You have seen the false water of the mirage on the savannah, when the sun shines bright and hot; and if one were to follow it one would at last fall down and perish, with never a cool drop to moisten one's parched lips.

And your hope, Rima--this hope to find your people which has brought you all the way to Riolama--is a mirage, a delusion, which will lead to destruction if you will not abandon it." She turned to face me with flashing eyes.

"You know best!" she exclaimed.

"You know best and tell me that! Never until this moment have you spoken falsely.

Oh, why have you said such things to me--named after this place, Riolama?
Am I also like that false water you speak of--no divine Rima, no sweet Rima?
My mother, had she no mother, no mother's mother?
I remember her, at Voa, before she died, and this hand seems real--like yours; you have asked to hold it.