The plain was now filled with peace-pipes.

When the last blended tones died away, the whole tribe were seated on the long plateau, and every old warrior was smoking a pipe of peace.
Gretchen saw that her spirit, through the violin, had calmed the sea.

She was sure now that she had rightly read her mission in life.

Amid the scene of glimmering peace-pipes, a heavenly presence seemed near her.

She had broken the traditions of centuries by the sympathetic thrill of four simple strings.