But still I looked--and then I saw him.
"Through the flying water and foam and mist I saw the old King, on his
white horse, following the great wave across the lake. The sun made
all his armor gleam like the silver of the lake itself, and the plume
of his helmet streamed away behind him like the spray that a strong
wind blows back from the crest of a breaker. After him came a train of
glowing, beautiful forms--spirits of the lake or of the air, or some
of the Good People--I do not know. They wore soft, flowing garments,
that were like the morning mists; they carried chains of pearls and
they scattered other pearls about them, that glistened like the drops
of a shower when the sun is shining through it. They had garlands of
flowers, and they plucked the flowers out and threw them high in the
air, so that they fell before the King. They looked like flecks of
foam from the waves, turned rosy and violet by the rising sun, but
they were flowers. And there was a sound of sweet, soft music, like
harps and mellow horns.
"The King and his train came nearer and I saw them plainer, and the
music sounded louder.
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