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 your forgiveness. Try to be happy...

　　He was surprised by this absence of reproaches. He stood there all bewildered, the glass globe held arrested in mid-air. He did not understand this quiet sweetness.

　　Of course I love you, the flower said to him. It is my fault that you have not known it all the while. That is of no importance. But you-- you have been just as foolish as I. Try to be happy... let the glass globe be. I dont want it any more.

　　But the wind--

　　My cold is not so bad as all that... the cool night air will do me good. I am a flower.

　　But the animals--

　　Well, I must endure the presence of two or three caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies. It seems that they are very beautiful. And if not the butterflies-- and the caterpillars-- who will call upon me? You will be far away... as for the large animals-- I am not at all afraid of any of them. I have my claws.

　　And, na飗ely, she showed her four thorns. Then she added:

　　Dont 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...

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