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And
Paul
,
suddenly
unable
to
express
the
knowledge
gained
out
of
its
time
,
said
only
:
“
I
don
’
t
think
you
unnatural
.
”
She
saw
his
distress
,
said
:
“
There
is
a
thing
,
Son
.
”
“
Yes
?
”
“
I
do
love
your
Chani
.
I
accept
her
.
”
This
was
real
,
Paul
told
himself
.
This
wasn
’
t
the
imperfect
vision
to
be
changed
by
the
twistings
out
of
time
’
s
own
birth
.
The
reassurance
gave
him
a
new
hold
on
his
world
.
Bits
of
solid
reality
began
to
dip
through
the
dream
state
into
his
awareness
.
He
knew
suddenly
that
he
was
in
a
hiereg
,
a
desert
camp
.
Chani
had
planted
their
stilltent
on
flour
-
sand
for
its
softness
.
That
could
only
mean
Chani
was
near
by
—
Chani
,
his
soul
,
Chani
his
sihaya
,
sweet
as
the
desert
spring
,
Chani
up
from
the
palmaries
of
the
deep
south
.
Now
,
he
remembered
her
singing
a
sand
chanty
to
him
in
the
time
for
sleep
.
“
O
my
soul
,
Have
no
taste
for
Paradise
this
night
,
And
I
swear
by
Shai
-
hulud
