I have been ill so long that I do not count the days; at the Southern window, evening – and again evening. Sadly chirping in the grasses under my eaves, the winter sparrows morning and evening sing. By an effort I rise and lean heavily on my bed; tottering I step toward the door of the courtyard. By chance I meet a friend who is coming to see me; just as if I had gone specially to meet him. They took my couch and placed it in the setting sun; they spread my rug and I leaned on the balcony-pillar. Tranquil talk was better than any medicine; gradually the feelings came back to my numbed heart.