PEACE dwelt within a deep, silent mountain tarn that was unfathomable, yet reflected, notwithstanding, the sky's eternal blue. About it tall cliffs reared their heads, that shone at eve with rosy sheen, while beyond it was protected by a dense forest in which an ax had never sounded. Neither Sorrow nor Strife had ever come in here; even the wind could find no entry, for the rocks had pushed themselves forward so protectingly that Winter also had to rest content with shaking in lightly quite a few of his flakes, for there were warm springs in the tarn, so Frost had no power over it. It was ever green and flowering round about the shore, and the song of birds filled the air. When Peace lay floating on the quiet surface of the tarn all the flowering and singing streamed towards him. Then he would smile blissfully, and kiss the sunbeams that darted their warm arms towards him; ay, he would encircle them and draw them under the water and play hide-and-seek with them behind the trees and leaves. He was such a glorious youth that all things loved him; they loved his blue eyes, fathomless like the lake whence he arose, his ruddy lips, his wondrous voice, his happy laughter. No wonder that the sunbeams sought him, that the moss trembled with joy when he stepped lightly across it, that the leaf trembled that touched his brow, that the deer gazed long into the stream wherein he had seen his image, that the elves and nixes could only dream of him.

But one day a sound of weeping and sighing swept through the forest, as though the trees made plaint, and from their leaves fell drops and woke the fair sleeper whom the sunbeams had lulled to rest. Amazed, he gazed around him. A girlish figure came towards him, with pale face and long dark lashes and sad, sad eyes. She dragged her feet wearily across the moss and sank down beside him.

"Who are you?" he asked, astonished.

"I am Sorrow; Mother Patience sends me to you."

"Who is Mother Patience? and who is Sorrow? I have never heard of them."

"There is much you have not heard of, for you do not know the world."

Peace smiled. "Do you know it, then?"

Sorrow sighed and nodded her head.

"Look at me," she said, "am I beautiful?"

Peace looked at her long, until he had read the whole history of the world in the depths of her solemn eyes. Sorrow felt so blissful as she gazed at him, and every hour she spent with him the poor maiden felt warmer about her heart, and love entered into it with all its power and might. When evening came Peace had read every thing. He shuddered.

"No," he said, "you are not beautiful."

Sorrow felt her heart stand still. She said softly—

"Then you will not go with me?"

Peace trembled.

"Oh no," he said, "not with you. It is so lovely here."

"Yes, it is beautiful, but the wisest of women bids me tell you that your realm is too small; you are born to rule, and she has read in the Book of Life that a time will come when you shall reign over all things."

Peace looked thoughtfully down into the tarn.

"But if I am satisfied with my kingdom here?" he said. "I am not ambitious, I need no fame and no might, I have all I require."

"But if the whole world became like this holy spot, then it would be yet more beautiful, and you only need to show yourself as you are to carry off the victory and make it so."

"Do you think so?" said Peace, and he looked at her again with his lovely eyes, in whose depths dwelt rest and purity. Sorrow's heart stood still until Peace looked away from her into the water and continued thoughtfully. "I will go and see for myself whether the world wants me without having ever beheld my face. If she calls me I will come, for I will not fight with her. Farewell, Sorrow. I will test the world to see if I can found my kingdom in her."

Sorrow remained lost in wonder concerning him long after he had vanished from her gaze. A bird flew over her head towards the evening sky, flapping its wings as it went. Sorrow fell on her knees beside the tarn. The waters had grown dark, and through the forest went a sound as of sighs. The poor maid trembled like a leaf in the wind.

Here, in the realm of Peace, none understood the woe that shook her breast.

"You are not beautiful," were the words that sounded to her from all sides—out of the wood, the water, out of her own heart-beats. Night came by gently, and sought her darling whom she had ever kissed asleep. She only found Sorrow, and looked at her gloomily.

"What have you done to my Peace?" she asked, in threatening tones.

"I have fetched him away," moaned Sorrow, and wrung her hands.

Night frowned yet more darkly.

"In punishment," she said, "you shall ever seek him and never find him. Now go!"

Sorrow went forth like to a moaning wind that rushes through the trees. She wanted to seek for Peace in the world. For a long, long while she never visited Mother Patience, for she now only thought of one and had forgotten the good mother. Peace hovered over the world as a bird, and he beheld how Strife and his children had devastated it. He saw bloody battlefields, and at sight of the first corpse he grew so giddy that he was near to fall down with awe. When he beheld murder his heart grew sore in his breast, as though he had himself been wounded, and he flew on, away from the scene.

He flew over a great city. There he saw a light burning in an attic window. He looked in. A pale man sat there, and coughed and wrote with long white fingers.

