said to me once when I asked her to speak in
Spanish, "That is not speaking." And so long as she could not commune
with me in that better language, which reflected her mind, there would
not be that perfect union of soul she so passionately desired.

By and by, as she grew calmer, I sought to say something that would be
consoling to both of us. "Sweetest Rima," I spoke, "it is so sad that
I can never hope to talk with you in your way; but a greater love than
this that is ours we could never feel, and love will make us happy,
unutterably happy, in spite of that one sadness. 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.

"Look," she said, "grandfather lying asleep by the fire. So far away
from us--oh, so far! But if we were to go out from the cave, and on and
on to the great mountains where the city of the sun is, and stood there
at last in the midst of great crowds of people, all looking at us,
talking to us, it would be just the same. They would be like the trees
and rocks and animals--so far! Not with us nor we with them. But we are
everywhere alone together, apart--we two. It is love; I know it now, but
I did not know it before because I had forgotten what she told me. Do
you think I can tell you what she said when I asked her why she cried?
Oh no! Only this, she and another were like one, always, apart from
the others. Then something came--something