Then I gave him my hand and he took it. He tried to press my hand and it seemed to cost him physical exertion.
I said, "Have you forgiven me?"
It was a warm, glorious sensation; I saw that he tried his best and he looked at me mildly.
He murmured something, but I could not understand it or I have forgotten it. Thereupon, with the utmost effort to express myself clearly and with sincerest fervor, I asked: "Can you give me advice? I seek for the best. Tell me what I must do, counsel me!"
But he said nothing.
Then an old question arose in me, unexpectedly and without my having resolved anything about it:
"Father," I said, "what is Christ?"
Then I heard him say:
"Ask the butterfly."
And I understood that he meant the butterfly in the last dream with the blue decorated wings. I asked: