unless it help our comprehension of the rest, unless it help us in some measure to conceive that the very universe itself must rejoice in existence.  The sage who has attained a certain height will find peace in all things that happen; and the event that saddens him, as other men, tarries but an instant ere it goes to strengthen his deep perception of life.  He who has learned to see in all things only matter for unselfish wonder, can be deprived of no satisfaction whatever without there spring to sudden life within him, from the mere feeling that this joy can be dispensed with, a high protecting thought that enfolds him in its light.  That destiny is beautiful wherein each event, though charged with joy or sadness, has brought reflection to us, has added something to our range of soul, has given us greater peace wherewith to cling to life.  And, indeed, the accident that robs us of our love, that leads us along in triumph, or even that seats us on a throne, reveals but little of the workings of destiny; which, indeed, lie far more in the thoughts that arise in our mind as we look at the men around us, at the woman we love; as we dwell on the feelings within us; as we fix our eyes on the evening sky with its crown of indifferent stars.

94.  A woman of extraordinary beauty and talent, possessed of the rarest qualities of mind and soul, was one day asked by a friend, to whom she seemed the most perfect creature on earth:  “What are your plans?  Can any man be worthy of your love?  Your future puzzles me.  I cannot conceive a destiny that shall be lofty enough for a soul such as yours.”  He knew but little of destiny.  To him, as to most men, it meant thrones, triumphs, dazzling adventures:  these things seemed to him the sum of a human destiny; whereby he did but prove that he knew not what destiny was.  And, in the first place, why this disdain of to-day?  To disdain to-day is to prove that yesterday has been misunderstood.  To disdain to-day is to declare oneself a stranger, and what can you hope to do in a world where you shall ever pass as a stranger?  To-day has this advantage over yesterday, that it exists and was made for us.  Be to-day what it will, it has wider knowledge than yesterday; and by that alone does it become more beautiful, and vaster.  Why should we think that the woman I speak of would have known a more brilliant destiny in Venice, Florence, or Rome?  Her presence might have been sought at magnificent festival, and her beauty have found a fitting surrounding in exquisite landscape.  She might have had princes and kings, the elect of the world, at her feet; and perhaps it had needed but one of her smiles to add to a great nation’s gladness, to ennoble or chasten the thought of an epoch.  Whereas here all her life will be spent among four or five people—­four or five souls that know of her soul, and love her.  It may be that she never shall stir from her dwelling; that of her life, of her thoughts, and the strength that is in her, there will remain not a trace among