Yet still he kept her close beside him on the steps of the mighty Dom, half-longing, half-hesitating to take her further, and ever and anon assailed by a dreamy doubt as to whether she might not even now pass away from him suddenly and swiftly, as a mist fading into heaven,—­when all at once the sound of beating drums and martial trumpets struck loudly on the quiet morning air.  A brilliant regiment of mounted Uhlans emerged from an opposite street, and cantered sharply across the Platz and over the Rhine-bridge, with streaming pennons, burnished helmets and accoutrements glistening in a long compact line of silvery white, that vanished as speedily as it had appeared, like a winding flash of meteor flame.  Alwyn drew a deep, quick breath; the sight of those armed soldiers roused him to the fact that he was actually in the turmoil of present daily events,—­that his supernal happiness was no vision, but reality,—­that Edris, his Spirit-love, was with him in tangible human guise of flesh and blood,—­ though how such a mysterious marvel had been accomplished, he knew no more than scientists know how the lovely life of green leaf and perfect flower can still be existent in seeds that have lain dormant and dry in old tombs for thousands of years!  And as he looked at her proudly,—­adoringly,—­she raised her beautiful, innocent, questioning eyes to his.

“This is a city?” she asked—­“a city of men who labor for good, and serve each other?”

“Alas, not so, my sweet!” he answered, his voice trembling with its own infinite tenderness; “there is no city on the sad Earth where men do not labor for mere vanity’s sake, and oppose each other!”

Her inquiring gaze softened into a celestial compassion.

“Come,—­let us go!” she said gently.  “We twain, made one in love and faith, must hasten to begin our work!—­darkness gathers and deepens over the Sorrowful Star,—­but we, perchance, with Christ’s most holy Blessing, may help to lift the Shadows into Light!”

* * * * * * *

Away in a sheltered mountainous retreat, apart from the louder clamor of the world, the Poet and his heavenly companion dwell in peace together.  Their love, their wondrous happiness, no mortal language can define,—­for spiritual love perfected as far exceeds material passion as the steadfast glory of the sun outshines the nickering of an earthly taper.  Few, very few, there are who recognize, or who attain, such joy,—­for men chiefly occupy themselves with the SEMBLANCES of things, and therefore fail to grasp all high realities.  Perishable beauty,—­perishable fame,—­ these are mere appearances; imperishable Worth is the only positive and lasting good, and in the search for imperishable Worth alone, the seeker must needs encounter Angels unawares!