The white sun invaded the room, which already had been filled with the scents of oranges and chocolates. She heard:

“Miss Dearbhla, get off the bed, have you noticed that the spring has come? …And some flutes can be heard; I guess the orchestra is playing at the park. Would you like to take a walk through the old road, it smells like almonds already; you would perceive it even inside the carriage.”

She stood up light and fresh. Smiling, she opened the window and unwinding her hair she said:

“Think about the last leafs of autumn, do you think they have to be afraid of whether another spring will come? Or these last notes from this music, they have to fear not being played ever again; not ever being be sad though.”