The moon was just rising. Everything was dark and silent. Only one electric bulb hung inside.
Mila got up. He could see her face in the rising moonlight. It was deadly pale and all he could appreciate were her unnaturally bright eyes.
"Mila, you mustn't think about coming back ever. And I know, it you do so, you will not meet me; you will get something immaterial-something shadow-like object."
Their glances met. She was not thinking consciously. She felt there was something, she wanted to say, but did not know what. Then she turned slowly.
"I am in a tragic grip of my life. Besides it is a crushing blow on my future plans and programmes." She was now crying. "As far as I will try my level best to comply with your advice and last request. You will live in the dome of my memory for many years to come. Don't think me as the bird of the same feather. Just I can't express my feelings and thoughts. You are my friend, my philosopher and guide. In future, I will work among the villager's with a missionary zeal. In this way I will translate your dreams into reality. Don't think that I am building castles in the air. It is my firm resolution, I hope I will succeed."
"But Mila, these things are very dangerous for you."
"If danger is great, glory is even greater. Now I am fired by your principles. Am I exaggerating my plans? Actually, there exists no peace in pleasures and diversions of life. Further more, you can rely on me that I am your ardent supporter."
"Mila, have you heard that line, 'Life, every minute of it is beautiful and precious and exciting always, no matter, what the condition of the body."
"Yes, how can I forget it?"
"Mila, time is over. You better go. On the brink of death I wish you a happy and prosperous life.”
Mila moved uncertainly away. His eyes watched her through a great numbness.
'Mila!' his voice broke.
She turned immediately. He could see her bright eyes, bright black and white, the fragrance of youth and beauty.
"Nothing," he muttered, "Just forget me, for ever."
