herepeated."yes,mine.shemustbemine.i,too,amanartist,likethosegreatmenwhoaregone.providencehasgrantedmetheboon,andhasmademetheequalofthatladyofnoblebirth."

andhekneltdownandbreathedaprayerofthankfulnessstoheaven,andthenheforgotheavenforhersake-forthesakeofherpictureinstone-forherpsychewhichstoodthereasifformedofsnow,blushinginthemorningdawn.

hewastoseeherinreality,theliving,gracefulpsyche,whosewordssoundedlikemusicinhisears.hecouldnowcarrythenewsintotherichpalacethatthemarblepsychewasfinished.hebetookhimselfthither,strodethroughtheopencourtyardwherethewatersransplashingfromthedolphin'sjawsintothemarblebasins,wherethesnowyliliesandthefreshrosesbloomedinabundance.hesteppedintothegreatloftyhall,whosewallsandceilingsshonewithgildingandbrightcolorsandheraldicdevices.gayly-dressedserving-men,adornedwithtrappingslikesleighhorses,walkedtoandfro,andsomereclinedattheireaseuponthecarvedoakseats,asiftheywerethemastersofthehouse.hetoldthemwhathadbroughthimtothepalace,andwasconducteduptheshiningmarblestaircase,coveredwithsoftcarpetsandadornedwithmanyastatue.thenhewentonthroughrichly-furnishedchambers,overmosaicfloors,amidgorgeouspictures.allthispompandluxuryseemedtowearyhim;butsoonhefeltrelieved,fortheprincelyoldmasterofthehousereceivedhimmostgraciously,,almostheartily;andwhenhetookhisleavehewasrequestedtostepintothesignora'sapartment,forshe,too,wishedtoseehim.theservantsledhimthroughmoreluxurioushallsandchambersintoherroom,wheresheappearedthechiefandleadingornament.

shespoketohim.nohymnofsupplication,noholychant,couldmelthissoullikethesoundofhervoice.hetookherhandandliftedittohislips.norosewassofter,butafirethrilledthroughhimfromthisrose-afeelingofpowercameuponhim,andwordspouredfromhistongue-heknewnotwhathesaid.doesthecraterofthevolcanoknowthattheglowinglavaispouringfromit?heconfessedwhathefeltforher.shestoodbeforehimastonished,offended,proud,withcontemptinherface,anexpressionofdisgust,asifshehadsuddenlytouchedacolduncleanreptile.hercheeksreddened,herlipsgrewwhite,andhereyesflashedfire,thoughtheyweredarkastheblacknessofnight.

"madman!"shecried,"away!begone!"

andsheturnedherbackuponhim.herbeautifulfaceworeanexpressionlikethatofthestonycountenancewiththesnakylocks.

likeastricken,faintingman,hetottereddownthestaircaseandoutintothestreet.likeamanwalkinginhissleep,hefoundhiswaybacktohisdwelling.thenhewokeuptomadnessandagony,andseizedhishammer,swungithighintheair,andrushedforwardtoshatterthebeautifulmarbleimage.but,inhispain,hehadnotnoticedthathisfriendangelostoodbesidehim;andangeloheldbackhisarmwithastronggrasp,crying,

"areyoumad?whatareyouabout?"

theystruggledtogether.angelowasthestronger;and,withadeepsighofexhaustion,theyoungartistthrewhimselfintoachair.

"whathashappened?"askedangelo."commandyourself.speak!"

butwhatcouldhesay?howcouldheexplain?andasangelocouldmakenosenseofhisfriend'sincoherentwords,heforboretoquestionhimfurther,andmerelysaid,

"yourbloodgrowsthickfromyoureternaldreaming.beaman,asallothersare,anddon'tgoonlivinginideals,forthatiswhatdrivesmencrazy.ajovialfeastwillmakeyousleepquietlyandhappily.believeme,thetimewillcomewhenyouwillbeold,andyoursinewswillshrink,andthen,onsomefinesunshinyday,wheneverythingislaughingandrejoicing,youwillliethereafadedplant,thatwillgrownomore.idonotliveindreams,butinreality.comewithme.beaman!"