He had other thoughts now. Thoughts of an almond tree flowering in a white town; of pink blossoms, fragile, without leaves, casting a thin shadow on white stones; the smell of almond flowers and the sting of white dust in an east wind; a drift of white dust against the wall. Thoughts of pine-trees falling in the forest, glad to fall. He thought: The pine forest makes itself a sea for the land wind, and the young pine tree is mad for the open sea. She gives her slender trunk with passion to the ax; for she thinks that she will be stripped naked, and that she will be planted in the ship's hold, and that she will carry the great main-sail. She thinks that she will rock and strain in the grip of the sea-wind, and that she will be whitened with the salt and the foam of the sea. She does not know that she will be sawn into planks and made into a coffin for the wife of the sexton and grave-digger of Aschaffenburg. Thoughts of Veronica in her incredible maturity, and of her eyes, shining in her dead white face, far back through deep crystal, and of the sense he got of her soul poised, steady and still, with wings vibrating. He wondered where it would come down. He thought: "Of course, Veronica's soul will come down like a wild pigeon into the ash-tree in our garden, and she will think that our ash-tree is a tree of Heaven." * * * * * Presently he roused himself to talk to her. "How is your singing getting on, Ronny?" "My singing voice has gone." "It'll come back again." "Not unless-" But he couldn't make her tell him what would bring it back. * * * * * When Michael came to his father and mother to have it out with them his face had a hard, stubborn look. He was ready to fight them. He was so certain that he would have to fight. He had shown them Jules Réveillaud's letter. He said, "Look here, we've got to get it straight. It isn't any use going on like this. I'm afraid I wasn't very honest about Germany." "Weren't you?" said Anthony. "Let me see, I think you said you'd take it on your way to China and Japan." "Did I? I tried to be straight about it. I thought I was giving it a fair chance. But that was before I'd seen Réveillaud." "Well," said Anthony, "now that you have seen him, what is it exactly that you want to do?" Michael told him. "You can make it easy for me. Or you can make it hard. But you can't stop me." "What makes you think I want to stop you?" "Well--you want me to go into the business, though I told you years ago there was only one thing I should ever be any good at. And I see your point. I can't earn my living at it. That's where I'm had. Still, I think Lawrence Stephen will give me work, and I can rub along somehow." "Without my help, you mean?" "Well, yes. Why _should_ you help me? You've wasted tons of money on me as it is. Nicky's earning his own living, and he's got a wife, too. Why not me?" "Because you can't do it, Michael."