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.