  I have come far, led by my dreams and visions. Tagore. The moon was shining down upon an endless expanse of snow—as far as the eye could reach, snow, snow, white and dazzling, strewn with a million glittering diamonds. It had ceased snowing; the storm was over; but the wind still blew in biting blasts, forcing the wanderer to draw his cloak more closely around him, and to bend his head, as he slowly advanced over that everlasting desert of white. He walked and walked; there was no end to this frozen snow-field over which his feet had made a narrow little path that alone disturbed the shroud-like surface. And always longer and longer it grew, zigzagging beneath the quiet face of the moon. From time to time the wind blew snowflakes against him, and they beat in his face like a thousand pins, obliging him to shut his eyes not to be blinded. Each flake had another shape; there were stars and crosses, moss-like flowers and strangely shaped butterflies, all dancing in mad circles around the lonely wayfarer. Some kept their beautiful shape even when fallen to the ground, and the moon would light them up like precious jewels out of a queenly casket. The young man was the only living thing in this wilderness of ice and snow. He could not have told how he had got there; what will was driving him always onwards upon his mad search; but nothing had power to stop him, nor had fear any place in his soul. Now, even the wind died down and a hush fell over all things. The light of the moon became intenser in the growing stillness. Looking up, Eric saw myriads of stars twinkling down upon him from unknown heights, like friendly eyes encouraging him on his way. For a moment he stood still; the silence was now as overpowering as the storm had been; everything around him was bathed in a cold hard light, the whiteness of which ceaselessly burnt into his brain. Suddenly a little bluey flame came dancing out of the distance, then another, and another, always more numerous, till the whole expanse was covered with them; a wavering army of little lights, like thousands of lost souls coming together for a last parade in this land of the forgotten. Eric tried to seize one with his frozen fingers, but no sooner had he thought to grasp it than it slid away like a shape in a dream. Then with childlike eagerness he began a mad chase after the elusive little flames, running to and fro in the moonlight in an effort to catch them, yet never succeeding; there were always more and more lights tempting him onwards over that desert of snow. At last he laughed aloud, standing still to watch the little blue flames float away into the unknown out of which they had come, one after another like a long procession of pilgrims in the night.... They became always smaller and smaller, seeming to beckon to him as they disappeared, inviting him to follow once more in a mad chase over the hard frozen snow. A glow had spread over Eric's cheeks, his eyes sparkled, and the moon reflected herself within them. He uncovered his head, throwing back his golden locks with a boyish gesture, whilst he stood still to watch the wonder of this northern night so clear and dazzling. As he waited with arms outstretched trying to grasp all the beauty to his heart, the artist in him keenly alive to his surroundings, he discerned a shadow approaching, followed by a second and then a third. And as they came nearer he realized that they were great white bears hardly to be distinguished from their background. Our wanderer felt no thrill of fear, the great beasts were so completely in keeping with their surroundings; their white skins harmonized perfectly with the immaculate snow. They came slowly towards him, quiet and majestic, slightly swinging their heavy bodies as they glided onwards. He could count about twenty. Their huge soft feet marked also a little road on the even surface which would soon join the one Eric had made from the opposite direction. Now they were quite near; their warm breath made little clouds before them that surrounded their pointed heads like a mist. Eric watched, fascinated, and made no movement to get out of their way. The first reached him, and without taking the slightest notice passed on, making a small circle, but did not pause in his quiet march; and the others followed in the traces his feet had left behind him, ten, twenty, thirty. Eric counted them and always more and more came noiselessly over the snow. But now there was another shape rising out of the distance, apparently as white as the watchful animals that led the way, the form of a tall woman whose garments fell around her in glittering folds. Eric could not yet discern her features, she was too far off; but he saw how more than once she paused, bending down to gather from the snow something which she held within her hands, gazing upon it with curious intensity. Nearer and nearer she glided, her bare feet hardly touching the ground. She seemed shaped out of floating mists. All the splendour of the night, the dazzling brilliancy, the vast snow-field, the glory of the moon, the myriad stars, all paled before the beauty of the woman that now approached. Everything about her was white, glistening and shining; so shining that the human eye could hardly bear the radiance. Her long white hair hung about her; a circle of glow-worms surrounded her forehead. Her head was bent, still gazing on that which she held in her hand. On either side marched one of the great bears like two guardians. Just as she neared the spot where Eric stood she once more bent to the snow, and with almost loving precaution raised something in her hand. As she did so her eyes met Eric's—they were beautiful eyes—large, dark, blazing like two burning coals. The young man felt a great emotion when they rested upon him, yet he knew directly that they were not the eyes he was seeking; but greatly did he long to know who the beautiful woman was, and what she was gathering in the snow. As if guessing his thoughts she spoke in a clear, soft voice, always keeping her eyes fixed on his, "Thou wouldst know who I am, O lonely wanderer? I am the queen of these vast regions of snow—my home is yonder, where none dare dwell—and on nights when the moon shines bright I come out of my castle of ice and wander over this desert of white, searching for the broken hearts that have been banished here. It is only when the moon shines bright that I can find them, for they are hidden so far and wide that in the dark nights I could not see them,—and in the day never can I wander about,—the night alone is made for me. See, I will show thee those I have found." And opening her hand, Eric perceived three little pulsing hearts, beating, beating like frightened birds—and each little heart was broken, and drops of blood stained the white fingers of the snow-maiden. She leant towards them and very gently touched them with her lips. "I carry them home with me," continued the strange woman, "and I put them there where they are safe, and