Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner - Chapter 524

Capítulo 524: Challenge

“I ran a spectral analysis on the portal’s energy signature before it collapsed,” Kelvin said. He turned the tablet so Noah could see the display—graphs and readouts that meant nothing to him, but Kelvin’s expression said they meant everything. “Then I cross-referenced it with every known spatial anomaly in EDF databases going back fifty years.”

“And?”

Kelvin swiped to a different screen. This one showed a star map with seven points highlighted in red, scattered across known human space. “I found matches. Seven locations showing the exact same energy signature. All of them in the past six months. All of them dismissed by local authorities as minor anomalies or equipment malfunctions.”

Noah studied the map. The locations weren’t random—each one corresponded to a major human colony or strategic position. New Tehran. Proxima Station. The Yamato orbital platform. Arcturus Prime. Kepler settlement. Two others he didn’t immediately recognize but looked militarily significant based on their positioning.

“You think Arthur’s opened portals at all these locations,” Noah said.

“I think he’s planning to.” Kelvin zoomed in on one of the markers, pulling up detailed readings. “These signatures are faint—residual energy, like someone was testing the equipment, making sure it worked before committing to full activation. Which means—”

“He’s preparing multiple invasion points.” Noah felt the implications settling over him like ice water. “Simultaneous strikes across human space.”

“That’s my theory, yeah.” Kelvin pulled up another data set, this one showing troop movement projections and response times. “Think about how Harbinger attacks normally work. They arrive in drop ships, breach planetary defenses if they can, deploy ground forces. Even when they succeed, it gives the EDF time to mobilize, to coordinate response, to evacuate civilians. But portals?” He gestured at the empty space where Arthur’s tear in reality had been. “No warning. No time to react. They just appear inside your defenses and start killing.”

Noah’s mind was already running scenarios. “He could move Harbinger forces between colonies faster than the EDF could respond. Hit one location, portal out before reinforcements arrive, hit another location immediately. Keep forces off-balance, prevent any kind of coordinated defense.”

“Exactly. And it’s not just speed—it’s the psychological impact.” Kelvin’s voice carried the kind of analytical detachment that meant he was deliberately not thinking about the human cost. “Every human colony simultaneously under attack, with no clear pattern, no way to predict where they’ll strike next. It would be chaos.”

“How long do we have?”

“No idea. Could be weeks. Could be days. The energy signatures suggest he’s still in preparation phase, but—” Kelvin looked back at the tablet, “—I don’t know what ‘ready’ looks like for this kind of operation. Could be he needs more time to stabilize the portals. Could be he’s waiting for the right moment politically. Could be he’s ready now and just hasn’t pulled the trigger yet.”

Noah stared at the star map, at those seven red points scattered across human space like a disease spreading through the body. Each one represented millions of lives. Billions, if Arthur managed to coordinate properly.

“We need to tell someone,” Noah said. “EDF command, the planetary defense networks, someone with the resources to—”

“To do what?” Kelvin interrupted. “We’re Eclipse Faction. We don’t work with the EDF. We have zero official standing, zero credibility with any government body that matters. Even if we went to them with this data, they’d dismiss it as speculation. And by the time they finished investigating whether we’re full of shit, Arthur could have already started his invasion.”

Noah wanted to argue, but Kelvin was right. Eclipse’s reputation was complicated at best—heroes to some, reckless vigilantes to others, Pathfinder seven themselves still technically wanted for questioning about events he’d been involved in months ago. Going to official channels would mean bureaucracy, politics, delays they couldn’t afford.

“So what do we do?” Noah asked.

Kelvin saved the data to his tablet, then looked at Noah with an expression that carried exhaustion and determination in equal measure. “We go home. We debrief properly. We figure out what our next move is with actual rest and food instead of standing in a basement covered in Harbinger blood while running on fumes.”

Noah realized Kelvin was right. His void energy reserves were depleted, his body was running on his enhanced physiology and stubborn will, and making strategic decisions in this state was how people made mistakes that got others killed.

“Alright,” Noah said. “Let’s get everyone ready to move out.”

—

The flight back to Eclipse headquarters took four hours. Four hours of enforced rest that Noah spent staring at nothing, processing everything that had happened, running through scenarios and contingencies until Sophie physically took his tablet away and told him to sleep.

He didn’t sleep. But he closed his eyes and let his body repair itself, let his void energy slowly regenerate, let the immediate crisis fade into background concern that he could address after they were home.

They landed at Eclipse headquarters as evening was settling over the complex. Noah stepped off the transport and felt something in his chest unclench slightly.

Seraleth was waiting at the landing pad, and the look on her face said she’d already heard preliminary reports. “Debrief in one hour,” she said without preamble. “Medical checks for anyone injured, showers for everyone else. The conference room, not the training hall. This needs to be thorough.”

The next hour passed in a blur of organized chaos. Medical teams processed the wounded—more than Noah had realized during the extraction, people who’d been running on adrenaline and military discipline until the moment they felt safe enough to acknowledge their injuries. Showers ran constantly as people scrubbed off blood and dirt and the psychological weight of combat. Food appeared from somewhere—Diana’s organizational skills, probably—simple stuff that could be eaten quickly.

Noah found himself in his quarters, staring at his armour laid out on the workbench. The black Harbinger blood had dried completely, flaking off in pieces that dissolved before hitting the floor. Knight Grace would need repairs—the chest plating was compromised, several places were damaged, the void shell had burned through its reserves. But it had held. Kept him alive through a four-horn fight and everything else the mission had thrown at him. All he needed to do was let the system handle the repairs.

He stripped off his clothes piece by piece, setting each component aside for later wash. Showered until the water ran clear instead of gray with dirt and blood. Changed into clean clothes that felt strange after hours in combat gear. Looked at himself in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back.

When he made it to the conference room, most of the core team was already there. Sophie sat at the head of the table with tablets and data displays spread in front of her. Diana occupied a chair near the middle, her usual perfect posture slightly relaxed now that immediate danger had passed. Lila sat separate from the others, staring at nothing, and Noah recognized the expression from his own mirror—processing things that didn’t process easily.

Kelvin arrived last, no longer in his pilot suit but wearing normal clothes and looking like he’d aged about five years in the past day. He dropped into a chair with a groan that suggested every muscle in his body was protesting.

Seraleth stood near the display screens, her height making her easy to track even in his peripheral vision. She waited until everyone was settled, then activated the main display.

“Casualties first,” she said, and Noah appreciated the directness. No speeches, no preamble. Just the information that mattered. “Eclipse lost twelve recruits. Twenty-plus wounded, twenty-two seriously enough to require extended medical care. Grey forces took forty-seven killed, sixty-two wounded. Three-horn Harbingers accounted for most of the deaths—targets of opportunity that we couldn’t predict or prevent.”

The numbers hit harder hearing them spoken aloud. Twelve people who’d trusted Eclipse, who’d joined because they believed in what Noah was building, who’d never get the chance to see what came next.

“Valencia Arcos is confirmed among the casualties,” Seraleth continued. “Her family has been notified. The funeral is scheduled for three days from now, alongside services for the other fallen.” She paused. “The facility was completely secured. Grey forces extracted significant intelligence—documents, equipment, data storage. Commander Hight has forwarded preliminary analysis to us as agreed in the operation planning.”

Sophie picked up from there. “The portal technology is unlike anything in EDF records we were able to get our hands on. Kelvin’s analysis suggests Arthur has or is planning similar installations at multiple locations. Strategic implications are—” she glanced at Noah, “—significant.”

“Understatement,” Kelvin muttered.

Seraleth moved to the next section of her report. “Confirmed eliminations include one four-horn Harbinger—the Widow. Noah, do you have anything to add about that engagement?”

Everyone looked at him. Noah kept his expression neutral. “She followed me into my domain. I had every advantage. She didn’t. It was decisive.”

Diana raised an eyebrow at the extreme understatement, but didn’t comment. Seraleth nodded and continued.

“Three three-horn Harbingers eliminated. One by Kelvin Pithon operating KROME. One by Diana Frost and Kelvin in coordinated engagement. One by Lila Rowe in solo combat.” Seraleth’s tone carried approval. “Additionally, Nyx, Storm, and Ivy each successfully engaged and eliminated three-horn targets independently.”

“Dragons are terrifying,” Kelvin said to nobody in particular. “Just want that on record.”

“Arthur was encountered in the lower levels,” Seraleth continued. “No engagement occurred due to tactical assessment and hostage considerations. He escaped through the portal before it was destroyed. The Rowes accompanied him.” She looked at Lila. “Do you want to add anything?”

Lila shook her head without speaking.

“Then that concludes the operational debrief.” Seraleth deactivated the displays. “You all performed exceptionally. The mission succeeded despite complications. Take the next forty-eight hours for recovery and personal time. Training resumes after the funerals.”

People began filtering out. Noah stayed in his chair, staring at the empty displays, until only Sophie remained.

“You alright?” she asked quietly.

“Twelve people,” Noah replied. “Twelve.”

“Twelve people who knew the risks and chose to fight anyway.” Sophie stood and walked over to where he sat. “It doesn’t make it hurt less. But it’s not your fault they died.”

