The sun, encircled by a shimmering aureole, rises behind a tall hedge on the horizon to herald the dawn of a new day. The bright light it casts on the meadow with its finely detailed grasses is emphasized by the long shadows cast by the hedge. Cueur is standing in front of the marble slab, gravely reading the inscription which he had not been able to see the night before:

The inscription reads
Beneath this marble shaft, as black as coal, rises the Spring of Chance.*
He who drinks of it will suffer dire misery.
For this spring was brought forth by the sorcerer Vergil, who laid his curse upon it.
A little of its water, poured on this marble shaft,
will instantly unleash a raging storm.

Thus the answer to the fearsome riddle of the night before. Cueur then sees for the first time that the water, issuing from a lion's head near the base of the shaft, looks foul and revolting; Never would he have drunk it had he seen it first. This baneful spring flows on to become a brook, a Stream of Tears which Cueur and Desire will encounter repeatedly as they journey onward.

The grim inscription, prophesying misery and danger ahead, is the one black note in a painting otherwise expressive only of the radiance of a joyful new morning. And the black marble does not prevail against the glorious colors unfolding around it: the blue sky, brightening nearer the yellowish green of the meadow, the reddish brown of the horse with its silver mane and tail, the tree trunks gleaming in the sun, the wood tones of the lance, allinterspersed with sharp morning shadows.

The final touch in this composition is provided by the figures of the two men: at the right, Cueur in armor but without his helmet, his left hand extended as he follows the lines of the inscription, his face aware and thoughtful. The red of his cap is echoed on the left by the red heart on his helmet, the embroidered hearts on his horse's saddlecloth, the red straps of his shield. On this bright young morning, already shadowed by the heavy cares and anxieties evoked by the black marble slab with its inscription and foul spring, all desire lies dormant--Desire lies fast asleep under the aspen tree, his right hand supporting his head with its sorrowful look, his left hand, relaxed in sleep, on his knee.

This peaceful morning will be followed by a trying day, and more to come.

. .

* La Fontaine de fortune--but fortune in its negative, shifting, treacherous aspects.

..... continued..