"It is wonderful, dear little one, how perfectly our souls are one. United by our own wish and will, nothing is wanting but a bond of union. That bond shall be tied if I really gain the precious sense that I have never enjoyed. The idea of seeing would never have taken possession of my mind if I did not cherish above all things the idea that through it I should love you better. The acquisition of that power can be nothing to me but the faculty of admiring in a new kind of way what I already admire so truly by the way of love.—But I fancy you are sad to-day."
"Yes, I am; and to tell you the truth, I do not know why. I am very happy and very sad, both at once. The day is so gloomy—it would be better if it never were day at all, always night."
"Nay, nay, things are good as they are. Day and night! If God ever grant me to know the difference, how happy I shall be! Why are you stopping?"
"We have come to a dangerous bit. We must turn aside a little way to get to the path."
"Ah! La Trascava! This slippery grass slopes down till it is lost in the chasm. Whatever falls down there does not come up again. Let us go away, Nela; I do not like this place."
"Silly boy, it is a long way from this to the mouth of the chasm. And it is very pretty here to-day."
Nela stood still and detained her companion by the arm, looking down at the mouth of the gulf which opened in the earth, in shape like a funnel. The sloping sides of this narrow, deep basin were covered by extremely fine turf; at the very bottom a large oblong rock lay on the grass among brambles, fennel shrubs and rushes, and an immense variety of gay-colored flowers. The stone looked like a large tongue. You felt, rather than saw, that by the side of it there was an opening, an abyss, hidden by plants, such as Don Quixote had to cut away when he slid into the cavern of Montesinos.
Nela seemed never tired of looking.
"Why do you say that the horrible Trascava looks pretty?" asked Pablo.