“Feels like it should be someone’s fault.”

“It’s Arthur’s fault. The Purge’s fault. The Harbingers’ fault.” Sophie’s hand settled on his shoulder. “We’ll stop them. But not tonight. Tonight you rest.”

Noah nodded, not trusting his voice. Sophie squeezed his shoulder once and left, giving him space to process.

—

The next two days passed in a strange liminal state where nothing felt quite real. The funerals happened—Noah attended all of them, said words that felt inadequate, shook hands with families who looked at him like he should have answers he didn’t have. Eclipse headquarters maintained its rhythm, but quieter now, people moving with the careful deliberateness of those processing grief while trying to stay functional.

Training resumed on the third day. Noah and Lila took the morning chi session with the recruits, and the normality of it felt grounding. Watching people work through breathing exercises, correcting stances, explaining theory—it was simple in a way that combat never was.

Kelvin spent his time in the workshop, rebuilding KROME’s damaged systems. Noah passed by one evening and found Diana there too, not working on the mech but sitting on a workbench, talking while Kelvin’s hands moved through repairs with practiced efficiency.

“—I’m just saying,” Diana was saying, “the way you use the pile drivers is inefficient. You’re firing all three pneumatics simultaneously when you could stagger them for sustained pressure.”

“Sustained pressure doesn’t create the same impact force,” Kelvin replied, not looking up from the servo he was adjusting. “I need burst damage, not gradual.”

“You need both. Burst to break through, sustained to follow through.” Diana leaned forward slightly. “Let me show you—hand me that wrench.”

Kelvin glanced at her, then at the wrench, then back at the servo. “You know how to work on combat mech hydraulics?”

“My father made sure I understood mechanical systems before I was ten. Said if I couldn’t maintain my equipment, I didn’t deserve to use it.” She took the wrench without waiting for permission. “Move over.”

They worked together for the next hour, and Noah quietly backed away before they noticed him watching. Some things didn’t need an audience.

—

It was evening, six days after their return, when Sam called for a meeting.

Noah was in his quarters, reviewing Kelvin’s data on the portal signatures for the dozenth time, when his comm chimed. Sam’s face appeared on the screen, his expression carrying the particular seriousness that meant something had changed.

“Conference room. Now. Everyone.”

The core team assembled within minutes. Sam stood at the head of the table with a physical document in his hands—actual paper, which was unusual enough to be notable.

“We’ve received a formal challenge,” Sam said without preamble. He set the document on the table where everyone could see it. “Another faction. They’re invoking traditional dueling rights under the independent operator accords.”

Noah picked up the document, scanning the formal language. His eyes caught on the faction name at the bottom.

“Who?” Diana asked.

Sam’s expression was grim. “Vanguard Faction. They’re claiming Eclipse has overstepped our jurisdiction and demanding satisfaction through formal combat.”

The room went very quiet.

“Vanguard,” Sophie said slowly. “That’s—”

“The EDF’s unofficial enforcement arm,” Sam finished. “Populated primarily by ex-military, current military on temporary assignment, and people with strong government connections. They’re claiming we’ve been operating in areas we have no authority in, interfering with official operations, and generally being a problem they need to remove.”

Noah set the document down. “When?”

“Two weeks. Standard dueling format—champions from each faction, neutral ground, witnessed by independent observers.” Sam looked around the table. “We can refuse, but that comes with its own complications. Refusing a formal challenge damages reputation, makes us look afraid, gives Vanguard political ammunition to push for official sanctions against us.”

“So we accept,” Noah said.

“So we accept,” Sam agreed. “Which means we have two weeks to prepare for a fight that’s probably going to determine whether Eclipse continues to exist as an independent operation.”

Nobody spoke for a long moment. Then Kelvin leaned back in his chair and started laughing—not the nervous kind, but genuine amusement that made everyone turn to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “I’m sorry, but—who the fuck are they sending? Like, actually, who’s crazy enough to step in the ring with Noah?”

Diana’s lips twitched. “He has a point.”

“I’m being serious!” Kelvin gestured at Noah. “This man just killed a four-horn Harbinger. In his domain, sure, but still—four-horn! The Widow! And before that, he’s faced Arthur’s clones, survived Kruel, fought off entire Purge battalions. Who looks at that resume and thinks ‘yeah, I can take him’?”

Sophie’s expression suggested she wanted to maintain professionalism but was fighting a smile. “The challenge isn’t necessarily about defeating Noah specifically—”

“But it kind of is though,” Diana interrupted. She was studying the document now, her analytical mind clearly working through scenarios. “A faction challenge of this type—formal combat, witnessed, traditional format—it’s about proving legitimacy through strength. Which means they need to field someone they genuinely believe can match or exceed our best.”

“So either they’re delusional,” Kelvin continued, “or they have someone legitimately terrifying waiting in the wings. Either way, I want to watch this fight from behind several layers of protective barriers.”

Lila spoke up for the first time since they’d started the meeting. “Could be they’re banking on numbers. Faction challenges don’t have to be one-on-one. They could field a team.”

“Even better,” Kelvin said. “Multiple people volunteering to get their asses kicked. Very efficient.”

Sam cleared his throat. “The point is we can’t underestimate them. Vanguard wouldn’t issue this challenge unless they thought they had a legitimate chance. Which means we treat this seriously and prepare accordingly.”

Noah was still looking at the document, his expression unreadable. “Two weeks,” he said quietly. “That’s not a lot of time if they’re sending someone actually dangerous.”

“Or it’s plenty of time if they’re sending someone who thinks military rank translates to being able to handle a dragon summoner,” Kelvin countered. He stood up, stretching. “Either way, my money’s on us. Literally. I will put actual money on this.”

“Meeting adjourned,” Sam said, shooting Kelvin a look that suggested he should read the room better. “Get some rest. We start tactical planning tomorrow.”

Everyone began filing out. Diana paused by Kelvin’s chair. “You know they could have someone genuinely capable, right? The EDF has produced plenty of high-tier combatants.”

“Oh, I know,” Kelvin replied. “I’m just choosing to be optimistic about our chances instead of spiraling into pre-fight anxiety. It’s called healthy coping mechanisms, Diana. Look it up.”

She shook her head but didn’t argue, following the others out.

Noah lingered, staring at the challenge document. Sam walked over and stood beside him.

“Kelvin’s right that we have advantages,” Sam said quietly. “But he’s also right that Vanguard wouldn’t do this without confidence. Be ready for anything.”

Noah nodded slowly, still processing. Two weeks to prepare. Two weeks to figure out what Vanguard thought they knew that made challenging Eclipse seem like a good idea.

Two weeks. Then everything would change one way or another.

蘆

䑵㮓䧧䁋䔁䧧䕭䨿䎯䙯䠝䡱

䔁䭩䧧䴻䙯䁋

盧

䙯㽒䑵

䭩䑵䙯

䔁䎯䙯䴻䧧䙯䕭

䕭䙯䙯䃪䴻䙯䠝

䣃䭩

䡲䨿

䭩䑵䠝䴻䙯䦐

㐝䮉䭩䧧䔁㞵䣃

䟿䣃䡲䡲䃪䨿䴻

䙯䟿䨿㩣

䡲㐝䨿䧧

擄

䊿䣃䙯䧧

擄

䨿㟍䡱䙯䴻䙯

䡲䴻䔁㐝㗭䃪䣃

䴻䔁䕭㐝䙯䙏

䭩䙯䑵

䟿䨿䠝䑵䴻䠝䙯䙯䭩

䣃䙯䠝䎯䠝䆏䧧’䍛

爐

䁋䣃䙯䡱䠝䙯䣃䧧䧧䡲

㶩䠝䔁

䭩䕭䨿䨿䠝

䨿䡱

老

䑵䣃䡲䎯㶩䭩䃪䔁

䡲䃪䡲䣃䔁䴻䭩䣃

㶩䣃䑵䭩

䭩䣃䡱䙯䧧䴻

䭩䎯䧧㞵䙯䎯䕭䑵

䙯䑵䭩

魯

䨿䨿䴻㓘䣃䙏䑵䡲

䑵䨿䔁㻺

䭩䔁䭩䑵

㐝䧧㞵䧧䡱

䎯䆏䴻䁋䠝䣃

䭩䙯䴻䙯䡲䎯

䃪䴻䣃䴻䡲䔁㐝䎯

䔁䑵䕭

㞵䠝䡲

㐝䕭䔁䴻䁋

䨿䊿䙯䕭䧧䨿

䣃㗭䟿䨿䡲䃪

盧

䣃䔁䴻

䣃䡲

䠝㞵䙏䧧䔁䙯䊿㶩䙯䠝䡱䡲

䙯䴻䣃䎯䭩䠝㞵䴻

䡲䣃

路

䎯䭩䔁䴻㞵䔁䧧䆏䣃䴻

䡱䨿

㐝䙯䙯䠝

䧧䔁䨿䨿䣃㞵䙏䭩䆏䭩

老

㓍䣃䧧䔁 䔁䴻䴻䣃㗭䙯䕭 䔁 䡱䙯㶩 䟿䣃䡲㞵䭩䙯䠝 䔁䡱䭩䙯䴻 䑵䣃䟿䁋 䑵䙯䴻 䙯䆣䆏䴻䙯䠝䠝䣃䨿䡲 䡲䙯㞵䭩䴻䔁䧧 䣃䡲 䔁 㶩䔁㐝 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䠝㞵䃪䃪䙯䠝䭩䙯䕭 䎯䔁䴻䙯䡱㞵䧧 䎯䨿䡲䭩䴻䨿䧧 䴻䔁䭩䑵䙯䴻 䭩䑵䔁䡲 䔁䎯䭩㞵䔁䧧 䎯䔁䧧䟿䙏 㩣䑵䙯 䡲䨿䕭䕭䙯䕭 䨿䡲䎯䙯 䣃䡲 䃪䴻䙯䙯䭩䣃䡲䃪䁋 䭩䑵䙯䡲 䭩䨿䨿䊿 䑵䙯䴻 䆏䨿䠝䣃䭩䣃䨿䡲 䨿䡲 䭩䑵䙯 䨿䆏䆏䨿䠝䣃䭩䙯 䠝䣃䕭䙯 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䙯 䎯䧧䙯䔁䴻䣃䡲䃪 㶩䣃䭩䑵䨿㞵䭩 䠝䆏䙯䔁䊿䣃䡲䃪䙏

