'Whichever you like best,' answered Greif, who was at his wit's end.

'Whichever I like?' she looked at him long, and then her face softened
wonderfully. 'Let it be neither, dear,' she said. 'Let us not try to
understand, but only love, love, love for ever! Love is so much better
than any discussion about it, so much sweeter than anything that you or
I can say in its favour, so much more real and lasting than the
meanings of words. If you could describe it, it would be like anything
else, and if you tried, and could not, you might think there was no
such thing at all, and that would not be true.'

'You talk better than I do, sweetheart. Where did you learn to say such
things?'

'I never learned, but I think sometimes that the heart talks better
than the head, because the heart feels what it is talking about, and
the head only thinks it feels. Do you see? You have learnt so much,
that your head will not let your heart speak in plain German.'

Greif smiled at the phrase, which indeed contained a vast amount of
truth.

'If you could make the professors of philosophy understand that,' he
answered, 'you would simplify my education very much.'

'I do not know what philosophy is, dear, but if there were a professor
here, I would try and persuade him, if it would do you any good. I know
I am right.'

'Of course you are. You always will be--you represent what Plato