"Nay, for only the broken-hearted know how to keep their vows," he
answered.

So the doors swung open, and up the dim spiral stairs rode the Golden
Archer, through bars of moonlight to the region of the great winds where
again he mounted the tower. But always there is one dream left to the
sorrowful, and his was, that some night the great winds would drive her
soul against his breast.

Then he became very still and turned his arrow northward, for the wind
was coming from the far circles of the Arctic ice.

Next day the sun rose red and glorious and made fires on the armor of the
Golden Archer, and all the people upon the plain rubbed their eyes and
cried out:

"There's a new Archer on the Cathedral. Now we shall know from which
horizon comes the wind!"