WOVEN IN THE TAPESTRY 
 
 BY 
 EMILY POST 
 
GIFT OF 
 
WOVEN IN THE TAPE5TRY 
 
WOVEN IN THE TAPESTRY 
 
 BY 
 EMILY POST 
 
 New York 
 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 MCMV1II 
 
COPYRIGHT, igo8, BY 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 
 All rightt reserved 
 
To 
 the memory of 
 
 BRUCE, PRICE 
 
 Not as being worthy, but as the best she has. 
 
 this book is dedicated by 
 
 his daughter. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION . , .II 
 
 I. THE GARDEN . . . . 17 
 
 II. THE STONE IDOL . . . . 23 
 
 III. THE ARTIST AND THE HERMIT . 29 
 
 IV. THE LABYRINTH . 39 
 V. THE CLOTH OF LIFE . . .47 
 
 VI. TWO POETS . . |p . 57 
 
 VII. THE PRINCESS AND THE JESTER 65 
 
 VIII. ON THE BEACHES . . -75 
 
 IX. THE STORY OF THE MYSTIC . 83 
 
 X. THE POET AND THE PRINCESS . 9* 
 
 XL THE HERMIT S DISCIPLE . . 105 
 
 XII. THE MEETING . ., . 115 
 
 XIII. AS IT IS DESTINED . . .123 
 
 XIV. THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCESS 133 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 rHESE are the tales of Ateria, a 
 country which long ago lay on the 
 distant borderlands; of the pagan King 
 Thyaterion and his daughter the Prin 
 cess Alaeia; of the Hermit in the forest, 
 and of the stranger who came to live for 
 a while as the Hermit s disciple. And 
 also these are the tales of those who 
 lived in the village, and of those who 
 lived in the City, and lastly of the Forest 
 itself, and of the Gardens of the King. 
 
 There has been found in the ruins of 
 the Monastery that once stood between 
 the City and the Forest a map, which 
 makes plain the seemingly convicting 
 stories of the ancient chroniclers. 
 
 Kahras, the scholar, wrote of a great 
 city of many thousand souls; of paved 
 streets, temples of marble, and build 
 ings of stone. He said that the King s 
 domain lay directly against the boundary 
 of the City, divided from it by a wall 
 II 
 
Introduction 
 
 of massive stone, with -watch towers set 
 at equal distances, and at the base a 
 moat, wide as a river. 
 
 A guarded draw-bridge pierced the 
 center of this wall, and all who went 
 to see the King were led by soldiers 
 through innumerable courtyards, long 
 passageways and other walled enclos 
 ures, until finally they arrived at an 
 inner court where mounted horsemen 
 were ranged, spear in hand, like statues 
 wrought in bronze. 
 
 Leading from this court, and blazing 
 with the light of countless torches, was 
 the throne room: a great vaulted cham 
 ber, at the far end of which stood the 
 throne, high-crowned upon a night of 
 steps. Up these steps on either side 
 were lined the body-guard of the King; 
 clean-limbed men from the country 
 close beneath the sun, like images of 
 polished ebony, clothed in silks and hung 
 with ornaments of gold; and in their 
 hands they held drazvn cimiters wrought 
 splendidly and incrusted with jewels. 
 Behind these blacks were soldiers, and 
 behind them again torch-bearers ranged 
 themselves along walls hung with tap 
 estries and the skins of beasts. At the 
 
 12 
 
Introduction 
 
 feet of King Thyaterion sat Torqueo 
 the jester. 
 
 To the right of the King s dais was 
 a second, lower one, for the Queen and 
 her attendants. 
 
 Of the Princess Alaeia, Kahras 
 wrote that he had seen her stand beside 
 the imperial throne like a statue of 
 some goddess carved in ivory and hung 
 with offerings of gems; for she was 
 robed in jewels, from the diadem that 
 crowned her head to the golden sandals 
 on her feet: lifeless she might have 
 been, save for her clear-gazing eyes, 
 which seemed to penetrate the mind of 
 each man in the multitude that made 
 the pageant at the foot of her father s 
 throne. 
 
 So much for the account of Kahras f 
 Now, besides Kahras there was another 
 scribe, named Ghan. Ghan lived in a 
 thatched hut on the edge of a river 
 along whose opposite banks were the 
 Gardens of the King. These gardens 
 he had seen always for leading directly 
 from the village where he lived, was a 
 wide bridge over which the villagers 
 might go at any time to the palace, 
 which stood at the summit of many ter- 
 
 13 
 
Introduction 
 
 races, where its marble towers and col 
 onnades gleamed through the trees. 
 
 Ghan did not write of a vaulted throne 
 room, nor of pomp and ceremonial: by 
 his account the King sat chiefly in an 
 open court walled with vines and over 
 looking the terraces of the garden. 
 Torqueo, the jester, was always near 
 him, but there were neither courtiers 
 nor soldiers. 
 
 Often and often had Ghan seen the 
 Princess; and he zvrote of her as a 
 blithesome maid sitting upon her fa 
 ther s knee, her arm clasped about his 
 neck, and listening to all discourse with 
 eager eyes, her face a changing mirror 
 of many moods. "She was indeed," 
 Ghan wrote, "a sunny-souled Princess, 
 our Alaeia; zvho, little more than a 
 child, was no less the Princess; and 
 being the Princess, was no less that 
 dearest maid who held the hearts of the 
 village people in her own. 
 
 In addition to these two opposed ac 
 counts is one of a traveller who jour 
 neyed through a vast forest and brought 
 back word of an enchanted Princess 
 in a garden surrounded by unscalable 
 cliffs. This was all the traveller could 
 
 14 
 
Introduction 
 
 learn, though he came to a point beyond 
 which he could advance no further, 
 where he was told lay this very garden. 
 
 Then there is the record left by a 
 ship s captain who came once to an 
 unknown coast, which he afterwards 
 learned was Ateria; but he saw there 
 neither buttressed walls, nor gardens, 
 nor enchanted forest only a rocky 
 shore broken by sandy beaches. 
 
 Now at last with the aid of the map, 
 it is easy to see that all these accounts 
 were true: In the very center, like a 
 jewel, lay the Garden of the King. 
 The southeastern portion was low and 
 sloped with sandy beaches into the sea; 
 the northern part of the eastern bound 
 ary was a rocky coast. All of the gar 
 den rose gently toward the north where 
 high walls cut it off completely from 
 the City. 
 
 The castle on the southern side stood 
 free and clear with terraces sloping 
 gently down to the river and the village. 
 In the west, steep mountains made an 
 impassable barrier between the garden 
 and the forest whose only gateway was 
 the Labyrinth of the Princess, through 
 ivhich she alone could go from the Gar- 
 
 15 
 
Introduction 
 
 den into the Forest. Somewhere be 
 tween the Village and the City, in the 
 heart of the Forest, cut off on the north 
 and the south by mountain chains, was 
 the Hermit s hut. 
 
 Such was a portion of the kingdom 
 of Ateria during the reign of Thyaterion, 
 last of the pagan rulers, but not the last 
 of their blood; for that has descended in 
 many noble lines even to this day. 
 
 16 
 
THE GARDEN 
 
THE. GARDEN 
 
 LONG, long ago, so long indeed that 
 Earth herself was young, there 
 was made a forest garden a garden 
 that Nature had planned in a girlhood 
 mood, and into which she had put all 
 the gladness of a summer holiday. 
 
 The tree tops shot up gaily, each as 
 it pleased; the little creepers wandered 
 fearlessly, embraced the trees and plants 
 they loved, and ran unchecked among 
 the flowers and over the moss. Then 
 Nature laughed! a happy, joyous laugh. 
 
 Now high up on the mountain top a 
 little spring lay dozing in his bed of 
 rock: but at the laugh of Nature he 
 raised his head, and full of curiosity, 
 peeped over the mountain s rim. And as 
 he peeped, Nature laughed again so hap 
 pily that the little spring bubbled up 
 with laughter too, and straightway ran 
 
 19 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 over the edge of the mountain down 
 into the very heart of the garden ; carry 
 ing the glad news all the way to the 
 river in the valley below. 
 
 The years went on, and Nature grew 
 from a joyous girl to a busy mother; 
 but still she loved to spend here, amid 
 her own wild bloom, each moment 
 spared from toil in all the gardens of 
 mankind. Of these latter the most beau 
 tiful by far was the great King s Gar 
 den which stood next this forest tangle, 
 where the highest tops of the forest 
 trees overlooked the long straight walks, 
 terrace steps, fragrant plants, and 
 smooth round trees, and told the wild 
 wood plants of all this stately beauty. 
 Then the forest green things sighed, 
 "Oh, why were we not chosen for the 
 Garden of the King?" 
 
 Now as it chanced, the great King s 
 gardener came one day to the edge of 
 this playground of Nature s girlhood, 
 and stood amazed that the forest held 
 this beauty in its depth. Then his eyes 
 sparkled, and clapping his hands he 
 cried: "O ho! but this will make a 
 garden worthy of a King a garden such 
 as the eye of man has never beheld !" 
 20 
 
The Garden 
 
 All the trees and vines and plants 
 heard, and their leaves danced airily in 
 their gladness, for now at last they were 
 to be in that wonderful unknown gar 
 den of which the highest tree tops whis 
 pered. But when cruel sharp things came 
 in the hands of men, they were afraid, 
 and with quaking stems cried out to the 
 brook to quickly run and find dear 
 Mother Nature! But the Forest was 
 now under the discipline of Man. So 
 her children tried to be brave by whis 
 pering one to the other, "We are to be 
 a garden such as the eye of Man has 
 never yet beheld !" 
 
 All this while the soft moss carpet 
 was pulled up, and bricks and pebbles 
 pressed down hard upon the open side 
 of Earth; trees were torn from her 
 resisting arms, the trailing culprit vines, 
 that tried to run and hide beneath the 
 plant s protecting leaves, were caught 
 and bound to hard, relentless stakes. 
 But through all the ache and change, 
 with the faithful love of a mother, 
 Nature watched, awaiting the moment 
 when she should be allowed to return. 
 Then with her healing touch she cured 
 the hurts and laid her soothing hand 
 21 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 upon the straightened banks of that 
 babbling messenger, the brook, in whose 
 ripples the sound of that first day s 
 laughter would mingle always with the 
 soft veiled sigh of one who has lived 
 and seen. 
 
 At last the garden was finished, and 
 the great King came with all his court 
 to see. And it was the most beautiful 
 garden the eye of man had ever beheld ! 
 The flowers that had lived grew to a 
 fuller beauty; the trees were round with 
 perfect symmetry, not sending jagged 
 shoots in ill proportion up to meet the 
 sky : all was unity and perfection. 
 
 And the King marvelled and was 
 pleased, and around the neck of the 
 man that had done this thing he hung a 
 golden chain. 
 
 But a wood-thrush sat on a willow 
 bough, looking in vain for that topmost 
 branch of the highest tree that the sun s 
 rays had first kissed each morning ! 
 And his notes piped low as he alone 
 saw, deep hidden under the vines lux 
 uriant growth, the nails and cords that 
 bound them to the trellis. 
 
 22 
 
THE 5TONL IDOL 
 
II 
 
 THE STONE, IDOL 
 
 ON a hill above the Palace, at the 
 end of an avenue of gigantic 
 trees, stood the image of a pagan God. 
 He was hewn from stone of a greyish 
 white, and was sitting as tailors do ; his 
 arms outstretched as though he might 
 but that moment have threaded the 
 needle of destiny with a new thread of 
 life, to weave into the tapestry of the 
 Universe. His stone eyes stared un- 
 blinkingly, serenely, into space; and 
 upon his lips there was a broad smile 
 a carved stone smile. 
 
