The Waking.

           WhenFranzreturnedtohimself,heseemedstilltobeinadream.Hethoughthimselfinasepulchre,intowhicharayofsunlightinpityscarcelypenetrated.Hestretchedforthhishand,andtouchedstone;herosetohisseat,andfoundhimselflyingonhisbournousinabedofdryheather,verysoftandodoriferous.Thevisionhadfled;andasifthestatueshadbeenbutshadowsfromthetomb,theyhadvanishedathiswaking.Headvancedseveralpacestowardsthepointwhencethelightcame,andtoalltheexcitementofhisdreamsucceededthecalmnessofreality.Hefoundthathewasinagrotto,wenttowardstheopening,andthroughakindoffanlightsawablueseaandanazuresky.Theairandwaterwereshininginthebeamsofthemorningsun;ontheshorethesailorsweresitting,chattingandlaughing;andattenyardsfromthemtheboatwasatanchor,undulatinggracefullyonthewater.Thereforsometimeheenjoyedthefreshbreezewhichplayedonhisbrow,andlistenedtothedashofthewavesonthebeach,thatleftagainsttherocksalaceoffoamaswhiteassilver.Hewasforsometimewithoutreflectionorthoughtforthedivinecharmwhichisinthethingsofnature,speciallyafterafantasticdream;thengraduallythisviewoftheouterworld,socalm,sopure,sogrand,remindedhimoftheillusivenessofhisvision,andoncemoreawakenedmemory.Herecalledhisarrivalontheisland,hispresentationtoasmugglerchief,asubterraneanpalacefullofsplendor,anexcellentsupper,andaspoonfulofhashish.

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