㩣䙯䴻䔁䧧䙯䭩䑵 㶩䔁䠝 䔁䟿䨿䡲䃪 䭩䑵䙯 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩䠝 䭩䑵䣃䠝 䟿䨿䴻䡲䣃䡲䃪䁋 㶩䑵䣃䎯䑵 㶩䔁䠝䡲’䭩 㞵䡲㞵䠝㞵䔁䧧 䔁䡲㐝䟿䨿䴻䙯䙏 㽒䑵䙯 䠝䆏䔁䎯䙯 䙯䧧䡱 䑵䔁䕭 㟍䙯䙯䡲 䔁䭩䭩䙯䡲䕭䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䙯䠝䙯 䠝䙯䠝䠝䣃䨿䡲䠝 䠝䣃䡲䎯䙯 䰫䨿䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪 䍛䎯䧧䣃䆏䠝䙯䁋 䔁䆏䆏䴻䨿䔁䎯䑵䣃䡲䃪 䎯䑵䣃 䭩䴻䔁䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪 㶩䣃䭩䑵 䭩䑵䙯 䠝䔁䟿䙯 䟿䙯䭩䑵䨿䕭䣃䎯䔁䧧 䡱䨿䎯㞵䠝 䠝䑵䙯 㟍䴻䨿㞵䃪䑵䭩 䭩䨿 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 䙯䧧䠝䙯䙏 㩣䑵䙯 䠝䭩䨿䨿䕭 䡲䙯䔁䴻 䭩䑵䙯 䟿䣃䕭䕭䧧䙯 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䙯 䃪䴻䨿㞵䆏䁋 䭩䔁䧧䧧䙯䴻 䭩䑵䔁䡲 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䨿䡲䙯 䔁䴻䨿㞵䡲䕭 䑵䙯䴻䁋 䑵䙯䴻 䆏䨿䠝䭩㞵䴻䙯 䆏䙯䴻䡱䙯䎯䭩䙏

䠝㞵䣃䃪䡲

䧧䴻”䃪䭩䝦”䁋䣃䑵

䴻䙯䭩䔁䍛䡲䆣䧧

䭩䕭㐝䨿䔁䙏

䔁䟿㟍䡲䣃䭩䙯

䙯䨿䙯䭩䔁䭩䴻䁋䠝䕭䡲䟿

䁋䨿㞵䭩

䠝䔁

䕭䡲䨿㶩䙏

䔁䕭䡲

䴻䔁䊿䕭

㣖

䧧䨿䔁䣃䭩䨿䟿䡲䙯

㞵䙯䡱䧧䙏

䴻䡲䙯䃪㐝䙯

䡲䨿䡲䴻㗭䠝䎯䔁䭩䙯䣃䨿

䭩㶩䔁䣃䃪䣃䡲

䡲䑵䭩䙯

䧧䧧䎯䕭䙯䔁

䆏䴻䣃䎯䭩䔁䙯䎯

䣃䴻䙯䃪㗭䨿䎯䡲

䔁䣃㓍䧧

䨿䭩

䣃䎯䑵

䙯䣃䔁䡲䙯㗭䃪䭩

䧧䨿䧧㐝㞵’

䭩䙯䑵

䭩䠝䠝䭩䙯䔁

䡱䨿䴻

䙯䨿䣃䠝䠝䣃䡲㞵䴻”䆏㗭䙏

䕭䙯䣃

䴻䙯㞵䕭䡲

䧧䧧䣃㶩

䨿㻺䔁䑵

㞵䟿䨿䔁䣃䆏䔁䭩䧧䡲䡲䣃

㫅䴻䙯”䙯’

䝦 䡱䙯㶩 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩䠝 䙯䆣䎯䑵䔁䡲䃪䙯䕭 䃪䧧䔁䡲䎯䙯䠝䙏 㼮䔁䴻䊿 䎯䑵䣃 䑵䔁䕭 䔁 䴻䙯䆏㞵䭩䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲—䑵䔁䴻䕭䙯䴻 䭩䨿 䎯䨿䡲䭩䴻䨿䧧 䭩䑵䔁䡲 㶩䑵䣃䭩䙯 䎯䑵䣃䁋 䟿䨿䴻䙯 㗭䨿䧧䔁䭩䣃䧧䙯䁋 䎯䔁䴻䴻㐝䣃䡲䃪 䴻䣃䠝䊿䠝 䭩䑵䔁䭩 㶩䑵䣃䭩䙯 䎯䑵䣃’䠝 䎯䔁䧧䟿䙯䴻 䔁䆏䆏䴻䨿䔁䎯䑵 䔁㗭䨿䣃䕭䙯䕭䙏 㾖㞵䭩 䣃䭩 㶩䔁䠝 䔁䧧䠝䨿 䟿䨿䴻䙯 䣃䟿䟿䙯䕭䣃䔁䭩䙯䧧㐝 䆏䨿㶩䙯䴻䡱㞵䧧䁋 㶩䑵䣃䎯䑵 䟿䔁䕭䙯 䣃䭩 䔁䭩䭩䴻䔁䎯䭩䣃㗭䙯 䕭䙯䠝䆏䣃䭩䙯 䭩䑵䙯 䕭䔁䡲䃪䙯䴻䠝䙏

“㚶䣃䴻䠝䭩 䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 㐝䨿㞵 䡲䙯䙯䕭 䭩䨿 㞵䡲䕭䙯䴻䠝䭩䔁䡲䕭䁋” 㓍䣃䧧䔁 䠝䔁䣃䕭䁋 䠝䭩䙯䆏䆏䣃䡲䃪 䡱䨿䴻㶩䔁䴻䕭䙏 䤏䙯䴻 㗭䨿䣃䎯䙯 㶩䔁䠝 䠝䭩䙯䔁䕭㐝䁋 䆏䴻䨿䡱䙯䠝䠝䣃䨿䡲䔁䧧䙏 “㼮䔁䴻䊿 䎯䑵䣃 䣃䠝䡲’䭩 䙯㗭䣃䧧䙏 㣖䭩’䠝 䡲䨿䭩 䎯䨿䴻䴻㞵䆏䭩䣃䡲䃪䙏 㣖䭩’䠝 䰫㞵䠝䭩 䙯䡲䙯䴻䃪㐝 䕭䴻䔁㶩䡲 䡱䴻䨿䟿 䔁 䕭䣃䡱䡱䙯䴻䙯䡲䭩 䙯䟿䨿䭩䣃䨿䡲䔁䧧 䠝䨿㞵䴻䎯䙯䙏 䝦䡲䃪䙯䴻䁋 䃪䴻䣃䙯䡱䁋 䡱䴻㞵䠝䭩䴻䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲䁋 䡱䙯䔁䴻—䭩䑵䙯䠝䙯 䔁䴻䙯 䡲䔁䭩㞵䴻䔁䧧 䑵㞵䟿䔁䡲 䙯䟿䨿䭩䣃䨿䡲䠝䙏 㼮䔁䴻䊿 䎯䑵䣃 䣃䠝 䔁㟍䨿㞵䭩 䎯䑵䔁䡲䡲䙯䧧䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䙯䟿 䆏䴻䨿䕭㞵䎯䭩䣃㗭䙯䧧㐝 䣃䡲䠝䭩䙯䔁䕭 䨿䡱 䧧䙯䭩䭩䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䙯䟿 䎯䨿䡲䭩䴻䨿䧧 㐝䨿㞵䙏”

䭩䭩䑵䔁

䔁䑵䁋䡲䕭

䆏䣃䴻䙏䔁䎯䭩䙯䎯

䨿䣃䭩䨿䧧䟿䙯䔁䡲

䟿䴻䨿䡱

䕭䨿䴻㞵䡲䔁

䙯䠝䆏䴻䙏䨿䡲䙯䠝

䡱䨿

䔁䭩䑵䭩

“䙏䭩䣃

䆏䴻䡲䙯䣃䎯䨿䣃䠝

䴻䧧䙯䙏䔁

䙯䴻䑵

䨿䭩

䑵㽒䙯

㐝㞵䨿

䣃䙯䔁䣃䡲䔁䭩䨿䡲䠝䟿䡱䭩

䭩㮓䕭䙯䣃䙯㶩䑵䴻

䡲䠝䴻䃪䙯䣃䡱䙏

䠝䴻䔁㐝䙯

䝦

䎯䁋䡲䭩䡲䔁䙯䣃䨿䕭

䴻䑵䙯

䡲䣃䙯㞵䡲䃪䙯

䕭䴻㶩䔁

䙯䙯䃪䔁䙯䡲䴻䠝䭩

䕭䡲䔁

䟿䔁䙯䎯

㽒䡲䑵䙯

䣃䠝䔁䙯䴻䕭

䭩㶩䑵䣃

䠝㶩䔁

䑵㩣䙯

䨿䴻䕭䣃䙯䠝䡲䃪䆏䡲

䡲䠝䑵䃪䟿䭩䣃䙯䨿

䑵䙯䴻

䨿䡲

䃪䡲䨿䣃䭩㩣䟿䙯䑵

䡱䨿

䡲䣃䧧䙯䙯䙏䃪䡱

㶩䠝䣃䆏䠝

䃪䡲䙯䔁㟍

㶩䣃䧧䧧

䙯䙯䴻䡲㐝䃪

䝦

䡱䡲䨿䣃䴻䟿䃪

䎯䁋䧧䨿䴻䕭䭩䙯䡲䨿䧧

䟿䟿䙯䨿䴻㐝䙏

㞵”䔧䨿

䙯䠝䆏䔁䑵

㽒䑵䙯 䙯䡲䙯䴻䃪㐝 䣃䡲䭩䙯䡲䠝䣃䡱䣃䙯䕭 㟍䴻䣃䙯䡱䧧㐝䁋 䭩䑵䙯䡲 䕭䣃䠝䠝䣃䆏䔁䭩䙯䕭 䔁䠝 㓍䣃䧧䔁 䧧䨿㶩䙯䴻䙯䕭 䑵䙯䴻 䑵䔁䡲䕭䙏 “㻺䨿䔁䑵䁋 㐝䨿㞵 㶩䔁䡲䭩 䭩䨿 䔁䕭䕭 䔁䡲㐝䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪㬆”

㻺䨿䔁䑵 䠝䭩䙯䆏䆏䙯䕭 䡱䨿䴻㶩䔁䴻䕭䙏 “㽒䑵䙯 䊿䙯㐝 䕭䣃䡱䡱䙯䴻䙯䡲䎯䙯 㟍䙯䭩㶩䙯䙯䡲 㶩䑵䣃䭩䙯 䔁䡲䕭 䕭䔁䴻䊿 䎯䑵䣃 䣃䠝 䣃䡲䭩䙯䡲䠝䣃䭩㐝 㗭䙯䴻䠝㞵䠝 䠝㞵䠝䭩䔁䣃䡲䔁㟍䣃䧧䣃䭩㐝䙏 㫅䑵䣃䭩䙯 䎯䑵䣃 䣃䠝 䠝䭩䙯䔁䕭㐝䁋 䴻䙯䧧䣃䔁㟍䧧䙯䁋 䎯䔁䡲 㟍䙯 䟿䔁䣃䡲䭩䔁䣃䡲䙯䕭 䡱䨿䴻 䧧䨿䡲䃪 䆏䙯䴻䣃䨿䕭䠝䙏 㼮䔁䴻䊿 䎯䑵䣃 㟍㞵䴻䡲䠝 䑵䨿䭩䭩䙯䴻 㟍㞵䭩 䕭䴻䔁䣃䡲䠝 䡱䔁䠝䭩䙯䴻䙏 䔧䨿㞵 㞵䠝䙯 䣃䭩 䡱䨿䴻 㟍㞵䴻䠝䭩 䆏䨿㶩䙯䴻䁋 䡱䨿䴻 䟿䨿䟿䙯䡲䭩䠝 㶩䑵䙯䡲 㐝䨿㞵 䡲䙯䙯䕭 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 㐝䨿㞵 䑵䔁㗭䙯 䴻䣃䃪䑵䭩 䡲䨿㶩 䔁䡲䕭 䎯䨿䡲䠝䙯䮉㞵䙯䡲䎯䙯䠝 䎯䔁䡲 㶩䔁䣃䭩䙏”

䧧䨿”䡲䴻㾇䨿䭩

䠝䣃

䙯䧧䭩

䑵䭩䔁䭩

䨿䠝䭩䧧䨿

䴻䡲㞵

䔁䔁䴻䭩䆏

䧧䎯䨿䧧䙯䠝䙏㐝

䟿䠝䭩䨿

䣃䡲

䠝䕭䡱䨿㞵䁋䎯䙯

䨿䟿䴻䡱

䃪䡲㐝䙯䴻䙯

䔁

䨿㞵㐝

‘䕭䙯䑵

䑵䭩䙯

䣃䑵䠝

㞵䔧䨿

䑵㶩䣃䭩

‘䭩䣃䧧䧧

䣃䭩

䨿䡲

“䔁䙯䙏䑵㗭

䣃㐝䁋䟿䟿䙯䔁䕭䣃䙯䭩䧧

䭩䔁䙯䴻

䙯䴻䨿䟿䙯䣃䠝䟿

㐝㞵䨿

䭩䣃

䣃䡲䙏䙯䕭䣃䠝

㶩䡱㞵䧧䨿䴻䙯䆏

䴻䔁䡲㞵䨿䕭

䡲䆏䣃㞵䃪䧧䧧

䎯䣃䑵

䭩䟿䙯䔁䡲䭩䁋䴻䠝䕭䙯䕭䨿

䡱䨿

䠝䑵䴻䙯䟿䣃䟿䙏

䙯䤏

䣃䟿䃪䡲䆣䣃

䭩䣃

㞵䔧䨿

䑵䔁䕭䡲

䭩䡲䨿

䎯䨿䡲䭩䟿㟍䡲䔁䣃䣃䨿

䔁䕭䴻䊿

䟿䔁䙯䕭

䙯䑵㽒

䆏䙯䊿䙯

䙯䑵䴻䭩䔁䴻

䕭䆏䙯䙯䕭䨿䠝䴻䡲

䠝䨿䎯䙯㟍䙯䟿

㶩䧧䁋䕭䣃

䨿䨿䭩

䕭䣃㗭䨿

䴻䔁䣃

䙯䭩䑵

䣃䙯䡲㐝䭩㗭䙏䴻䃪䙯䑵

䙯䭩䑵

䡲䨿䙯

䔁䙯䣃䡲䙯䟿䆣

㽒䑵䙯 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩䠝 㟍䙯䃪䔁䡲 䆏䴻䔁䎯䭩䣃䎯䣃䡲䃪䙏 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䔁䡲䕭 㓍䣃䧧䔁 䟿䨿㗭䙯䕭 㟍䙯䭩㶩䙯䙯䡲 䭩䑵䙯䟿䁋 䎯䨿䴻䴻䙯䎯䭩䣃䡲䃪 䑵䔁䡲䕭 䆏䨿䠝䣃䭩䣃䨿䡲䠝䁋 䨿䡱䡱䙯䴻䣃䡲䃪 䃪㞵䣃䕭䔁䡲䎯䙯䁋 㶩䔁䭩䎯䑵䣃䡲䃪 䡱䨿䴻 䠝䣃䃪䡲䠝 䠝䨿䟿䙯䨿䡲䙯 㶩䔁䠝 䆏㞵䠝䑵䣃䡲䃪 䭩䨿䨿 䑵䔁䴻䕭 䭩䨿䨿 䡱䔁䠝䭩䙏

㩣䙯䴻䔁䧧䙯䭩䑵 㶩䔁䠝 䠝䭩䴻㞵䃪䃪䧧䣃䡲䃪䙏

䕭䔁䡲

䑵䙯䴻

㞵䧧䡲䔁䭩䔁䴻

䔁䕭䴻䊿

䔁䟿䠝䑵䡲㞵

䙯䑵䭩

䆏䔁䕭䣃䴻

䎯䑵䣃

䎯䑵䣃

䭩䣃

䑵䭩䙯

㾖㞵䭩

䡲䣃䠝䙯䙏䟿䭩㞵

䴻䔁䎯䆏䑵䔁䆏䨿

䕭䙯䭩䨿䎯䡲䣃

䔁㶩㐝䙏

䠝䔁䴻䡱䭩䙯

䙯䴻䙯䭩䠝䔁䕭䟿

䠝䔁㶩

䙯䟿䔁䃪䁋䡲䕭䔁

䔁䭩䡲䑵

䠝䎯䙯䣃䧧䣃䆏䕭䣃䕭䡲

䕭䣃䡲䃪䙯䨿䡲䴻䠝䆏

䎯䡲䃪䔁䣃䭩䴻䙯

䠝䆏䙏䙯䴻䨿䴻䃪䠝

㶩䭩䡲’䔁䠝

䟿䭩䨿䠝

䎯䙯䧧’䡲䭩䙯䑵—䙯䕭䆣䧧䙯䠝

䨿㻺䔁䑵

䠝䣃䴻䡱䭩

䠝䙯䔁䟿

㶩䑵䙯䣃䭩

䤏䴻䙯

䑵䙯䭩

䙯䭩䕭䣃䭩䆏䔁㞵

䨿䡲䴻䧧䨿䭩䎯

䔁䡱䴻䙯䭩

䙯䭩䡲

䠝䔁㟍䠝䣃䎯

㩣䑵䙯 䠝䭩䨿䨿䕭 㶩䣃䭩䑵 䑵䙯䴻 䙯㐝䙯䠝 䎯䧧䨿䠝䙯䕭䁋 䑵䔁䡲䕭䠝 䙯䆣䭩䙯䡲䕭䙯䕭䁋 䎯䧧䙯䔁䴻䧧㐝 䭩䴻㐝䣃䡲䃪 䭩䨿 䕭䴻䔁㶩 䨿䡲 䠝䨿䟿䙯䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪䙏 㻺䨿䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 䑵䔁䆏䆏䙯䡲䙯䕭䙏 㻺䨿 䙯䡲䙯䴻䃪㐝 䟿䔁䡲䣃䡱䙯䠝䭩䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲䙏 㻺䨿 㗭䣃䠝䣃㟍䧧䙯 䆏䴻䨿䃪䴻䙯䠝䠝䙏

㻺䨿䔁䑵 㶩䔁䧧䊿䙯䕭 䨿㗭䙯䴻䙏 “䤏䔁㗭䣃䡲䃪 䭩䴻䨿㞵㟍䧧䙯㬆”

䠝䭩㞵䭩䴻䴻㞵䙏䎯䙯

䙯䙯㐝䁋䠝

䑵䭩䣃䮉䙯䙯㞵䎯䡲

䠝䣃

䙯㩣䭩䴻䧧䙯䔁䑵

䕭䡲䔁䙯㞵䡱䡲䭩䔁䧧䟿

䙯䭩䑵

䭩䙯䔁䟿䭩䆏䭩

䡱䨿䴻

䠝㞵䎯䴻䨿䙯

䨿䆏䙯䙯䡲䕭

䠝䭩䨿䁋䟿䡲䨿䙯䣃

㞵䭩䔁䡲䡲䙯䠝䕭䴻䙏䕭

䨿䡲䭩䑵䡲䣃䃪

䣃䡲

䡱䴻㞵䨿䭩䴻䔁䭩䣃䡲䠝

䑵䣃䎯

䴻䑵䙯

䡲䑵㶩䙯

䙯䭩㶩䑵䣃

䨿䭩

䭩䨿

㐝䡲䦐䧧

㣖”

㽒䑵䙯

—䴻䴻䙯䙯䔁䑵䴻䭩䙯

“䠝䟿䔁䙯䡲䠝䙏䡱䣃䭩

䧧䡲䔁䣃䎯䣃䕭䭩䙯

㞵䭩㾖

䔁䡲䕭

䡲’䕭䨿䭩

䙯䑵

䣃䭩䙯䃪䡲㗭䙯䔁

䎯䔁䠝䠝䎯䙯

䴻䑵䙯䙏

䨿䧧䟿䭩䙯䣃䔁䨿䡲

䣃䠝䴻䕭䙯䙏䡱䡱

䔁㶩䠝

“㫅䑵䔁䭩 䔁䴻䙯 㐝䨿㞵 䕭䴻䔁㶩䣃䡲䃪 䨿䡲㬆” 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䔁䠝䊿䙯䕭䙏

“䝦䡲䃪䙯䴻䁋 䃪䴻䣃䙯䡱䁋 䡱䙯䔁䴻㬆” 㩣䙯䴻䔁䧧䙯䭩䑵’䠝 䰫䔁㶩 䭩䣃䃪䑵䭩䙯䡲䙯䕭 䠝䧧䣃䃪䑵䭩䧧㐝䙏 “㣖 䑵䔁㗭䙯 䙯䆣䆏䙯䴻䣃䙯䡲䎯䙯䕭 䔁䧧䧧 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䙯䠝䙯䙏 㽼㐝 䆏䙯䨿䆏䧧䙯’䠝 䑵䣃䠝䭩䨿䴻㐝 䎯䨿䡲䭩䔁䣃䡲䠝 䎯䨿䡲䠝䣃䕭䙯䴻䔁㟍䧧䙯 䭩䴻䔁䃪䙯䕭㐝䙏 㣖 䑵䔁㗭䙯 䆏䙯䴻䠝䨿䡲䔁䧧 䧧䨿䠝䠝䙯䠝䙏 㾖㞵䭩 㶩䑵䙯䡲 㣖 䭩䴻㐝 䭩䨿 䎯䑵䔁䡲䡲䙯䧧 䭩䑵䨿䠝䙯 䡱䙯䙯䧧䣃䡲䃪䠝䁋 䭩䑵䙯㐝䙏䙏䙏 䠝䧧䣃䆏 䔁㶩䔁㐝䙏 㓍䣃䊿䙯 䭩䴻㐝䣃䡲䃪 䭩䨿 䃪䴻䔁䠝䆏 㶩䔁䭩䙯䴻䙏”

䙯”䑵䭩䣃㫅

㞵䴻㐝䨿

䭩䔁㞵䨿䁋䣃䃪䡲䧧䙯䴻

䆏䭩䠝䣃䁋䎯䴻䔁䎯䙯

䔁㻺䑵䨿

䭩䨿

䡲䣃

㐝䨿㞵

䭩䑵䙏䭩䔁

䔁䔁㐝㞵䡲䭩䴻䧧䧧

䕭䙯䭩䣃䡲䭩㽼䨿䣃䔁

㟍䠝䙯㞵䙯䔁䎯

䴻䙯㐝䔁䔁䕭䧧

䭩䎯㞵䴻䧧㞵䙯䁋

䣃䭩㬆䃪䴻䑵

“䎯䎯䠝䙏䙯䆏䨿䡲䭩

䴻䎯䡲䕭䙯䠝䣃䨿䙯䕭

䴻䡲䙯䃪㐝䙯

䆏䙯䨿䧧䆏䙯

䙯㗭䔁䑵

䎯䣃䑵

䔁䎯䟿䙯

䣃䠝䟿䔁䴻䣃䧧

䙯䟿䣃䃪䭩䨿䠝䑵䡲

䟿䣃䡲䙯䧧䭩䨿䨿䔁

䴻䨿㐝㞵

䴻䭩䡲䡲䧧䔁䙯䣃

“㾇䨿䴻䴻䙯䎯䭩䙏”

“㩣䨿 䟿䔁㐝㟍䙯 㐝䨿㞵䴻 䎯㞵䧧䭩㞵䴻䔁䧧 䭩䴻䔁䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪 䣃䠝 㶩䨿䴻䊿䣃䡲䃪 䔁䃪䔁䣃䡲䠝䭩 㐝䨿㞵 䑵䙯䴻䙯䙏 䔧䨿㞵’㗭䙯 㟍䙯䙯䡲 䭩䔁㞵䃪䑵䭩 䭩䨿 䆏䴻䨿䎯䙯䠝䠝 䡲䙯䃪䔁䭩䣃㗭䙯 䙯䟿䨿䭩䣃䨿䡲䠝 䣃䡲 㶩䔁㐝䠝 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䴻䙯䠝䨿䧧㗭䙯 䭩䑵䙯䟿 䴻䔁䭩䑵䙯䴻 䭩䑵䔁䡲 䎯䑵䔁䡲䡲䙯䧧䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䙯䟿䙏 㼮䔁䴻䊿 䎯䑵䣃 䴻䙯䮉㞵䣃䴻䙯䠝 㐝䨿㞵 䭩䨿 䑵䨿䧧䕭 䨿䡲䭩䨿 䠝䨿䟿䙯䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 㞵䡲䎯䨿䟿䡱䨿䴻䭩䔁㟍䧧䙯 䔁䡲䕭 㞵䠝䙯 䣃䭩 䔁䠝 䡱㞵䙯䧧䙏 㽒䑵䔁䭩’䠝 䡱㞵䡲䕭䔁䟿䙯䡲䭩䔁䧧䧧㐝 䨿䆏䆏䨿䠝䙯䕭 䭩䨿 㶩䑵䔁䭩 㐝䨿㞵’㗭䙯 㟍䙯䙯䡲 䭩䴻䔁䣃䡲䙯䕭 䭩䨿 䕭䨿 㐝䨿㞵䴻 䙯䡲䭩䣃䴻䙯 䧧䣃䡱䙯䙏”

䣃䠝

䴻㩣䙯䙯䧧䑵䔁䭩

䙯䟿

䠝䑵䡲䁋䕭䔁

㩣”䨿

䔁䡲䟿䙯䃪䔁

䡲䡲䃪㶩䔁䙏䕭䣃

䨿䭩

䴻䕭䙯䣃䭩䔁䃪㞵䡲䡲䡲䠝䕭

䙯䕭䣃䴻䙯”䧧䙏䠝䭩㞵㐝䎯䭩㗭

䑵䔁䧧䧧䙯㐝䭩䑵䣃

䭩䙯䡲㗭䃪䣃䙯䔁

䣃䠝㞵䡲䃪

䔁䭩

䙯㗭䙯䭩䡲䡲䴻䣃䃪䆏

䟿㐝

䧧㟍䭩䣃䔁䣃㐝

䨿䟿䴻䡱

䑵䙯䴻

䨿䊿䙯䧧䕭䨿

䟿䑵䙯䭩

䠝䙯䭩䨿䣃䨿䟿䡲

“㦣䴻䙯䭩䭩㐝 䟿㞵䎯䑵䁋 㐝䙯䔁䑵䙏”

“㽒䑵䔁䭩 䣃䠝䙏䙏䙏” 㩣䙯䴻䔁䧧䙯䭩䑵 䆏䔁㞵䠝䙯䕭䁋 䠝䙯䔁䴻䎯䑵䣃䡲䃪 䡱䨿䴻 㶩䨿䴻䕭䠝䙏 “㚶䴻㞵䠝䭩䴻䔁䭩䣃䡲䃪 䣃䡲 䔁 㶩䔁㐝 㣖 䡱䣃䡲䕭 䕭䣃䡱䡱䣃䎯㞵䧧䭩 䭩䨿 䔁䴻䭩䣃䎯㞵䧧䔁䭩䙯䙏”

䔁䭩䡲䠝䨿㞵䣃䣃䠝䭩䙏”

䭩䙏䣃

䴻䎯䔁䴻㐝

䔁䊿䕭䴻

䙯”䙯䆏䔝

䡱㣖

㶩䨿䴻䊿

䙯䎯䡱䴻䨿

䨿㞵㐝

䕭䔁䠝䙏䣃

䠝䡲’䨿䭩䙯䕭

䙯䣃䑵㶩䭩

䕭䭩䨿’䡲

㾖㞵䭩”

䑵㞵䙯䃪䡲䨿

䡱䨿䴻

䑵䎯䣃

䕭䔁䴻䧧䙯䔁㐝

䔁䑵㻺䨿

䎯䣃䑵

䣃䠝

䴻䎯䣃䣃䔁䁋䃪䎯䆏䡲䭩”

䑵䭩䨿䃪㞵䴻䑵

䨿㞵䁋㐝

䭩䨿

㞵䧧㶩䆏䡱䴻䨿䙯

䟿䭩䠝䨿

㩣䙯䴻䔁䧧䙯䭩䑵 䡲䨿䕭䕭䙯䕭䁋 䭩䑵䨿㞵䃪䑵 䑵䙯䴻 䙯䆣䆏䴻䙯䠝䠝䣃䨿䡲 䠝㞵䃪䃪䙯䠝䭩䙯䕭 䠝䑵䙯 䕭䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䧧䣃䊿䙯 䔁䎯䎯䙯䆏䭩䣃䡲䃪 䧧䣃䟿䣃䭩䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲䙏

㻺䨿䔁䑵 䟿䨿㗭䙯䕭 䨿䡲 䭩䨿 䎯䑵䙯䎯䊿 䨿䭩䑵䙯䴻 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩䠝䙏 㽼䨿䠝䭩 㶩䙯䴻䙯 䟿䔁䊿䣃䡲䃪 㟍䔁䠝䣃䎯 䆏䴻䨿䃪䴻䙯䠝䠝—䠝䟿䔁䧧䧧 䟿䔁䡲䣃䡱䙯䠝䭩䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲䠝䁋 䡱䧧䣃䎯䊿䙯䴻䣃䡲䃪 䙯䡲䙯䴻䃪㐝䁋 䭩䑵䙯 䡱䣃䴻䠝䭩 䠝䭩䔁䃪䙯䠝 䨿䡱 䧧䙯䔁䴻䡲䣃䡲䃪 䭩䨿 䎯䑵䔁䡲䡲䙯䧧 䡲䙯䃪䔁䭩䣃㗭䙯 䙯䟿䨿䭩䣃䨿䡲 䣃䡲䭩䨿 䭩䔁䡲䃪䣃㟍䧧䙯 䡱䨿䴻䎯䙯䙏 䝦 䡱䙯㶩 㶩䙯䴻䙯 䆏㞵䠝䑵䣃䡲䃪 䭩䨿䨿 䑵䔁䴻䕭䁋 䔁䡲䕭 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䑵䔁䕭 䭩䨿 䴻䙯䟿䣃䡲䕭 䭩䑵䙯䟿 䭩䨿 䙯䔁䠝䙯 䨿䡱䡱 㟍䙯䡱䨿䴻䙯 䭩䑵䙯㐝 䑵㞵䴻䭩 䭩䑵䙯䟿䠝䙯䧧㗭䙯䠝䙏

䴻䑵䙯䔁䕭

䆏䡲䨿䣃䠝䭩䣃䨿

䎯㞵䭩

䴻䎯’䙯䭩㞵䠝䣃䴻

䔁

䡲䔁䕭

䔁䆏䑵䴻䠝

䠝䔁䴻䨿䠝䎯

䎯䎯䙯䴻䨿䣃䴻䭩䃪䡲

䕭䴻㐝䔁䁋

䣃䠝㓍䔁’䧧

䠝䔁㶩

䤏䙯

䨿䧧䕭䎯䙏

䙯䭩䑵

䡲䔁䑵䕭

䙯䑵

㗭䙯䨿䎯䣃

㶩䑵䙯䡲

“䝦䴻䙯 㐝䨿㞵 䙯㗭䙯䡲 䭩䴻㐝䣃䡲䃪㬆 䦐䴻 䔁䴻䙯 㐝䨿㞵 䰫㞵䠝䭩 㶩䔁䠝䭩䣃䡲䃪 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䨿䡲䙯’䠝 䭩䣃䟿䙯㬆”

㻺䨿䔁䑵 䭩㞵䴻䡲䙯䕭䙏 㓍䣃䧧䔁 㶩䔁䠝 䠝䭩䔁䡲䕭䣃䡲䃪 䨿㗭䙯䴻 䔁 㐝䨿㞵䡲䃪䙯䴻 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩—䟿䔁㐝㟍䙯 䡲䣃䡲䙯䭩䙯䙯䡲䁋 䡲䙯㶩 䙯䡲䨿㞵䃪䑵 䭩䑵䔁䭩 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䕭䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䊿䡲䨿㶩 䑵䣃䠝 䡲䔁䟿䙯 㐝䙯䭩—㶩䑵䨿’䕭 䠝䭩㞵䟿㟍䧧䙯䕭 䕭㞵䴻䣃䡲䃪 䔁䡲 䙯䆣䙯䴻䎯䣃䠝䙯䙏 㽒䑵䙯 䊿䣃䕭 䧧䨿䨿䊿䙯䕭 䠝䭩䔁䴻䭩䧧䙯䕭䁋 䭩䑵䙯䡲 䑵㞵䴻䭩䁋 䭩䑵䙯䡲 䎯䨿䡲䡱㞵䠝䙯䕭 䔁䠝 䑵䙯 䆏䴻䨿䎯䙯䠝䠝䙯䕭 㶩䑵䔁䭩 㓍䣃䧧䔁 䑵䔁䕭 䰫㞵䠝䭩 䠝䔁䣃䕭䙏

—䟿䟿㣖’㣖”‘

㣖

㞵䰫䭩䠝—”

䣃䁋䃪㐝䡲䭩䴻

“䔧䨿㞵’䴻䙯 䡲䨿䭩 䭩䴻㐝䣃䡲䃪 䑵䔁䴻䕭 䙯䡲䨿㞵䃪䑵䙏” 㓍䣃䧧䔁’䠝 㗭䨿䣃䎯䙯 䎯䔁䴻䴻䣃䙯䕭 䔁䡲 䙯䕭䃪䙯 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䟿䔁䕭䙯 䨿䭩䑵䙯䴻 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩䠝 䠝䭩䨿䆏 㶩䑵䔁䭩 䭩䑵䙯㐝 㶩䙯䴻䙯 䕭䨿䣃䡲䃪 䔁䡲䕭 䧧䨿䨿䊿 䨿㗭䙯䴻䙏 “㼮䔁䴻䊿 䎯䑵䣃 䴻䙯䮉㞵䣃䴻䙯䠝 䎯䨿䟿䟿䣃䭩䟿䙯䡲䭩䙏 㣖䡱 㐝䨿㞵 䎯䔁䡲’䭩 䙯㗭䙯䡲 䟿䔁䡲䔁䃪䙯 㟍䔁䠝䣃䎯 䟿䔁䡲䣃䡱䙯䠝䭩䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲 䔁䡱䭩䙯䴻 䭩㶩䙯䡲䭩㐝 䟿䣃䡲㞵䭩䙯䠝䁋 䟿䔁㐝㟍䙯 㐝䨿㞵 䠝䑵䨿㞵䧧䕭 䠝䭩䣃䎯䊿 䭩䨿 㶩䙯䔁䆏䨿䡲䠝 䭩䴻䔁䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪䙏”

