Everywhere there were blurs of motion, which, as his eyes adjusted to the quickness, he saw were trails of light from hundreds of small figures darting hither and thither. The forest was peopled with elves. Their light-footed movements revealed an awareness of his presence only occasionally when one would glance down as it passed over his resting place, brushing him playfully with the delicate touch of tiny feet. He looked around quickly and saw many pairs of little eyes caught in the embarrassed motion of turning away.

They made no effort to hinder his wandering through what was apparently their domain. Other forms of sentient life were absent. As he walked among the widely-spaced trees, he heard only one sound, for he could not distinguish between the rustle of branches in the slight wind and the airy flight of the almost airborne figures.

Rushing about with the directed aimlessness of cloud wisps, they now and then stopped quickly to stand with a tense attitude of heightened alertness. The latter action he did not comprehend. It seemed an integral part of their being, but its meaning eluded him, for there was no threatening force here, at least none of which he was aware, which might cause such behavior.

The day was passed in silent converse with them and unquestioning movement among them. As night approached, they beckoned and led him deep into the forest.

. . . . .

Shining limbs reflected the distant hues of the setting sun, which was soon lost at the bottom of the invisible sea. The sky itself was obscured as they moved silently along the dark corridor of motionless and faintly discernible trees.

Unexpectedly they entered a clearing lit to a diamond-sharp clarity and brilliance by an unseen source. Striking the crystalline structures in the clearing—a tiny castle all peaked spires of a transparent gem, which had no color but that which entered it and emerged transfigured, standing on a hillock above a small village of the same material—striking these structures the light from above coursed through the pure, sharp air to fall in a thousand forms on the creatures moving about the minuscule kingdom.

In the village square, which was large enough to admit a fair-sized crowd plus himself, preparations had been made for a feast and celebration. Surrounding buildings were decorated with bright tones of gold and blue; the square’s mosaic surface, which presented a large, plain "M", was of the same colors except for the great monogram, which seemed to be of the crystal of the castle and town and which, at the moment, was the only visible sample of that substance unaffected by the impinging external colors. It was the clearness of diamond, somehow faintly pulsating. In it, he saw or imagined he saw an occasional dim refraction which disappeared if he looked directly at it.

The townspeople accepted him as naturally as had their fellows in the forest. His presence had no effect on their spontaneity or on their great naturalness of manner and action, and lack of dress. For here too there was no clothing to be seen and he found himself blushing. Although they apparently took no notice of his dress, he found their lack of it embarrassing and confusing, since, particularly as it revealed a subtle sensuousness which for him hovered at the edge of the sexual.

They sat. They ate and drank. All manner of foods and wines in endless supply were brought before them. He laughed and rejoiced. Eventually he became aware of the disappearance of the light. So gradual had it been that only when he realized he saw the castle in faint, multi-colored outline did he notice its passing. All light now came from the "M".

In time the banquet ceased. He knew not when for his perception had become dream-fleeting, quick, intense, and elusive, defying will and order. A stage setting of sorts was arranged at the end of the square beyond the top of the "M", with the castle as backdrop. There was a throne, flanked by a series of columns and steps, all crystalline, shining dimly in the half-light. To one side chairs were set up facing tiny stands on which small bits of paper were placed. Before the chairs was a podium.

The orchestra entered and began to tune their instruments cacophonously. The conductor appeared. Silence and immobility fell upon everyone. He could see and think but not move. It was the image of that moment which stayed with him, in spite of the moments before and after. He remembered best the moment of anticipation, of calm, of readiness and receptivity, when the challenge to the perfection of silence was mutely sounded, when another perfection seemed both desirable and attainable, when the silence, yielding and submissive, begged for ordered, variegated division.

Now! such came and then the world was lost. Then! to him, to them another world revealed. Be-gun! In a harmonious tempest of resounding images ceaselessly changing as one looked on, audibly amplifying the movements of the figures appearing and disappearing before the vacant throne, moving in rhythm complementary to the music. Now the audacious "Be-gun! Again, and the "M" glowed a steady translucent azure and the figures mounted the steps, sensual and removed, languishing in their form and perfectly active in their joy at the same time. Now, for an instant, a minor key, distantly sounded, gruff and mighty, overbearing and serious, but they danced and they played and the great minor key was driven back whence he came and all was rejoicing again.

Now, stately, con moto, the "M" flashing shades of yellow, and two figures, one male, one female in tenuous adumbration veiling moved and flowed into one.

Now, the extra accent, the false beat unfolded a court evening of highest pomp and grandest splendor, of elegance magnified by decorum, of refinement enhanced by tradition, exquisite form and meaningless content mated in the slow movement of the minuet.

Without forewarning, the music whisked them all away, transported to fragile and fleeting existence of infinite variation and ceaseless change by the rushing allegro of the strings, mounting, falling, demanding and irresistible, separating and uniting, incredibly distinct and bewilderingly complex, a summation and resolution containing axiom and truth, hypothesis and proofs, life, end and beginning. Suddenly a slowing in haste and two grand chords solidified the moving figures, stilled the shifting colors between blue and white, echoed to silence leaving hearers and viewers exhausted from resonant trembling. He slept with them that night, at the edge of the village, under a featureless sky.

The following day they returned to the forest with no indication of what, if anything, they expected of him Back among the spacious pines, curiosity and loneliness caused him to attempt communication, The physical perfection of their miniature bodies, the obvious division of sexes, their apparently unquestioning acceptance of an idyllic existence, the understanding in their eyes which he read as compassion made him curious because he could not reconcile their nature with his own, so much alike and yet so different and lonely, because the physical similarities and the good-natured companionship which they enjoyed among themselves stimulated a hitherto unknown desire on his part for such intimacy.

His mind occupied by these thoughts, his wanderings took on the aimlessness of the beings around him. Trees rose high on all sides, with light plummeting precipitously through them only to be absorbed by the soft cushion of needles at their feet. He stopped and said, "All of you, listen. Can you understand me?" He was looking at no one of them in particular; his eyes were focussed at an indefinite point beyond the trees. At his first words, all motion ceased.

He looked around. Some were standing only a few feet away, some were scattered throughout the branches like so many ornaments. There was no sound but that of the wind.One of the figures nearest him said in a bell-like voice, "We can hear you but we can not understand you. Your words have meaning but your thoughts do not. If you speak often to us, our death will result. We have enjoyed your company. You have brought us much pleasure."

"Have you no compassion?"

"We have compassion, but that is not what you want. You want pity.. which we do not have.""Have you not felt my loneliness?""We have never ceased to feel it. It is weighing on us all now.""And you will not help me escape it?""Loneliness is not a burden to be borne buy a summation to be sought. Your loneliness is an imagined thing which arises from your desire for pity. We could comfort you and console you in ways which you have not dreamed of, but that which you call loneliness would only increase in intensity and soon have you imprisoned completely. Perhaps it has been a mistake for us to grant you our company, for now we must part.""I can not leave." His own tone startled him. It was hard and loud. It reminded him of something he had heard once. He felt irritated because he could not remember. Consciously trying to soften his words, he started again, "I can not..." and saw that he was no longer being watched. Their positions were unchanged but their eyes were closed. They were swaying and seemed to have difficulty drawing air. He stood fixed, watching the alabaster sheen of their bodies become an ugly blue. One fell from the trees and lay motionless in front of him.