When I awoke it was the time of the cold dawn, and the colours were gathering themselves together, whereat in fatherly approving fashion the sun sent all across the east long bars of scarlet and orange that after faded through yellow to green and blue.  And she sat by me still; I think she had been sitting there and singing all the time; all through hot yesterday, for I had been sleeping day-long and night-long, all through the falling evening under moonlight and starlight the night through.

And now it was dawn, and I think too that neither of us had moved at all; for the last thing I remembered before I went to sleep was the tips of her fingers brushing my cheek, as she knelt over me with downdrooping arm, and still now I felt them there.  Moreover she was just finishing some fainting measure that died before it had time to get painful in its passion.

Dear Lord! how I loved her!  Yet did I not dare to touch her, or even speak to her.  She smiled with delight when she saw I was awake again, and slid down her hand on to mine, but some shuddering dread made me draw it away again hurriedly; then I saw the smile leave her face:  what would I not have given for courage to hold her body quite tight to mine?  But I was so weak.

She said: 

“Have you been very happy?”

“Yea,” I said.

It was the first word I had spoken there, and my voice sounded strange.

“Ah!” she said, “you will talk more when you get used to the air of the Hollow Land.  Have you been thinking of your past life at all?  If not, try to think of it.  What thing in Heaven or Earth do you Wish for most?”

Still I said no word; but she said in a wearied way:  “Well now, I think you will be strong enough to get to your feet and walk; take my hand and try.”  Therewith she held it out:  I strove hard to be brave enough to take it, but could not; I only turned away shuddering, sick, and grieved to the heart’s core of me; then struggling hard with hand and knee and elbow, I scarce rose, and stood up totteringly; while she watched me sadly, still holding out her hand.

But as I rose, in my swinging to and fro the steel sheath of my sword struck her on the hand so that the blood flowed from it, which she stood looking at for a while, then dropped it downwards, and turned to look at me, for I was going.

Then as I walked she followed me, so I stopped and turned and said almost fiercely:  “I am going alone to look for my brother.”

The vehemence with which I spoke, or something else, burst some blood-vessel within my throat, and we both stood there with the blood running from us on to the grass and summer flowers.

She said:  “If you find him, wait with him till I come.”

“Yea,” and I turned and left her, following the course of the stream upwards, and as I went I heard her low singing that almost broke my heart for its sadness.

And I went painfully because of my weakness, and because also of the great stones; and sometimes I went along a spot of earth where the river had been used to flow in flood-time, and which was now bare of everything but stones; and the sun, now risen high, poured down on everything a great flood of fierce light and scorching heat, and burnt me sorely, so that I almost fainted.