 When the Princess was a little child 
 she often begged that she might go 
 to see the "happy man" who always 
 laughed when she was near; and she 
 used to prattle to him and include him 
 in the games she played in the patch of 
 sunshine at his feet. 
 
 25 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 Perhaps it was because as a little child 
 she had loved him, that when she was 
 growing to young womanhood and her 
 soul began to make its question marks 
 upon the slate of her consciousness, she 
 used to stand for hours resting her 
 elbow on the Idol s knee and look above 
 the lips into the unblinking eyes that 
 stared into space. 
 
 "Ah thou dear God," she thought, "I 
 would I had a portion of thy wisdom; 
 a portion of the knowledge of truth, 
 of which thou art thyself the emblem ! 
 Thou sittest with thine arms out 
 stretched in benediction, thine eyes look 
 fearlessly into the future, thine unfading 
 smile foretells the best, the happiest side 
 of life." 
 
 The more the Princess stood before 
 the Idol, the more fervent she became, 
 and soon she brought him offerings and 
 filled the wrought bronze incense bra 
 ziers. And through the burning in 
 cense, she seemed to see his smile grow 
 broader and his eyes look down upon 
 her with loving kindness ; until at last 
 she prayed that he might be alive, that 
 he might take her by the hand and talk 
 to her. 
 
 26 
 
The Stone Idol 
 
 "Tell me, tell me, all the things I long 
 to know or send me some wise coun 
 sellor! Not one who prates of Court 
 and seemly manners, but one with un 
 derstanding heart, and soul, and mind, 
 who will take my hand and lead me 
 through the gardens in the sunlight, and 
 sit with me beside the river and tell me 
 all I cannot find in books Ah, books 
 are dry like powdered grain, and I am 
 thirsty !" 
 
 So she prayed ; and brought him offer 
 ings, until one day as she watched the 
 incense burn and the fragrant smoke 
 arise and melt into the air; the red 
 gold rays of the setting sun filtered 
 through an opening in the archway of 
 trees, and shone with ruddy brilliance 
 upon the Idol s face. 
 
 The Princess held her breath, believ 
 ing that the sunset glow was life and 
 animation within the image ; but the 
 sun s rays, pointing higher, became an 
 aureole, then a canopy, and finally with 
 drew. The last breath of incense melted 
 cold and clear, and suddenly she knew 
 that he was but an image of stone with 
 sightless eyes and grinning lips, and that 
 all the vision of his majestic peace and 
 27 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 fathomless wisdom was in her own 
 heart. In violent anger she struck the 
 image again and again until her 
 strength was spent and she fell prostrate 
 at his feet. 
 
 But the stone eyes of the Idol stared 
 unblinkingly, serenely into space; and 
 upon his lips there was a broad smile 
 a carved stone smile. 
 
 28 
 
THE ARTIST AND THE 
 HERMIT 
 
Ill 
 
 THE. ARTIST AND THE HLRMIT 
 
 AT the edge of the village, where the 
 hills spread in a widening radius to 
 the forest on one side and the sand- 
 dunes on the other, where the rolling 
 meadows came to his very door, dwelt 
 Aru the artist. He always sang as he 
 worked, because he loved his pictures 
 better than anything else better even 
 than the pretty maid with the long fair 
 tresses, who lived in the cottage where 
 the roses climbed. He painted her 
 portrait many times, and grew with 
 each attempt more self-complacent. 
 
 As he stood one day before her lat 
 est portrait, putting here a touch and 
 there a stroke, the smile grew broad 
 upon his lips, and throwing down his 
 brush he cried, "Ah, truly I am a great 
 artist, and this my masterpiece!" He 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 sauntered gaily to the door, and looking 
 up the village street, decided on a holi 
 day. "I will go into the Forest," he 
 thought, "the day is young, perchance I 
 may reach the Hermit s hut." 
 
 As he passed singing through the 
 village, the people said one to another, 
 "See! how happy is Aru, the painter. 
 What a fine thing it is to be great!" 
 And as Aru went on climbing the steep 
 path which led over the mountains into 
 the Forest, his mood became so merry 
 that he sang louder than ever. He 
 went on and on until at last he saw the 
 smoke of the Hermit s hut in the dis 
 tance. Quickening his pace he crossed 
 a bridge that spanned a deep gorge, 
 through which the river plunged, then, 
 following the level bank upon the far 
 ther shore, he came to the hut. The 
 door was shut, but nothing daunted, he 
 rapped loudly, calling, "It is I, Aru the 
 artist!" as though it were indeed an 
 honor for the Hermit to have such a 
 guest. 
 
 The door opened, and the Hermit, like 
 a living portrait, stood within the lin 
 tel s frame. His hood was drawn far 
 over his face, so that his countenance 
 
 32 
 
The Artist and the Hermit 
 
 was blurred in deep shadow, but he 
 bade Aru enter, asking him how fared 
 he and his art. 
 
 Aru needed no second bidding, with 
 head erect and fluent tongue he told of 
 his ability in handling light and shade 
 and form and color, until, encouraged 
 by his own recital, he no longer hesitated 
 to declare his genius to be unequalled. 
 
 "Indeed," the Hermit said, "and canst 
 thou exceed in skill the great masters 
 of the past as well as the lesser ones of 
 thine own day?" 
 
 Pressing the grey wall of his hut, an 
 unseen door swung open, revealing an 
 inner chamber, on the smooth stone walls 
 of which were paintings of such sur 
 passing excellence, that Aru stood as 
 one bereft of speech before the power of 
 the master who had worked these won 
 ders. In discouragement his head sank 
 on his breast, and his pride, which but 
 a moment since had shone with such 
 sure brilliancy, was extinguished as the 
 light of a fallen star. 
 
 "It cannot be," he cried, "that such 
 a thing was done by man! Surely this 
 is but a vision, that thou hast brought 
 to earth from higher spheres. Tell me, 
 
 33 
 
W oven in the Tapestry 
 
 was it man or spirit who spread these 
 colors and made this living wall?" 
 
 The Hermit answered, "These paint 
 ings, Aru, were done by the painter 
 Abbaris, who as his years grew ripe 
 retired from the world and lived to the 
 fulness of his span of life, an anchorite, 
 in this very hut. These last wonders 
 were thus accomplished by man, mortal 
 as thyself " 
 
 But Aru heard no more. He fled 
 with downcast eyes through the forest 
 where he had passed so joyously in the 
 morning. Again in his studio night fol 
 lowed day, and day came after night 
 many times, but Aru did no work. 
 What use to strive, he thought, since he 
 could never equal the painter Abbaris. 
 
 He went for consolation to the pretty 
 maid in the rose-covered cottage; but 
 she, scarce recognizing Aru in this dole 
 ful mien, found him far less pleasing 
 than before, when telling of his master 
 piece, wherein her face should be the 
 wonder of future generations. 
 
 She smiled and cast alluring glances 
 out of her velvet eyes, but he came not 
 under their charm, then she was merry 
 and tried to make him laugh, but he 
 
 34 
 
The Artist and the Hermit 
 
 would not. She threw him little queries 
 about his pictures, such as he never had 
 failed to seize, but his answers were 
 like futile revolutions of a windmill 
 when the wind is dying down. So the 
 pretty maid shrugged her shoulders, 
 glanced at her reflection in the glass, 
 and then began to weave a new hat 
 for the youth with the smiling glances, 
 who drove the bullock cart. 
 
 Finally in desperation Aru ran back 
 to the Hermit. "Alas, alas!" he cried, 
 "why didst thou show me that greater 
 man s creation! For now though idle 
 ness destroy my life, I can never paint 
 again !" 
 
 But the Hermit s eyes glowed. "Still 
 thy thoughts bend ever inward, bound 
 hard and fast upon thyself. Fool!" he 
 said, "come with me." 
 
 He left the hut and the painter fol 
 lowed dumbly a path which began a 
 steep ascent. After a while they came 
 to an open space, and the Hermit 
 paused. A great panorama of moun 
 tains spread before them: snow-tipped 
 peaks and sheer straight sides cut hun 
 dreds of feet downward to the rushing 
 cataracts of the river that looked, from 
 
 35 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 where they stood, like the little stream 
 of water running from the eaves of a 
 village hut after the rain. 
 
 The Hermit turned from the sub 
 limity of the view and looked upon the 
 artist. "Fool ! doubly fool ! Thou art 
 a tall man far above the middle height, 
 art thou not? And yet compare thy 
 puny stature with that of yonder moun 
 tains. Wouldst thou, because thou canst 
 not stand, as they, measuring from earth 
 to heaven, crawl on thy belly like an 
 earth-worm? Down in the valley there 
 lies a little stone must it roll itself un 
 der the first cart wheel that passes 
 because it too cannot be a mountain? 
 Why thinkest thou solely of the measure 
 of thine own worth? Hast thou lost 
 aught since thou earnest, like a frog 
 puffed up, before me? Why need truth 
 annihilate thee, since truth forever must 
 remain the object of attainment?" 
 
 As the Hermit spoke Aru looked up 
 to the mountains height, and then down 
 to where he imagined lay the little 
 stone ; and all at once the veil was lifted 
 and he saw clearly! 
 
 Aru went back to his paintings, but 
 whether they were worse or better, there 
 
 36 
 
The Artist and the Hermit 
 
 was ever much difference of opinion. 
 One thing is true ; that he never was as 
 great as the painter Abbaris, and an 
 other, that he no longer so easily pleased 
 the people in the Village. But though 
 perhaps he did not sing as loudly as he 
 used, it was no sign that his heart was 
 not in what he did but his joy was of 
 another kind and his work meant what 
 a man s work must when a man has be 
 held even a glimpse of the depth and the 
 height. 
 
 37 
 
THE LABYRINTH 
 
IV 
 THE, LABYRINTH 
 
 WHEN the Princess Alaeia drew 
 near her fifteenth birthday, she 
 dreamed three wonderful dreams. In 
 the first, she was a fish swimming in a 
 Forest river, and as she swam near the 
 surface of the water, a hind came 
 down to the river to drink. In the 
 overhanging branches of a tree she saw 
 a bird with sleek grey plumage; and 
 the bird must have been singing, for 
 the grey ruff under his throat was danc 
 ing. 
 
 In the second dream the Princess was 
 the hind leaping through the Forest and 
 along the banks of the river ; in the third 
 dream she was the bird singing in the 
 tree! so joyously that she awoke with 
 laughter on her lips and the last trill 
 of the song in her throat. 
 
 The memory of the Forest was so 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 clear that she wondered during the 
 days that followed whether her dream 
 had been no dream, but rather a vision 
 of previous births wherein she had been 
 some wild wood s creature. Gradually 
 her longing for the Forest grew, until 
 she looked at the dividing mountains 
 as though they must vanish like a wall 
 of mist before the sun of her desire. 
 But all along the mountain border on 
 the west the sides were sheer, and she 
 looked in vain for a path. 
 
 At last, as she sat at the edge of the 
 little stream running through the gar 
 den that once had been Nature s own, 
 she leaned far over the bank so that the 
 color of her dress danced on the surface 
 of the water, and suddenly, as though 
 the soft whispering sigh of the gurgling 
 stream broke into song, she seemed to 
 hear: "Lab lab labyr r r rinth!" 
 
 Now in the garden of the King there 
 was a Labyrinth whose tangled secret 
 might be known to the Princess only, 
 and in this there is a tale: 
 
 As each young daughter of the royal 
 line grew to be a maid, there developed 
 in her mind the picture of the Laby 
 rinth; so that she knew and knew not 
 42 
 
The Labyrinth 
 
 how she knew the secret of its wind 
 ing way. 
 