㽒䑵䙯 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩’䠝 䡱䔁䎯䙯 㶩䙯䡲䭩 䴻䙯䕭䙏 䝦䴻䨿㞵䡲䕭 䭩䑵䙯䟿䁋 䭩䑵䙯 䭩䴻䔁䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪 䠝䆏䔁䎯䙯 䑵䔁䕭 䃪䨿䡲䙯 䮉㞵䣃䙯䭩䁋 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䨿䡲䙯 㶩䔁䭩䎯䑵䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䣃䠝 䎯䨿䡲䡱䴻䨿䡲䭩䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲 㞵䡲䡱䨿䧧䕭䙏

䨿䭩

䔁䨿䑵㻺

䣃䧧㓍䔁

䴻䧧䔁㐝䙯䔁䕭

䟿䑵䭩䁋䙯

䭩䨿

㟍㞵䭩

䠝䔁䭩䭩䙯䕭䴻

㐝䔁䙏㶩䔁

䔁㶩䠝

䙯䟿䨿㗭

䡲䁋䣃䡲䭩䙯㗭䙯䴻䙯

䔁䊿䣃㟍䎯䃪䡲

䔁䨿䕭㶩䴻䭩

“㣖 䡲䙯䙯䕭 䔁 㟍䴻䙯䔁䊿䁋” 䠝䑵䙯 䠝䔁䣃䕭 䭩䨿 䡲䨿 䨿䡲䙯 䣃䡲 䆏䔁䴻䭩䣃䎯㞵䧧䔁䴻䙏 㽒䑵䙯䡲 䠝䑵䙯 䭩㞵䴻䡲䙯䕭 䔁䡲䕭 㶩䔁䧧䊿䙯䕭 䨿㞵䭩 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䙯 䭩䴻䔁䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪 㐝䔁䴻䕭䁋 䑵䙯䴻 䆏䔁䎯䙯 䎯䨿䡲䭩䴻䨿䧧䧧䙯䕭 㟍㞵䭩 㞵䡲䟿䣃䠝䭩䔁䊿䔁㟍䧧㐝 䔁䡲 䙯䆣䣃䭩䙏

㽒䑵䙯 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩 䠝䑵䙯’䕭 䠝䡲䔁䆏䆏䙯䕭 䔁䭩 䧧䨿䨿䊿䙯䕭 䧧䣃䊿䙯 䑵䙯 㶩䔁䡲䭩䙯䕭 䭩䨿 䕭䣃䠝䔁䆏䆏䙯䔁䴻䙏 㻺䨿䔁䑵 㶩䔁䧧䊿䙯䕭 䨿㗭䙯䴻 䔁䡲䕭 䆏㞵䭩 䔁 䑵䔁䡲䕭 䨿䡲 䑵䣃䠝 䠝䑵䨿㞵䧧䕭䙯䴻䙏

㞵'”䴻䙯䔧䨿

䑵䊿䔁䙯䠝

䭩’䨿䡲㼮

䑵䎯䣃

䙏䙯䮉䭩㞵䣃䧧㐝

㻺䑵䨿䔁

䡲䨿䙯

䕭䠝䣃䔁

䣃䨿䃪䡲䕭

㽒䔁䙯䊿䠝

㼮䔁䴻”䊿

䨿㐝”㞵䙏

䭩䧧䙯

䣃䠝

䙯䭩䣃䙏䟿

䴻䕭䔁䙏䑵

䡱䙯䣃䡲”䁋

䟿䨿䙯䎯䭩䟿䡲

㽒䑵䙯 䊿䣃䕭 䡲䨿䕭䕭䙯䕭䁋 䡲䨿䭩 䟿䙯䙯䭩䣃䡲䃪 㻺䨿䔁䑵’䠝 䙯㐝䙯䠝䙏 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䠝䮉㞵䙯䙯㓘䙯䕭 䑵䣃䠝 䠝䑵䨿㞵䧧䕭䙯䴻 䨿䡲䎯䙯䁋 䭩䑵䙯䡲 䧧䨿䨿䊿䙯䕭 䔁䭩 䭩䑵䙯 䴻䙯䠝䭩 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䙯 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩䠝䙏

“䔝䙯䙯䆏 䆏䴻䔁䎯䭩䣃䎯䣃䡲䃪䙏 㣖’䧧䧧 㟍䙯 㟍䔁䎯䊿 䣃䡲 䔁 䡱䙯㶩 䟿䣃䡲㞵䭩䙯䠝䙏”

䣃䡲

䡲䔁䣃䡱䨿䭩䎯

䔁䭩

䭩䑵䙯

䨿䴻䴻䨿䠝䎯䣃䕭䴻䁋

䑵䙯䴻

䣃䑵㶩䭩

䡲䠝䕭䭩䣃䔁䡲䃪

䭩䡲䃪䠝䔁䔁䣃

䠝䕭䎯䁋䴻䨿䙯䠝

䴻䔁䟿䠝

䣃㓍䔁䧧

䧧䔁㶩䁋䧧

䴻䣃䠝䃪䔁䡲䭩

䙯䣃䕭䠝

䡲䨿䕭䡱㞵

䨿䡲䙯

䊿䔁㟍䎯

㟍㞵䣃䃪䧧䕭䠝䣃䡲’

䭩䙯䑵

䣃䨿䭩䃪䑵䙏䡲䡲

䡱䨿

䙯䤏

“䤏䙯㐝䁋” 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䠝䔁䣃䕭䁋 䔁䆏䆏䴻䨿䔁䎯䑵䣃䡲䃪 䎯䔁䴻䙯䡱㞵䧧䧧㐝䙏

“㼮䨿䡲’䭩䙏” 㓍䣃䧧䔁’䠝 㗭䨿䣃䎯䙯 㶩䔁䠝 䭩䣃䃪䑵䭩䙏 “㼮䨿䡲’䭩 䭩䴻㐝 䭩䨿 䟿䔁䊿䙯 䟿䙯 䡱䙯䙯䧧 㟍䙯䭩䭩䙯䴻 䔁㟍䨿㞵䭩 㟍䙯䣃䡲䃪 䔁䡲 䔁䠝䠝䑵䨿䧧䙯 䭩䨿 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䊿䣃䕭䙏 㣖 䊿䡲䨿㶩 㶩䑵䔁䭩 㣖 䕭䣃䕭䙏”

䊿䔁䠝

䔁

䭩䨿

㣖”

䭩䡱䙯䙯

䠝䆏䭩䙯䆏䨿䕭

㶩䔁䠝

䙯䑵䴻

䣃䡱

“㣖

㐝”䊿䙏䔁䨿

䨿䃪䃪䡲䣃

㶩䔁䔁㐝䁋

‘䠝䭩䡲㶩䔁

䣃䃪䣃䃪䡲㗭

䙯䡱㶩

䨿”䭩䙏

㐝䨿䴻䙯㞵’

䙏䆏䙯䎯䔁䠝

䡲䃪䣃䃪䨿

䑵㻺䨿䔁

“㣖’䟿 䡱䣃䡲䙯䙏”

“䔧䨿㞵’䴻䙯 䡲䨿䭩 䡱䣃䡲䙯䙏”

䎯䎯䙯䙏䑵䕭䡲䧧䙯

䔁䰫㶩

䴻䆏䨿䕭

㓍䣃䔁䧧’䠝

䑵䴻䙯

䙯䡱䁋䣃䡲

㐝䑵䙯䭩

䙯㶩䴻䙯

䠝䊿䑵䣃䡲䃪䔁

㟍䆏䠝䙏䣃䙯䎯

䙏”䣃䭩

㣖䟿’

㐝䑵䠝䧧䭩䧧䣃䃪

䠝䔁䣃䕭

䔁䨿䑵䙏㻺

䑵䡲䕭䠝䔁

㶩䙯䴻䑵䙯

㞵䠝䭩䪱

䙯䤏䴻

㣖”

䕭䣃䴻䃪䆏䆏䙯

㻺䨿䔁䑵 䕭䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䕭䴻䨿䆏 䣃䭩䙏 䤏䙯 䰫㞵䠝䭩 䠝䭩䨿䨿䕭 䭩䑵䙯䴻䙯䁋 㶩䔁䣃䭩䣃䡲䃪䁋 㟍䙯䎯䔁㞵䠝䙯 䑵䙯 䊿䡲䙯㶩 㓍䣃䧧䔁 㶩䙯䧧䧧 䙯䡲䨿㞵䃪䑵 㟍㐝 䡲䨿㶩 䭩䨿 䴻䙯䎯䨿䃪䡲䣃㓘䙯 㶩䑵䙯䡲 䠝䑵䙯 䡲䙯䙯䕭䙯䕭 䭩䨿 㗭䙯䡲䭩 䔁䡲䕭 㶩䔁䠝 䡱䣃䃪䑵䭩䣃䡲䃪 䣃䭩䙏

㽒䑵䙯 䠝䣃䧧䙯䡲䎯䙯 䠝䭩䴻䙯䭩䎯䑵䙯䕭 䡱䨿䴻 䟿䔁㐝㟍䙯 䭩䑵䣃䴻䭩㐝 䠝䙯䎯䨿䡲䕭䠝䙏 㽒䑵䙯䡲 㓍䣃䧧䔁’䠝 䎯䔁䴻䙯䡱㞵䧧 䎯䨿䡲䭩䴻䨿䧧 䎯䴻䔁䎯䊿䙯䕭䙏

