As she rode into the village the inhabitants gathered around her. She found herself in the midst of a crowd of grey-headed men and women, many of whom touched her dress and kissed her hand, while others knelt down and almost worshipped her; she reminded them of their own early days, a sweet personification of the young spring. Beryl lifted up her voice, and said,—
"Dear reverend people, you all know of the sadness of our sovereign and of its cause; and now our dear Princess shares his sorrow. We are ignorant and inexperienced,
neither have we any wise men or women to counsel us; therefore I pray you tell me, is there any way to keep our youths and maidens always young, that they may never know age?"
A long wailing cry was heard from the people of the village,—
"There is no way—no way!" One old man, who was bent and tottering, raised his wrinkled face to the maiden's, and said,—
"Spring gives place to summer, and summer to autumn, and autumn to winter. What would you? Age is beautiful; it is a time of peace, of meditation. Youth knows not rest; it is ever striving, fighting, suffering. When age comes upon us we cease to enjoy as keenly as the young, but we cease to suffer as bitterly as they who are in the spring of life. If the scent of the air is less fresh and the voice of the brook is less sweet, why, the thunder clouds are less dark and the storm is robbed of its fury."
Beryl bowed her head and rode away. As she passed through the gate an old woman followed her, and whispered these words,—
"An hour before sunset, on the longest day of summer, Time, in his chariot, rides through the Village of Youth. If each year thou canst prevent his doing so, the world
will still grow old, but the Village of Youth will remain young for ever."
"Alas, good dame, how can I hope to succeed in this endeavour?"