 But also as each Princess had be 
 come a wife, the image faded, so that 
 none again could find the way until the 
 next young daughter of the reigning 
 King, following her inherited impulse, 
 ran lightly through the intricate maze 
 and stood for the first time upon the 
 threshold of the Forest alone. 
 
 Once, many years before Alaeia s 
 birth, a Princess in the Forest loved a 
 knight; . . . and she was frail she 
 tried to retrace her steps, but in the 
 Labyrinth the plan that had been so 
 clear in her maiden mind vanished 
 from her memory. Bewildered, she 
 wandered back and forth between re 
 lentless walls, and never could she find 
 the path which she had lost. Ever 
 afterwards the entrance to the Labyrinth 
 bore this inscription carved in stone, 
 though no one knows by whom or 
 when: 
 
 Those who are born to high places 
 
 dare not falter. 
 
 Those who are free, are bound by 
 stronger bonds than chains." 
 
 43 
 
Woven In the Tapestry 
 
 And now as the time had come for 
 this mystery to be made clear to the 
 Princess Alaeia, even as it had been to 
 all the daughters of her race, suddenly 
 she turned from the purling stream and 
 cried aloud: 
 
 "Why have I not known before that 
 between those clumps of roses climbing 
 over that great grey rock is an open 
 space ; whence leads, amid a tangled way 
 of thorns, a road as clear and true as 
 the path of the rising moon upon the 
 Sea !" 
 
 Then straight as the bee flies to the 
 entrance of the hive, she sped to the 
 foot of the hanging gardens; between 
 the curtain of protecting thorns she 
 passed into the inner court. There be 
 fore her was the way, but for a mo 
 ment she paused, reading the inscription 
 as though it had been carved for her 
 alone, and in her heart she whispered, 
 "It is well." Then, like children who, 
 having said their prayers, turn suddenly 
 to play, she sped through the wind 
 ing paths; each opening arch that led 
 aright, she took unfalteringly, each turn 
 to right or left she made without 
 delay, until the last turn led her to the 
 
The Labyrinth 
 
 hollow tree which made a gateway on 
 the Forest side. Within the opening of 
 the tree she stood, her gaze wandering 
 through the Forest s green to where she 
 saw upon a river s bank a hut. A man 
 in dun-colored gown and hood was 
 standing in the doorway. He neither 
 moved nor spoke as the Princess drew 
 near. 
 
 Under the shadow of his hood, his 
 eyes seemed to gaze out of great depths, 
 and to penetrate through and far be 
 yond everything that they saw. And 
 then just as the picture of the Laby 
 rinth had come before her mind, the 
 Princess knew that she was standing 
 before the Hermit of the Forest. Her 
 voice came whispering as though she 
 feared the sound might wake her from 
 a dream, "Wilt thou teach me, Mas 
 ter?" 
 
 The Princess felt the Hermit s un 
 derstanding measure every hope and 
 thought of her young mind, and as she 
 stood within the radius of his gaze she 
 heard his voice, and it was unlike the 
 voice of any man that she had ever 
 heard it seemed as much a portion of 
 the Forest as the rushing streams, the 
 
 45 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 sighing wind, the whispering leaves; it 
 seemed an echo still vibrating from the 
 ages before man was. And then the 
 meaning of his words gradually filtered 
 through her vague perceptions and the 
 Princess heard: "It is written thou 
 shalt come when thou hast aught to 
 ask, yet this remember : thy need alone 
 may demand an answer, thy desire must 
 remain unfilled. In the furrows through 
 which the ploughshare has passed, may 
 grain be sown; trees are planted only 
 when one has digged deep into the 
 earth. In the Forest thou shalt be called 
 not Alaeia (royal) but La ia (free)." 
 
 The Princess waited eagerly for fur 
 ther words but the Hermit only 
 smiled. 
 
THE CLOTH OF LIFE 
 
THE CLOTH OF LIFE 
 
 AS a mist descends with increasing 
 thickness upon the land, so dissat 
 isfaction descended upon the spirit of 
 the Princess. 
 
 On a scroll which the Hermit gave 
 her she read of heroes who had done 
 noble things; and the more she read, 
 the more weary she became of the daily 
 repetition of her own existence, so that 
 her heart was filled not alone with the 
 desire to do some great and noble deed, 
 but to do this deed without delay. She 
 stood at the foot of the gardens, gazing 
 wistfully at the river, hoping perhaps to 
 see some one whom she might rescue 
 from its depths. But the water flowed 
 happily on, carrying no heavier burden 
 than its own ripples. She thought also 
 of rushing into a burning dwelling to 
 save imperilled children; but upon the 
 
 49 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 river s other bank the homes of the vil 
 lagers lay peaceful in the sun. 
 
 The Princess walked moodily toward 
 the gallery of the Queen; but half-way 
 there her imagination pictured maids 
 of honor seated at their embroidery 
 frames, prating of their own virtues and 
 others foibles, and with a shrug she 
 turned in the direction of the Laby 
 rinth. Through the gardens strolled a 
 courtier, who held out to her a rose and 
 turned a verse upon the flower s sem 
 blance to the color in her cheeks. 
 
 Without a word she took his offer 
 ing as though she might have plucked 
 it from a branch, and walked on quickly 
 to the hanging gardens. Once in the 
 Labyrinth the Princess seemed to van 
 ish, and Laia ran straight to the Her 
 mit s hut. 
 
 The Hermit sat at his table, drawing 
 upon a parchment ; he did not appear 
 to see the Princess, who seated herself 
 on a bench beside the door and waited 
 patiently. At last the Hermit turned 
 and listened to the story of her useless 
 life and her desire to do some heroic 
 deed. 
 
 "Oh, why," sighed the Princess, "is 
 
 50 
 
The Cloth of Life 
 
 there nothing given me to do? Each 
 day of my life goes mincing by, hand in 
 hand with the triviality of its oppor 
 tunities. Even this rose has had its 
 full perfection marred by the verses of 
 that flaxen-headed puppet!" 
 
 She held the rose a moment ; then put 
 it in the stone pitcher of the Hermit. 
 "Ah, now," she said, "you should be 
 happy, you rose! for you are steeped 
 in clear, fresh water from the Forest 
 spring, while I " she broke off with 
 another sigh and her eyes were full of 
 tears. 
 
 But the Hermit, as he watched her, 
 smiled. "Granting my power to give 
 thee thy desire, what wouldst thou 
 have?" 
 
 "Show me how I may do some great 
 and noble deed. Show me how I may 
 be given a chance to write my name in 
 the book of Life. Set me a task that 
 I may quickly do! I care not how 
 severe the test." 
 
 "The moment is not come. There is 
 no Giant s task thrown down upon a 
 given part of earth, for thee to do. 
 Yet there is much that thou canst every 
 hour accomplish: In the many little 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 threads thou weavest in thy daily life, 
 each very small alone, but slowly adding 
 to all that have gone before, thread by 
 thread thou mayest weave a tapestry." 
 
 "Alas! I fear that when the Fates 
 wove my life s beginning, they made an 
 empty loom!" 
 
 The Hermit, drawing his hood far 
 over his face, stood pondering. "Come," 
 he said at last, "look into my fire!" 
 
 The Princess lay down upon a skin 
 spread upon the earthen floor, and 
 looked as she was told into the flame 
 which burned, first yellow, then red, 
 then white: at last a grey vapor 
 seemed to rise and fill the chamber and 
 then all at once the Princess found her 
 self in an enormous hall. 
 
 All along the sides were transparent 
 cases in which were hung pieces of cloth 
 of different shapes and sizes; some 
 of them beautifully embroidered with 
 threads of gold, while some were mere 
 handfuls of worthless rags that might 
 have been gathered from a waste heap. 
 
 Down the center of the hall stood 
 many looms, and before them, each 
 weaving in her own apportioned hour, 
 sat radiant beings clothed in white, and 
 
 52 
 
The Cloth of Life 
 
 upon their heads were stars, whose ef 
 fulgence filled the hall with light. Be 
 side each loom hung shears of Destiny, 
 each guarded by a sign of the Zodiac. 
 In the midst was the Angel of Life, 
 writing. 
 
 The Princess gazed at all within the 
 hall, and then out through the great 
 window at the end where she saw the 
 Heavens very near and many other 
 stars upon the blue path, and, as she 
 gazed, there entered a guardian angel 
 with a baby in his arms. He approached 
 the star-being then working at her loom, 
 who took the shears from beside the 
 sign of the Zodiac, standing near, and 
 cut out all the cloth that she had made. 
 
 Then a strange thing happened: no 
 sooner was the cloth severed from the 
 loom in which it had been spun than 
 it appeared hung up in an almost empty 
 case near the Princess; a small piece of 
 grey cloth cut into an exact square. 
 
 Meanwhile the Angel of Life wrote 
 in his great book and then said to the 
 guardian angel, "To the home of Mijj 
 the Cobbler." 
 
 A moment later another guardian an 
 gel entered with a baby, but the star 
 
 53 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 then weaving had her loom nearly full, 
 and of cloth of gold. 
 
 "To the home of the Grand Duke 
 Tares!" the Angel said, and then he 
 answered the thoughts of the Princess: 
 
 "Each life as it is born on Earth is 
 given a piece of cloth; each receives 
 the quantity then in the loom, woven 
 under his star, and cut by the shears 
 of his Destiny. The size and quality 
 of cloth depend upon the Fate that casts 
 the hour of his birth; but the change in 
 the piece of cloth once it is in the case 
 of development depends upon the effort 
 of the one to whom it belongs. 
 
 "But now thou sawest a fragment of 
 poor material given to the cobbler s son, 
 and a large piece of gold damask to the 
 heir of the Grand Duke : yet when they 
 shall be taken out of these cases to 
 be distributed in the greater halls, of 
 what mortals call Death, the grey piece 
 may be so richly wrought as to become 
 part of the Tapestry of the Universe, 
 and the cloth of gold so ruthlessly cut 
 and gashed, with one pattern tried and 
 then another, that it is fit for nought in 
 the end but the waste heap of ruined 
 lives." 
 
 54 
 
The Cloth of Life 
 
 "And my piece!" cried the Princess. 
 "What am I doing with mine?" 
 
 But the Angel answered not and as 
 she asked again, the hall vanished and 
 the Princess awoke in the Hermit s hut. 
 
 But somewhere far away she seemed 
 still to hear the Angel s voice : 
 
 "Every minute spent in doing the 
 thing which is thy work to do, every 
 minute spent in leading gladly thy 
 daily life, embroiders in gold thy piece 
 of cloth; every brooding discontent 
 makes a tangled thread, every wish to 
 shape thy life into one that is not thine 
 own makes a wasteful tear." 
 
 The Princess looked slowly from the 
 fire to the eyes of the Hermit, hardly 
 knowing whether the Hermit, the An 
 gel, or her own heart had spoken. 
 
 The Princess sighed, then smiled, and 
 then went singing through the Laby 
 rinth. 
 
 The Hermit stood in the doorway of 
 his hut; watching the river as it flowed 
 serenely by, and his eyes were like the 
 eyes of the Angel of Life. 
 
 55 
 
TWO POETS 
 
VI 
 TWO POETS 
 
 AMONG the many boys who had 
 been pupils in the Monastery, 
 were two that Kahras, the sage, re 
 membered longer than all the rest. 
 One of these boys was named Arjis and 
 the other, Tiv. Few scholars had ever 
 made such faultless copies of the sacred 
 books; none had ever shown such un 
 derstanding of the thoughts inscribed, 
 and Kahras hung great hope upon the 
 future of these two: he expected much 
 of Arjis, but he was sure that Tiv would 
 go far indeed. 
 
