2. The dream


He had dreamed this night that he had to leave beyond the palisades of the monastery. Over there, after the range of mountains, then the valley which continued in the hills of West, there was a breathing which died out and he had to prevent this murder.

The servant monk did not understand the tidying of the Master, long before the sun appears behind the torn crests. The noises of the night were still in the ears.

He had been awaked by the movement of the old man and he had come, going out of his moist covers. He had fears that the Old Master be ill. Yesterday, he had gardened lengthily, bent towards the ground, wrapped in an icy wind which came from snows of the top.

- Master, you do not feel well?

- Go back to your warm bed… It is not yet the hour, says the old man while folding his cape of meditation in the sack of canvas.

They had spoken gently, concerned about silence. The winter was hard this year and the ices gave their cold on the head of the men.


The monk withdrew himself while moving back, the hands united in front of his face and he bent before disappearing. Nimbly, he slipped the sheepskin jacket and left the pavilion. HIRO had to be warned urgently! The Master was prepared to leave them!

He ran through the two icy courtyards, the heart beating wildly…. Was the old man preparing for his death! He had put his cape in the bag! … Snows of the winter were going to take him, him also, like the others which have come before him to teach the Laws of the Life.


The old man did not hasten.

He knew the anguish of the young monk. He knew that informed, HIRO will be there, in front of the wood doors that he will open himself, pushing of all his forces, the two hands flat on the heavy double door. The monks in the courtyard of honor will not come to help him. The master-cook has to open the doors to the Master who left and the Master will give the keys to him.


Then, they will bend one in front of the other, the foreheads to be touched.

HIRO will look at the old man moving away, and the Master will feel the gentle eyes caressing his back until this back disappeared at the curve of the way.

The Master knows that HIRO will fold the knees and will strike the forehead by three times on the ice of the ground when he will understand that The One who has learned to them so much of the movement of the World was going to take the path which ascends in the ices of the crests.


- Do not take cold, Master, says HIRO.

- Take care of you and of this place of Silence, my friend, says the Master.

He held out the keys, the one of the monastery, the one of the library and the one of the Secret Room. HIRO opened the hands and received them.

Their eyes said their alliance. It was difficult for the master cook to mask his sorrow under the smile which stretched his large lips.


He progressed with a good pace in the snow frozen by the violent winds of the last month of winter. In a couple of hours, he will have to pay attention to his feet because he will be in the glacis of the crest. In his bag, he has put the cramps of iron and he will lean on his stick.

“It is necessary to pass the spines with the sun. The descent will be long on the other hillside.”

He does not think of it. He knows. The Kamis of the mountain will tell him the passage on the flat part with the fatal holes plunging in the belly of the ground. They will carry his feet where the firm Nature helps the Man who Walk.

He has not brought food. The villagers will give to him because everywhere one knows Who He Is. He needs to be light to go quickly, to carry the remains of his Life to another one who will die assassinated.


That, he knows it because this night he dreamed it, him who does not see the moving colors of the spirit anymore since such a long time!

He knows the serious hour. He must mark his trace in the snow with the suffering of his legs. Not very far, one day of movement of his legs at him, there is a Life which goes away and this life, he knows that he must save it and that his one must count for nothing. What does it matter!

The frozen wind ceased at dawn and he knows with this sign that the Kamis are there, with him, because this wind has not ceased since two moons. It has stiffened all what it has touched. He could have never passed the crests against it and he would have died on the flat part.

The snow is hard and the cramps hardly scrape him. He progresses quickly.

The breath goes in his belly, where he must be and does not leave him. A fine sweat beads its drops on the temples and to the wings of the nose and those there also go where they must, at the angle of the thin lips, where the tongue can recover them and give to the body the salt which is necessary for it.

All is well thus and he knows it.

This day is a day of death, his one and the one of another and it is very well thus. HIRO knew it. He saw it in his eyes when he bent himself. Had it also made this dream?


The sun passed the crests with him and the flat part did not engulf it.

The other slope is the one of the men and he testifies of the softness of the ground because for the men one does not need the roughness. They are so quickly discouraged!


A white smoke behind the woods shows the way which must be his. Wood-cutters surely. He will thus find there a carriage on sledge and a vigorous horse. The men will take him along in the valley, because those there, like the others, know Who He Is.

They saw him leaving the wood, coming towards them who warmed them around the fire of branches. They looked at him, without a word or a gesture; the eyes wide open on their astonishment, because up there, there was only death, the wind and barn owls.

He came towards them with small paces because he knew they were superstitious.


- That the Kindness of all Kamis be with you, he says to them, while bending.

They were five of them, short-legged men wrapped in their furs, the feet fitted with boots of skin glistening by dint of grease. They rubbed their hard hands against their flanks, witnesses of a long habit to warm them. They have fixed him, without understanding, if it is not that this one came out of the hell and that was maybe not good sign.

He knew what they thought. Then, he bent once again while putting the hand at his sheep hat. His other hand opened the coat and they could see the broad rough pure gold medal which hung, held by a chain passed around the neck.

They did not say anything but the mouths were opened and the air passed between their teeth with the noise of the forge. They knew then Who He Is and their knees bent in the snow.


- I would need your good will, my children, he says to them by not raising the tone because the kami of the snow would not have allowed it.

He showed the horse with the long hairs and the toboggan. That was surely careful wood-cutters, rather rare thing by here, because the horse had a cover on the kidneys.


- Of course, Master. What do you want of us? … Said and we will obey, pronounced with large pains the oldest. He started to lose his teeth and blackish saliva ran between the stumps.

The others will not dare to speak. This was at the oldest, at the wisest, to carry the word of the men to The One of whom one spoke in half-voice, in the evening, around the fire. The voice was made timid and fearful then, because about Him, one did not speak. One bent the forehead on the ground.

- Carry me in your valley and beyond these hills, over there where the night is at the latest, he says to them.

The three youngest people were precipitated towards the horse than they harnessed. Their fast gestures revealed the long habits.

Then they removed the wood already put in the carriage and with great reinforcement of blow of brushes of brushwood, they cleaned the platform on which they installed skins.


The two oldest remained beside the old Master, as it should be.

They did not say anything and observed the young people in their gestures. Later, they will say to them that they worked like disordered people and that they were ashamed of them. That will be said in the village, and they will become Those who did not know to make smile the Master and shame will be on them, and that, they know it. But they also know that They will be those which have approached Him and saw Him. For that, they will be forever researched because to them the chance will have clung to the hair.


- The carriage is ready, says the oldest, bent in front of the old man who smiled to the young people, because HE also, he knows this tradition in the valleys of mountains and he will pass his hand in their hair when they will stop near the hot source at half slope of the small valley.

It is thus of the World.

This World which is killing a man that He must save. For that one, if he arrives in time, he will have to then give his Life.

In the fibers of the heart he feels the life of the Other one which escapes. He has little time in front of him. This night, all must be consumed, gained or lost.

- Tell me, little, I believe that this horse must like to trot quickly?

The young man did not dare to raise the look, but reddens that one can tell him only one word. It was him which looked after the horse and the Master guessed it since it is to him that he spoke.

He clicked the end of the tongue behind the upper teeth and the horse turned the ears. The young man taken again this clicking three times, on a fast rhythm and the muscles under the skin lengthened with the stride.


The old Master smiled, sitting cross-legged on the sheepskins. He let his body be balanced at the rhythm of the bumps of the way. The shod shoes of the small horse struck hard the cold ground.

Only the two youngest people were gone down with him. He had insisted that the two older remain at their work and he says to them that he will know to take care of their sons.

They accepted the will of the Master and especially on the honor which will henceforth be carried by their sons.


The Master smiled because he progressed quickly and he felt the distance to be shortened with death.

