["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> We were eighteen days travelling to Riolama, on the last two making\nlittle progress, on account of continuous rain, which made us miserable\nbeyond description. Fortunately the dogs had found, and Nuflo had\nsucceeded in killing, a great ant-eater, so that we were well supplied\nwith excellent, strength-giving flesh. We were among the Riolama\nmountains at last, and Rima kept with us, apparently expecting great\nthings. I expected nothing, for reasons to be stated by and by. My\nbelief was that the only important thing that could happen to us would\nbe starvation. The afternoon of the last day was spent in skirting the foot of a very\nlong mountain, crowned at its southern extremity with a huge, rocky mass\nresembling the head of a stone sphinx above its long, couchant body, and\nat its highest part about a thousand feet above the surrounding level. It was late in the day, raining fast again, yet the old man still toiled\non, contrary to his usual practice, which was to spend the last daylight\nhours in gathering firewood and in constructing a shelter. At length,\nwhen we were nearly under the peak, he began to ascend. The rise in this\nplace was gentle, and the vegetation, chiefly composed of dwarf thorn\ntrees rooted in the clefts of the rock, scarcely impeded our progress;\nyet Nuflo moved obliquely, as if he found the ascent difficult, pausing\nfrequently to take breath and look round him. Then we came to a deep,\nravine-like cleft in the side of the mountain, which became deeper and\nnarrower above us, but below it broadened out to a valley; its steep\nsides as we looked down were clothed with dense, thorny vegetation, and\nfrom the bottom rose to our ears the dull sound of a hidden torrent. Along the border of this ravine Nuflo began toiling upwards, and finally\nbrought us out upon a stony plateau on the mountain-side. Here he paused\nand, turning and regarding us with a look as of satisfied malice in his\neyes, remarked that we were at our journey's end, and he trusted the\nsight of that barren mountain-side would compensate us for all the\ndiscomforts we had suffered during the last eighteen days. I heard him with indifference. I had already recognized the place from\nhis own exact description of it, and I now saw all that I had looked to\nsee--a big, barren hill. But Rima, what had she expected that her face\nwore that blank look of surprise and pain? \"Is this the place where\nmother appeared to you?\" she suddenly cried. \"The very place--this! This!\" Then she added: \"The cave where you tended her--where is it?\" \"Over there,\" he said, pointing across the plateau, which was partially\novergrown with dwarf trees and bushes, and ended at a wall of rock,\nalmost vertical and about forty feet high. Going to this precipice, we saw no cave until Nuflo had cut away two or\nthree tangled bushes, revealing an opening behind, about half as high\nand twice as wide as the door of an ordinary dwelling-house. The next thing was to make a torch, and aided by its light we groped our\nway in and explored the interior. The cave, we found, was about fifty\nfeet long, narrowing to a mere hole at the extremity; but the anterior\nportion formed an oblong chamber, very lofty, with a dry floor. Leaving\nour torch burning, we set to work cutting bushes to supply ourselves\nwith wood enough to last us all night. Nuflo, poor old man, loved a big\nfire dearly; a big fire and fat meat to eat (the ranker its flavour, the\nbetter he liked it) were to him the greatest blessings that man could\nwish for. In me also the prospect of a cheerful blaze put a new heart,\nand I worked with a will in the rain, which increased in the end to a\nblinding downpour. By the time I dragged my last load in, Nuflo had got his fire well\nalight, and was heaping on wood in a most lavish way. \"No fear of\nburning our house down tonight,\" he remarked, with a chuckle--the first\nsound of that description he had emitted for a long time. After we had satisfied our hunger, and had smoked one or two cigarettes,\nthe unaccustomed warmth, and dryness, and the firelight affected us with\ndrowsiness, and I had probably been nodding for some time; but starting\nat last and opening my eyes, I missed Rima. The old man appeared to be\nasleep, although still in a sitting posture close to the fire. I rose\nand hurried out, drawing my cloak close around me to protect me from the\nrain; but what was my surprise on emerging from the cave to feel a dry,\nbracing wind in my face and to see the desert spread out for leagues\nbefore me in the brilliant white light of a full moon! The rain had\napparently long ceased, and only a few thin white clouds appeared moving\nswiftly over the wide blue expanse of heaven. It was a welcome change,\nbut the shock of surprise and pleasure was instantly succeeded by\nthe maddening fear that Rima was lost to me. She was nowhere in sight\nbeneath, and running to the end of the little plateau to get free of\nthe thorn trees, I turned my eyes towards the summit, and there, at some\ndistance above me, caught sight of her standing motionless and gazing\nupwards. I quickly made my way to her side, calling to her as I\napproached; but she only half turned to cast a look at me and did not\nreply. \"Rima,\" I said, \"why have you come here? Are you actually thinking of\nclimbing the mountain at this hour of the night?\" \"Yes--why not?\" she\nreturned, moving one or two steps from me. \"Rima--sweet Rima, will you listen to me?\" \"Now? Oh, no--why do you ask that? Did I not listen to you in the wood\nbefore we started, and you also promised to do what I wished? See, the\nrain is over and the moon shines brightly. Why should I wait? Perhaps\nfrom the summit I shall see my people's country. Are we not near it\nnow?\" \"Oh, Rima, what do you expect to see? Listen--you must listen, for I\nknow best. From that summit you would see nothing but a vast dim desert,\nmountain and forest, mountain and forest, where you might wander for\nyears, or until you perished of hunger or fever, or were slain by some\nbeast of prey or by savage men; but oh, Rima, never, never, never would\nyou find your people, for they exist not. You have seen the false water\nof the mirage on the savannah, when the sun shines bright and hot; and\nif one were to follow it one would at last fall down and perish,\nwith never a cool drop to moisten one's parched lips. And your hope,\nRima--this hope to find your people which has brought you all the way to\nRiolama--is a mirage, a delusion, which will lead to destruction if you\nwill not abandon it.\" She turned to face me with flashing eyes. \"You know best!\" she\nexclaimed. \"You know best and tell me that! Never until this moment have\nyou spoken falsely. Oh, why have you said such things to me--named after\nthis place, Riolama? Am I also like that false water you speak of--no\ndivine Rima, no sweet Rima? My mother, had she no mother, no mother's\nmother? I remember her, at Voa, before she died, and this hand seems\nreal--like yours; you have asked to hold it. But it is not he that\nspeaks to me--not one that showed me the whole world on Ytaioa. Ah, you\nhave wrapped yourself in a stolen cloak, only you have left your old\ngrey beard behind! Go back to the cave and look for it, and leave me to\nseek my people alone!\" Once more, as on that day in the forest when she prevented me from\nkilling the serpent, and as on the occasion of her meeting with Nuflo\nafter we had been together on Ytaioa, she appeared transformed and\ninstinct with intense resentment--a beautiful human wasp, and every word\na sting. \"Rima,\" I cried, \"you are cruelly unjust to say such words to me. If you\nknow that I have never deceived you before, give me a little credit now. You are no delusion--no mirage, but Rima, like no other being on earth. So perfectly truthful and pure I cannot be, but rather than mislead you\nwith falsehoods I would drop down and die on this rock, and lose you and\nthe sweet light that shines on us for ever.\" As she listened to my words, spoken with passion, she grew pale and\nclasped her hands. \"What have I said? What have I said?\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-02 The user is reading a book]\n<User> She spoke in a\nlow voice charged with pain, and all at once she came nearer, and with\na low, sobbing cry sank down at my feet, uttering, as on the occasion of\nfinding me lost at night in the forest near her home, tender, sorrowful\nexpressions in her own mysterious language. But before I could take her\nin my arms she rose again quickly to her feet and moved away a little\nspace from me. \"Oh no, no, it cannot be that you know best!\" she began again. \"But\nI know that you have never sought to deceive me. And now, because I\nfalsely accused you, I cannot go there without you\"--pointing to the\nsummit--\"but must stand still and listen to all you have to say.\" \"You know, Rima, that your grandfather has now told me your history--how\nhe found your mother at this place, and took her to Voa, where you were\nborn; but of your mother's people he knows nothing, and therefore he can\nnow take you no further.\" \"Ah, you think that! He says that now; but he deceived me all these\nyears, and if he lied to me in the past, can he not still lie, affirming\nthat he knows nothing of my people, even as he affirmed that he knew not\nRiolama?\" \"He tells lies and he tells truth, Rima, and one can be distinguished\nfrom the other. He spoke truthfully at last, and brought us to this\nplace, beyond which he cannot lead you.\" \"You are right; I must go alone.\" \"Not so, Rima, for where you go, there we must go; only you will lead\nand we follow, believing only that our quest will end in disappointment,\nif not in death.\" \"Believe that and yet follow! Oh no! Why did he consent to lead me so\nfar for nothing?\" \"Do you forget that you compelled him? You know what he believes; and he\nis old and looks with fear at death, remembering his evil deeds, and is\nconvinced that only through your intercession and your mother's he can\nescape from perdition. Consider, Rima, he could not refuse, to make you\nmore angry and so deprive himself of his only hope.\" My words seemed to trouble her, but very soon she spoke again with\nrenewed animation. \"If my people exist, why must it be disappointment\nand perhaps death? He does not know; but she came to him here--did she\nnot? The others are not here, but perhaps not far off. Come, let us go\nto the summit together to see from it the desert beneath us--mountain\nand forest, mountain and forest. Somewhere there! You said that I had\nknowledge of distant things. And shall I not know which mountain--which\nforest?\" \"Alas! no, Rima; there is a limit to your far-seeing; and even if that\nfaculty were as great as you imagine, it would avail you nothing, for\nthere is no mountain, no forest, in whose shadow your people dwell.\" For a while she was silent, but her eyes and clasping fingers were\nrestless and showed her agitation. She seemed to be searching in the\ndepths of her mind for some argument to oppose to my assertions. Then\nin a low, almost despondent voice, with something of reproach in it, she\nsaid: \"Have we come so far to go back again? You were not Nuflo to need\nmy intercession, yet you came too.\" \"Where you are, there I must be--you have said it yourself. Besides,\nwhen we started I had some hope of finding your people. Now I know\nbetter, having heard Nuflo's story. Now I know that your hope is a vain\none.\" \"Why? Why? Was she not found here--mother? Where, then, are the others?\" \"Yes, she was found here, alone. You must remember all the things\nshe spoke to you before she died. Did she ever speak to you of her\npeople--speak of them as if they existed, and would be glad to receive\nyou among them some day?\" \"No. Why did she not speak of that? Do you know--can you tell me?\" \"I can guess the reason, Rima. It is very sad--so sad that it is hard to\ntell it. When Nuflo tended her in the cave and was ready to worship\nher and do everything she wished, and conversed with her by signs, she\nshowed no wish to return to her people. And when he offered her, in a\nway she understood, to take her to a distant place, where she would be\namong strange beings, among others like Nuflo, she readily consented,\nand painfully performed that long journey to Voa. Would you, Rima, have\nacted thus--would you have gone so far away from your beloved people,\nnever to return, never to hear of them or speak to them again? Oh no,\nyou could not; nor would she if her people had been in existence. But\nshe knew that she had survived them, that some great calamity had\nfallen upon and destroyed them. They were few in number, perhaps, and\nsurrounded on every side by hostile tribes, and had no weapons, and made\nno war. They had been preserved because they inhabited a place apart,\nsome deep valley perhaps, guarded on all sides by lofty mountains and\nimpenetrable forests and marshes; but at last the cruel savages broke\ninto this retreat and hunted them down, destroying all except a few\nfugitives, who escaped singly like your mother, and fled away to hide in\nsome distant solitude.\" The anxious expression on her face deepened as she listened to one of\nanguish and despair; and then, almost before I concluded, she suddenly\nlifted her hands to her head, uttering a low, sobbing cry, and would\nhave fallen on the rock had I not caught her quickly in my arms. Once\nmore in my arms--against my breast, her proper place! But now all that\nbright life seemed gone out of her; her head fell on my shoulder, and\nthere was no motion in her except at intervals a slight shudder in her\nframe accompanied by a low, gasping sob. In a little while the sobs\nceased, the eyes were closed, the face still and deathly white, and with\na terrible anxiety in my heart I carried her down to the cave. As I re-entered the cave with my burden Nuflo sat up and stared at me\nwith a frightened look in his eyes. Throwing my cloak down, I placed the\ngirl on it and briefly related what had happened. He drew near to examine her; then placed his hand on her heart. \"Dead!--she is dead!\" he exclaimed. My own anxiety changed to an irrational anger at his words. \"Old fool! She has only fainted,\" I returned. \"Get me some water, quick.\" But the water failed to restore her, and my anxiety deepened as I gazed\non that white, still face. Oh, why had I told her that sad tragedy I had\nimagined with so little preparation? Alas! I had succeeded too well in\nmy purpose, killing her vain hope and her at the same moment. The old man, still bending over her, spoke again. \"No, I will not\nbelieve that she is dead yet; but, sir, if not dead, then she is dying.\" I could have struck him down for his words. \"She will die in my arms,\nthen,\" I exclaimed, thrusting him roughly aside, and lifting her up with\nthe cloak beneath her. And while I held her thus, her head resting on my arm, and gazed with\nunutterable anguish into her strangely white face, insanely praying to\nHeaven to restore her to me, Nuflo fell on his knees before her, and\nwith bowed head, and hands clasped in supplication, began to speak. \"Rima! Grandchild!\" he prayed, his quivering voice betraying his\nagitation. \"Do not die just yet: you must not die--not wholly die--until\nyou have heard what I have to say to you. I do not ask you to answer\nin words--you are past that, and I am not unreasonable. Only, when I\nfinish, make some sign--a sigh, a movement of the eyelid, a twitch of\nthe lips, even in the small corners of the mouth; nothing more than\nthat, just to show that you have heard, and I shall be satisfied. Remember all the years that I have been your protector, and this long\njourney that I have taken on your account; also all that I did for\nyour sainted mother before she died at Voa, to become one of the most\nimportant of those who surround the Queen of Heaven, and who, when they\nwish for any favour, have only to say half a word to get it. And do not\ncast in oblivion that at the last I obeyed your wish and brought you\nsafely to Riolama.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-02, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> It is true that in some small things I deceived you;\nbut that must not weigh with you, because it is a small matter and not\nworthy of mention when you consider the claims I have on you. In your\nhands, Rima, I leave everything, relying on the promise you made me, and\non my services. Only one word of caution remains to be added. Do not let\nthe magnificence of the place you are now about to enter, the new sights\nand colours, and the noise of shouting, and musical instruments and\nblowing of trumpets, put these things out of your head. Nor must you\nbegin to think meanly of yourself and be abashed when you find yourself\nsurrounded by saints and angels; for you are not less than they,\nalthough it may not seem so at first when you see them in their bright\nclothes, which, they say, shine like the sun. I cannot ask you to tie\na string round your finger; I can only trust to your memory, which was\nalways good, even about the smallest things; and when you are asked, as\nno doubt you will be, to express a wish, remember before everything to\nspeak of your grandfather, and his claims on you, also on your angelic\nmother, to whom you will present my humble remembrances.\" During this petition, which in other circumstances would have moved me\nto laughter but now only irritated me, a subtle change seemed to come\nto the apparently lifeless girl to make me hope. The small hand in mine\nfelt not so icy cold, and though no faintest colour had come to the\nface, its pallor had lost something of its deathly waxen appearance; and\nnow the compressed lips had relaxed a little and seemed ready to part. I laid my finger-tips on her heart and felt, or imagined that I felt,\na faint fluttering; and at last I became convinced that her heart was\nreally beating. I turned my eyes on the old man, still bending forward, intently\nwatching for the sign he had asked her to make. My anger and disgust\nat his gross earthy egoism had vanished. \"Let us thank God, old man,\"\nI said, the tears of joy half choking my utterance. \"She lives--she is\nrecovering from her fit.\" He drew back, and on his knees, with bowed head, murmured a prayer of\nthanks to Heaven. Together we continued watching her face for half an hour longer, I\nstill holding her in my arms, which could never grow weary of that sweet\nburden, waiting for other, surer signs of returning life; and she seemed\nnow like one that had fallen into a profound, death-like sleep which\nmust end in death. Yet when I remembered her face as it had looked an\nhour ago, I was confirmed in the belief that the progress to recovery,\nso strangely slow, was yet sure. So slow, so gradual was this passing\nfrom death to life that we had hardly ceased to fear when we noticed\nthat the lips were parted, or almost parted, that they were no longer\nwhite, and that under her pale, transparent skin a faint, bluish-rosy\ncolour was now visible. And at length, seeing that all danger was past\nand recovery so slow, old Nuflo withdrew once more to the fireside and,\nstretching himself out on the sandy floor, soon fell into a deep sleep. If he had not been lying there before me in the strong light of the\nglowing embers and dancing flames, I could not have felt more alone with\nRima--alone amid those remote mountains, in that secret cavern, with\nlights and shadows dancing on its grey vault. In that profound silence\nand solitude the mysterious loveliness of the still face I continued\nto gaze on, its appearance of life without consciousness, produced a\nstrange feeling in me, hard, perhaps impossible, to describe. Once, when clambering among the rough rocks, overgrown with forest,\namong the Queneveta mountains, I came on a single white flower which was\nnew to me, which I have never seen since. After I had looked long at it,\nand passed on, the image of that perfect flower remained so persistently\nin my mind that on the following day I went again, in the hope of seeing\nit still untouched by decay. There was no change; and on this occasion\nI spent a much longer time looking at it, admiring the marvellous\nbeauty of its form, which seemed so greatly to exceed that of all\nother flowers. It had thick petals, and at first gave me the idea of an\nartificial flower, cut by a divinely inspired artist from some unknown\nprecious stone, of the size of a large orange and whiter than milk, and\nyet, in spite of its opacity, with a crystalline lustre on the surface. Next day I went again, scarcely hoping to find it still unwithered; it\nwas fresh as if only just opened; and after that I went often, sometimes\nat intervals of several days, and still no faintest sign of any change,\nthe clear, exquisite lines still undimmed, the purity and lustre as\nI had first seen it. Why, I often asked, does not this mystic forest\nflower fade and perish like others? That first impression of its\nartificial appearance had soon left me; it was, indeed, a flower, and,\nlike other flowers, had life and growth, only with that transcendent\nbeauty it had a different kind of life. Unconscious, but higher; perhaps\nimmortal. Thus it would continue to bloom when I had looked my last\non it; wind and rain and sunlight would never stain, never tinge, its\nsacred purity; the savage Indian, though he sees little to admire in a\nflower, yet seeing this one would veil his face and turn back; even\nthe browsing beast crashing his way through the forest, struck with\nits strange glory, would swerve aside and pass on without harming it. Afterwards I heard from some Indians to whom I described it that\nthe flower I had discovered was called Hata; also that they had a\nsuperstition concerning it--a strange belief. They said that only one\nHata flower existed in the world; that it bloomed in one spot for the\nspace of a moon; that on the disappearance of the moon in the sky the\nHata disappeared from its place, only to reappear blooming in some\nother spot, sometimes in some distant forest. And they also said that\nwhosoever discovered the Hata flower in the forest would overcome all\nhis enemies and obtain all his desires, and finally outlive other men\nby many years. But, as I have said, all this I heard afterwards, and my\nhalf-superstitious feeling for the flower had grown up independently\nin my own mind. A feeling like that was in me while I gazed on the face\nthat had no motion, no consciousness in it, and yet had life, a life of\nso high a kind as to match with its pure, surpassing loveliness. I could\nalmost believe that, like the forest flower, in this state and aspect it\nwould endure for ever; endure and perhaps give of its own immortality to\neverything around it--to me, holding her in my arms and gazing fixedly\non the pale face framed in its cloud of dark, silken hair; to the\nleaping flames that threw changing lights on the dim stony wall of\nrock; to old Nuflo and his two yellow dogs stretched out on the floor in\neternal, unawakening sleep. This feeling took such firm possession of my mind that it kept me for\na time as motionless as the form I held in my arms. I was only released\nfrom its power by noting still further changes in the face I watched,\na more distinct advance towards conscious life. The faint colour,\nwhich had scarcely been more than a suspicion of colour, had deepened\nperceptibly; the lids were lifted so as to show a gleam of the crystal\norbs beneath; the lips, too, were slightly parted. And, at last, bending lower down to feel her breath, the beauty and\nsweetness of those lips could no longer be resisted, and I touched them\nwith mine. Having once tasted their sweetness and fragrance, it was\nimpossible to keep from touching them again and again. She was not\nconscious--how could she be and not shrink from my caress? Yet there\nwas a suspicion in my mind, and drawing back I gazed into her face once\nmore. A strange new radiance had overspread it. Or was this only an\nillusive colour thrown on her skin by the red firelight? I shaded her\nface with my open hand, and saw that her pallor had really gone, that\nthe rosy flame on her cheeks was part of her life. Her lustrous eyes,\nhalf open, were gazing into mine. Oh, surely consciousness had returned\nto her! Had she been sensible of those stolen kisses? Would she now\nshrink from another caress? Trembling, I bent down and touched her lips\nagain, lightly, but lingeringly, and then again, and when I drew back\nand looked at her face the rosy flame was brighter, and the eyes,\nmore open still, were looking into mine.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-07 The user is reading a book]\n<User> And gazing with those open,\nconscious eyes, it seemed to me that at last, at last, the shadow that\nhad rested between us had vanished, that we were united in perfect love\nand confidence, and that speech was superfluous. And when I spoke, it\nwas not without doubt and hesitation: our bliss in those silent moments\nhad been so complete, what could speaking do but make it less! \"My love, my life, my sweet Rima, I know that you will understand me\nnow as you did not before, on that dark night--do you remember it,\nRima?--when I held you clasped to my breast in the wood. How it pierced\nmy heart with pain to speak plainly to you as I did on the mountain\ntonight--to kill the hope that had sustained and brought you so far from\nhome! But now that anguish is over; the shadow has gone out of those\nbeautiful eyes that are looking at me. It is because loving me, knowing\nnow what love is, knowing, too, how much I love you, that you no longer\nneed to speak to any other living being of such things? To tell it, to\nshow it, to me is now enough--is it not so, Rima? How strange it seemed,\nat first, when you shrank in fear from me! But, afterwards, when you\nprayed aloud to your mother, opening all the secrets of your heart, I\nunderstood it. In that lonely, isolated life in the wood you had heard\nnothing of love, of its power over the heart, its infinite sweetness;\nwhen it came to you at last it was a new, inexplicable thing, and filled\nyou with misgivings and tumultuous thoughts, so that you feared it and\nhid yourself from its cause. Such tremors would be felt if it had always\nbeen night, with no light except that of the stars and the pale moon, as\nwe saw it a little while ago on the mountain; and, at last, day dawned,\nand a strange, unheard-of rose and purple flame kindled in the eastern\nsky, foretelling the coming sun. It would seem beautiful beyond anything\nthat night had shown to you, yet you would tremble and your heart beat\nfast at that strange sight; you would wish to fly to those who might be\nable to tell you its meaning, and whether the sweet things it prophesied\nwould ever really come. That is why you wished to find your people, and\ncame to Riolama to seek them; and when you knew--when I cruelly told\nyou--that they would never be found, then you imagined that that strange\nfeeling in your heart must remain a secret for ever, and you could\nnot endure the thought of your loneliness. If you had not fainted so\nquickly, then I should have told you what I must tell you now. They are\nlost, Rima--your people--but I am with you, and know what you feel, even\nif you have no words to tell it. But what need of words? It shines in\nyour eyes, it burns like a flame in your face; I can feel it in your\nhands. Do you not also see it in my face--all that I feel for you, the\nlove that makes me happy? For this is love, Rima, the flower and the\nmelody of life, the sweetest thing, the sweet miracle that makes our two\nsouls one.\" Still resting in my arms, as if glad to rest there, still gazing into\nmy face, it was clear to me that she understood my every word. And then,\nwith no trace of doubt or fear left, I stooped again, until my lips were\non hers; and when I drew back once more, hardly knowing which bliss was\ngreatest--kissing her delicate mouth or gazing into her face--she all at\nonce put her arms about my neck and drew herself up until she sat on my\nknee. \"Abel--shall I call you Abel now--and always?\" she spoke, still with\nher arms round my neck. \"Ah, why did you let me come to Riolama? I would\ncome! I made him come--old grandfather, sleeping there: he does not\ncount, but you--you! After you had heard my story, and knew that it was\nall for nothing! And all I wished to know was there--in you. Oh, how\nsweet it is! But a little while ago, what pain! When I stood on the\nmountain when you talked to me, and I knew that you knew best, and tried\nand tried not to know. At last I could try no more; they were all dead\nlike mother; I had chased the false water on the savannah. 'Oh, let me\ndie too,' I said, for I could not bear the pain. And afterwards, here in\nthe cave, I was like one asleep, and when I woke I did not really wake. It was like morning with the light teasing me to open my eyes and look\nat it. Not yet, dear light; a little while longer, it is so sweet to lie\nstill. But it would not leave me, and stayed teasing me still, like a\nsmall shining green fly; until, because it teased me so, I opened my\nlids just a little. It was not morning, but the firelight, and I was in\nyour arms, not in my little bed. Your eyes looking, looking into mine. But I could see yours better. I remembered everything then, how you once\nasked me to look into your eyes. I remembered so many things--oh, so\nmany!\" \"How many things did you remember, Rima?\" \"Listen, Abel, do you ever lie on the dry moss and look straight up into\na tree and count a thousand leaves?\" \"No, sweetest, that could not be done, it is so many to count. Do you\nknow how many a thousand are?\" \"Oh, do I not! When a humming-bird flies close to my face and stops\nstill in the air, humming like a bee, and then is gone, in that short\ntime I can count a hundred small round bright feathers on its throat. That is only a hundred; a thousand are more, ten times. Looking up I\ncount a thousand leaves; then stop counting, because there are thousands\nmore behind the first, and thousands more, crowded together so that I\ncannot count them. Lying in your arms, looking up into your face, it was\nlike that; I could not count the things I remembered. In the wood, when\nyou were there, and before; and long, long ago at Voa, when I was a\nchild with mother.\" \"Tell me some of the things you remembered, Rima.\" \"Yes, one--only one now. When I was a child at Voa mother was very\nlame--you know that. Whenever we went out, away from the houses, into\nthe forest, walking slowly, slowly, she would sit under a tree while I\nran about playing. And every time I came back to her I would find her so\npale, so sad, crying--crying. That was when I would hide and come softly\nback so that she would not hear me coming. 'Oh, mother, why are you\ncrying? Does your lame foot hurt you?' And one day she took me in her\narms and told me truly why she cried.\" She ceased speaking, but looked at me with a strange new light coming\ninto her eyes. \"Why did she cry, my love?\" \"Oh, Abel, can you understand--now--at last!\" And putting her lips\nclose to my ear, she began to murmur soft, melodious sounds that told\nme nothing. Then drawing back her head, she looked again at me, her eyes\nglistening with tears, her lips half parted with a smile, tender and\nwistful. Ah, poor child! in spite of all that had been said, all that had\nhappened, she had returned to the old delusion that I must understand\nher speech. I could only return her look, sorrowfully and in silence. Her face became clouded with disappointment, then she spoke again with\nsomething of pleading in her tone. \"Look, we are not now apart, I hiding\nin the wood, you seeking, but together, saying the same things. In\nyour language--yours and now mine. But before you came I knew nothing,\nnothing, for there was only grandfather to talk to. A few words each\nday, the same words. If yours is mine, mine must be yours. Oh, do you\nnot know that mine is better?\" \"Yes, better; but alas! Rima, I can never hope to understand your sweet\nspeech, much less to speak it. The bird that only chirps and twitters\ncan never sing like the organ-bird.\" Crying, she hid her face against my neck, murmuring sadly between her\nsobs: \"Never--never!\" How strange it seemed, in that moment of joy, such a passion of tears,\nsuch despondent words!\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-07, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> For some minutes I preserved a sorrowful silence, realizing for the\nfirst time, so far as it was possible to realize such a thing, what my\ninability to understand her secret language meant to her--that finer\nlanguage in which alone her swift thoughts and vivid emotions could be\nexpressed. Easily and well as she seemed able to declare herself in my\ntongue, I could well imagine that to her it would seem like the merest\nstammering. As she had said to me once when I asked her to speak in\nSpanish, \"That is not speaking.\" And so long as she could not commune\nwith me in that better language, which reflected her mind, there would\nnot be that perfect union of soul she so passionately desired. By and by, as she grew calmer, I sought to say something that would be\nconsoling to both of us. \"Sweetest Rima,\" I spoke, \"it is so sad that\nI can never hope to talk with you in your way; but a greater love than\nthis that is ours we could never feel, and love will make us happy,\nunutterably happy, in spite of that one sadness. And perhaps, after a\nwhile, you will be able to say all you wish in my language, which is\nalso yours, as you said some time ago. When we are back again in the\nbeloved wood, and talk once more under that tree where we first talked,\nand under the old mora, where you hid yourself and threw down leaves\non me, and where you caught the little spider to show me how you made\nyourself a dress, you shall speak to me in your own sweet tongue, and\nthen try to say the same things in mine.... And in the end, perhaps, you\nwill find that it is not so impossible as you think.\" She looked at me, smiling again through her tears, and shook her head a\nlittle. \"Remember what I have heard, that before your mother died you were able\nto tell Nuflo and the priest what her wish was. Can you not, in the same\nway, tell me why she cried?\" \"I can tell you, but it will not be telling you.\" \"I understand. You can tell the bare facts. I can imagine something\nmore, and the rest I must lose. Tell me, Rima.\" Her face became troubled; she glanced away and let her eyes wander round\nthe dim, firelit cavern; then they returned to mine once more. \"Look,\" she said, \"grandfather lying asleep by the fire. So far away\nfrom us--oh, so far! But if we were to go out from the cave, and on and\non to the great mountains where the city of the sun is, and stood there\nat last in the midst of great crowds of people, all looking at us,\ntalking to us, it would be just the same. They would be like the trees\nand rocks and animals--so far! Not with us nor we with them. But we are\neverywhere alone together, apart--we two. It is love; I know it now, but\nI did not know it before because I had forgotten what she told me. Do\nyou think I can tell you what she said when I asked her why she cried? Oh no! Only this, she and another were like one, always, apart from\nthe others. Then something came--something came! O Abel, was that the\nsomething you told me about on the mountain? And the other was lost for\never, and she was alone in the forests and mountains of the world. Oh,\nwhy do we cry for what is lost? Why do we not quickly forget it and feel\nglad again? Now only do I know what you felt, O sweet mother, when you\nsat still and cried, while I ran about and played and laughed! O poor\nmother! Oh, what pain!\" And hiding her face against my neck, she sobbed\nonce more. To my eyes also love and sympathy brought the tears; but in a little\nwhile the fond, comforting words I spoke and my caresses recalled her\nfrom that sad past to the present; then, lying back as at first,\nher head resting on my folded cloak, her body partly supported by my\nencircling arm and partly by the rock we were leaning against,\nher half-closed eyes turned to mine expressed a tender assured\nhappiness--the chastened gladness of sunshine after rain; a soft\ndelicious languor that was partly passionate with the passion\netherealized. \"Tell me, Rima,\" I said, bending down to her, \"in all those troubled\ndays with me in the woods had you no happy moments? Did not something in\nyour heart tell you that it was sweet to love, even before you knew what\nlove meant?\" \"Yes; and once--O Abel, do you remember that night, after returning from\nYtaioa, when you sat so late talking by the fire--I in the shadow, never\nstirring, listening, listening; you by the fire with the light on your\nface, saying so many strange things? I was happy then--oh, how happy! It\nwas black night and raining, and I a plant growing in the dark, feeling\nthe sweet raindrops falling, falling on my leaves. Oh, it will be\nmorning by and by and the sun will shine on my wet leaves; and that\nmade me glad till I trembled with happiness. Then suddenly the lightning\nwould come, so bright, and I would tremble with fear, and wish that\nit would be dark again. That was when you looked at me sitting in the\nshadow, and I could not take my eyes away quickly and could not meet\nyours, so that I trembled with fear.\" \"And now there is no fear--no shadow; now you are perfectly happy?\" \"Oh, so happy! If the way back to the wood was longer, ten times, and\nif the great mountains, white with snow on their tops, were between, and\nthe great dark forest, and rivers wider than Orinoco, still I would go\nalone without fear, because you would come after me, to join me in the\nwood, to be with me at last and always.\" \"But I should not let you go alone, Rima--your lonely days are over\nnow.\" She opened her eyes wider and looked earnestly into my face. \"I must go\nback alone, Abel,\" she said. \"Before day comes I must leave you. Rest\nhere, with grandfather, for a few days and nights, then follow me.\" I heard her with astonishment. \"It must not be, Rima,\" I cried. \"What,\nlet you leave me--now you are mine--to go all that distance, through all\nthat wild country where you might lose yourself and perish alone? Oh, do\nnot think of it!\" She listened, regarding me with some slight trouble in her eyes, but\nsmiling a little at the same time. Her small hand moved up my arm and\ncaressed my cheek; then she drew my face down to hers until our lips\nmet. But when I looked at her eyes again, I saw that she had not\nconsented to my wish. \"Do I not know all the way now,\" she spoke, \"all\nthe mountains, rivers, forests--how should I lose myself? And I must\nreturn quickly, not step by step, walking--resting, resting--walking,\nstopping to cook and eat, stopping to gather firewood, to make a\nshelter--so many things! Oh, I shall be back in half the time; and I\nhave so much to do.\" \"What can you have to do, love?--everything can be done when we are in\nthe wood together.\" A bright smile with a touch of mockery in it flitted over her face as\nshe replied: \"Oh, must I tell you that there are things you cannot do? Look, Abel,\" and she touched the slight garment she wore, thinner now\nthan at first, and dulled by long exposure to sun and wind and rain. I could not command her, and seemed powerless to persuade her; but I had\nnot done yet, and proceeded to use every argument I could find to bring\nher round to my view; and when I finished she put her arms around my\nneck and drew herself up once more. \"O Abel, how happy I shall be!\" she\nsaid, taking no notice of all I had said. \"Think of me alone, days and\ndays, in the wood, waiting for you, working all the time; saying: 'Come\nquickly, Abel; come slow, Abel. O Abel, how long you are! Oh, do not\ncome until my work is finished!' And when it is finished and you arrive\nyou shall find me, but not at once. First you will seek for me in the\nhouse, then in the wood, calling: 'Rima! Rima!' And she will be there,\nlistening, hid in the trees, wishing to be in your arms, wishing for\nyour lips--oh, so glad, yet fearing to show herself. Do you know why?\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-11 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He told you--did he not?--that when he first saw her she was standing\nbefore him all in white--a dress that was like snow on the mountain-tops\nwhen the sun is setting and gives it rose and purple colour. I shall\nbe like that, hidden among the trees, saying: 'Am I different--not like\nRima? Will he know me--will he love me just the same?' Oh, do I not\nknow that you will be glad, and love me, and call me beautiful? Listen! Listen!\" she suddenly exclaimed, lifting her face. Among the bushes not far from the cave's mouth a small bird had broken\nout in song, a clear, tender melody soon taken up by other birds further\naway. \"It will soon be morning,\" she said, and then clasped her arms about me\nonce more and held me in a long, passionate embrace; then slipping away\nfrom my arms and with one swift glance at the sleeping old man, passed\nout of the cave. For a few moments I remained sitting, not yet realizing that she had\nleft me, so suddenly and swiftly had she passed from my arms and my\nsight; then, recovering my faculties, I started up and rushed out in\nhopes of overtaking her. It was not yet dawn, but there was still some light from the full\nmoon, now somewhere behind the mountains. Running to the verge of the\nbushgrown plateau, I explored the rocky slope beneath without seeing her\nform, and then called: \"Rima! Rima!\" A soft, warbling sound, uttered by no bird, came up from the shadowy\nbushes far below; and in that direction I ran on; then pausing, called\nagain. The sweet sound was repeated once more, but much lower down now,\nand so faintly that I scarcely heard it. And when I went on further\nand called again and again, there was no reply, and I knew that she had\nindeed gone on that long journey alone.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-11, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-11", "answer": "Abel, Rima, Nuflo, cave, Rima's mother, mountain, bird people, hostile Indians, unconsciousness, salvation, afterlife, mysterious language, declaration of love, forest, green mansions, white dress, separation, journey alone, making new clothes, regret, loss of people, prayer promise, watching over Rima, carrying Rima, awakening, plans to live together, fear for safety"}]