He heard the clock strike three, and then four, and then five, but there was no apparent change in his dream.

He feared that he might be in a trance, from which, perhaps, he would not awake until it was too late.

Grey daylight began to brighten the window, and he noticed that snow was quietly falling outside, the flakes noiselessly beating against the window pane.

Every one slept late that morning, but at last he heard the preparations for breakfast going on downstairs--the light clatter of china on the table, the rattle of the grate; and, as he thought of these things, he found himself in the dining-room, and saw the trim little maid, who still yawned every now and then, laying the plates in their places.

He went upstairs again, and stood watching the sleeping face of his wife.