THE waters tossed and foamed through the huge rocks that were pressed so close together that up amid the heights a strip of blue sky was scarcely to be seen. Upon a narrow slippery path, alongside the oozy rocky walls, ran Sorrow, as fast as though the path were sure and the surroundings a flowery meadow. The rushing waters threatened every moment to ingulf her. Their thunder, repeated by a thousand echoes, seemed to grow yet louder, and sounded so menacing as though the audacious pilgrim must turn back before them. But with burning cheeks Sorrow hurried onwards, and her long black hair floated behind her like a somber cloud. Her nostrils quivered, her lips opened and shut, with outstretched arms she whispered or called something, but the sound died away before it was spoken. Her eyes stared into space as though she would search the depths, and yet they had fain be cast down, for the gorge narrowed and the last trace of a path was inundated by the water. Beneath her surged a whirlpool, above her rushed the water, rushed down in ever new masses; now it sounded like song, now like moaning voices, now like pealing thunder. One moment she halted, then she raised her thin skirts and began to wade through the water where the rocks had quieted it a little and scooped out a place large enough for her small feet. With one hand she held herself against the rocky wall and looked from time to time into the depths where yawned the opening of a cavern. At the risk of death she reached the entrance and stood still a second, breathing deeply. Once more her gaze eagerly swept the sides of the cliffs; there was no projection on which to gain a footing, no bird could have stood there. Out of the cavern's mouth there gushed water, and it too offered no road. One more look did she cast back, then she resolutely entered the cave and groped through it in the dark, along the wet stones. Often she sank deep into the waters. When she lost sight of the last sheen of daylight she resolved to wade, and did not feel in the icy cold of the water how the stones cut her feet. At last a red spot gleamed. She thought it was the daylight outside the cavern. Then the space enlarged. In this impenetrable darkness there was a huge vault adorned with columns and capitals and ornaments of all kinds. Darting lights and shades quivered through the hall, which re-echoed with the sound of weeping and moaning. It was a confusion of sobbing women, whimpering children, groaning, sighing men, and every flash of light seemed to increase the misery. Sorrow pressed her hands upon her breast and panted. She was so dazzled that at first she could not see whence these lightnings came; the horrible sounds about her made her giddy. She leaned against one of the shining columns and shading her eyes with her hand, sought to follow the water-course and so discover the exit. There she beheld a colossal man, as tall, rough, and angular as the columns around. His ardent eyes were fixed on her. In his hand he held the lightnings, which from time to time he threw across the cave like fiery arrows or blue snakes.

"Come here, little Sorrow," he called in a voice of thunder. "Have you found your way to me? Come here, for you are mine."

Sorrow clung to the pillar against which she leaned and seized one of its pendent points. Pale as death, she glared at the monster who beckoned to her.

"I will not come to you," she said at last. "I do not know you. I seek for Peace whom I saw go in here, and I am hurrying after him. Oh," she cried, and wrung her hands; "oh, have you hidden him here, or perchance killed him, you terrible man?"

"I am Pain. Peace is not here, but beyond this cave, in the happy valley."

"Show me the exit that I may follow him;" and Sorrow sank down on her knees imploringly.

The fearful man laughed, and his laughter was louder than the rushing and thundering of the waters, more terrible than the sound of moaning round about.

"No, child; you and I, we do not belong to the happy valley, and the exit thither is barred to us by the weepers who fill this cave, and who are our victims. We two belong together. You shall be my wife, and we will seek a spot to fix our dwelling."

"Your wife!"

The words came from Sorrow's breast like a cry, but they were drowned in laughter. Then she darted up and turned to fly. But her arm was seized in such a grip that she thought it would break, and Pain swung his lightnings over her head.

"If ever you flee from me," he roared, "one of these shall fall on you, and what you will then feel will be so horrible that crushed, burnt, tortured, you will scarcely be able to moan like these wretches. I will show them to you."

He lifted the hand that held the lightnings and illuminated the whole space. No human words can tell what fearful forms filled it. Of every age and sex stricken ones lay around. They wound themselves in agony, they lacerated themselves with their fists, they clawed the stones and with the nails of their hands and feet tried to raise themselves. Horrid wounds were held under the falling drops to cool them. Women writhed in eternal birth-throes and could not bring forth; children beat their heads sore against the rocky walls to overpower the pain that gnawed their entrails. Many lay on their knees and wrung their hands and beat their breasts in unextinguishable remorse. Others lay motionless, as though dead, only their eyes moved slowly in their sockets, following the direction of the light. Sorrow veiled her face and tottered; Pain caught her in his arms and pressed her to his breast.

