“Ah, then, it IS my mother!” I exclaimed.
“Yes—she with the wounded hand,” he assented; “—she will be up and away long ere your morning is ripe.”
“I am sorry.”
“Rather be glad.”
“It must be a sight for God Himself to see such a woman come awake!”
“It is indeed a sight for God, a sight that makes her Maker glad! He sees of the travail of His soul, and is satisfied!—Look at her once more, and sleep.”
He let the rays of his candle fall on her beautiful face.
“She looks much younger!” I said.
“She IS much younger,” he replied. “Even Lilith already begins to look younger!”
I lay down, blissfully drowsy.