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?"