"The only way is to take the harp from him," said the other. "But it is hard to know how to get it away, for he will never let it go out of his hands." "We must take it from him when he is sleeping," said the first. "Certainly," said the other; and then Arasmon heard them settle how and when they would go to his room at night to steal his harp. He sat still till they were gone, and then he rose, and grasping it tenderly, turned from the palace and walked away through the garden gates. "I have lost Chrysea," he said, "and now they would take from me even my harp, the only thing I have to love in all this world, but I will go away, far off where they will never find me," and when he was out of sight, he ran with all his might, and never rested till he was far away on a lonely hill, with no one near to see him. The stars were beginning to shine though it was not yet dark. Arasmon sat on a stone and looked at the country far and near. He could hear the sheep bells tinkling around him, and far, far off in the distance he could see the city and the palace he had left. Then he began to play on his harp, and as he played the sheep stopped browsing and drew near him to listen. The stars grew brighter and the evening darker, and he saw a woman carrying a child coming up the hill. She looked pale and tired, but her face was very happy as she sat down not far from Arasmon and listened to his playing, whilst she looked eagerly across the hill as if she watched for some one who was coming. Presently she turned and said, "How beautifully you play; I never heard music like it before, but what makes you look so sad? Are you unhappy?" "Yes," said Arasmon, "I am very miserable. I lost my wife Chrysea many years ago, and now I don't know where she can be." "It is a year since I have seen my husband," said the woman. "He went to the war a year ago, but now there is peace and he is coming back, and to-night he will come over this hill. It was just here we parted, and now I am come to meet him." "How happy you must be," said Arasmon. "I shall never see Chrysea again," and as he spoke he struck a chord on the harp, which cried, "O Arasmon, my husband! why do you not know me? It is I, Chrysea." "Do not say that," continued the woman; "you will find her some day. Why do you sit here? Was it here you parted from her?" Then Arasmon told her how they had gone to a strange desolate village and rested there for the night, and in the morning Chrysea was gone, and that he had wandered all over the world looking for her ever since.