"It did. I don't know why, but it did," said Bal. "Anyway, this agreement they made isn't the best but I think it will keep them from destroying themselves."
"It's as much as we can expect," said Ethaniel. "They may have small wars after this, but never the big one. In fifty or a hundred years we can come back and see how much they've learned."
"I'm not sure I want to," said Bal. "Say, what's an angel?"
"Why?"
"When I went out walking people stopped to look. Some knelt in the snow and called me an angel."
"Something like that happened to me," said Ethaniel.
"I didn't get it but I didn't let it upset me," said Bal. "I smiled at them and went about my business." He shivered again. "It was always cold. I walked out, but sometimes I flew back. I hope that was all right."
In the cabin Bal spread his great wings. Renaissance painters had never seen his like but knew exactly how he looked. In their paintings they had pictured him innumerable times.
"I don't think it hurt us that you flew," said Ethaniel. "I did so myself occasionally."
"But you don't know what an angel is?"