"I suppose I had better explain what I mean and tell you the part of the story I have left out. You see, that night, after the woman put the idiot boy to bed, she returned to where I was sitting by the hearth. She suggested that instead of being an eternal pilgrim travelling through this world of anguish and travail, wouldn't I be better off to stay there with her in that place where the river was cool in summer and warm in winter. Well, if I had simply accepted that, I am sure you would say I had sold my soul to the devil, but in my own defense let me say that I truly felt sorry for the woman. There she was, all alone in that desolate house in the mountains with no one to share her bed but that idiot boy with whom she could not even have a conversation. She was afraid that under these circumstances she herself would eventually forget how to talk; that seemed terribly sad to me!

"I had been particularly moved by our parting at dawn that morning. She had said how sad she felt, with no hope for anything but to grow old in that remote place with no chance of ever seeing me again. She said that whenever in my travels I chanced upon a small stream and saw the white peach blossoms floating in it, I was to remember her, for the blossoms would be emblematic of her own tragic condition. Despite her obvious despondence over our separation, she was ever the thoughtful hostess and told me that if I followed the course of the river, I would eventually come to a village. She said I would know I was approaching the village when I saw the water beginning to run swifter and finally form a waterfall. She said the waterfall would be a sign that would put my mind at ease. With those words she accompanied me along the path till we were out of sight of the house.