and just as you think you have her, she leans only a little bit on one side, and falls, not into your heart--no!--into the heart of some one else! That is grief, because, when she has gone, no more elves come down from the sky,--for you, at any rate,--good things may come for others,--but for _you_ the heavens are empty!" Lorimer was silent, looking at the speaker curiously.
"How do you get all this nonsense into your head, eh ?" he inquired kindly.
"I do not know," replied Sigurd with a sigh.

"It comes! But, tell me,"-- and he smiled wistfully--"it is true, dear friend--good friend--it is all true, is it not?
For you the heavens are empty?
You know it!" Lorimer flushed hotly, and then grew strangely pale.

After a pause, he said in his usual indolent way-- "Look here, Sigurd; you're romantic! I'm not.

I know nothing about elves or empty heavens.

I'm all right! Don't you bother yourself about me." The dwarf studied his face attentively, and a smile of almost fiendish cunning suddenly illumined his thin features.