“Ah!” said the Singing Mouse, “how idle and weak is the human mind in the country where you live. Have you not said but now that, though she be myriads of miles away among the stars, she answers you when you whisper? Does she not hear? Do not her lips move in speech as you whisper?”

“That is true,” said I. “And will she always hear?”

“She will always hear,” said the Singing Mouse. “So this sorrow will not come as you fear.”

“And shall I reach out and touch her hair as it lies spread and dark?” This I asked of the Singing Mouse.

“You shall touch it, spread and dark, and fragrant as when you were young,” said the Singing Mouse, “if so you wish.”

So then it seemed that perhaps all sorrows, even very great ones, are a part of life. Although I know that, if I could no longer know the fragrance of her hair, or hear the whisper of her answer, then that sorrow would be more than I could bear.

The Shoes of the
Princess Once I was in a place where there were those who had opened many tombs, and had taken from the tombs, that had been in Egypt, and were very old, many things that had been placed there for silence and repose thousands of years ago. There were grave-clothes and grave-caskets, the one embroidered, the other graven; and the colors of both were as they were thousands of years ago. There were signs over which men pondered, not knowing their own writing, and their own thoughts, and their own fate. There were also, a sad thing to see, the bodies of those that had died long ago, that had lain down for rest and silence; and of these some were called kings, and some were called queens and others princesses; and all had once been young, and some had once been beautiful. For here, after thousands of years, was praise of their beauty, and love and care for it. So I pondered very long and sadly. But most I looked at two little golden shoes. These little shoes had once been the shoes of one who lay here, a princess, dead thousands of years, and once very beautiful, as these carven symbols told. They were small and dainty and threaded with fine gold, and laced across with care about the feet of her who was once a woman and a princess and owner of much beauty, and who was in her life beloved, and in her death mourned; as these graven symbols said. A thousand years this love reached out its arms to her to-day; although for a thousand years Death had enfolded her in his grasp, that does not yield. She who had lain down for rest and silence was still here, withal at rest in her grave-garb, and silent in her sleep; but those who had done these things had removed the grave-clothing so that these small shoes could be seen, still upon the feet of the princess that had slept a thousand years, enfolded in love.