I went up to the couch, and threw myself on it with that fatigue wherewith one awakes from a feverish dream of hopeless grief.
The old woman sang: The great sun, benighted, May faint from the sky; But love, once uplighted, Will never more die.
Form, with its brightness, From eyes will depart: It walketh, in whiteness, The halls of the heart.
Ere she had ceased singing, my courage had returned.

I started from the couch, and, without taking leave of the old woman, opened the door of Sighs, and sprang into what should appear.
I stood in a lordly hall, where, by a blazing fire on the hearth, sat a lady, waiting, I knew, for some one long desired.

A mirror was near me, but I saw that my form had no place within its depths, so I feared not that I should be seen.

The lady wonderfully resembled my marble lady, but was altogether of the daughters of men, and I could not tell whether or not it was she.
It was not for me she waited.

The tramp of a great horse rang through the court without.