"Great ones play," he repeated. "First we are labourers, then artisans, then artists, then workers--at last we learn to play. That means that we dare to be ourselves, wherein lies our real value to others--when we dare to become as little children.... Hear them laugh.... You wouldn't think this was the saddest little planet in the universe.... Look at that tall young pair of sunburnt giants! She's a Diana, conquesting again. Look at the wonder in his eyes! Perhaps it is just dawning upon him that the man who walks with this girl must walk to God. "... Oh, yes, I know," he added laughingly, "there is flippancy and a touch of the uncouth here and there--but we have all played clumsily at first." I continually marvelled at Dreve's remarkable health. His stride up the mountain-side was actually buoyant. "Did you ever feel that you could live as long as you pleased?" he asked. "No." "I think one does not learn this until after one has wanted to die. One must live above the body and not in it--in order to make it serve indefinitely--quite the same as you would climb above a street to watch a parade go by." I put that thought away for contemplation, knowing that it belonged to a certain mystery of Dreve's regeneration. "You know," he added, "one has to get very tired to want to die. Those young people down on the shore--they want to live. They are not tired. They want to cross all the rivers. They mean to miss nothing down here. They can't see through it all. It challenges them. But the time comes when everything on earth seems to betray. Then you have to turn to the Unseen for the big gamble. The world is learning it rapidly to-day. Look----" We had reached his hill-cabin. He turned from the sea to the valley. Night was falling. There was a big moss-rose plant that smelled like a harvest apple, and filled all the slope with sweet dry fragrance. There was a constancy about it, and the great sun-shot hill was blessed with the light and creativeness of the long day. It was like the song of finished labour from a peasant's heart.... One forgot the world, the war, forgot that the holy heart of humanity was in intolerable travail.... The valley that Dreve now pointed to was like an English pastorale. It had the look of age and long sweet establishment in the dusk. My friend was quick to catch the thought in my mind.