Were I and the Wanderer the same spirit, I asked of myself, and she of the dream and Heliodore the same woman?
Who could tell?
At least this was sure, from the moment that first we saw one another we knew we belonged each to each for the present and the future.

Therefore, as it was with these we had to do, the past might sleep and all its secrets.
Now we had met but to be parted again by death, which seemed hard indeed.

Yet since we _had_ met, for my part Fate had my forgiveness for I knew that we should meet again.

I looked back on what I had done and left undone, and could not blame myself overmuch.

True, it would have been wiser if I had stayed by Irene and Heliodore, and not led that charge against the Greeks.