Lying in your arms, looking up into your face, it was like that; I could not count the things I remembered.

In the wood, when you were there, and before; and long, long ago at Voa, when I was a child with mother." "Tell me some of the things you remembered, Rima." "Yes, one--only one now.

When I was a child at Voa mother was very lame--you know that.

Whenever we went out, away from the houses, into the forest, walking slowly, slowly, she would sit under a tree while I ran about playing.

And every time I came back to her I would find her so pale, so sad, crying--crying.