And perhaps, after a while, you will be able to say all
you wish in my language, which is also yours, as you said some
time ago. When we are back again in the beloved wood, and talk
once more under that tree where we first talked, and under the
old mora, where you hid yourself and threw down leaves on me, and
where you caught the little spider to show me how you made
yourself a dress, you shall speak to me in your own sweet tongue,
and then try to say the same things in mine.... And in the end,
perhaps, you will find that it is not so impossible as you
think."
She looked at me, smiling again through her tears, and shook her
head a little.
"Remember what I have heard, that before your mother died you
were able to tell Nuflo and the priest what her wish was. Can
you not, in the same way, tell me why she cried?"
"I can tell you, but it will not be telling you."
"I understand. You can tell the bare facts. I can imagine
something more, and the rest I must lose. Tell me, Rima."
Her face became troubled; she glanced away and let her eyes
wander round the dim, firelit cavern; then they returned to mine
once more.
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