 As for the boys themselves, each had 
 it in his heart to be a great poet; each 
 thought of the helpful and inspiring 
 messages he would write, and each saw 
 in his imagination future pupils copy 
 ing on parchment his teachings, even as 
 
 59 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 he now was copying those of the great 
 scribes, and of the Hermit of the Forest 
 
 Both of these boys were very poor, 
 and as it happened a similar blow fell 
 suddenly upon each. Their fathers died 
 leaving a mother and younger sister des 
 titute. To each the thought of turning 
 to an occupation was like giving up life 
 itself, and in despair they went apart 
 and sat at dusk together on the bank 
 of the river which flowed at the foot of 
 the Monastery. 
 
 At last Arjis spoke: "Ah, Tiv, I know 
 that I was sent into the world to be a 
 poet; such another perchance as he 
 whose learning we have studied from 
 the parchment. See my hands! They 
 are not brown and strong, but frail and 
 white; my shoulders are not broad, but 
 narrow and such as bend most easily 
 over the tablets. Of what use might 
 such as I be in the world of men ? Look 
 also, Tiv, upon the deeper side : what is 
 one life or one family compared with 
 the endurance of a mind whose wisdom 
 shall be handed down from generation 
 to generation? To force me into any 
 other tasks than those for which I am 
 by nature fitted, would be compelling a 
 60 
 
Two Poets 
 
 fish to live on land all my gifts would 
 be wasted." 
 
 "Alas, Arjis, I too feel as thou dost, 
 and I see no future standing with her 
 arms outstretched to me, save that one 
 which thou and I had always thought 
 we were approaching hand in hand but 
 the Mother ! and little Kaia, whose baby 
 lips have lisped her brother s name 
 scarce two short summers I cannot see 
 them starve." 
 
 "How thinkest thou to prevent their 
 starving, if thou wilt abandon those 
 gifts which the Gods have given thee? 
 Develop that which is best in thee; thou 
 wilt find that other hands will toil in 
 place of thine " 
 
 "Forbear, Arjis! I go at dawn into 
 the City!" 
 
 "And what thinkest thou to do when 
 thou hast reached its dire midst?" 
 
 "I know not yet ; but I must find what 
 work I may. Through this last night 
 I will remain upon this bank above the 
 river that I love, and dream my last 
 dreams in the shadow of these walls I 
 had hoped might shelter me for many 
 years. In the dawn of the coming day 
 I go. If the poet in me is dead to-night, 
 61 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 at least there has been born a son. 
 Some day I may return to the life for 
 which my soul longs, but now I must 
 go to the Mother and little Kaia." 
 
 Many years later in the City lived two 
 men : one the great Arjis of whom all the 
 world has heard; whose poems have 
 been sung by men working in the fields, 
 by mothers with their children in their 
 arms. Poems in which he has told of 
 a beautiful life of right doing, appealing 
 so strongly to the hearts of the people 
 that they honored him as only second 
 to the Hermit. And the City appointed 
 a special day to decorate the tomb of his 
 mother and sister who so pitifully had 
 died while the poet was still a boy, too 
 young to earn the means of their sup 
 port. The other, Tiv, a laborer, lived in a 
 little cottage on the outskirts of the City, 
 a clean, well-kept abode surrounded by 
 the flowers of its little garden; and 
 within there dwelt a contented woman. 
 
 One day the woman said, "My son, 
 when thou wert young, thou wert ever 
 dreaming with thy pen, and when I 
 asked thee what the characters might 
 mean, thou didst read to me most beau- 
 62 
 
Two Poets 
 
 tiful things. Why dost thou never write 
 such thoughts now that thou art a man ?" 
 
 Tiv stroked her hair that she might 
 not see his eyes. "Thou art happy, 
 Mother, art thou not? Thou hast 
 known no want, neither thou nor Kaia, 
 hast thou?" 
 
 "Ah no, my son, not even from the 
 first; and now we have all our hearts 
 desire, except to see thy face all radi 
 ant as it was wont to be, when thou 
 didst repeat thy poems to me. Why, 
 Tiv, dost thou not make poems any 
 more? Thou mightst become a poet, 
 
 even as Arjis I would not dare to 
 
 say so great as he ; yet still a poet !" 
 
 But Tiv kissed his mother s silver 
 hair and smiled, a thing that was rare 
 with him. "Perhaps I am a poet, 
 Mother, who knows! May not he be 
 a poet whose poems have been lived in 
 stead of written? Far up in the Heav 
 ens the Angel of Life may be writing 
 the great poem for me, and its theme 
 thy happiness !" 
 
 And all at once his Mother clasped 
 him in her arms she knew not why, ex 
 cept that she felt something which she 
 could not understand. 
 
 63 
 
THE. PRINCESS AND THE. 
 JESTER 
 
VII 
 THE. PRINCESS AND THE JESTER 
 
 THE noon sun, spreading his 
 drowsy warmth through the trel 
 lis-work of leaves which canopied the 
 atrium of the palace, and the water 
 softly plashing in the fountain, had put 
 the King to sleep. 
 
 At some distance Torqueo, the Jester, 
 was pouring milk into a dish from 
 which a puppy had begun to lap. The 
 Princess, removing her arm from 
 about the neck of her sleeping father, 
 crossed softly to Torqueo and the 
 puppy. She sat upon the further edge 
 of the fountain, watching the little 
 hound, who, having finished his milk, 
 straightway went to sleep. Idly she 
 dipped her hand into the water; where 
 upon the goldfish scattered like streaks 
 of light. 
 
 "Foolish things!" she smiled "yet 
 
 67 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 they are not the only creatures that 
 start away in fear at shadows, eh, 
 Torqueo?" 
 
 Torqueo s eyes and bells danced like 
 the flutter of butterflies wings as he 
 babbled, "A thing is fearful in the eyes 
 of those that do fear it; though they 
 that fear are seldom in more than little 
 fear!" 
 
 "What mean all thy fearful words?" 
 laughed the Princess. 
 
 "That new words being dear, I pay 
 the same ones over as often as I may! 
 But here comes one who can well af 
 ford extravagance, for phrases spring 
 newborn upon his lips." 
 
 The young Duke Artaras, handsom 
 est of the courtiers, entered airily; 
 laughter died upon his lips at the 
 sight of his sleeping majesty. He 
 seated himself upon a cushion at the 
 fountain s base, and his eyes gazed hun 
 grily at the sleeping puppy who, like 
 the little nerveless lump he was, had let 
 himself be picked up by the Princess 
 without so much as opening his eyes. 
 His stubby little jaw moved up and 
 down as though he dreamed of lapping 
 milk but he knew no difference be- 
 68 
 
The Princess and the Jester 
 
 tween the marble flagging and a silken 
 lap. The royal fingers gently stroking 
 his soft little coat might have been the 
 caresses of his mother or blowing 
 leaves he neither knew nor cared. 
 
 The Princess looked from the little 
 beast to the eyes of the Duke and their 
 expression held her glance. 
 
 "Why do you look so searchingly? 
 What do you seek, Artaras?" 
 
 "Only that which all men seek which 
 I am seeking ever! Taking all that I 
 can make my own whether it falls my 
 way, or whether I must needs pursue." 
 
 "Its name?" 
 
 "Happiness !" 
 
 The eyes of the Princess gazed far 
 away and she held the little sleeping 
 hound against her cheek. 
 
 "Torqueo!" she said, "tell us, what 
 is happiness?" 
 
 "To have plenty to eat ! that is what 
 the puppy thinks !" 
 
 "Nay, but what dost thou think?" 
 
 "Love and all the letters writ in 
 capitals! That is what the young Ar 
 taras thinks." 
 
 The Princess frowned. "I ask thee, 
 Fool, what is happiness?" 
 
 69 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 "And thy Fool has answered twice, 
 and summed the happiness of two! 
 Third then, the Princess thinks to find 
 it in philosophy!" His shoulders shook 
 with mirth. 
 
 The Princess looked wistfully into his 
 merry face. "Aye, but tell me what is 
 thine own !" 
 
 "The same as the Hermit s." 
 
 "That is the drollest jest thou hast 
 ever made." 
 
 "In truth it is; for it is no jest at 
 all !" 
 
 Artaras cast upon the Princess a 
 laughing glance, but behind the Jester s 
 mask the Princess searched for other 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Explain, Torqueo, wherein the hap 
 piness of the Hermit and the Fool re 
 semble, for surely wisdom and folly are 
 opposites !" 
 
 The Jester laid his bauble against his 
 nose as he wagged his head. "All of 
 humanity goes skipping by like tight 
 rope dancers, with the cord on which 
 they prance likely to be cut at any mo 
 ment. At one pole (in the shade, if you 
 will) sits the Hermit, and at the other 
 pole, diverting the crowd, sits the Fool ! 
 
 70 
 
The Princess and the Jester 
 
 All of humanity which loves, hates, suc 
 ceeds or is cast down, includes neither 
 fools nor hermits. There is but one 
 difference between the sage and the 
 fool " Torqueo took an apple out 
 of his pocket and continued between 
 bites "one feeds his soul that he may 
 exist in the next world the other feeds 
 his stomach that he may exist in this! 
 So, since the two extremes are but mat 
 ters of feeding, put the world at table 
 and you have the philosophy of happi 
 ness in a nutshell." 
 
 The Duke laughed. "How may that 
 be, Fool? Come to the pith of thy sub 
 ject, if it have any!" 
 
 "Listen, it is a tale as profound as the 
 Fool s wisdom: Draw then a banquet 
 table. Upon one side there is a puppy, 
 upon the next a child, at the third a 
 youth, and upon the fourth a sage 
 or a Fool, whichever it may please 
 you !" 
 
 "Nay, then, we will have it a Fool, 
 since none but a Fool would suppose 
 such a table s company." 
 
 "Well spoken for a Duke ! The Fool 
 will leave thee his bells when he jour 
 neys further." 
 
 71 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 "Peace, Torqueo, and on with thy 
 tale !" 
 
 "It would have been despatched ere 
 now if thou hadst but let me continue 
 the discourse! In the center of the 
 table is a crystal bowl containing that 
 which seems to each the very food which 
 he most hungers for. Now mark how 
 each receives his share: 
 
 "A portion is given to the puppy, who 
 laps his down with shortest speed; then, 
 puppylike, he goes to sleep, and it might 
 as well have never been, because there is 
 no memory. 
 
 "The child fastens his eyes on the 
 bowl, hardly knowing the taste of what 
 he eats, so intent is he on emptying his 
 dish as fast as possible in order to have 
 a second portion. When he is told 
 that he has had his share he fills the 
 air with lamentation. Yet he knows 
 (which the puppy did not) that there 
 was something he wanted, struggled for, 
 and failed to get." 
 
 The gaze of the young Artaras hung 
 upon the face of the Princess, but she 
 was hanging upon the words of the 
 Jester as though they were words of 
 the Hermit s wisdom. 
 
 72 
 
The Princess and the Jester 
 
 "Third there is the youth, old enough 
 to help himself. He wants more than 
 he takes, but he has been running into 
 the Forest, seeking wisdom, so he eats 
 lingeringly, enjoying his mouthfuls, and 
 trying not to long for more. Then the 
 fourth, the sage, takes no thought of 
 the crystal bowl, not because he ignores 
 it, but because there are so many 
 reasons for not asking for the whole 
 dish, so many reasons for not wanting 
 the whole dish; that it is choice and not 
 control that makes him perfectly satisfied 
 with his saucerful or his apple!" 
 
