And the fishes stared. They thought that the whole swarm of peoplewhom they had seen in the bright daylight were still moving aroundthem; they were certain they still saw the same forms that had firstcaught their attention.
  A pretty Barbel, with spotted skin, and an enviably round back,declared that the "human fry" were still there.
  "I can see a well set-up human figure quite well," said theBarbel. "She was called 'contumacious lady,' or something of thatkind. She had a mouth and staring eyes, like ours, and a great balloonat the back of her head, and something like a shut-up umbrella infront; there were a lot of dangling bits of seaweed hanging about her.She ought to take all the rubbish off, and go as we do; then she wouldlook something like a respectable barbel, so far as it is possible fora person to look like one!"
  "What's become of that one whom they drew away with the hook? Hesat on a wheel-chair, and had paper, and pen, and ink, and wrotedown everything. They called him a 'writer.'"
  "They're going about with him still," said a hoary old maid of aCarp, who carried her misfortune about with her, so that she was quitehoarse. In her youth she had once swallowed a hook, and still swampatiently about with it in her gullet. "A writer? That means, as wefishes describe it, a kind of cuttle or ink-fish among men."
  Thus the fishes gossipped in their own way; but in theartificial water-grotto the laborers were busy; who were obliged totake advantage of the hours of night to get their work done bydaybreak. They accompanied with blows of their hammers and withsongs the parting words of the vanishing Dryad.
  "So, at any rate, I have seen you, you pretty gold-fishes," shesaid. "Yes, I know you;" and she waved her hand to them. "I have knownabout you a long time in my home; the swallow told me about you. Howbeautiful you are! how delicate and shining! I should like to kissevery one of you. You others, also. I know you all; but you do notknow me."
  The fishes stared out into the twilight. They did not understand aword of it.
  The Dryad was there no longer. She had been a long time in theopen air, where the different countries- the country of black bread,the codfish coast, the kingdom of Russia leather, and the banks ofeau-de-Cologne, and the gardens of rose oil- exhaled their perfumesfrom the world-wonder flower.
  When, after a night at a ball, we drive home half asleep andhalf awake, the melodies still sound plainly in our ears; we hearthem, and could sing them all from memory. When the eye of themurdered man closes, the picture of what it saw last clings to itfor a time like a photographic picture.
  So it was likewise here. The bustling life of day had not yetdisappeared in the quiet night. The Dryad had seen it; she knew,thus it will be repeated tomorrow.
  The Dryad stood among the fragrant roses, and thought she knewthem, and had seen them in her own home. She also saw redpomegranate flowers, like those that little Mary had worn in herdark hair.
  Remembrances from the home of her childhood flashed through herthoughts; her eyes eagerly drank in the prospect around, andfeverish restlessness chased her through the wonder-filled halls.
  A weariness that increased continually, took possession of her.She felt a longing to rest on the soft Oriental carpets within, orto lean against the weeping willow without by the clear water. But forthe ephemeral fly there was no rest. In a few moments the day hadcompleted its circle.
  Her thoughts trembled, her limbs trembled, she sank down on thegrass by the bubbling water.
  "Thou wilt ever spring living from the earth," she saidmournfully. "Moisten my tongue- bring me a refreshing draught."
  "I am no living water," was the answer. "I only spring upward whenthe machine wills it."
  "Give me something of thy freshness, thou green grass," imploredthe Dryad; "give me one of thy fragrant flowers."
  "We must die if we are torn from our stalks," replied theFlowers and the Grass.
  "Give me a kiss, thou fresh stream of air- only a singlelife-kiss."
  "Soon the sun will kiss the clouds red," answered the Wind;"then thou wilt be among the dead- blown away, as all the splendorhere will be blown away before the year shall have ended. Then I canplay again with the light loose sand on the place here, and whirlthe dust over the land and through the air. All is dust!"