They promised one with the other that the next one which would have to go up would return to say to different what had arrived to him.

Soon, one felt thorough in an irresistible way to gain surface; it rested at the top of a sheet of lily and undergoes a splendid transformation which made of it a dragonfly with fort pretty wings.

It in vain tried to hold its promise. Wheel from one end to another of the marsh, it saw her friends well, in bottom. Then, it understood that even if they had been able to see it, they would not have recognized like one as of their so radiant creature.

The fact that we cannot see our friends and to communicate with them after the transformation which we let us call death is not a proof that they ceased existing.