 The Princess looked narrowly at the 
 Jester. "I might almost think that 
 thou hadst been a sage before thou 
 wert a Fool! Take care thou return 
 not suddenly to sage again, for see ! 
 there is one already coveting thy hon 
 ors." She pointed, laughing, to the 
 puppy who had seized the Jester s bau 
 ble and was shaking it with all his 
 might. 
 
 Just then the King awoke, and the 
 Princess hastened to him ; but the hand 
 some Artaras, with his gaze still fixed 
 upon the Princess, sat upon the foun 
 tain s rim, frightening the fishes. 
 
 73 
 
ON THE BEACHES 
 
VIII 
 ON THE BEACHES 
 
 THE heat of the salt, baked sand 
 and the cool spray of the Sea swept 
 over the Beaches. In the harbor, boats 
 swung pliantly at their anchor ropes, 
 children waded in the shallow water, 
 sailing their toy crafts, or thrusting at 
 minnows with little spears of fish bone. 
 In front of the fishermen s huts women 
 mended nets, singing the while a song 
 like the ceaseless waves on the Beaches. 
 The Forest-woman s hut stood among 
 the others, but to her it might have been 
 leagues apart, so far were her thoughts 
 from the sands slipping under the water. 
 She loved her fisher husband, whose 
 bronzed face and brawny strength had 
 won her heart and taken her from the 
 woodland to dwell upon the Beaches; 
 but the restless beating of the Sea, the 
 white glare of the unbroken sands 
 
 77 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 seemed desolation to her senses and she 
 longed for the green stillness of the 
 Forest. Her soul was filled with terror 
 of the waves as they dashed the boats 
 in broken fragments upon the shore, 
 and she wondered that the fisherwomen 
 could sing, knowing that their husbands 
 were out upon the deep, but the women 
 smiled and said to her: 
 
 "Canst thou ever love aught as thou 
 lovest the Sea that sends food and shel 
 ter for us and our little ones?" 
 
 But the Forest-woman, with fright 
 ened eyes, cried: 
 
 "I love him not! He fills my heart 
 with dread!" 
 
 The women of the Beaches could not 
 understand and answered, "If there 
 were no danger how couldst thou be 
 filled with gladness at thy good man s 
 safe return? We all have husbands; 
 fathers, sons, and brothers too, out upon 
 the broad breast of the Sea. Some he 
 has given back to us after he has kissed 
 their souls away with his cold breath; 
 but others he has kept in his heart for 
 ever." 
 
 The Forest-woman, separated by this 
 gulf, heard their words with awe and 
 
 78 
 
On the Beaches 
 
 marvelled that these women could look 
 with calmness at the great, dark Sea 
 who possessed their dear ones. 
 
 The wind blew strong as the Forest- 
 woman stood beside her husband in the 
 harbor. She looked into his tender eyes, 
 which asked what troubled hers, and 
 with madly beating heart, she answered : 
 
 "I only fear to see thee go in such a 
 wind, for every time thy tiny sail dips 
 behind the rolling breakers I all but 
 swoon with fear lest the waves toss it 
 above, no more to flutter like a reassur 
 ing flag before my gaze." 
 
 The fisher-husband held her in his 
 arms and smiled, and answered as did 
 the women of the Beaches : 
 
 "Why should we be given hope, be 
 loved, if we knew no fear? Why 
 wouldst thou stand far out upon the 
 dunes watching for the first sight of 
 my sail? How could our meeting give 
 such joy if thou didst not feel that the 
 great Sea gave me always again and 
 again to thine arms?" He held her 
 closer yet until at last her lips smiled 
 bravely, as she whispered, "Then each 
 day that I have thee shall seem to me 
 a life, and all the lives that we have 
 
 79 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 lived together shall make a hoard of 
 memories to fill my heart in the days 
 when I have thee not." 
 
 The boats went out into the wind with 
 their bright sails bending full, like great 
 gulls wings, and the Forest-woman 
 stood upon the farthest point of sand 
 answering her husband s smile, until dis 
 tance blurred him from her sight. 
 
 All through the black night the storm 
 raged fiercely, the sea rose high with 
 white-whipped waves. In the fisher 
 huts the dim lamps burned flickering 
 and yellow, and the Forest- woman s 
 lamp burned with all the rest. And in 
 the early morning when the Sea, like an 
 avenging god appeased, laid the dead 
 upon the Beaches, the Forest- woman s 
 head, with closed eyes, was pillowed on 
 the warm breast of a fisher-woman, for 
 the Sea had kept both husbands in his 
 heart. 
 
 When rapid sharp black days had 
 been followed by endless dull grey ones, 
 the Forest-woman gathered the frayed 
 strands of her life together, but the Sea 
 which had been her dread now became 
 the solace of her soul. She dwelt 
 among her sisters of the Beaches, and 
 80 
 
On the Beaches 
 
 longed no more for her Forest home. 
 In her eyes was the same look that was 
 in the eyes of the fisher-women, looking 
 out upon the water, and she too mended 
 nets and sang the song of the Sea. 
 
 And in storms the great Sea pound 
 ing on the Beaches seemed to challenge : 
 
 "Courage ! Courage ! Strong as I 
 am was his love for thee. When thou 
 art brave as my strength, thou shalt 
 achieve and go to him again !" When 
 the Sea was calm he seemed to whisper 
 ever and again : "Clear and true like the 
 moon s white rays lighting the black 
 ness of my surface, are the memories 
 lighting thy soul. Only those whose 
 memories, like empty wells, mirror back 
 no radiant recollections, dwell in dark 
 ness like a moonless night. Patience, I 
 sing to thee Peace!" 
 
 81 
 
THE STORY OF THE MYSTIC 
 
IX 
 THE STORY OF THE MYSTIC 
 
 THE Princess sat before the Her 
 mit s hut, her mind intent upon 
 the immeasurable distance between the 
 Hermit and his fellow-men. 
 
 She wondered if he had known no 
 childhood ; if in his youth he had been 
 a sage? Had his pulses never stirred 
 as those of other men though the heart 
 of woman must have been drawn to him, 
 as weakness is ever drawn to strength. 
 The more the Princess gained in 
 knowledge, the more she realized that 
 the deepest effort of her understanding 
 did not sound the depth where his light 
 est thought began. 
 
 "Master," said the Princess, "shall I 
 ever see Truth even from afar?" 
 
 The Hermit s voice was infinitely kind 
 as he answered, "All things are possible, 
 Laia, but hast thou weighed the sacri 
 fice such knowledge costs? Wouldst 
 
 85 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 thou renounce all in this beautiful 
 world save that which might serve as a 
 means for the attainment of deeper 
 wisdom ?" 
 
 The Princess assented eagerly, but the 
 Hermit shook his head. "Listen, my 
 child, and I will tell thee the story of 
 one who sought Truth: 
 
 "In a far distant land, in a time long 
 ago, there lived a man whose name was 
 Rab but no one called him by name; 
 he was known as the Man. 
 
 "From the time of his youth he sat 
 apart upon the high hills holding his 
 spirit out to God asking God to take 
 it as His own. The men at the ploughs 
 below thought him but part of a felled 
 tree whose shadow might be seen from 
 the fields, but the women said, It is a 
 man! and they wondered what he did. 
 
 "Alone upon the hill sat the Man 
 waiting. One day as he held his soul 
 in outstretched offering, he heard the 
 whispering of the Great Spirit which 
 said: Man, go down into the valley 
 and toil; for thy spirit in its untried 
 emptiness is not acceptable to me. 
 
 "So the Man obeyed; and his fellow- 
 toilers said, He is a good neighbor, for 
 86 
 
The Story of the Mystic 
 
 he works faithfully and harder than we 
 do. But the women said, He works 
 harder, but he works not as we do/ 
 And they cast furtive glances toward 
 the hill-top, where at dusk they thought 
 the shadow was not that of the tree 
 trunk. 
 
 "As the years went by the Man accu 
 mulated the fruits of his labors. Fel 
 low-toilers in the valley showed him 
 kindness and he was welcomed at their 
 firesides, where rosy - faced children 
 climbed upon his knee. Sometimes in 
 the twilight hours, before the glowing 
 logs, some maid more fair than all the 
 rest sat with him apart and looked 
 with wistful eyes. At such times into his 
 heart would come the vivid knowledge 
 that he was a man, and he longed to 
 take the maiden in his arms, wishing 
 that he too might build his fireside. But 
 the rushing of the wind outside brought 
 to his spirit the call of God ! Out into 
 the night and storm he fled to the hill 
 top, where in a hollow tree he had built 
 his shrine. 
 
 "One night when the dwellers in the 
 valley were asleep and the Man waited 
 alone, he heard the Great Spirit s voice: 
 
 8? 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 *He who serves ME must be entirely 
 MINE, and he must sacrifice to ME all 
 he has! The Man followed the voice 
 far beyond the hills up to the mountain s 
 summit: and there above the gathered 
 storm clouds, high upon a smooth pla 
 teau bare and bleak, unreached save by 
 wind and moon and stars; in the midst 
 of this vast space, stood the Man with 
 his arms outstretched ! 
 
 "Then out of the swirling wind ap 
 peared the Great Spirit and the Man 
 iell upon his face. But the Great 
 Spirit spoke: 
 
 " Lift up thy head and I will breathe 
 into thine eyes, thy heart, thy mind. 
 To thee will I give a part of ME, but 
 from thee will I take all that thou hast. 
 Outwardly thou shalt be as before a 
 man; but through thine eyes there will 
 shine glimpses of ME. Women will 
 love ME, thinking it is thee; for they, 
 knowing only man, will love thee as a 
 man, but thou with MY SPIRIT in 
 thy heart wilt baffle and bewilder their 
 souls. 
 
 "The Man toiled with the men in the 
 valley and they honored him as a fellow 
 88 
 
The Story of the Mystic 
 
 worker; but the women glanced with 
 wondering eyes at twilight toward the 
 hill-top and holding their children close 
 in their arms went home to their fire 
 sides." 
 
THE POET AND THE 
 PRINCESS 
 
THE POET AND THE PRINCESS 
 
 TN the very midst of the City, where 
 * the grey-walled buildings lay close 
 like the cells in the hives of the bees; 
 and where the human workers swarmed 
 in a busy throng, stood the dwelling of 
 Adas, the physician. With him lived 
 his son Avar, the young poet. From his 
 earliest childhood care had thrown her 
 veil about him, and worries crowded on 
 his mind. 
 
 To him his father s daily chronicles: 
 that the child of the weaver died in the 
 night, that a coach and four ran over 
 an aged crone too deaf to hear the pound 
 of the horses feet these things filled 
 the boy s heart with grief, for as his 
 father told him only the sad tales of 
 life, Avar thought all the houses in the 
 City but screens to hide the sufferings 
 of their inmates. The smoke curling 
 
 93 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 upwards from the chimneys seemed to 
 him the grey vapor of dying souls; the 
 setting sun reflected in crimson glow on 
 the window glass, was to him the em 
 blem of burning pain; the rain that 
 cooled the sultry City, was to him the 
 weeping of Nature over the fever- 
 stricken land. And so his poems were 
 always in a tragic vein. 
 
 At last this brooding spirit overtaxed 
 the frail strength of his body, and his 
 father, seeing in him the likeness of a 
 sun-starved plant, tried the expedient 
 of sending him, for a while, beyond the 
 Forest into the quiet Village on the 
 other side of the Gardens of the King. 
 
