"Make the region of Death less delightful, less happy; if not, even those two when their springtime of love shall be ended will leave me and follow the others." Brahma thought for a moment and answered: "No! Oh no! I will not decrease beauty and happiness in the region of Death, but I will do something for Life in its own realm. Henceforward people will not pass to the other shore willingly, they must be forced to it." When he had said this he made a thick veil out of darkness which no one could see through, and next he created two terrible beings, one of these he named Fear and the other one Pain. He commanded them then to hang that black veil at the Passage. Thereafter Vishnu's kingdom was as crowded with life as it had been, for though the region of Death was as calm, as serene, and as blissful as ever, people dreaded the Passage. [Illustration: SMALL CHAPEL ON THE SIENKIEWICZ ESTATE] IS HE THE DEAREST ONE? II IS HE THE DEAREST ONE? In the distance a dark strip of pine wood was visible. In front of the wood was a meadow, and amid fields of grain stood a cottage covered with a straw roof and with moss. Birch trees hung their tresses above it. On a fir tree stood a stork on its nest, and in a cherry garden were dark beehives. Through an open gate a wanderer walked into the yard and said to the mistress of the cottage, who was standing on its threshold: "Peace to this quiet house, to those trees, to the grain, to the whole place, and to thee, mother!" The woman greeted him kindly, and added: "I will bring bread and milk to thee, wayfarer; but sit down the while and rest, for it is clear that thou art coming back from a long journey." "I have wandered like that stork, and like a swallow; I come from afar, I bring news from thy children." Her whole soul rushed to the eyes of that mother, and she asked the wayfarer straightway: "Dost thou know of my Yasko?" "Dost thou love that son most that thou askest first about him? Well, one son of thine is in forests, he works with his axe, he spreads his net in lakes; another herds horses in the steppe, he sings plaintive songs and looks at the stars; the third son climbs mountains, passes over naked rocks and high pastures, spends the night with sheep and shouts at the eagles. All bend down before thy knees and send thee greeting." "But Yasko?" asked the mother with an anxious face. "I keep sad news for the last. Life is going ill with Yasko: the field does not give its fruit to him, poverty and hunger torment the man, his days and months pass in suffering. Amid strangers and misery he has even forgotten thy language; forget him, since he has no thought for thee." When he had finished, the woman took the man's hand, led him to her pantry in the cottage, and, seizing a loaf from the shelf, she said: "Give this bread, O wayfarer, to Yasko!" Then she untied a small kerchief, took a bright silver coin from it, and with trembling voice added: