But the old man came on without speaking to the travellers and stood on the other side of the table opposite to his daughter. Then both of them held up their arms before them and turned to face the east. In that position they began to sing. I wish I could write down the song， but one who was present could remember it. Lucy said afterwards that it was high， almost shrill， but very beautiful. “A cold kind of song， an early morning kind of song.” And as they sang， the grey clouds lifted from the eastern sky and the white patches grew bigger and bigger till it was white， and the sea began to shine like silver. And long afterwards （but those two sang all the time） the east began to turn red and at last， unclouded， the sun came up out of the sea and its long level ray shot down the length of the table on the gold and silver and on the Stone Knife.
