"I am still a boy, a fool." "You mustn't hurt me!" she cried in a sorrowful voice, pressing his head to her bosom.

"Say nothing! God be with you.

Your life is your own! But don't wound my heart.

How can a mother help sorrowing for her son?
Impossible! I am sorry for all of you.

You are all dear to me as my own flesh and blood; you are all such good people! And who will be sorry for you if I am not?
You go and others follow you.