  When fissures covered with snow intercepted them, Seraphitus caught Minna in his arms and darted with rapid motion, lightly as a bird, over the crumbling causeways of the abyss.  Sometimes, while propelling his companion, he deviated to the right or left to avoid a precipice, a tree, a projecting rock, which he seemed to see beneath the snow, as an old sailor, familiar with the ocean, discerns the hidden reefs by the color, the trend, or the eddying of the water.  When they reached the paths of the Siegdahlen, where they could fearlessly follow a straight line to regain the ice of the fiord, Seraphitus stopped Minna.

“You have nothing to say to me?” he asked.

“I thought you would rather think alone,” she answered respectfully.

“Let us hasten, Minette; it is almost night,” he said.

Minna quivered as she heard the voice, now so changed, of her guide, —­a pure voice, like that of a young girl, which dissolved the fantastic dream through which she had been passing.  Seraphitus seemed to be laying aside his male force and the too keen intellect that flames from his eyes.  Presently the charming pair glided across the fiord and reached the snow-field which divides the shore from the first range of houses; then, hurrying forward as daylight faded, they sprang up the hill toward the parsonage, as though they were mounting the steps of a great staircase.