"As great as are these agonies, so great is my love," he said.

Sorrow wept passionately.

"How could you think Peace could be yours. You have nothing in common with him. You are mine; you belong to me. I have loved you in your deeds without beholding you; your traces delighted my eyes."

He drew her hands away from her face and kissed her. Sorrow closed her eyes that she might not see him, but under her dark lids tears welled forth, which he kissed away.

"Weep, weep, my little maid; your tears are dew, far fairer than your laughter, they refresh and cheer me."

She tried to get loose from him, but he held her with his iron grasp.

"If you are afraid here," he said, "I will bear you to a sweet spot and win you there with violence."

He hastily raised the trembling maiden in his arms, threw a lightning in front of him that traced a line of light along the whole dark passage, and wading through the waters that seemed to retreat from his feet, he hurried to the cavern's mouth. He bore her past the waterfall, and when he let her glide to earth, he took hold of her hand, as though he feared she would escape him. She often looked back and tried to think of the happy valley, but to her mental vision there ever appeared only the cave with its desperate inhabitants. She hoped the terrible man might grow weary, and then if sleep overcame him, she could flee; therefore she complained of fatigue. But Pain was never weary; he instantly carried her again, and went onwards yet faster.

"Be happy," he said, "for now at least some one carries you."

She turned her head away from his gleaming eyes. Then a great sense of weakness came over her, and it seemed to her as though they were going backwards, as though the rushing of the river came ever nearer, as though his eyes pierced her breast. Powerless to speak or move, she lay in the arms of Pain. Oh, where—where was her brother Death, who could have freed her? Where her father Strife? He would have wrestled with her captor. Or was he too powerless against this all-mighty Pain? She would have prayed the river, the trees, the grasses to help her, but they did not see her need. At last she lost consciousness, and when she woke she lay under a rock amid deep hot sand—no tree, no song of bird, no murmur of waters; only sand, yellow burning sand and golden air that quivered in the heat.

"My wife," said Pain, and his eyes burnt like the sand and the air, and seemed to drain Sorrow's life blood. Her tears began to flow anew.

"Oh! how thirsty I am," she moaned.

Pain looked at her with satisfaction.

"Well," he said, "was it not beautiful in that cool gorge, so near to the cold foaming river? Do you recall how clear it was, and how it gushed out of the rocks? It came from the happy valley, that is so full of luscious fruits, fruits such as you have never beheld. Shall I show it you?"

At his words Sorrow's eyes had grown ever bigger, her lips more parched.

"Yes, yes," she panted, and behold, away, across the sand, there shimmered in the air a broad stream, and beside it were shady trees laden with fruits. Without knowing what she did, Sorrow sprang up and ran to the river as fast as she could, through the deep sand, under the scorching sunbeams. But the river seemed to retreat ever further from her, and at last it had vanished. At the same moment Pain laughed behind her, and it sounded as though the whole desert laughed.

"Do you now see that you are wholly in my power; you can even only think as I will. Here is water."

He showed her a few trees that overshadowed a well. Sorrow fell down beside it and drank eager draughts. Then she sank into a deep sleep. When she woke the trees were withered, the well dried up, and there was again nothing but sand as far as the eye could reach.

"Do you see," said Pain, "we are stronger than the sun and the desert wind; all must vanish before our might. Wherever we have passed pestilence has broken out, towns and villages are burnt; and where we set up our dwelling the earth grows a desert."

Sorrow wrung her hands. She sprang up and hurried forward. A whole long day she sped on, on, and did not see that he followed. At evening he came towards her and laughed, and laughed so long that the whole desert grew noisy, and hyenas and jackals began to howl, and lions approached roaring. But Pain held them in check with his look of fire, so that they only walked round them from afar off all the night. When day dawned the wild beasts withdrew.

"Oh," said Sorrow, "I die of fear. Take me away from here, wherever you will, only away from this heat, these horrid beasts."

"Do you want coolness, love? You shall have it."

He took her in his arms and bore her fast as the wind towards the north, ever further, past the homes of men, past fields and cities, across the ocean, which he waded through, up to the North. There lay a lovely islet, and birches shook their tender foliage in the fresh breezes.

"Here we will found our happy valley," said Pain, and beckoned.

