"no," said oberon, tossing the manuscripts on the table. "i find no traces of the golden pen with which i wrote in characters of fire. my treasure of fairy coin is changed to worthless dross. my picture, painted in what seemed the loveliest hues, presents nothing but a faded and indistinguishable surface. i have been eloquent and poetical and humorous in a dream, and behold! it is all nonsense, now that i am awake."