alf sick, the water-snakes lay down on them,
and black crabs pinched their stalks. There stood beautiful palm-trees,
oaks, and plantains; there stood parsley and flowering thyme: every tree
and every flower had its name; each of them was a human life, the human
frame still lived--one in China, and another in Greenland--round about
in the world. There were large trees in small pots, so that they stood
so stunted in growth, and ready to burst the pots; in other places,
there was a little dull flower in rich mould, with moss round about it,
and it was so petted and nursed. But the distressed mother bent down
over all the smallest plants, and heard within them how the human heart
beat; and amongst millions she knew her child's.

"There it is!" cried she, and stretched her hands out over a little blue
crocus, that hung quite sickly on one side.

"Don't touch the flower!" said the old woman. "But place yourself here,
and when Death comes--I expect him every moment--do not let him pluck
the flower up, but threaten him that you will do the same with the
others. Then he will be afraid! He is responsible for them to OUR LORD,
and no one dares to pluck them up before HE gives leave."

All at once an icy cold rushed through the great hall, and the blind
mother could feel that it was Death that came.

"How hast thou been able to find thy way hither?" he asked. "How couldst
thou come quicker than I?"

"I am a mother," said she.

And Death stretched out his long hand towards the fine little flower,
but she held her hands fast around his, so tight, and yet afraid that
she should touch one of the leaves. Then Death blew on her hands, and
she felt that it was colder than the cold wind, and her hands fell down
powerless.

"Thou canst not do anything against me!" said Death.

"But OUR LORD can!" said she.

"I only do His bidding!" said Death. "I am His gardener, I take all His
flowers and trees, and plant them out in the great garden of Paradise,
in the unknown land; but how they grow there, and how it is there I dare
not tell thee."

"Give me back my child!" said the mother, and she wept and prayed. At
once she seized hold of two beautiful flowers close by, with each hand,
and cried out to Death, "I will tear all thy flowers off, for I am in
despair."

"Touch them not!" said Death. "Thou say'st that thou art so unhappy, and
now thou wilt make another mother equally unhappy."

"Another mother!" said the poor woman, and direc