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.
"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!
_HEAVENLY GIFTS._
Heavenly Gifts.
The forest gorge was full of the sound of trickling and running waters.
A streamlet skipped from rock to rock. Through the dense foliage
a sunbeam crept here and there, and changed into a rainbow in the
embraces of the waters. Here and there dark little pools formed, upon
whose surface floated a withered leaf, until it came too close to
the current and vanished, whirling over the nearest waterfall. Huge
tree trunks had fallen across the gorge. They were used as bridges
by the mosses and climbing plants that overgrew them with exuberant
vitality, and hung down from their sides as though they would drink of
the waters that murmured beneath. There of a sudden a wondrously white
arm stretched forth from out of the climbing plants. In its delicate
hand it held a staff of rock crystal with a diamond knob, that flashed
and glistened strangely, as though the sun had stepped down to behold
itself in the mountain stream. Then fair curls came to view over the
confusion of plants that covered the tree trunk; then a rosy face, with
large dreamy eyes, now black, now dark blue in color, according to the
thoughts that swayed under the cover of its curls. Anon the charming
being knelt, and one could see the golden girdle that held the soft
garment which clung about her tender form, and her other hand that
held a spindle cut from a single emerald, which she twirled in the air
as though she would that it outshine the green of the beech leaves.
"Oh, Märchen,[2] Märchen," the brook began to sing, "will you not bathe
to-day? Put by your staff and spindle and dip down to me. I have not
kissed you to-day."
The fair head peeped down and looked into the wood. No, there was no
one there, not even a deer. So Märchen laid distaff and spindle among
the moss of the tree trunk, twisted her hair into a knot, let fall her
linen garment, and, seizing hold of two twigs, let herself glide down
to the surface of the brook, and then began to swing merrily to and
fro, her feet touching the water as she swung. But the brook did not
cease from singing, and from imploring her to come down into him. Then
she let go the twigs, and fell, like a shower of spring blossoms, into
its wavelets.
Far from here was a lonely gorge. Rock towered upon rock, and a torrent
forced its way through with difficulty. There a grave man leaned and
looked down into the waterfall. His brow was thoughtful; the hand that
rested upon the stones was delicate, almost suffering. A pencil had
fallen from its grasp. Suddenly there sounded a wondrous singing from
out the waterfall, and the man's brow grew clearer as he listened.
That was the moment when Märchen had touched the waters, and it sang
and sounded and was full of lovely forms and sweet songs and many fair
things that attracted that lonely man. He listened enraptured, and his
soul expanded with the things he heard. The brook itself hardly knew
what it babbled; it still trembled from having felt Märchen's touch,
and it sang for sheer joy. The lonely man departed with lightened brow
and airy steps as though the air bore him. He had not long gone before
Märchen appeared upon one of the highest rocks, swung her distaff in
the air, and filled it with gossamer that glistened in the dew. Then
she skipped down, broke a branch from a blossoming wild rose-bush and
encircled the distaff with it in lieu of a ribbon, put it into her
belt, and, jumping from stone to stone, crossed the brook and went
far into the forest. The birds flew about her and chirped to her
news of the east and west, the north and south. Squirrels slid out of
the trees, seated themselves at her feet, looked at her with their
sage eyes, and recounted all that had happened in the wood. The deer
and does came about her; even the blind worms reared their heads and
chattered with their sharp tongues. Märchen stood still and listened;
and from time to time she touched her distaff as though she would say,
"Remember."
The forest grew ever denser, the flowers that sent out their scent to
Märchen more luxurious. At last she had to bend the branches apart
in order to penetrate further. There stood a dream-like castle with
tall gabled windows, into which grew the tree branches, and from out
which tumbled creeping plants. Roof and walls had vanished beneath
the roses that grew over all things, and out of the castle sounded a
thousand songs of birds. Märchen stepped to the open door and entered
the wide hall, whose floor and walls were of jewels, and in whose midst
a tall fountain played. Round about stood hundreds of Kobolds. They
had brought with them little stools of pure gold, and waited to see if
their sweet queen be content. She smiled approvingly, and thanked her
friends. In midst of all this shimmering splendor fair Märchen stood
like a reviving sunbeam.
"See how I have filled my distaff to-day," she said, genially. "I
believe a magnet lives in your crystal, to which all things fly. Will
you not fill it yet fuller?"
The Kobolds frowned, which made them look very comic, and one said--
"We have resolved to tell you nothing more, because you let it flow
from you like the water that tumbles yonder. We have watched you. When
you go forth at eve, you go to our enemies, the mortals--those wretched
thieves that rob our treasures, and you tell them our secrets."
"No," said Märchen, "I do not go to all mortals; only to some--your
friends, who love you as I do; and I only tell them as much as they
deserve. Will you not go on trusting me?"
They pushed a golden stool near to the fountain and began to recount to
Märchen, whose eyes gleamed like the ocean. When she had heard enough,
and given it to the distaff to guard, she nodded to her little guests,
who hurried away. She then passed into the nearest chamber. There stood
such a wealth of flowers that one could not tell where first to rest
one's eyes. The walls were covered with all the wonders of the tropics;
from the ceiling hung orchids; the floor was overgrown with soft green
moss, from which peeped crocuses, hyacinths, violets, primroses, and
lilies of the valley. Hummingbirds and nightingales greeted their queen
joyously, while from the flower crowns elves uprose and stretched out
their arms in love.