She said to herself: "Why should I not love him?
His heart must be as pure as the heart of that little blessed child." The warning voice of the wisdom she had learnt from him whispered: "And it rests with you to keep him so." He led her to her tree, where she seated herself regally as before.

He poured his sheaves of hyacinths as tribute into her lap.

As his hands touched hers her cold face flushed again and softened.

He stretched himself beside her and love stirred in her heart, unforbidden, as in a happy dream.

He watched the movements of her delicate fingers as they played with the tangled hyacinth bells.