Radovid.—That was in thy childish years, methinks. But now? Now thou surely knowest that neither here nor elsewhere wilt thou see aught else than at home.
Radúz.—I am not yet so wise, dear friend. And thou thyself art somewhat to blame that I am not wiser. Didst thou not ever nourish my childish dreams with thy tales? Who was it told me of the sun, that he had a castle somewhere in Tatra, that twelve maidens of eternal youth serve him there? Who pictured to me those black forests full of mystery, which stand mutely around a meadow, a meadow blooming with all sorts of wondrous flowers, on which shimmers the sun’s house of clouds? Thus you eternally awaken in children the longing for that which, alas, does not exist, and of which we then eternally feel the absence!
Radovid.—Thou dost not mean that thou hast set forth for the mountains in search of the sun’s castle of clouds?
Radúz.—That I will not maintain, but what shouldst thou say, friend, if I should confess to thee that I have found it? Amid the black forests last night I saw that meadow and the castle itself, and three of those maidens were standing before the house—
Radovid.—Hast thou dreamed that by this spring, here, where thou hast been sleeping?
Radúz.—Of no dream do I tell thee, Radovid. Do but hear how I came hither. On that day when I disappeared from home I set forth hunting, and had no thoughts of a long journey into the mountains. I was wandering through the forest and suddenly spied a stag white as the fallen snow. It seemed tame and did not flee before me when it saw me from afar. I approached it, but the lovely animal, as though it wished to play, quickly retreated and fled, yet not far. Again it stood still and again lured and enticed me, and continually kept withdrawing deeper into the forest. Thus it went on for a whole day and a whole night! And each time when wearied I dropped on the moss, the stag stood quietly a short distance away and waited for me, as if in mockery, until I should once more set out in pursuit of it! And so it went until last night. Though a hundred times I thought to myself, “This is enough,” yet I ceased not to pursue it.
Radovid.—That is strange! Methinks some demon of the woods has perchance been making sport of thee. But what came to pass last night?
Radúz.—Ah, it came to pass that I overtook the stag . . . But alas, angered by the long, futile chase, I became the slave of
