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SON OF THE SUN “O. K., Adam, I promise it will be as you say. That is, if I ever do write it.” We sat down at a small table in a corner. Adam crossed his legs and began to speak. He referred briefly to the two marines in the cafe. In deep reflection, he said that the problem of the younger fellow, whatever it might be, was to that one and to earth itself as ponderous as the problem of world destiny. He smiled as he told me that the lad would evaluate his problems differently after 1. tonight. “Yes,” I agreed. “Especially after your abandonment to the flood of tears which poured from you.” “Was I crying, Orfeo? Funny, but I don’t remember it. I felt wonderful, in spite of what I saw.” “Yes, Adam, you were crying. I would not have disturbed you for anything. Your feeling was beyond any help I could give, anyway. To a certain extent I even shared part of it, knowing neither why nor what. I somehow felt the emotions of an etheric romance, and I breathed in the aroma of its outer aura. No doubt I paused a second or so. Then I had to say these few words, which poured from me almost involuntarily. “Adam, that young woman in the glass. She ended her dance by turning suddenly toward me, and fell to her knees, bowing. Yet her eyes remained fixed upon me, as if accusing me of something, as if saying to me, ‘You, too, shall go through trials. And no one but yourself shall feel concern.’ I believe there was profound meaning in her gesture, but I cannot imagine what it is. I would feel anxiety over it, but her beauty and gentleness had a softening effect. I keep seeing her, and to be truthful, I do not want to let her vision leave my mind.” Adam rested his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and assured me. “She meant no harm, Orfeo. As for hate, she does not know the meaning of the word. You may not know her, but she knows you. You will come to know her through my story. 38 those two marines felt it also, to some extent.”