And as he beckoned the wind blew colder and sharper, the grass crackled under his feet as it withered and froze, and from the ocean there neared crystal mountains that came closer and closer to the land, and the wind that drove them to shore howled dismally. Soon the whole air was filled with snow that whirled from above, from below, from all sides, choking like fine sand. Ice-blocks were piled upon ice-blocks, there was much thundering and crackling, but at last all was still, wrapped in snow and awful silence. The transparent rocks stared up to the heavens like frozen joy. Pain flung a lightning dart into the ice. It bored a blue-green glistening cave in which he laid Sorrow.

"Do you stay here and rest," he said; "I will search for a verdant spot. But do not stir from here, for out of the ice-fields you will never find your road back to the happy valley."

Scarcely had he gone than Sorrow felt her frozen blood revive, and the terrible woe in her breast seemed to yield. First she leaned on her hand and peeped out, then she knelt and breathed on her numbed fingers, then she stepped outside. There towered blocks of ice; here snow was spread in endless extent. She knew that the snow covered the island and the ice-blocks the sea, and it was over the ice-blocks she must wander, for otherwise she could not get across it. She began to slip through the cracks and crevices, to jump from one block to another, following the sunbeams that alone marked a track for her. She did not rest when night came for fear she should be pursued. Twice she went round the island without knowing it, in her senseless fear; but at last the sun led her out of the ice-bound world and across the first green blades of grass. Then she sank down for very weariness. How she found her road back to the mountain gorge she never knew. She entered it trembling. If he was already here, he from whom she had fled, then she was lost. After her wanderings upon the ice, this road seemed to be quite easy, and her fearful glances around were not directed to the masses of water that poured down yet more wildly than when she had first come here, and which seemed to threaten her tender form at every moment, as though they would sweep her away like a leaf. Trembling in every limb, and with chattering teeth, Sorrow entered the dreadful cave.

It was dark, and the confusion of voices sounded painfully through the vaults. Suddenly she felt herself surrounded on all sides, and held by her hands and clothes.

"I will not let you go before you liberate me," a voice sounded at her ear.

"Give me back happiness," moaned another.

"Make me well again," cried a third.

"We are but echoes of the woes of earth," they cried; "but you shall hear us, though you stay here forever."

"But I cannot help you," wailed Sorrow.

"Yes," they shrieked; "you can bring woe, but you will not free us. Revenge! revenge!"

And Sorrow felt herself pressed against the angular columns, and in the noise that clamored round her, she heard—

"Bind her, bind her, tear out her heart. Blind the eyes of her who has brought so much woe."

In her fear she cried—

"Beware what you do, Pain comes behind me, and terrible will be his revenge if you hurt a hair of my head."

Then she forced a road for herself and ran on, on to the spot where she fancied was the outlet She groped a long while along the dripping walls, but just as she had found it, she felt herself held anew, and a voice said—

"And what will Pain do to you if you flee thither? Kiss me, or I will betray you."

"Do not kiss him, his face is quite mutilated," called another voice.

"I will betray you," was whispered into her ear. "I will hold you fast until Pain comes. Kiss me."

Sorrow bent down trembling, and touched a hideous mass with her delicate lips; then she freed herself shuddering, and fled on again along the dark passage. She had to bend nearly double, it grew so low. She dipped her hand in the water and washed her face. It seemed to her as if she never advanced, as if she would never reach the end. At last there shone a bright spot that slowly grew larger. There, yes, there, gleamed the dear sun; there must be the happy valley. But how, if Peace, whom she had sought in vain over the whole earth, were there no longer! But if he were not, she could at least follow in his footsteps, and rest there where he had passed.

Now the outlet of the cave yawned, and Sorrow stood still dazzled. Whatever there was that was fair on earth, whatever could be pictured of power and beauty, was all collected in that valley—luscious greenery, wealth of flowers that covered the earth or crept along the giant trees in lovely garlands, trees that no ax had ever touched, and a singing of birds like heavenly music. A deep green lake reflected all this beauty; deer and gazelles stood around it and drank.

At Sorrow's feet shone strawberries in rich red masses, above her head hovered a bird of paradise, the tip of his golden tail touched her hair.

Suddenly Sorrow heard a voice, at whose tones it seemed to her as though her heart leapt from her mouth. At first it sounded so soft, so full and gentle, like purest melody; then it seemed to retreat. Sorrow held her breath. Now again it came nearer, and at last she could hear the words.

"You are the only maid on earth whom I can love, and you will not stay with me! Is it not fair enough here to please you?"