"And I, too, shall be great, ay, surely," he murmured to himself. "I feel it in my breast like fire; there is a light in my brain that shall illumine the world."

"Poor fool," thought Peace; "Ambition is hunting you to death and you do not know it."

From out a vine-wreathed window there gazed a lovely girlish head.

Peace thought—"She is like my elves," and he flew in.

But how bitterly was he disenchanted. Flowers and dresses lay about in tardy confusion, and the fair one maintained that last evening she had exceeded in charm all others at the ball. Her sister scolded at all balls; ay, said the whole world was stupid.

"I wish I was that bird who has just come in," she added.

"He, oh, he will dirty every thing!" said the other, and chased him out again.

In a lonely house there sat an aged woman, and read out of a large Bible. Deadly pale her youngest son rushed into her room. He was the only one that remained to her this side the ocean, and he asked her for money; he must have money or he would shoot himself. The Bible fell from the old woman's hand, she could not help the reprobate any more; for though he knew it not she had already sacrificed to him all her little wealth and even the very house she dwelt in.

In a beautiful garden a nobleman tended his sickly daughter who needed air and light, a very angel of patience and beauty; meanwhile her callous mother preferred the idle pleasures of the drawing-room to the care of her sick child.

In a field Peace saw a number of lads and maidens cutting corn. They laughed and sang, and threw down their sickles and seated themselves beneath an apple-tree to enjoy their midday meal and rest. Peace flew above them and settled among the branches to listen to their prattle until the lads fell asleep, while the maidens continued to chatter softly. Then a man came across the field. He wore a broad brimmed hat, and under it loomed forth his dark, bad face. He woke the lads with kicks, he threatened the maidens with his stick, called them lazy and drove them to their work.

Again, further on he beheld a lovely girl given to wife to a rich monster, notwithstanding her pleadings and prayers. He saw sisters and brothers haggling over the coffin of a father; even among little children he witnessed strifes that showed him that they bore within them the seeds of future passions.

Peace flew towards the south, where lovely girls swung carelessly in hammocks, rocking themselves and torturing their slaves. He flew to the north, and beheld a large city full of light-minded women and unfaithful men, who rushed from one amusement to another—now on the ice, now in the ball-room, now in sledges, now on or behind the stage. He flew to the far west, and beheld a rushing and racing after gain—restless, endless. He flew to the east, and saw noble men and women working in exile like to day-laborers, heavy at heart with cold and home-sickness. He flew into the desert, and saw lonely travelers languishing for water. He flew all over and around the world, but every where he beheld the signs of pain and struggle. So he went back to his mountain tarn, and he resolved never to leave his little realm again. How amazed was he to behold on its shores a great monastery, built of huge solid stones, that made it appear as though it had stood there for ages.

"I must have been long absent," thought Peace, as he entered into the convent.

He stepped inside a wide stone cell, whose tall pointed windows looked out upon his lake and on the rosy shimmering cliffs beyond. A young monk sat by an organ, playing and singing in heart-moving tones, as if he would communicate to the walls the storm that shook his soul. An older monk had risen from a table, on which, as also on the floor, lay strewn open folios. He seated himself in the window-niche and covered his face with his hands. Of a sudden the door was opened, and there entered an emaciated monk with flaming eyes. His fierce regard rested sternly on the younger man. Then he turned his haggard form towards the man in the window-niche, and pointing to the door he said—

"For you, my son, these sounds are noxious poison, which only strict penance can remedy."

The man addressed bowed his head and went out.

"And you, my son, sin daily by your song. Your life becomes enjoyment in lieu of penitence, and you lead astray your brethren also. From to-day forward song and organ are forbidden you."

And he walked to the instrument, locked it, and, putting the key in his pocket, he went away. The younger man fell upon his knees before the organ and kissed it like a dead bride, and then went out into the church.

Peace leant against a beech-tree and wept passionately. "The whole world is a struggle, and they have taken from me my only home. Farewell, my silent lake!"

And once more he went out into the world.

He came past a churchyard and went in, going from grave to grave till he came to the chapel, where a woman knelt and sobbed.

"Not even here," said Peace, and turned to go further.

Then he saw a neglected grave, all overgrown with trailing ivy. Cross and inscription had long vanished, the mound had sunk, only the ivy wound its arms lovingly over the forgotten spot.

"Here is my kingdom," said Peace, and he sank down among the leaves.

But Sorrow yet roams the world in search of Peace, for she can never forget him. Yet, wherever she asked, wherever she sought, nowhere could she find him. Some had seen him go by, but none had been able to hold him. She passed through the church-yard, and stepped by the new graves, only the neglected one she did not visit.