I have a very shallow and trivial nature, like a
stream that sparkles pleasantly enough over a pebbly bottom, but in
which no boat or man can swim. I have always been absorbed in the
observation of details and in the outside of things. I spent so much
energy in watching the faces and gestures and utterances and tricks of
those about me that I never had the leisure to look into their hearts.
And now these great depths have opened before me, and I feel more
childish and feeble than ever, like a frail glass which holds a most
precious liquor, and gains brightness and glory from the hues of the
wine it holds, but is not like the gem, compact of colour and radiance."
Cynthia laughed at me.
"At all events, you have not forgotten how to make metaphors," she said.
"No," said I, "that is part of the mischief, that I see the likenesses
of things and not their essences." At which she laughed again more
softly, and rested her cheek on my shoulder.
Then I told her of the departure of Amroth.
"That is wonderful," she said.
And then I told her of my own approaching departure, at which she grew
sad for a moment.
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