To whom were these words spoken, for whom the caressing sound of that voice? Sorrow bent back a branch and beheld Peace with his heavenly eyes, calm like a deep lake, and his radiant face of blooming youth. Sorrow was so sunk in contemplation that she forgot herself, her existence, and the sufferings she had endured. Her soul was in her eyes and quaffed eagerly this first refreshment. Then another face came to view. Sorrow at once recognized Work by her bright blue eyes and the waving of her golden locks. She was blushing and tending her sweet lips to Peace. How lovely they both were under the green half shadows of the broad leaves! Sorrow held her breath, the branch trembled in her hand.

"Do not go back to earth," Peace pleaded; "you know what that is like."

"I must, I must," said Work. "I am the comforter in all need, I have dried the tears of even Sorrow herself."

"Oh do not speak of Sorrow here."

"Have you ever beheld her?"

"I have beheld her!" and Peace's eyes grew veiled; "and she destroyed my heaven with her ugly eyes. I have fled from her across the whole world and hidden here from her sight, for through that awful cave she will not come. Her victims will not let her pass, if ever she sets foot in it."

At that instant the poor listener felt herself seized in an iron grasp, and the cry that would have issued from her was stifled by a strong hand. She reeled back through the dark passage, into the cavern in which lightning flamed. Now she was forcibly bound and before her stood Pain in towering passion.

"What shall I do to you, faithless one?" he gnashed.

"Revenge, revenge!" resounded from all sides, and a rain of stones hit the defenseless one.

Sorrow sank on her knees, but Pain raised her.

"No," he said, "she is not to be given over to you, for she must return to earth; but I will return her to earth in such a manner that she shall with unconcern do yet more mischief than heretofore."

He seized Sorrow by her hair and drew her forth relentlessly, away from the howls of the cave which pursued her long.

It was twilight outside; under the rocks it was already night. Sorrow was dragged onwards, she knew not how, she knew not whither. Now she flew up the mountain sides, ever higher, higher, dragged, when her tottering knees would no longer bear her, across bare stones and through thorn-bushes. A fearful storm raged. At last she reached a high mountain top on which there was only room for her foot. Here she stood a second above the dark-threatening mountain forest lashed by the wind, high and free, above the mountains and the clefts, above the firs and the waters, alone in the world. She no longer felt, she did not see Pain who cowered near to her on a rocky ledge and waited. Now he raised his hand and cast lightning upon lightning towards her. From her crown to her feet she felt herself torn and penetrated by these glowing rays.

She silently extended her arms and turned round slowly. As she did so, the last lightning dart pierced through her eyes into her heart, and she fell down, down, deep into the yawning precipice. Pain listened until he heard her fall, and then laughed terribly. The mountains answered his laugh with thundrous voice, the firs bent and broke, the waters stood still a second for fear.

How long Sorrow lay in that abyss none knew, for none asked after her. The firs alone kept watch over the sleeper and whispered dreams to her that she did not hear.

One day strong steps broke the silence, and Courage, his club upon his shoulder, came singing by. He beheld Sorrow as she lay there, her head on a stone, her feet in the water, encircled with her long black hair that had been bathed in blood. He raised the body and rubbed her numb hands.

"Have I got you at last?" he said, "I wanted to find you. You may not die, you must be alive again."

He warmed her in his arms, he revived her with his breath until she opened her eyes.

"Why do you seek me?" she asked in tuneless voice. "I am dead."

"The world misses you, you must wander again. Sin reigns unchecked since you have vanished."

"Let her keep her empire," said Sorrow, and closed her eyes.

Courage shook her.

"It must not be, little sister, you must wander again."

"But I am dead, do you not see? Do you not see that I am burnt?—my brain, my eyes, my heart; leave me alone."

"That does not concern the world whether you wander through it dead or alive, but wander you must. I will not let you go till you do."

He raised her on her feet. She turned and looked at him. He grew pale. Her face was stony, her eyes stony, her hair hung round her rigid and dead.

[Pg 217-218]

"Shall I go?" she said, without moving her lips.

"Go," said Courage, "for you all pains are past; you will gaze into the world indifferently, a fearful enemy to Sin."

Sorrow swept her hair from off her marble brow, and tried to collect herself. As memory stirred, her eyes began to flash again; but their light died down almost immediately. Yes, she had grown terrible, as terrible as Pain had desired in his fierce vengeance, as terrible as she needed to be to put a curb on Sin. Poor little Sorrow!

[Pg 219-220]