or
enliven the long days."

"I was very happy in my village outside the palace gates," said Mark
quietly; "I had none of these things; I only taught the little peasants,
yet I was happy. From morning to night the path was straight before
me,--a bright and easy path; and the end was always light. Now all is
difficult and strange. Since I passed through the gates with the golden
scrolls, which I thought were like the heavenly Jerusalem, all goes
crooked and awry; nothing seems plain and righteous as in the pleasant
old days. I have come into an enchanted palace, the air of which I
cannot breathe and live; I must go back."

"No, not so," said the Princess, "you are wanted here. Where you were
you were of little good. There were at least others who could do your
work. Here none can do it but you. They never saw any one like you
before. They know it and speak of it. All are changed somewhat since you
came; you might, it is true, come to me, but I should not wish it. The
air of this house would be worse for you even than that of the palace
which you fear so much. Besides, the Prince would not be pleased with
me."

Mark looked sadly before him for some moments before he said:

"Even if it be true what you say, still I must go. It is killing me. I
wish to do right and good to all; but what good shall I do if it takes
all my strength and life? I shall ask the Prince to let me go back."

"No," said the Princess, "not that--never that. It is impossible, you
cannot go back!"

"Cannot go back!" cried Mark. "Why? The Prince is very kind. He will not
keep me here to die."

"Yes, the Prince is very kind, but he cannot do that; what is passed can
never happen again. It is the children's phrase, 'Do it again.' It can
never be done again. You have passed, as you say, the golden gates into
an enchanted world; you have known good and evil; you have tasted of the
fruit of the so-called Tree of Life; you cannot go back to the village.
Think."

Mark was silent for a longer space this time. His eyes were dim, but he
seemed to see afar off.

"No," he said at last, "it is true, I cannot go back. The village, and
the school, and the children have passed away. I should not find them
there, as they were before. If I cannot come to you, there is nothing
for me but to die."

"The Pagans," said the Princess, "the old Pagans, that knew their gods
but dimly, used to say--"The God-beloved die young." It has been said
since by Christian men.