And the Damsel curtsied to the Sage and sauntered off, laughing and looking back over her shoulder.

   An action committed in bad taste is more curing and disillusionizing to Love than the cruelest blows of rage and hate.

   man would often be the lover of his wife—if he were married to some one else.

   There come moments in life when we regret the old gods.

   Time and place—temperature and temperament—and after the sunset the night—and then to-morrow.

   ll the winter passed and the Damsel remained at the Court and the Sage in his cave. Both found the days long and their occupation insufficient.

   At last, when spring came, the Damsel again mounted the hill one morning before dawn and tapped at the Sage's door.

   His heart gave a bound, and he flew to open it without more ado.

   "So you have come back?" he said; and his voice was eager, though it was a gray light and he could not see her plainly.

   "Yes," said she; "I want you to tell me one more story of life before I go on a long voyage."

   So the Sage began:

   "There was once upon a time a man of half-measures, whose brain was filled with dreams for his own glory, and he possessed a woman of flesh and blood, who loved him, and would have turned the dreams into realities. But

    because

   he was happy with her, and because her hair was black and her eyes were green, and her flesh like alabaster, he said to himself, 'This is a fiend and a vampire. Nothing human can be so delectable.' So he ran a stake through her body, and buried her at the cross-roads. Then he found life an emptiness, and went down into nothingness and was forgotten—"

   "Oh, hush, Sage!" said the Damsel, trembling; "I wish to hear no more. Come, shave off your beard, and put on a velvet

   doublet, and return with me to the Court. See, life is short, and I am fair."

   And the Sage suddenly felt he had found the philosopher's stone, and knew the secret he had come into the wilds to find.

   So he went back to his cave, 

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