Theirs the glory, hers the guerdon.
It happened one day that two princes came walking over the earth of each in the other’s direction.
One of them came from the North, the other from the South. They were both tall, taller than men, taller than any champion of romance. They carried their heads royally and high and set their feet firmly upon the ground, as if it belonged to them.
The one who came from the North was the elder. He was an old man with a might of white hair and beard; his naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and hands. He looked strong and wild, with cold, stern eyes.
The one who came from the South was young, but no less powerful than the other. His face and hands were burned by the sun, his eyes strong and gentle as the sun. Over his shoulder he wore a purple cloak, round his loins a golden girdle. In the girdle was a wonderful red rose.
When the princes saw each other from afar, they stopped for a moment and then walked quickly on again, as though they longed to meet. But, when they had come a little closer to each other, they both stood still once more. The young one shivered when he met the old one’s glance; and the sweat sprang to the old one’s brow when the young one looked at him.
They stood thus for a time. Then they sat down, each upon a mountain, and gazed at each other and waited for a while in silence.
The young one was the first to speak:
“You are Winter, I presume?” he asked.
The old one nodded: