Phantastes, A Faerie Romance

And now I began to discern faint, gracious forms, here and there

throughout the building. Some walked together in earnest conversation.

Others strayed alone. Some stood in groups, as if looking at and talking

about a picture or a statue. None of them heeded me. Nor were they

plainly visible to my eyes. Sometimes a group, or single individual,

would fade entirely out of the realm of my vision as I gazed. When

evening came, and the moon arose, clear as a round of a horizon-sea when

the sun hangs over it in the west, I began to see them all more

plainly; especially when they came between me and the moon; and yet more

especially, when I myself was in the shade. But, even then, I sometimes

saw only the passing wave of a white robe; or a lovely arm or neck

gleamed by in the moonshine; or white feet went walking alone over the

moony sward. Nor, I grieve to say, did I ever come much nearer to these

glorious beings, or ever look upon the Queen of the Fairies herself. My

destiny ordered otherwise.

In this palace of marble and silver, and fountains and moonshine, I

spent many days; waited upon constantly in my room with everything

desirable, and bathing daily in the fairy bath. All this time I was

little troubled with my demon shadow I had a vague feeling that he was

somewhere about the palace; but it seemed as if the hope that I should

in this place be finally freed from his hated presence, had sufficed to

banish him for a time. How and where I found him, I shall soon have to

relate.

The third day after my arrival, I found the library of the palace; and

here, all the time I remained, I spent most of the middle of the day.

For it was, not to mention far greater attractions, a luxurious retreat

from the noontide sun. During the mornings and afternoons, I wandered

about the lovely neighbourhood, or lay, lost in delicious day-dreams,

beneath some mighty tree on the open lawn. My evenings were by-and-by

spent in a part of the palace, the account of which, and of my

adventures in connection with it, I must yet postpone for a little.

The library was a mighty hall, lighted from the roof, which was formed

of something like glass, vaulted over in a single piece, and stained

throughout with a great mysterious picture in gorgeous colouring.

The walls were lined from floor to roof with books and books: most of

them in ancient bindings, but some in strange new fashions which I had

never seen, and which, were I to make the attempt, I could ill describe.

All around the walls, in front of the books, ran galleries in rows,

communicating by stairs. These galleries were built of all kinds of

coloured stones; all sorts of marble and granite, with porphyry, jasper,

lapis lazuli, agate, and various others, were ranged in wonderful melody

of successive colours. Although the material, then, of which these

galleries and stairs were built, rendered necessary a certain degree

of massiveness in the construction, yet such was the size of the place,

that they seemed to run along the walls like cords.