Behind the hills of west, it will be necessary to let the movement of the body guide the paces. It will have to be pull by the death which enters a body and the life which leaves it. It will have to treat with them.

If he arrives in time!


At the village, the women will want to retain him. The sounds of the horns have resounded in the mountain five times since a couple of hours. His Arrival is announced and the fires must be activated in the kitchens to cook the cake and the rice.

He will have to bless the new born babies and the bride and groom-to-be. Then he will break the cake and they will eat in silence, the burning tea in the iron cup nestled between their hands in conch.


Then, he will leave and they will have harnessed a fresh horse with the sledge. They will not raise a question. They will go to the end of their territory, in crest of the hills of West. The horse will stop of itself because it knows that further, it is another field which is not its and that between the men, hate makes fall the animals under the blows.

He asked them:

- Over there, which is the man that one must kill?

The old men made the circle around him, the iron cup between their hands because the burning tea heated them. They shook the head and were looked at lengthily then they said that there was no man touched by the death in the valley.

- May be on the other side…. May be! Them are so filled of spite, said one, the one who spoke for the others, because he was the one who learned how to read and to write in the school.

The women around bent the head, several times, the half-opened mouth and a raucous sound went out of. This sound pushed back the death far from the village. The one about which the Master spoke did not have things to make here, at their home and they said it thus to him.

He knew then the hour to leave. He rose and blessed them, touching their forehead with the hand.

Another young man approached him and invited him with a movement of the arm to approach the enclosure. He was dumb because he did not dare to open the mouth in front of the one about which one spoke so much in the evening, the face shining in front of the flames.

A hairy horse pawed the ground, already harnessed and the beast wanted to leave. The young man offered his arm to the old man who rested on it. They had placed a light wood stool to facilitate his rise in the carriage.

They came to see him leaving and they remained a long time on the edge of the way, well after the beast and its carriage had disappeared but they remained engraved in their memory and when they turned over to their houses, they believed that The One about which one spoke so much was still there.


The sun started to keep its heat in its circle which did not heat much the ground anymore. A fine veil came in front of him and the old man prayed. He put all his breathing in his belly, transforming it into the one of the ground, because the ground has to say to the sun that he must not give him up today. The night will involve the withdrawal of the life in the body of the one who dies and then he will arrive too late.


It has posed this question five times to those which cut the wood at the bottom of the valley:

- Where is the one that one must kill?

They looked at him without understanding by rounding their eyes. The mouths opened on the blackish stumps but the words did not come. The sounds which went out of the open throats were those of the cow which breathes and it is well thus. He thanked them while he was smiling and they folded the knees because they knew Who He Was. He touched the foreheads with the hand.


Thus the one who would die was further than this valley and he asked that one pushes the horse towards the crests.

Behind, there was the world of the men who kill those who are different of them because it is their only means of continuing to procreate.

It is thus there that he will find the one that one must kill. He felt this body, already dying, so near to him that he believed that to extend the hand will make him touch the skin and that this hand was going to carry warmth in the one who was dying out.

The young man observed him while leading his horse to large pace. He did not understand the movement of the arm which extended towards the horizon, and he frowned. The old man smiles to him because he is thus of the men who are the fruit of the earth.


- I cannot pass the crests, says the coach driver, lowering the head as a sign of excuse..... The men over there are not our friends!

The high peaks approached and the old man showed him the beginning of the fault under the cliff. He will pass by there and the young man rolled the eyes:

- But, it is the most dangerous, Master!

- But the shortest, is not it?

- Yes, Master.

- Therefore, it is good that it is by there that I penetrate in these territories which are not yours.

- That this be so, says the young man while pushing his horse towards the beginning of the falls.

Just thousand paces yet, and the snow will not be there anymore for the sledge. They descended a lot and the animal perspires, not accustomed to this softer temperature.

The stones show their sharp edges which will wound the feet. The snow which is maintained will cover the traps of the holes and the young man did not dare to say his concern to the old man whom he took in his arms to put him on the ground.

The old man let himself make while smiling and from one moment, when the two hearts were touched, he threw his energy in the one who carried him and that one opened his breathing at the beauty of the world. He did not know from where the warmth came which irradiated his body; he also did not know why the tears came suddenly behind his eyelids and that his throat had the taste of salt. He put back the old man with the precaution of the one who touches a fragile object and his kidneys were happy of the effort that he had just produced and he felt that death should be nothing else only that, no longer feel this work and the movement of warmth in the body.


The young man stayed there, beside the horse which did not move, to look at the thin silhouette which appeared to slip between the rocks. The noise of the stick striking the ground still remained in his ears when the night came to land on the ground and says to him to curve the shoulders then to come in it.


- Where is the man whom one must kill?

The old woman raised the shoulders and turned the back to him. Then he went towards the stall of vegetables and he asked the question at the man.

- You ramble on old man! Here, there is nobody who must die and go your way. You smell the death of which you speak.

The man made the ritual gestures which drive out the demons and the old man moved back because one started to look at him curiously and that was not good because the men should not be disturbed in their peace of the heart.

He did not want that there, one knows Who He Is.

The stalls will return in the coarse wooden cases and they will count the money. The night is now in the muddy street and the old man strides over the gutter which constitutes the median line of it and that is also fair that the men live with their excrements.


He has descended by the fault of the rocks of crests and he knew that he must not be revealed in this valley. Also, he has followed the hollow lanes towards the large borough, slipping behind the slopes when the noise of the men came towards him.

He has waited nearby the first houses, near the fountain. The sun disappeared and only the needles of the rocks of crests were gilded. Here, it is the night which settles and people hurry. He awaited a group of noisy merchants who came back from the big city, pushing their carriages filled with the products which will be tomorrow on the market. He took their trace, just behind and he entered thus in the borough.


He reviewed the three inns, without saying anything and nobody paid attention to him. He listened to the rumors of the market street. He drew up the ear to the stories of the salesmen at the stall. He approached the women who spoke on their doorstep, watching the children who played near the brook of rubbish.

He heard nothing on the one that one has to kill. Thus, he started to question and he was curiously looked at.

Now he guessed that he has to leave because the noises around him became heavy with the hate of the men who do not want curiosity at them and it is well thus because it is their only chance to remain alive.





He slipped into the inn of the middle of the street and went through the noisy corridors of it. It was four days of fair and a lot of people had come. The winter left and the strength of the spring ascended in the bodies which wanted to move and shout the change of the ground. He slipped away by the door beside the kitchens and nobody took guard at this old man who went along the shade of the hovels, and the exit of the borough opened in front of him with the night.

The cold bit the skin of the men. He smiles gently of this stretching of the lips which went towards the ears and he greeted those which returned of the fields, rushing to find a bit of fire close to them. They thought of a little insane old man, mumbling in the shade of his escaped thought and he knew it by their astonished looks. A woman ceased walking and lengthily looked at him coming towards her and going towards the cold of the night. She was standing curved under the faggot of branches but her eyes went to join those of the one who turned the back at the lanterns of the meeting of the men.

- You know that the Borough is behind you, my poor old man, she said when he was about to touch her?

- I know it Good Mother, he answered, stopping his walk.

He leaned on his stick and she took her time to observe him. The frank eyes of the woman searched the wrinkles of the old man and he saw a concern which was born in her for him. Thus, he made a pace ahead and held out the hand. She did nothing, only to close the eyelids on the lights of the men.

She knew the hand on her forehead before the flesh meets hers because the warmth was there before, well before and she understood her stop and the waiting of this man who walked towards her turning the back on the city. The hand touched her forehead and she closed her heart at the agitation. The veil which recovered her slipped, discovering the eyes of the soul which are darkened with the first thought of the World and she knew all that in one moment and she had the certainty that she was not insane, certain mornings, when she saw this tablecloth of words and concern coming towards her and covering her. These mornings, at the waking, the beauty was in her heart and she breathed gently with the movement of the World which she knew generous. Then this tablecloth came and recovered her and the concern extended in Time.

- HUM ..... H… U… mmmmmmmmm.....

Nothing else went out of the half-opened mouth. However, she knew how to say a lot to the one who turned the back on the lights and her heart overflowed of tenderness for him.


The hand took off the veil of the thought of the men.


She heard that the old man set off again with small counted steps. The stick struck the hard ground. He had left with her the beauty of the world and she did not want to open the eyes any more. That lasted one moment and others hustled her and said to her to stand aside because she groaned in the middle of the way.

She felt her feet slipping into the ditch and the ice-cold water wet her boots of skin.

Over there, her three children awaited the wood for the fire of the evening and it is well. The things must be thus and this knowledge unhooked the envelope of the heart. Its liquid was spreading in the body and she smiles. Then, she could raise the eyelids on the cold.

She looked at the way which entered the night without lantern and she did not see anything. The cubit was penetrated in the black.


The old man walked in the night. His feet did not need the light of the men. They knew the stones and the holes. These feet had been born from the earth and the earth and them, have to find the confidence of the friendship.

He did not let his breathing staying in his belly because he was necessary that the Energy runs freely and tells him where The One which died was. He had little of time. Everything will be consumed before the middle of the night because the yang of the man will leave with the one of the Heaven which will let the Earth come in its belly. At this time, the Earth eats the earth and all that is born from it because it is its food and that is well thus.

The man must be found before this hour because he will no longer have enough of heaven in his belly to resist the call of the earth.


“May be he has too much heaven in his heart! ….

By all the Gods! … He will die then because he will call the night! “mumbled the old man to the night.

That came to him without premise, to him who does not think any more since such a long time. Then he knew that the Destiny led him and that the man was very near because he feels so much His weakness… By the Kamis! , it is the Heaven which will kill him!

Then, he prayed, because it is the only recourse of the Wise Man. He says to the Heaven to support the heart of The One who Waited and that him, he was going to teach him to make slip this force into the body so that this body can walk on the earth and love the men.

- Let still a little Time to him!

He mumbled and walked the closed eyes because only the force which was reduced and which he felt so near counted. It was necessary to find him in the moments to come because now the night flattened the world and the yin will require its food. It is the hour when many men will die.

He heard paces coming towards him but he did not open the eyes. It was a man who returned home.

- Where are you going thus, my old man! … You know that it is the death which lurks further?

The old man did not slow down the pace and did not raise the eyelids. Death was everywhere and this one did not know that more than the others. Death was especially at them and they did not know how to die. Just a matter of time. But “that” he would have said it to him in other moments and may be even more. But now, death was him and his family and friends. He could not tell him. Nor that to find the Life which left so near to him, somewhere in the grey areas of the night in forest, he must close his eyes and his ears and that he must go as drawn by a wire from the Invisible which said to him where to place his feet on the ground which cracked again its ice in the ruts of the lane.

The other could have seen the back leg which pushed lengthily the thin body ahead, then the one of before receiving the weight and then pull. He could have seen, but to see, one must already recognize and he did not know another thing only the mechanics of his days. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and remade faced to the lights of the village which gave their curious yellow clearness in the night to the top of the summits of pines.

The skin boots became slipping on the ice which was reformed and the old man did not think of it because to think of it would be to surely fall in the night. He stretched the eyes under the lowered eyelids and caressed them with the soft cloth of his spirit. Them, must SEE this night and behind the walls of the eyelids masking the night of the men, they must find their way to go to this clearness which was reduced and to prevent it from disappearing.

“Where is The One who the Men must kill?”


Thus he progressed and his steps left the lane smashed by the ruts and he entered the high forest by the path which followed the brook under its ice. The force came from there and the eyes were widened towards the ears. Then the old man put his hands under his bonnet of fur and started to massage the pavilion which he had broad and strong. It was time now to awake these senses and the laughing eyes said it to him at his heart because they knew each other and they knew they were linked for a long time. The three of them will guide him and he knew it by the smiles which descended from the eyes and stretched the thin lips on the top of the goatee of rare and long hairs.

The one who was going to die was very near. Now, the heart was going to guide and behind his lowered eyelids, he sought the blue-tinged light.


It was there, in the middle and he laughs in his belly. The Forces of the Place were with him! Behind his head, the blue light started from top of the nape of the neck. He felt the hot ball which started to be spread out fan-shaped over the pile of the neck. He turned up the collar of his heavy fur-lined coat and laced the cords under his chin.

This jade cushion must be protected. It was necessary that his head can lean on the night behind him. Then, thus protected, he was going to be able to project all his life towards the other life which was somewhere in front of him. This one which was like him. Because they were recognized since this night when they awoke the old man and said to him to leave because one of them was to be saved from the death of the Men because the death of this one was not reparable.

The old man is there, protecting his nape of the neck from the cold yin of the night. It is good.

He pushes in snow cracking to the knees and he knows that he will suffer a lot this night. It is good. It is thus that it must be.

In front of him there is a man to save. A Life will go out of a body of man and this Life must not go out of this body. Here is what he knows and it is sufficient so that him, the Master, he is there in the white of the snow and the blue-tinged dark of the night under the pines of the mountain.

And he knows that it is now his Life that he must give in exchange of this blessing to save this one. It is good.


He keeps the eyelids lowered on his cheeks and the smile of the eyes goes down now in his heart. The blue-tinged light is between his eyebrows and strongly presses on the bones. It is time to let it go and when he smiles his ears ring. Then he raises high the knee and marks one more print in the snow in front of him. The path goes up now hard and the wind has just risen in the heads of black pines.


The night makes its way without the moon and it is the blue-tinged light between his eyebrows which guides the old man. The force which is in his head tightens strongly against the bones and he knows that today he must not let it escape, nor swallow it. It must remain between the two eyes, until hurting him, but this pain is the one which will carry him out where the Man Who Must Die is. The boots and pants under his heavy tunic are soaked with molten snow. The cold does not take his bones. This pain in his head looks after that and he knows it. He is not hungry either and it is good thus because this night will be the one where he will know he can now live quiet while waiting the death.


Then he progresses, raising high the knees in the snow. He pushes in less now than the freezing cold came back. The top layer mixed with the needles of the pines offers a firmer support to him and he pays attention to his foot so that it comes to rest gently on the thin hard layer and does not break it. It is his attention on his feet which captures his spirit and he blows in his belly, because this spirit must remain thus, calmly in his feet. Thus, the Other Spirit, the one which enters this blue-tinged force between his eyebrows can maintain the smile on his lips, the buzz in his broad ears and the abundant saliva in his mouth which he must swallow in three fast times and strong almost every five minutes. He counts the time thus since the pain is removed of him this night. This night will not be his. This night his life will have to slip into the body of another and then he will be able at last smile freely and say “Thank you”. This night will be the one where finally he will become friend with his death. He knows that. Death is there and it guides him with this blue-tinged light in the forehead, between his eyebrows and the nape of the neck which rests gently, in the heat, on her jade cushion. Thus, he raises high the knees and puts his attention on the flat part of his feet. Now, he cannot do anything else and he knows it. He came until there and it was his work to come there, drawn by this dream and this force. It is thus that has to be.



It is thus that must be and he knows it. Then he opens suddenly the mouth and he bursts in the white ball which forces the bones of his cranium. And sudden, his cranium is not there anymore, nor the remainder either. There is the White Universe Behind the Things which takes possession of the surface of the life. Now he knows who comes first, of the Vision, of the Heat or of the Love. That has made more than forty years that he lives with this force which comes to take possession of him and reassures him in his action at the Men Who Kill.

But this time, it is not identical to the other times.

He falls on his knees and his legs also burst under the pressure of the Luminous Force. He feels him falling but that does not have any importance because All is Just and arrives at its Hour. He knows that he rolls on the slope and his body slips between the trees and the coppices. But that does not have any importance. This Light lives in him and he does not even know any more that this is it which leads him because it is become his soul and his body. He cannot do anything, now. The action of his spirit can no longer be done because what occurs there, is above of his means of catches. Nobody speaks besides anymore and he does not know how long passes nor where he goes. He knows him rolling and slipping on the slope and the shock of a tree on his back.

He does not draw aside the head of the rock which he sees arriving towards him.

Then it is the black night of his spirit and he does not know anything anymore. He has never ceased to blow in his belly a sound, the smile at the lips and his ears ring of OMMMmmmmmm…mmmm. He has nothing else at his disposal in his body and his spirit of Man to say than he is ready and than he is not afraid.


Time does not have a catch on him because The spirit is out of time. This time again, like the other times, He does not know the time which passed under the ascendency of the Light of the Source of the Life. He comes back, as each time of a voyage which replaces him at a place of the Earth and he does not know why There, except that it is there that he recognizes his body which was given to him as Man and that it is there that he must act. His body is not painful. However he remembers the blows of the trees and the rocks. He perceives that but what raises his spirit off the snow, it is this immense Love which suffocates his heart and his brain. The cold of the snow can nothing against him. Nor the one of the wind in the summits and which reaches the ground while whirling to the ears. This warmth is the one which saves and this one has carried him there, against this rock which curves to create a flat part. He does not need to turn over to know that the Man is there, lying down on his stomach on the cold ground and that his breath dies out of the Life of the Men. He believes to perceive a moaning. The death which gains him makes him suffering! Thus the old man smiles because this suffering is not the one of the body. The death by the cold is the softest that it is; it is the soul which groans. It does not accept death and finds it unjust. The tears come to the eyes of the one who is wrinkled and freeze immediately in the hairs of his white goatee. These are tears of happiness because he knows now that nothing was useless. The one who was to die, cries at the entry of the cold in his heart! So he will be able to save him.

Thus he will be able to save him and he knows it in the happiness which inflates his heart. This happiness, he did not hope for it any more. He had waited for it since a too long time and had believed that his destiny wanted that he goes away like others without transmitting his Knowledge of the Force of Life.

But the moaning was there, very near and he crawled under the overflow of the rock. He slipped close to the body and squirmed to remove his heavy pelisse. He spread it on the frost of the ground and sought a catch on the body which was cooling. He needed his fine hearing to still perceive a semblance of breathing. The man was in the extreme limit of the Breath. It was necessary to do quickly.

He clutched him by clothing, which seemed to him a fur jacket of and drew towards him. The body came with difficulty. The top remained wedged under the rutted rock and the head was not visible. It seemed that the man had wanted to be inserted the further possible under the flat part, to go in the cold ground and to die there. The old man drew gently. He had taken off his gloves for better mixing his knotty fingers with the rough fabric. He brought his elbows towards him, pushing the breathing in the belly and in his effort he prayed without realizing it. The sound OMMMMmmmmm…. slipped of his half-opened lips. The sweat started to bead at the temples and he gently drew this inert body which approached now.

He pulled him towards him in the same slow gestures and he felt his heart being reversed with happiness when the body rolled on the left side and came stiff and right, to be centered just in the middle of the pelisse which the old man had spread out.

Then, he lengthened the legs of the man and brought back his hands on his cold belly. He pulled his fur bonnet warmed by his sweat. He rolled up the collar of his shirts, then, gently, as to not disturbing the death and the life which were linked so narrowly in this stiff body, he lengthened on him and started to breathe for two.

This night is the one where he must give his life and it is well thus.