 Here, in the sunshine, living in a low 
 thatched cottage on the river s brink, 
 across which the Gardens of the King 
 were spread in marvellous beauty, the 
 young poet s imagination rebounded. 
 As in the City all seemed steeped in the 
 grey fog of never-lifting care, so all 
 here seemed radiant in the golden glow 
 of never-fading happiness. 
 
 He would lie for hours on the bank of 
 the silver sanded river, gazing across to 
 the farther shore where the Palace stood 
 at the crest of its Gardens, and with 
 
 94 
 
The Poet and the Princess 
 
 eager eyes scan the nearby paths hop 
 ing for a glimpse of the Princess. The 
 smoke floating like soft clouds from the 
 marble chimneys, the setting sun gilding 
 the window panes, seemed to him the 
 joy of life condensed. And he wrote 
 paeans of glory, victory, and delight, in 
 which the Princess was ever portrayed 
 clad in dazzling gold and crowned with 
 stars; her hair he fancied like a mantle 
 made of sunset rays floating in the even 
 ing breeze, her eyes like the deep blue of 
 the sky, her lips the scarlet streak of the 
 setting sun. 
 
 Thus he stayed dreaming the days 
 away until strength and health returned. 
 
 When again in his father s house he 
 tried to forget the greyness of his sur 
 roundings by dwelling upon the memory 
 of the Gardens of the King where the 
 sun always glistened, where sorrow was 
 unknown, and where lived that most 
 wondrous being, the Princess. If only 
 he might have seen the Princess, he 
 thought, then he would have had a 
 memory to leaven the sadness of the 
 whole world. Yet in all the time he 
 lived in the Village, Avar never saw the 
 Princess. 
 
 95 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 One day as he was sitting in the por 
 tico of his father s house, planning a new 
 tragedy of which the stage was to be 
 the street before him, and the Palace an 
 ideal Heaven, a messenger of the King 
 appeared before him, bearing an order 
 from Adas to his son which directed 
 that he bring a packet of certain herbs 
 to the Palace without delay. 
 
 That illness could enter the Palace 
 stunned the young poet s sensibilities; 
 sooner could he have believed in the 
 suffering of angels, and later as he gave 
 the password to the soldiers who would 
 else have barred his entrance, he found 
 it difficult to believe this could be that 
 very Palace whose other face he loved 
 so well. He was led through court 
 yards, long passages and vaulted cham 
 bers, until his father met him, and lead 
 ing him through a narrow gallery, left 
 the boy amazed to find that he was 
 standing upon the highest terrace of the 
 Gardens of the King, close to the gleam 
 ing walls of the castle of his dreams! 
 Drawing his breath in awe, he looked 
 up at the white walls rising above him, 
 and stood aghast, his heart rent with dis 
 appointment because the marble did not 
 96 
 
The Poet and the Princess 
 
 gleam and the surface was but like that 
 of many buildings in the City. He felt 
 the wind damp, the stone paving hard 
 and chill, while all the glistening colors 
 were in the Village beyond the river 
 where the thatched roofs basked in the 
 sun. 
 
 "If I might but see the Princess !" he 
 thought, "her radiance would light up 
 this cold mass of stone and it would be 
 come the fairy palace it seemed from 
 the other side." 
 
 Just then he heard the soft tap of 
 heels upon the mosaic of the terrace, and 
 turning, saw a slender maid whose years 
 might sum the same number as his own. 
 She wore a simple dress of brownish 
 tone, her hair, neither dark nor light, 
 was bound by a fillet of jewel-less gold 
 but fashioned of a wrought design. Her 
 face he first thought plain, but no sooner 
 had he thought it plain than it seemed 
 beautiful; though he wondered that a 
 maid of honor should be so simply 
 dressed. 
 
 "Princesses, I thought, had orioles to- 
 wait on them, not wrens !" he said aloud, 
 and all at once the maiden laughed. 
 And as she laughed the boy thought he 
 
 97 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 would write a poem and call it "Laugh 
 ter." 
 
 "And who art thou," she said, "that 
 talk of the Princess and orioles and 
 wrens ?" 
 
 "I am a poet, Avar by name; my 
 father is Adas, the physician! Who 
 may be thine?" 
 
 "My father?" She drew the arches 
 of her brow together, and at once Avar 
 thought he would write a tragedy and 
 call it "Storm"; and then he heard her 
 voice like the rushing of the wind 
 through his imagery of the storm : 
 
 "My father is the King! I am the 
 Princess Alaeia." 
 
 Then the poor bewildered youth had 
 no thought at all. He stared, and 
 stared, but saw nothing except his lost 
 illusions that seemed turning into little 
 brown spots like the tiny freckles on the 
 bridge of the Princess nose. 
 
 But the Princess could not read his 
 mind, and his uncouthness made her 
 angry. "Thou art very rude, thou son 
 of Adas, and altogether different from 
 thy father, whom I dearly love for the 
 soothing care he takes of me when I am 
 ill." 
 
 98 
 
The Poet and the Princess 
 
 "And can it be that YOU are ever 
 ill?" The question hung faltering on 
 Avar s lips. But now the Princess 
 stared. 
 
 "Of course I am sometimes ill. The 
 King, my father, is all crippled with the 
 gout ; perchance I shall have it too some 
 day. It is only you who have a father 
 to make you well again before you real 
 ize that you are ill. Tell me, do you 
 live in the City?" 
 
 "Aye. In its midst." 
 
 But the Princess drew closer, crying, 
 "Tell me! Tell me of the City, where 
 there is so much to learn, and do! 
 Where the toilers go singing to their 
 work like a busy swarm of happy bees; 
 where the contented smoke of chimneys 
 tells of countless happy homes. Ah, I 
 should like to live in the very heart of 
 the City!" 
 
 "No! No, you would not, Princess! 
 There it is all noise, strife, sickness, 
 death ; while here all is peace and happi 
 ness!" 
 
 "Peace and happiness here Ah, I 
 wonder would you think so long? Each 
 day follows day in monotonous proces 
 sion, and laughter is but a sound made 
 
 99 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 with the lips and throat. The courtiers 
 make the same speeches year after year ; 
 even Torqueo but makes new jokes by 
 saying the old ones backwards! Think 
 what it is to live always with no new 
 face to see except on the great days 
 of the feasts; and then there are such 
 crowds that no face stands out clearly 
 amidst the throngs that pass before the 
 throne s dais, where I stand with the 
 diadem pressing into the very flesh of 
 my head, and my shoulders weighted to 
 the breaking point with the jewels they 
 have to carry. Perchance you call that 
 peace and happiness? At first I liked 
 the spectacle; I loved to feel the power 
 of the King, my father, and my soul 
 was filled with the glory of being the 
 Princess Alaeia; but now it neither 
 wearies me overmuch, nor fills my soul 
 with pride; it all comes in the duties of 
 a day neither more nor less." 
 
 Then suddenly the Princess saw that 
 she was causing pain and that Avar was 
 struggling with some sorrow, even as 
 she had often "struggled with her own 
 in the presence of the Hermit; and all 
 at once he felt her sympathy and in 
 that moment his tongue was loosened, 
 100 
 
The Poet and the Princess 
 
 and he told her of his sadness in the 
 City and his happiness in gazing on the 
 Palace from the Village side, and how 
 always he had filled his heart with the 
 golden image of herself. 
 
 At last when he had told her all, she 
 took him by the hand and led him down 
 the terraces of the Gardens so that the 
 Castle looked as it had done from the 
 Village side, and then he heard her 
 voice and it sounded as if veiled with 
 shadows, like her eyes, which were half 
 hidden under their dusky lashes. 
 
 "You thought the Palace the Castle 
 of your dreams and me, less mortal 
 than other maids, because I am the 
 Princess! Alas, you see your castle 
 close at hand and find it but a pile of 
 stone ; you see me close and do not even 
 know me " She paused. "Do you see 
 the clouds far over in the west, how the 
 setting sun tints them gold and light? 
 Always as a child, and even now, I let 
 my fancy think them fairy cities, and 
 wander down their magic streets. Yet 
 though I know they are but the reflec 
 tion of the sun upon dense bodies made 
 of mist, what can it matter since what 
 we think they are is so much more real 
 101 
 
eh in the Tapestry 
 
 to us than what they really are? You, 
 Avar, are a poet, and poets always see 
 the world s face gladder or sadder than 
 it is; and if the world showed the same 
 face to me that it does to other maids, I 
 would not be the Princess! So tell me, 
 would you have me show you all the 
 Gardens and the Palace have you know 
 that life you think so perfect Ah no, 
 I will not, just because you are a poet, 
 I will not show you even those places 
 which I love and find most beautiful, for 
 if you saw them with the eyes now look 
 ing at me, they would be but rooms of 
 marble, paths and flowers and green! 
 No, Avar, draw your Palace from the 
 creations of your own imagination 
 and from time to time will you send me 
 the poems as you fashion them? So 
 that I may try to clothe the real Palace 
 and Gardens with the beauty which you, 
 having seen them only with your poet s 
 mind, shall give to them." 
 
 And as she spoke the sun blazed bril 
 liantly through the drifting clouds, and 
 Avar started with amazement; for the 
 sun had made her hair of burnished 
 gold, her dress shone of the metal too, 
 and the golden disk that bound her 
 102 
 
The Poet and the Princess 
 
 brow gleamed like a royal crown. Her 
 eyes were like the blue of Heaven, and 
 her lips were like the streak of sunset 
 red, and all at once she was the Princess 
 of his dreams ! 
 
 And so she led him back to the pos 
 tern gate, and when he came again to the 
 City the world was full of Song. 
 
 103 
 
THE HERMIT S DISCIPLE 
 
XI 
 THE HERMIT S DI5CIPLE 
 
 IN the mellow light when the sun s 
 longest shadows were slowly dissolv 
 ing into night, the Hermit sat before his 
 door contemplating the river flowing by. 
 Through the Forest came the even-song 
 of birds, and the leaves softly stirring in 
 the breeze crooned the Woodland to 
 sleep. 
 
 All at once a strange bird s note broke 
 upon the increasing stillness! A high 
 trill echoed sweet and distant, then the 
 notes varied, deepening into truer mel 
 ody, until the aria arose in rippling ca 
 dences of joy. It was as though the 
 soul and mind of man had been put in 
 the throat of some heaven-born bird, 
 which had descended into the Forest to 
 sing to the others just one time that 
 they might remember always. 
 
 The Hermit, walking softly in the di- 
 
 107 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 rection of the sound, suddenly stopped. 
 A youth was lying at full length upon 
 the moss, his bent arm framing his up 
 turned face, while from his throat and 
 puckered lips poured all the marvellous 
 melody. Upon the branches of the 
 nearest trees the forest birds chirped 
 now a note, now a trill in chorus. 
 
 The Hermit noted the lithe and grace 
 ful form above which was set a face, 
 modelled with clean, clear strokes be 
 neath tumbled locks of bronze. 
 
 The stranger let the song die out with 
 a long-drawn sigh like one who, sigh 
 ing, takes but a deeper breath not one 
 unloading upon the winds his care. He 
 drew a handful of berries from his open 
 doublet and his feathered chorus perch 
 ing on his arm and shoulder shared his 
 supper. 
 
 The crackle of twigs announced the 
 Hermit s nearer approach, and the 
 birds like flying chaff, blown before 
 a storm, scattered into the trees. But 
 the youth, bounding to his feet, cried 
 eagerly : 
 
 "Master, surely thou art he whom I 
 seek!" 
 
 "If thou seekest the Hermit of the 
 108 
 
The Hermit s Disciple 
 
 Forest, I am he ; my hut is near and 
 thou art welcome." 
 
