But the stags stopped wrestling just at the right moment, and instantly
a whisper went from knoll to knoll: "The cranes are coming!"
And then came the gray, dusk-clad birds with plumes in their wings, and
red feather-ornaments on their necks. The big birds with their tall
legs, their slender throats, their small heads, came gliding down the
knoll with an abandon that was full of mystery. As they glided forward
they swung round--half flying, half dancing. With wings gracefully
lifted, they moved with an inconceivable rapidity. There was something
marvellous and strange about their dance. It was as though gray shadows
had played a game which the eye could scarcely follow. It was as if
they had learned it from the mists that hover over desolate morasses.
There was witchcraft in it. All those who had never before been on
Kullaberg understood why the whole meeting took its name from the
crane's dance. There was wildness in it; but yet the feeling which it
awakened was a delicious longing. No one thought any more about
struggling. Instead, both the winged and those who had no wings, all
wanted to raise themselves eternally, lift themselves above the clouds,
seek that which was hidden beyond them, leave the oppressive body that
dragged them down to earth and soar away toward the infinite.
Such longing after the unattainable, after the hidden mysteries back of
this life, the animals felt only once a year; and this was on the day
when they beheld the great crane dance.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126