"It is as you have said."

Then they walked along the road which left the grove and followed the
river. And soon under the glare of the sun the road became white, very
white. It was like the linen at Holy Communion. To the right and left
hidden springs tinkled like pious bells. And the angel said:

"Do you recognize this part of your life?"

"This is the day of my first communion," answered the poet. "I
remember the church and the happy faces of my mother and grandmother.
I was happy and sad at the same time. With what fervor I knelt!
Thrills ran through my hair. That evening at family supper they kissed
me and said: 'He was the most beautiful.'"

And in recalling this the poet burst into sobs. And as he wept he
became as beautiful as on the day of the blessed ceremony. His tears
flowed through his hands like holy water.

And they went on along the road.

The day waned a little. The supple poplars swayed gently along the
ditches. At a distance one of them in the center of a field looked
like a tall young girl. The sky tinted it so delicately that it was
pale and blue like the temple of a virgin.

And the poet dreamed of the first woman he had loved.

And his guardian-angel said to him: