And he made balls out of flowers and threw them at her, and watched her movements as she caught them laughing and shouting gleefully. Then he made her run and he ran after. Then he blindfolded his eyes with leaves, and she teased him till he caught her. At last she grew so wanton that she bound him round with creepers, upon which he made as though he could not stand, and let himself fall into the grass. She laughed merrily, and strewed him with flowers and leaves; but when she had nearly covered him, he shook himself free, sprang up, raised her high into the air, and ran with her to the wood.
"Mother, mother!" called the terrified maiden.
Then the sun sank and night covered all things.
Truth sat in her crystal castle and waited for her daughter. She wondered where the sweet child could have strayed, and tried to behold her as she saw all things. But fear for her own flesh and blood troubled her vision. She passed her hand before her eyes several times, but she clearly beheld the sun set and the moon rise so she could not be blind. When the moon shone down on her castle, she heard quite distinctly her child's voice crying in terror, "Mother, my mother!" and the next moment, with a fearful crash, the castle of crystal was rent in twain from top to bottom. Truth grew yet paler than the moon that was shining into her face. She rushed down the mountain. The stream sparkled in the moonlight, and there lay the topaz pitcher and a smell of crushed flowers filled the air. The mourning mother stood still and asked of Night where was her child, and all the flowers began to weep and drooped their heads in sorrow, and soon the whole meadow was wet with their tears.
Truth went onward, petrified, following the traces of her child deep into the wood, where the moon played with the shadows and conjured forth all sorts of shapes. She went on and on, till at last she heard a sound of weeping, and the next moment she stood before her daughter, who lay on her knees and stretched out her arms towards her. No one spoke a word, even Night held her breath; but the eyes of Truth began to glow like flames of fire. With one look she burnt her daughter's hair, with the next she dazzled Strife, who stood entranced and could only stare at her. He felt the pain of it shoot through all his body, he put his hand up to his eyes, he tottered and fell against a tree. He wanted to see; he knew that Innocence was kneeling there in the moonlight, but he was stone blind; no ray of light was ever again to illuminate his darkness. At last Truth spoke with deep resounding voice—
"My child, you are torn from me for ever. Up here there is no longer room for you. Oh why did you not obey? I had warned you against every stranger; you were to speak to none, to give no answers. Here, take my cloak; at the foot of the mountain you will find shelter."
With these words she turned and went away, and her sighs bent the crowns of the trees, and grew to a great storm that raged through the world like an everlasting plaint. Strife stormed down the mountain and howled with pain and despair. Since that time he has grown yet more violent, for he is blind, and rushes through the world senselessly, trying to wreak vengeance on it for his eternal pain. Poor Innocence wrapped the cloak round her trembling limbs, and descended slowly into the valley. Her feet were scratched by the rough stones, and her tears flowed ceaselessly. A few hours ago and she had been the most lovely flower on the heights, and now she was crushed and trodden down. She came to the haunts of men, and knocked at their doors and asked for alms, but she got more abuse than alms. At last she came to the spot where Doubt dwelt, and one stormy night she passed with light foot over the bog, not knowing that death yawned under her feet. Doubt was amazed when he heard a tap at his door. Who could have crossed the bog on such a night! There stood a pale tired woman, and begged for shelter, and said she would not stay long.
"Who are you?" asked Doubt.
"I am called Innocence."
Doubt laughed a hard short laugh.