Just a single image flashed through his mind. He remembered how Peter had come running toward him a few days ago in the Oberammergau graveyard with outstretched arms and nothing in his eyes but joy at this unexpected meeting with his beloved grandfather. The image vanished, and was replaced by a new one. He could see little Paul, that hot-headed, boisterous child who sometimes made him think of himself when he was young, and how together they’d built waterwheels down at the river and carved wooden swords.
