She trembled.
With his eyes on her, so white and tall and radiant, he made a visible effort to hold himself in, as if not daring to reach her with a single word.

Then he let himself go.
"I love you so much," he said simply.
"Ah," she answered, "you will not die!" "How good you were," he replied, "to have been willing to be my sister for so long!" "Think of all you have done for me!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands and bending her magnificent body toward him, as if prostrating herself before him.
You could tell that they were speaking open-heartedly.

What a good thing it is to be frank and speak without reticence, without the shame and guilt of not knowing what one is saying and for each to go straight to the other.

It is almost a miracle.
They were silent.

He closed his eyes, though continuing to see her, then opened them again and looked at her.
"You are my angel who do not love me." His face clouded.