Now, o my Son, I will declare unto thee the Virtue of that Part of Love which receiveth and draweth, being the Counterpart of thine own. For behold! I am moved in myself by the Absence of the Virgin that is appointed for me. And her Eagerness of Purity doth encompass me with its soft Tenderness, and twineth about me with sweet Scent, so that my Mind is enkindled with a gentle Flame, luminous and subtle, and I write unto thee as in a Dream; for in this Enchantment of her Devotion I am caught up cunningly into Beautitude, with great Joy of the Gods that have bestrewn my Way with Flowers, ay, many Flowers and Herbs of Magick and of Holiness withal to match their Beauty. Nay, o my Son, I will cease this Epistle unto thee for awhile, that I may rest in the Pleasure of this Contemplation, for it is Solace ineffable, and Recreation like unto Sleep among the Mountains. Yea, can I wish thee more than this, that, coming to mine Age, thou mayst find a Virgin like unto this to draw thee with her Simplicity, and her embroidered Silence?