It sank into a tender yearning cry throbbing with passionate desire, and then it rose again in thrilling ecstasy: a song of hope, of victory.
Joan, trembling, stole from her bed and drew aside the blind.

There was nothing to be seen but the stars and the dim shape of the hills.

But still that song, filling the air with its wild, triumphant melody.
Years afterwards, listening to the overture to _Tannhauser_, there came back to her the memory of that night.

Ever through the mad Satanic discords she could hear, now faint, now conquering, the Pilgrims' onward march.

So through the jangled discords of the world one heard the Song of Life.