 So together they went, the Hermit and 
 the youth with the bird music in his 
 throat, and when they were seated be 
 fore the hut, the youth began his story : 
 
 "All that has befallen me, will I tell 
 thee, but my true name I beg thou wilt 
 not ask unless thine all-knowing vision 
 shows thee things I would a while 
 forget." 
 
 The Hermit answered, "I know 
 naught but that which thou wouldst 
 have me know, until the time when of 
 thine own accord thou wilt reveal it." 
 
 The youth looked quickly, but the eyes 
 under the brown cowl might have been 
 two forest pools lying deep in shadow, 
 in which no image was reflected. 
 
 "I was an only son, pampered from 
 the hour of my birth. My mother the 
 gentlest lady, and my father the kindest 
 man, left no longing of my childish 
 heart unsatisfied. Through my boyhood 
 no great harm came of this, for I, who 
 loved my mother much, was well con 
 tent in wanting most those things which 
 she would have me want. As my joy in 
 music was the same as hers we used to 
 
 109 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 play for hours, she and I, all the things 
 I felt and could not understand, I put to 
 music. So my boyhood passed, and then 
 as I grew older and my life was thrown 
 with men, they, too, humored me be 
 cause I was my father s son. Thus I 
 grew to manhood; never having known 
 the slightest opposition to my will. 
 
 "According to the custom of my coun 
 try my father planned my marriage with 
 the daughter of one whose land adjoined 
 our own, but ere our betrothal was ar 
 ranged that happened which made all 
 thought of marriage, for the time, im 
 possible. There came into my life a 
 woman, beautiful beyond the bounds of 
 imagery ; a woman to make a man forget 
 his soul! When she looked at me my 
 brain burned scarlet. Upon beholding 
 her I felt a blinding mist, yet when I 
 saw her not I felt no tender recollection, 
 only restlessness akin to anger. I knew 
 not whether love or hate was uppermost. 
 For in loving her I did hate myself ; and 
 hating her I loved myself again. 
 
 "My only solace was my music, but 
 the measures I played were filled with 
 vibrant bounding notes, and all who 
 heard me play were stricken with a men- 
 no 
 
The Hermit s Disciple 
 
 tal fever; all save she the one whose 
 witchery made the music through the in 
 strument of my soul held prisoner, un 
 der her crimson spell. 
 
 "Then came that abominable day 
 when, as I stood in the shadow of a 
 tapestry, I saw a great broad-shouldered 
 brawny man clasp her in his arms, I saw 
 her cheeks grow red, her brilliant eyes 
 grow soft. In madness I rushed out and 
 would have strangled both ; but that this 
 woman who possessed my soul became 
 transformed with fury until I seemed 
 to see her eyes grow tawny yellow, her 
 dress of gold become all barred with 
 black, and she a raging tigress. In that 
 moment I little cared what might be 
 fall, and in my heart her image was de 
 stroyed forever: though all my senses 
 seemed destroyed as well. 
 
 " For many days I brooded restlessly, 
 and then at last the stillness of the For 
 est drew my agitated spirit irresistibly. 
 Thus I became a wanderer. 
 
 "At first I wanted only rest, forgetful- 
 ness and peace, but by and by my spirit 
 like the new spring leaves strengthened 
 in the lengthening days. My bed was 
 moss under the covering of night, my 
 in 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 drink the water of the Forest pools, my 
 food the buried nuts I found. During 
 all the time I lived in the greening For 
 est I was silent as the trees themselves. 
 
 "At last, one twilight, there broke upon 
 the stillness the song of the returning 
 birds. I did not know a sound could 
 startle so ! Then as they sang, the For 
 est life all seemed to wake, and I too 
 felt a trill arise in my own throat as 
 though I, with the others, was impelled 
 to sing the song of Nature not knowing 
 why, except for a growing gladness that 
 made my heart expand until the over 
 flow arose bubbling to my lips. 
 
 "Thus have I lived the Summer 
 through, spending the days in musing 
 on the mysteries of life, with no word 
 spoken save to one woodsman whom I 
 met some leagues from here. He told 
 me that the path which I had taken 
 led to thine abode; and then I knew 
 why destiny had guided me this way. 
 Through nine changes of the moon 
 would I stay with thee, but when for the 
 tenth time the moon increases to the 
 full, my father has my promise that I 
 will return; in the meanwhile wilt thou 
 keep me, Master?" 
 112 
 
The Hermit s Disciple 
 
 The Hermit looked deep into the 
 youth s clear eyes. "It was meant to be, 
 and as such I have no choice but to ac 
 cept. It is well, Nordeus, for so thou 
 shalt be called whilst thou abidest with 
 me. Enter !" 
 
THE MELTING 
 
XII 
 THE. MLETING 
 
 THE Princess and the young Duke 
 Artaras sat in the embrasure of a 
 window in the Gallery of the Queen. 
 At some distance were groups of maids 
 and courtiers, whose laughing chatter 
 sounded high above the low voice of 
 the Princess. 
 
 Artaras held the different colored 
 wools the Princess needed in the tapes 
 try she was embroidering, and sighed as 
 though he sought to draw her thoughts 
 from the picture growing beneath her 
 fingers. She bade him choose a thread 
 of azure wool intended for the sky, and 
 as he cut it from the skein, she smiled 
 into the young Duke s eyes; for indeed 
 he was a handsome youth. She knew 
 full well that the drawing of the blue 
 thread through her fingers was like the 
 
 117 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 drawing of the heart-strings of him 
 who watched, and yet this knowledge 
 added not a single count to the tranquil 
 measure of her pulses. 
 
 Suddenly his eyes grew dark through 
 the narrowed opening of their half-shut 
 lids, and something caused a tremor in 
 the breath of the Princess as a gust of 
 wind might blow over the surface of a 
 pool, leaving its depth untouched. 
 
 "Ah, Princess," he exclaimed, "do you 
 who have the power to sway all men s 
 hearts remain yourself untouched by the 
 love which you inspire?" 
 
 With a wistful smile she answered, 
 "Nay, Artaras, the love which you desire 
 fills but one side of the triangle, there 
 fore it moves me not. See, love should 
 be like this:" She drew a triangle 
 with the blue thread in the corner of 
 the canvas, and in the center she left the 
 unthreaded needle to mark the middle 
 point. "The three sides, body, soul, and 
 mind, should be in love as equal as the 
 three lines in this figure. If the tri 
 angle were suspended by the needle 
 vertically, all three sides would balance 
 so! the side falling at its base vary 
 ing at the slightest breath; or set in 
 118 
 
The Meeting 
 
 motion, all three sides would merge into 
 a perfect circle." 
 
 "I know naught of triangles, but I 
 know much of love ! And even though 
 you be of ice, my love in time must melt 
 your heart." 
 
 "Once upon a time a youth fell in love 
 with an ice image which, his warm 
 breath having melted, was the image no 
 longer." 
 
 "But the image I love is not of ice! 
 Tell me, Princess, what must he be to 
 fill your heart?" 
 
 "I ask too much, Artaras! I who 
 less than other maids may hope to real 
 ize my dreams." 
 
 "Why say you less than others? The 
 Princess Alaeia may choose from all 
 the men on earth the one she wills to 
 be her husband." 
 
 "The Princess Alaeia is the daughter 
 of the King! and must marry him who 
 is her country s choice. The poor 
 Prince, her husband, having no more 
 choice than she." 
 
 "But should the King ordain that you 
 
 might choose a husband for love alone, 
 
 and that is not impossible, does not your 
 
 triangle swing perhaps from a central 
 
 119 
 
W oven in the Tapestry 
 
 point of beauty?" The handsome Duke 
 threw all the ardor of his heart into his 
 importunity. 
 
 But the Princess arose, and her glance 
 travelled over the different courtiers and 
 back again to the Duke, whose beauty 
 far outshone them all, but each like a 
 goldsmith s figure seemed to show the 
 art and labor spent in making, surely of 
 none of these had the Deity said at birth 
 "Let this be a man!" 
 
 And the Princess sighed for the need 
 of this man and it may have been 
 the emptiness in her heart that made 
 her smile for the second time upon 
 Artaras. Then she quickly left the Gal 
 lery. 
 
 Crossing the Gardens of the King she 
 soon stood within the opening of the 
 hollow tree which hid the exit of the 
 Labyrinth. From there she watched the 
 figure of the Hermit, who was pounding 
 grain before his hut. 
 
 "Am I becoming fanciful?" she 
 thought. "Surely the Hermit moves as 
 though he had discovered the invigo 
 rating wine of youth." 
 
 "Aa-lo ! lo-ho !" she called. The Her 
 mit turned, but the sun shining upon the 
 120 
 
The Meeting 
 
 river beyond blurred the features under 
 the canopy of his hood, and the Princess 
 could not see whether he smiled or 
 frowned, as she continued gaily, "Some 
 good thing has surely happened! Mas 
 ter, hast thou built a new temple on the 
 Way ? Or hast thou found the herb 
 that will allay man s pain? Or hast thou 
 found a balm to cure the blindness of 
 those who will not see? Truly thou 
 seemest grown in stature and thou !" 
 She had come close enough to have the 
 blurred haze outside of her line of vis 
 ion, and had stopped; staring with 
 amazement into the face beneath the 
 Hermit s hood. Instead of the parch 
 ment features of the sage, she saw 
 smooth modelling of noble sculpture, in 
 stead of the lines and hollows she knew 
 so well, the fresh firm skin of youth. 
 Who was he? Some recollection, dim 
 and mysterious, thrilled her senses; her 
 heart throbbed as though some potent 
 spell held her enchained and held the 
 stranger too; for neither moved, but 
 each stood gazing into the other s eyes as 
 though lost in the memory of previous 
 births. 
 Then the memory faded and the Prin- 
 
 121 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 cess realized a stranger was before 
 her. 
 
 "Who art thou ?" she asked, perplexed. 
 "Can it be that the Hermit has gone be 
 yond the borderlands and that thou art 
 come to take his place?" 
 
 But the figure in the Hermit s dress 
 stood amazed and dumb had he not 
 with his own eyes seen a wood nymph 
 leave her tree? 
 
 "Tell me thy name !" she said again. 
 
 "I am the Hermit s disciple Nordeus 
 he calls me." 
 
 "Nordeus," she repeated dreamily, 
 "somewhere I have known that name 
 Where? When I cannot remember!" 
 
 122 
 
AS IT 15 DESTINED 
 
XIII 
 AS IT 15 DL5T1NLD 
 
 CLOSE upon the Sea, so close that 
 the churning breakers creamed and 
 foamed against its Eastern boundary, 
 lay the Moon-garden. On the North, 
 South, and West high hedges shut out 
 the other Gardens of the King, and in 
 the center of this enclosure there stood, 
 like a white lotus blossom in a cup of 
 green, a little Temple. From the steps 
 of this Temple spread an uninterrupted 
 vista of the Sea, and at the Garden s 
 edge, where steep cliffs ran sheer to 
 the water below, was a marble bench 
 curved like the new moon and set 
 against clumps of dense foliage. 
 
 The golden mirrored surface of the 
 Sea reflected the rising Sun, and upon 
 the marble bench the Princess stirred. 
 Turning her restless gaze from the 
 swirling spray that dashed against the 
 
 125 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 cliffs, she let her glance fall upon the 
 columns of the Temple standing fair 
 and calm emblems of strength, and 
 beautiful tranquillity. 
 
 Although the heart of the Princess 
 weighed heavily within her breast; al 
 though every wax-white flower and 
 every beauty of marble carving of 
 bench and Temple added actuality to her 
 woe, this Garden of her Fate had drawn 
 her like a lodestone, while all the world 
 was yet asleep. 
 
