king and listening alternately, in pairs,
trios, and groups of every size. Here and there large companies were
absorbed in attention to one elevated above the rest, not in a pulpit,
or on a platform, but on the stilts of his own legs, elongated for the
nonce. The aurora, right overhead, lighted up the lake and the sides of
the mountains, by sending down from the zenith, nearly to the surface
of the lake, great folded vapours, luminous with all the colours of a
faint rainbow.

Many, however, as the words were that passed on all sides, not a shadow
of a sound reached the ears of the king: the shadow-speech could not
enter his corporeal organs. One of his guides, however, seeing that the
king wanted to hear and could not, went through a strange manipulation
of his head and ears; after which he could hear perfectly, though still
only the voice to which, for the time, he directed his attention. This,
however, was a great advantage, and one which the king longed to carry
back with him to the world of men.

The king now discovered that this was not merely the church of the
Shadows, but their news exchange at the same time. For, as the shadows
have no writing or printing, the only way in which they can make each
other acquainted with their doings and thinkings, is to meet and talk
at this word-mart and parliament of shades. And as, in the world,
people read their favourite authors, and listen to their favourite
speakers, so here the Shadows seek their favourite Shadows, listen to
their adventures, and hear generally what they have to say.

Feeling quite strong, the king rose and walked about amongst them,
wrapped in his ermine robe, with his red crown on his head, and his
diamond sceptre in his hand. Every group of Shadows to which he drew
near, ceased talking as soon as they saw him approach; but at a nod
they went on again directly, conversing and relating and commenting, as
if no one was there of other kind or of higher rank than themselves. So
the king heard a good many stories. At some of them he laughed, and at
some of them he cried. But if the stories that the Shadows told were
printed, they would make a book that no publisher could produce fast
enough to satisfy the buyers. I will record some of the things that the
king heard, for he told them to me soon after. In fact, I was for some
time his private secretary.

"I made him confess before a week was over," said a gloomy old Shadow.

"But what was the good of that?