"What's the matter with my eyes now?"
"They've become grey."
"Oh, nonsense!"
"Yes, they're turning grey, blue-grey...."
He laughed at her a little. She remained with her head on his shoulder, looked into his eyes. She became quite calm, now, gave a last, deep sigh:
"Dear, listen ... listen to it blowing...."
"Yes, Mamma."
"I'm afraid of the wind sometimes...."
"And sometimes you love it."
"Yes."