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“
Quien
sabe
?
”
“
Yes
,
you
,
too
.
Where
else
?
No
,
it
is
better
here
,
yonder
,
by
the
side
of
the
little
girl
.
”
“
I
am
not
able
to
look
forward
yet
,
sir
.
The
things
that
are
to
be
are
somehow
nothing
to
me
at
all
.
For
me
they
amount
to
nothing
.
”
“
They
amount
to
everything
,
my
boy
.
”
“
Yes
,
to
one
part
of
me
,
but
not
to
the
part
of
me
that
belonged
to
Angele
—
the
best
part
.
Oh
,
you
don
’
t
know
,
”
he
exclaimed
with
a
sudden
movement
,
“
no
one
can
understand
.
What
is
it
to
me
when
you
tell
me
that
sometime
after
I
shall
die
too
,
somewhere
,
in
a
vague
place
you
call
Heaven
,
I
shall
see
her
again
?
Do
you
think
that
the
idea
of
that
ever
made
any
one
’
s
sorrow
easier
to
bear
?
Ever
took
the
edge
from
any
one
’
s
grief
?
”
“
But
you
believe
that
—
—
”
“
Oh
,
believe
,
believe
!
”
echoed
the
other
.
“
What
do
I
believe
?
I
don
’
t
know
.
I
believe
,
or
I
don
’
t
believe
.
I
can
remember
what
she
WAS
,
but
I
cannot
hope
what
she
will
be
.
Hope
,
after
all
,
is
only
memory
seen
reversed
.
When
I
try
to
see
her
in
another
life
—
whatever
you
call
it
—
in
Heaven
—
beyond
the
grave
—
this
vague
place
of
yours
;
when
I
try
to
see
her
there
,
she
comes
to
my
imagination
only
as
what
she
was
,
material
,
earthly
,
as
I
loved
her
.
Imperfect
,
you
say
;
but
that
is
as
I
saw
her
,
and
as
I
saw
her
,
I
loved
her
;
and
as
she
WAS
,
material
,
earthly
,
imperfect
,
she
loved
me
.
It
’
s
that
,
that
I
want
,
”
he
exclaimed
.
“
I
don
’
t
want
her
changed
.
I
don
’
t
want
her
spiritualised
,
exalted
,
glorified
,
celestial
.
I
want
HER
.
I
think
it
is
only
this
feeling
that
has
kept
me
from
killing
myself
.
I
would
rather
be
unhappy
in
the
memory
of
what
she
actually
was
,
than
be
happy
in
the
realisation
of
her
transformed
,
changed
,
made
celestial
.
I
am
only
human
.
Her
soul
!
That
was
beautiful
,
no
doubt
.
But
,
again
,
it
was
something
very
vague
,
intangible
,
hardly
more
than
a
phrase
.
But
the
touch
of
her
hand
was
real
,
the
sound
of
her
voice
was
real
,
the
clasp
of
her
arms
about
my
neck
was
real
.
Oh
,
”
he
cried
,
shaken
with
a
sudden
wrench
of
passion
,
“
give
those
back
to
me
.
Tell
your
God
to
give
those
back
to
me
—
the
sound
of
her
voice
,
the
touch
of
her
hand
,
the
clasp
of
her
dear
arms
,
REAL
,
REAL
,
and
then
you
may
talk
to
me
of
Heaven
.
”
Sarria
shook
his
head
.
“
But
when
you
meet
her
again
,
”
he
observed
,
“
in
Heaven
,
you
,
too
,
will
be
changed
.
You
will
see
her
spiritualised
,
with
spiritual
eyes
.
As
she
is
now
,
she
does
not
appeal
to
you
.
I
understand
that
.
It
is
because
,
as
you
say
,
you
are
only
human
,
while
she
is
divine
.
But
when
you
come
to
be
like
her
,
as
she
is
now
,
you
will
know
her
as
she
really
is
,
not
as
she
seemed
to
be
,
because
her
voice
was
sweet
,
because
her
hair
was
pretty
,
because
her
hand
was
warm
in
yours
.
Vanamee
,
your
talk
is
that
of
a
foolish
child
.
You
are
like
one
of
the
Corinthians
to
whom
Paul
wrote
.
Do
you
remember
?
Listen
now
.
I
can
recall
the
words
,
and
such
words
,
beautiful
and
terrible
at
the
same
time
,
such
a
majesty
.
They
march
like
soldiers
with
trumpets
.
’
But
some
man
will
say
’
—
as
you
have
said
just
now
—
’
How
are
the
dead
raised
up
?
And
with
what
body
do
they
come
?
Thou
fool
!
That
which
thou
sowest
is
not
quickened
except
it
die
,
and
that
which
thou
sowest
,
thou
sowest
not
that
body
that
shall
be
,
but
bare
grain
.
It
may
chance
of
wheat
,
or
of
some
other
grain
.