where they can await God's last call. I send my little dancing lights before me, and my ice bears walk with me everywhere. They come from great distances; the moment the moon shines bright they all assemble before my palace to let me know it is time for me to begin my search. They make my way, so that I should not go where the snow is too deep, or where the ice would wound my feet. "Come! if thou art not afraid, and I shall show thee where I keep my precious treasure of broken hearts." Stretching her hand out to the young man, she clasped his, and he found himself being drawn along across the great white plain, quicker, always quicker—till all was but a mist before his eyes; yet he felt that even if it were to death he was being hurried he could not but follow this wonderful vision of the night. Faster and faster became their pace. Eric hardly knew how he was moving; on both sides of them ran the white bears keeping step with their racing. All of a sudden his beautiful guide stopped. And pointing before her Eric looked ... and there, rising out of the mist, hanging in the air, was a gigantic castle, built out of ice, that glittered and sparkled above the clouds—a marvellous sight, the dream-like vision of another world. The snow-maiden again seized her companion's hand, and now she was leading him up a thousand slippery steps, hewn out of ice, that seemed to wind through the clouds. Eric's breath came in gasps; but still on rushed the fair woman, as with winged feet, till they reached a large space before the palace portals. They stood wide open, and from within streamed forth a blue light that gleamed far out over the smooth snow. "Come," said the snow-maiden, and she put her finger to her lips. Still holding Eric by the hand, she led him through the wide-open doors into a vast hall, made of ice and snow. Great columns supported the domed roof, and the windows that were of transparent ice gave a strange blue light that filled the whole place. The hall was quite empty; the floor was put together out of small pieces of ice forming wonderful patterns that shimmered in different shades of white. In the middle a small descending staircase interrupted the smooth surface—a sort of dark well, the first steps of which shone bluish and ghost-like. A great light came up from somewhere far down in the heart of the earth. The snow-maiden, still tightly clasping Eric's hand, now began to descend the narrow stairs, and the deeper they went the stronger became the light, till they reached a low vaulted chamber of great size and quite round, in the middle of which burnt a blinding circle of light. At first Eric was too bewildered to grasp the meaning of that ring of flame; then he recognized the little tongues of fire that had mocked him out yonder in the wilderness. The snow-maiden had sunk on her knees, and beckoning Eric to come nearer, she raised one of the little fluttering blazes that remained balanced on her hand like a luminous butterfly. Eric stared, his head close to his beautiful companion's, and saw a small hole made in the snow, where lay a tiny red heart which was split right across. "This," whispered the snow-maiden, "is the heart of a poor little child, whose mother abandoned it, and who died of grief. I found it several years ago. "Every day I come here to all my hearts, so that they shall not feel lonely; and these little flames are their guardians. Each little will-o'-the-wisp protects one of the hearts and keeps it warm, so that it shall not perish. "And see! This one is my favourite, but it is very difficult to keep alive because it spent its life too rapidly, too passionately. It is the heart of a poet and a lover; a lover whose passion was so violent that he died quite suddenly, one flower-scented night, when his hope had been torn from him, and his heart broke right in two. Behold I had to bind it together with the silver threads of my hair—and often, very often, must I lay my warm lips against it because it cannot bear its longing." The white woman held the bound pieces in both hands, and gazed upon them with yearning tenderness, whilst two of the little blue lights hovered near, throwing a beautiful radiance over her face. "Beside this one I always keep two little flames, because it needs more care than all the others; a poet's heart is so frail a thing; and how much more so a poet that was a lover!" With the utmost gentleness she laid the heart down and bent towards another. "This is the heart of a mother who lost all her blessed treasures; see how cruelly wounded it is; but it is the strongest of all, because the strength of a mother's heart is unequalled by any other—and God has a special place awaiting it when the great Day comes." From heart to heart the snow-maiden moved, with bent head and gentle hands. The circle of glow-worms round her brow flickered and sparkled like a magic flower. "This heart," said the snow-maiden, raising a very dark object in her hand, "is black, because it is that of a great sinner; and sometimes the glow that guards it becomes quite small and dim, almost goes out; because the heart suffers greatly of its own wickedness; it was saved because it broke. "I found it very far off, in a place amongst rocks; and when I tried to raise it, it began to roll away from me, always farther, so that I had to run, to run after it with an anxious feeling that I would not be able to save it. It left traces of blood wherever it passed, so at last I discovered it in a dark hole beside a skull that grimaced at me with a hollow grin: when finally I held it in my warm hand I knew that it was at rest, and I carried it home very slowly. "Whilst I retraced my steps along the weary way I had come, I sang to it, soft simple songs that children love. As I sang I felt the warm blood trickle through my fingers, and upon the snow I saw that all the drops of blood had run together into the form of a small red cross, which marked upon the whiteness a sign of forgiveness. "I looked at my hand and noticed that the drops of blood had turned into tears which left no more stain where they fell, but had washed from my fingers all traces of soil. This heart also needs me, but in another way; I always sing to it those simple songs, for it must forget all else except the days when it was at its mother's knee." Stretching her hands across the circle of light the tall vision in the dazzling robe seemed to bless the many waiting throbbing hearts. "I call this place my garden of expectation! And one day a great joy will arise from it; ... songs of praise sung by myriads of heavenly voices; ... and this light is but feeble compared to the light which will shine that day." Eric was still on his knees; he looked up at that glorious form beside him, and as entranced he watched, her long white hair turned into a soft misty veil that flowed down upon the ice like the mantle of a saint, and the circle of glow-worms had become a halo round the face, that was the face of one of God's own angels. |
|