 She had always known that, like the 
 other daughters of her race, she must 
 in the fitting time be given in marriage 
 to the Prince whom Destiny, through 
 the instrument of her father s command, 
 would send. She knew that she must, 
 in the appointed hour of moonlit night, 
 descend those marble steps and give her 
 hand to the husband who would await 
 her in this very Garden. Before another 
 golden sun should rise beyond the pur 
 ple circle of the Sea, Alae ia, the Prin 
 cess of Ateria, would be the wife of a 
 Barbarian stranger, the Crown Prince 
 of the North. 
 
 In this dawning hour of her wedding- 
 day, despairingly she held her arms up- 
 126 
 
As It Is Destined 
 
 stretched, praying the Deity for strength 
 to do the thing which Fate demanded; 
 while through her soul rang one word 
 only, "Nordeus!" 
 
 Wider and wider spread the gold re 
 flection upon the surface of the Sea ; the 
 soft rosy canopy, all pinned with wink 
 ing stars, merged into starless blue, and 
 new Day burst glorious upon the wak 
 ing world. For the last time, the Prin 
 cess took her way to the Forest, where 
 she sat long with the Hermit in his hut. 
 
 "And I complained, dost thou remem 
 ber, Master, that there was no great 
 thing for me to do! Ah, would I were 
 no Princess, but merely the Forest 
 maid that Nordeus thought me, when 
 he did beseech that I should let him 
 journey to his father asking that he 
 demand of thee my hand in marriage. 
 Bitterly hard it was to tell him that my 
 life was vowed apart from wedded hap 
 piness; bitterly hard to frame an expla 
 nation which should tell no lie, and yet 
 must end all dreams of love. 
 
 "Once I even dared to hope that La ia 
 might descend the Temple steps and 
 give her heart and soul as well as out- 
 held hands to Nordeus. Why! why, 
 
 127 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 must I forswear what other maids may 
 have as their crowning happiness; they 
 are no more flesh and blood than I !" 
 
 "Has all that thou hast learned come 
 to this, my child, that thou wouldst set 
 thy puny wishes against thine ordained 
 Fate? What is best for thee, will be." 
 
 But the Princess in her grief cried, 
 "Do not mock me, Master! Thou art 
 but a Hermit and cannot understand. 
 What though thou hast probed each hid 
 den mystery! Love is the greatest of 
 them all ! Thou art but a Hermit, thou 
 canst not feel as I, who in the flower of 
 my youth must yet forswear its joy." 
 Then overwhelmed with woe she buried 
 her face in her arms. 
 
 Perchance the Princess was right, the 
 Hermit did not understand ; for as he 
 watched her quivering shoulders, there 
 flitted in the corners of his lips the 
 shadow of a smile, and though his eyes 
 were kind they had the look of one who 
 pities a child solely because it cries, but 
 feels no pity for its grief. 
 
 Suddenly from the Forest the Prin 
 cess heard the music of Nordeus ! Her 
 senses wavered between rapture and pain. 
 For his wonderful melody expressed all 
 128 
 
As It Is Destined 
 
 that was in her own heart: the tender 
 love of woman, and man s stronger love 
 for her, yet through it ran a strain of 
 sadness as of farewell to all that life 
 holds dear. Gradually the deeper, fuller 
 notes grew stronger, and to the Princess 
 they rang like Victory ! the Victory of 
 the Soul s conquering, which is stronger 
 than Life or Death. 
 
 The Princess slowly raised her head, 
 "For aught I spoke in passion, forgive 
 me, Master, the grief I felt narrowed my 
 vision within the limits of my pain. 
 Fear not that other eyes than thine shall 
 divine my sorrow ! To-night I, Alaeia, 
 will descend the Temple steps and give 
 my hand, without one tremor, to my 
 husband, the Barbarian Prince of the 
 North! aye, Barbarian though he prove 
 to be, or puppet Princeling, it little mat 
 ters to his bride, whom every other maid 
 in all Ateria doubtless envies. Nay 
 nay, I say this not in lamentation ; I 
 was but musing on the mask each mor 
 tal wears no less than Torqueo, who, 
 lucky Fool ! may wear his brazenly. Ah, 
 dear Master, forget this seeming weak 
 ness, for in truth grief shall not gain 
 upon my heart, my very love for Nor- 
 129 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 deus shall give me strength to do my 
 part in being worthy of his memory." 
 
 Bending almost to his sandals, she 
 kissed his robe; then pausing for a 
 moment, as though to engrave each de 
 tail of the surrounding scene upon her 
 memory, she left the hut. 
 
 And as he watched her go, the Her 
 mit s face was radiant. 
 
 Near the entrance to the Labyrinth, 
 the youth she loved stood waiting. 
 "Nordeus," she said, "my lessons are 
 learned, and I may come no more to the 
 Hermit s hut. This is our last hour " 
 Her voice faltered and she could say no 
 further, but the youth cried: 
 
 "This hour thy last, thou sayest! 
 Then Fate is kind, for I have that to tell 
 thee which had seemed too hard before : 
 At noon this day my freedom s end has 
 come and I, to keep the pledge I made 
 my father, must return to the country 
 whence I came. But see, the shadows 
 measure to the river s edge and many 
 moments of this last glad day remain." 
 
 So together they sat upon the river s 
 bank while in the thoughts of each the 
 subject was the same. After a silence 
 Nordeus began : "Listen, Laia, for in my 
 
 130 
 
As It Is Destined 
 
 heart there is a song, wherein a moon 
 lit Sea with ceaseless rhythm pounds 
 upon the rocks below a Garden, wonder 
 ful as in a dream-world night. Within 
 this Garden, flooded by the moon, two 
 lovers stand, hand locked in hand; 
 their two hearts beating stronger than 
 the rhythmic Sea. Ah, Laia let us 
 dream the distant Garden and flooding 
 moonlight all our own !" 
 
 But the words gripped the heart of the 
 Princess, for she thought, "It is the soul 
 of Nordeus reading my fate, where the 
 mortal mind of my beloved may not 
 understand." Yet her lips smiled, for 
 she would not let sadness mar their last 
 moments. 
 
 The Sun reached the highest point in 
 the Heavens, and though the color paled 
 upon the lips and cheeks of the Princess, 
 her voice was quiet and her eyes were 
 calm as she said : 
 
 "The hour has come which shows 
 how little we may map the destiny of 
 our finite lives; in this moment I may 
 tell thee what thou must have known 
 these many moons, that in leaving thee 
 I leave all that makes life dear and in 
 this hour the heart of Laia dies." 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 But deep in the eyes of the youth 
 there gleamed a little light like a faint 
 reflection from the Hermit s own. "We 
 may not pierce the veil of Destiny, be 
 loved, we may not even say our hearts, 
 though they seem shattered, are about 
 to die. 
 
 "What though this hour be filled with 
 sorrow and the haunting phantoms of 
 future years stretch hopelessly before 
 us! In the great ALL, of what small 
 moment are the years to come, if we re 
 member. Life is but a day and all the 
 glorious morning hours have been our 
 own. What is an afternoon? To-mor 
 row is another day, and to-morrow ! 
 thou love of my soul, we meet in our 
 next rebirth." 
 
 132 
 
THL MARRIAGE OF THE 
 PRINCE55 
 
XIV 
 THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE55 
 
 IN the hour before sundown, music 
 sounded in all parts of the City, can 
 non boomed, and lusty throats grew 
 hoarse in acclamation of the Crown 
 Prince of the North. Alone, in advance 
 of his glittering train, he rode through 
 streets hung with flying streamers and 
 bordered with garlands; through the 
 cheering multitude to the Palace draw 
 bridge, whose heavy chains were trans 
 formed into ropes of flowers. 
 
 Within the Palace the great Hall 
 filled. The King, the Queen, and all 
 their court, the dignitaries of the City 
 took their places; while all eyes turned 
 in amazement at the majestic bearing of 
 the "Barbarian" who, amidst his splen 
 did retinue, unconcernedly awaited his 
 bride. 
 
 135 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 Minutes passed and still she came not. 
 The King grew uneasy and spoke with 
 Torqueo, the young Duke Artaras 
 flushed with hope, the courtiers won 
 dered, while the maids of honor whis 
 pered that, might the Princess see the 
 bridegroom, never would she delay ! 
 
 Alone the Prince stood seemingly un 
 moved. 
 
 At last there was a stir! The Prin 
 cess entered, weighed down by her robe 
 of jewels which with each even step 
 swung forward, and then again hung 
 rigid with each step s pause. The glit 
 tering pendants of the heavy diadem fell 
 from her temples to her feet, and over 
 her face were drawn three veils so that 
 none might know what emotion stirred 
 her heart. 
 
 The air hung heavy with incense ; 
 the echo of the last horns, bells, and 
 cymbals faded; the final invocations had 
 been pronounced. Then the bride s at 
 tendants removed her veils and all the 
 assemblage saw her face, wondrously 
 beautiful, though its ivory paleness was 
 intensified by the shadows beneath her 
 drooping lashes. 
 
 Not for an instant did she raise her 
 136 
 
The Marriage of the Princess 
 
 glance toward him who was now her 
 husband; whereas no sooner had the 
 Prince beheld her countenance than his 
 indifference vanished and he bent for 
 ward eagerly with manifest delight in 
 the revelation of the beauty of his bride. 
 Immediately her attendants closed 
 around her, and she was borne to the 
 little Temple in the Moon-garden. 
 
 Here her maids of honor arrayed her 
 in robes of shimmering silver, pearls they 
 braided in her hair. Adoringly they 
 lingered over each ornament that might 
 most enhance her beauty for the hal 
 lowed hour, when the ascendant moon 
 should reveal her husband awaiting 
 her at the foot of the Temple s steps. 
 Softly, as though in fear of displacing 
 one perfect fold of drapery, her maids 
 withdrew. The departing torchlight dap 
 pled faintly upon her loveliness and 
 then the Princess cast herself prone 
 upon the marble floor. 
 
 Like a great dazzling frosty bubble, 
 the full moon hung poised against the 
 indigo sky. Gradually the white shafts 
 of light crept through the Temple s 
 open portal to where the Princess lay. 
 
 137 
 
Woven in the Tapestry 
 
 Gradually, their silent radiance drew 
 near her outstretched form ; then spread 
 ing over hand and arm and shoulder, 
 their gleaming caresses reached her 
 eyes. Startled, her wandering con 
 sciousness awoke to the dreaded hour s 
 demand. Slowly she arose, and then 
 with calm, even step emerged from be 
 neath the shadows of the white-stemmed 
 peristyle, while the caressing moon 
 light rippled down her trailing draperies. 
 
 Midway down the steps she paused, 
 pressing her hands against her wildly 
 fluttering heart ; for borne upon the 
 night air, as clearly as though the sound 
 were real, she seemed to hear the song 
 of Nordeus. 
 
 With utmost courage she cast his im 
 age from her thoughts. Unfalteringly 
 down the steps she went; a gliding 
 breath of light and moon shadow. Sud 
 denly she stopped, bent forward, as she 
 strove to pierce the silvery haze obscur 
 ing the features of her husband. One 
 moment she swayed and then there 
 broke from her lips a rapt inbreathed 
 cry, "Nordeus !" 
 
 - Within this Garden, wonderful as in a 
 
 dream-world night, these lovers stood. 
 
 138 
 
The Marriage of the Princess 
 
 No further word she spoke, and no word 
 he; but close, close about her he drew 
 his arms, as heart beat to heart with 
 louder rhythm than the distant Sea. 
 
 THE END 
 
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