Andwhen he watered the flower for the last time, and prepared to place her underthe shelter of her glass globe, he realized that he was very close to tears.
"Goodbye," he said to the flower.
But she made no answer.
"Goodbye," he said again.
The flower coughed. But it was not because she had a cold.
"I have been silly," she said to him, at last. "I ask yourforgiveness. Try to be happy . . ."
He was surprised by this absence of reproaches. He stood there allbewildered, the glass globe held arrested in mid-air. He did not understandthis quiet sweetness.
"Of course I love you," the flower said to him. "It is myfault that you have not known it all the while. That is of no importance. Butyou--you have been just as foolish as I. Try to be happy . . . Let the glassglobe be. I don't want it any more."
"But the wind--"
"My cold is not so bad as all that . . . The cool night air will dome good. I am a flower."
"But the animals--"
"Well, I must endure the presence of two or three caterpillars if Iwish to become acquainted with the butterflies. It seems that they are verybeautiful. And if not the butterflies--and the caterpillars--who will call uponme? You will be far away . . . As for the large animals--I am not at all afraidof any of them. I have my claws."
And, naïvely, she showed her four thorns. Then she added:
"Don't linger like this. You have decided to go away. Now go!"
For she did not want him to see her crying. She was such a proud flower . . .