"Thou shouldst not have gone to seek the Garden of the Past; even I cannot gain access to its groves," he said, when she had revived.
"I am grieved, and wish I had not ventured thither."
Touched by her sorrowful contrition, the youth held up a bunch of faded red poppies and said soothingly,—
"I thought of thee as I passed by the Village of Youth."
"Tell me, my dear lord, why is it that the sea washing the shores of the Garden of the Past is not salt, but fresh as a mountain spring?" said Beryl, taking the dead flowers and holding them tenderly in her hand.
"All bitterness is purged from the Past, my child; therefore the waters that wash its shores are sweet."
III.
So years and years fled by, but there was no change in the Village of Youth. It was always summer and always daylight. In the success of Beryl's scheme the King found the dearest wish of his heart gratified. His face regained its former beauty, and his manner its old charm. But at length, although he would not breathe the fact aloud, the unending season began to pall upon him.
Always summer and always daylight! His wedding-day would never come, for the present time would never pass. At length the sun grew hateful to him. He longed for night, and he gazed with agony upon the face of his ever-youthful love. When he walked through the gardens he prayed that the flowers might wither. He was weary of seeing them always the same, shedding the same scent on the air, never less, never more. The lark soaring upwards sang the same song of liberty and hope all through the unending day. No change in the Village of Youth, young for ever.