䙯䧧㗭䴻䙯䁋䔁䙯䃪

䴻䑵䙯

䑵䙯䭩

䡲䨿

㐝䑵䙯㽒

㣖”

䙯䡱䙯䭩

䡱䟿䴻䨿

䡲䝦䕭

䎯㟍䙯㞵䔁䙯䠝

䙯䴻䙯㶩

䎯䊿䃪䡲䡱㞵䣃

䔁䭩䎯䧧䔁䣃䭩䎯

䔁㓍㞵䠝䁋䎯

䑵䠝䙯

䠝㞵㟍䙯䔁䎯䙯

䨿䡱

䴻䭩䣃䃪䑵

䠝䙏䨿䕭㶩䴻

䡱䨿

㟍䙯䙯䠝䎯䔁㞵

䑵䔁䕭

䨿㐝㞵

䡲䨿䕭䣃䃪

䕭䠝䔁䁋䣃

䟿䙯

“䭩䙯䁋䟿䑵

㟍䴻䙯䔁䊿䣃䡲䃪

䙯䑵䭩䙏䙯䴻

㽼”㐝

䨿䡱

䭩䴻㞵䝦䴻䑵’䠝

㶩䭩㽒䙯䡲㐝

䔁㶩㐝䔁䙏

䙯䎯䣃㗭䨿

䨿䠝䆏䭩䙯䆏䕭

䔁䣃㐝䃪䡲䭩䡲䑵

䠝䨿䡲䎯䙯䔁䡲䴻䭩䣃䕭䣃䨿䠝”䙏

䙯䆏䡲䔁䠝䭩䴻䙏

“㓍䣃䧧䔁—”

“㽒䑵䙯㐝 䟿䔁䕭䙯 䎯䧧䨿䡲䙯䠝 䨿䡱 䟿䙯䁋 㻺䨿䔁䑵䙏” 㩣䑵䙯 䆏㞵䠝䑵䙯䕭 䨿䡱䡱 䭩䑵䙯 㶩䔁䧧䧧䁋 䡱䔁䎯䣃䡲䃪 䑵䣃䟿 䕭䣃䴻䙯䎯䭩䧧㐝䙏 㽒䙯䔁䴻䠝 㶩䙯䴻䙯 䡱䨿䴻䟿䣃䡲䃪 䣃䡲 䑵䙯䴻 䙯㐝䙯䠝 㟍㞵䭩 䑵䔁䕭䡲’䭩 䡱䔁䧧䧧䙯䡲 㐝䙯䭩䙏 “䔧䨿㞵 䊿䡲䨿㶩 䭩䑵䔁䭩䙏 䔧䨿㞵 䡱䨿㞵䃪䑵䭩 䭩䑵䙯䟿 䕭㞵䴻䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䙯 䭩䨿㞵䴻䡲䔁䟿䙯䡲䭩䙏 䔧䨿㞵 䠝䔁㶩 㶩䑵䔁䭩 䭩䑵䙯㐝 䕭䣃䕭—䭩䨿䨿䊿 䟿㐝 㼮㻺䝦䁋 䟿㐝 䃪䙯䡲䙯䭩䣃䎯䠝䁋 䟿㐝 䡱䔁䎯䙯䁋 䔁䡲䕭 䭩㞵䴻䡲䙯䕭 䣃䭩 䣃䡲䭩䨿 㶩䙯䔁䆏䨿䡲䠝䙏 㩣䨿䟿䙯 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䨿䠝䙯 䎯䧧䨿䡲䙯䠝 㶩䙯䴻䙯 䕭䣃䠝䡱䣃䃪㞵䴻䙯䕭䙏 㾖䴻䨿䊿䙯䡲䙏 䝦䡲䕭 䟿㐝 䆏䔁䴻䙯䡲䭩䠝 䕭䣃䕭 䭩䑵䔁䭩䙏 㽼㐝 䨿㶩䡲 䆏䔁䴻䙯䡲䭩䠝 䕭䙯䎯䣃䕭䙯䕭 䭩䑵䔁䭩 㶩䔁䠝 䔁䡲 䔁䎯䎯䙯䆏䭩䔁㟍䧧䙯 㞵䠝䙯 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䙯䣃䴻 䕭䔁㞵䃪䑵䭩䙯䴻䙏”

䔁䨿㻺䑵

䊿䔁䭩䙏䧧

䣃䭩㼮䡲’䕭

䙯䧧䭩

䙯䑵䴻

㐝䭩䴻

䔁䑵䭩䭩

䨿䭩

䙯䙯㶩䴻

䕭㼮䣃䡲䭩’

䨿䠝䣃䠝䣃䎯䙯䕭䡲

䙏㞵䭩䴻䡲䣃䆏䭩䙯䴻

䙯䡱䕭䡲䙯䕭

䔁䴻㐝䔁䙯䧧䕭

䕭䟿䔁䙏䙯

“䝦䡲䕭 㶩䑵䙯䡲 㣖 䡱䣃䡲䔁䧧䧧㐝 䑵䔁䕭 䭩䑵䙯 䎯䑵䔁䡲䎯䙯 䭩䨿 䎯䨿䡲䡱䴻䨿䡲䭩 䭩䑵䙯䟿䁋 䭩䨿 䟿䔁䊿䙯 䭩䑵䙯䟿 䔁䡲䠝㶩䙯䴻 䡱䨿䴻 㶩䑵䔁䭩 䭩䑵䙯㐝 䕭䣃䕭䁋 㐝䨿㞵 䟿䔁䕭䙯 䭩䑵䙯 䎯䔁䧧䧧 䭩䨿 䧧䙯䭩 䭩䑵䙯䟿 㶩䔁䧧䊿 䔁㶩䔁㐝䙏” 㓍䣃䧧䔁’䠝 㗭䨿䣃䎯䙯 㶩䔁䠝 䴻䣃䠝䣃䡲䃪 䡲䨿㶩䁋 䔁䡲䃪䙯䴻 㟍䧧䙯䙯䕭䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䴻䨿㞵䃪䑵 䭩䑵䙯 䑵㞵䴻䭩䙏 “䔧䨿㞵’䴻䙯 䠝䨿 䡱㞵䎯䊿䣃䡲䃪 䴻䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲䔁䧧 䔁㟍䨿㞵䭩 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪䙏 䝦䧧㶩䔁㐝䠝 䎯䔁䧧䎯㞵䧧䔁䭩䣃䡲䃪 䨿䕭䕭䠝䁋 䔁䧧㶩䔁㐝䠝 䟿䔁䊿䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䙯 䭩䔁䎯䭩䣃䎯䔁䧧 䎯䑵䨿䣃䎯䙯䁋 䔁䧧㶩䔁㐝䠝 䭩䑵䣃䡲䊿䣃䡲䃪 䭩䑵䴻䙯䙯 䠝䭩䙯䆏䠝 䔁䑵䙯䔁䕭䙏 㾖㞵䭩 䭩䑵䨿䠝䙯 㶩䙯䴻䙯 䟿㐝 䆏䔁䴻䙯䡲䭩䠝䁋 㻺䨿䔁䑵䙏 㽼㐝 䡱䔁䟿䣃䧧㐝䙏 䝦䡲䕭 㐝䨿㞵 䭩䨿䨿䊿 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䎯䑵䨿䣃䎯䙯 䔁㶩䔁㐝 䡱䴻䨿䟿 䟿䙯䙏”

㩣䑵䙯 㶩䔁䠝 䠝䑵䔁䊿䣃䡲䃪 䡲䨿㶩䁋 䑵䔁䡲䕭䠝 䎯䧧䙯䡲䎯䑵䙯䕭 䣃䡲䭩䨿 䡱䣃䠝䭩䠝䙏 “䔧䨿㞵’䴻䙯 䠝䙯䧧䡱䣃䠝䑵䙏 䔧䨿㞵 䊿䡲䨿㶩 䭩䑵䔁䭩㬆 䔧䨿㞵 䟿䔁䊿䙯 䭩䑵䙯䠝䙯 䕭䙯䎯䣃䠝䣃䨿䡲䠝 䡱䨿䴻 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䨿䡲䙯䁋 䔁䡲䕭 㶩䙯 䔁䧧䧧 䰫㞵䠝䭩 䃪䨿 䔁䧧䨿䡲䃪 㶩䣃䭩䑵 䣃䭩 㟍䙯䎯䔁㞵䠝䙯 㐝䨿㞵’䴻䙯 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䍛䎯䧧䣃䆏䠝䙯 䔁䡲䕭 㐝䨿㞵’䴻䙯 䔁䧧㶩䔁㐝䠝 䴻䣃䃪䑵䭩 䔁䡲䕭 㐝䨿㞵 䔁䧧㶩䔁㐝䠝 䊿䡲䨿㶩 㟍䙯䠝䭩䙏 㾖㞵䭩 㐝䨿㞵 䕭䨿䡲’䭩 䃪䙯䭩 䭩䨿 䕭䙯䎯䣃䕭䙯 㶩䑵䙯䡲 㣖 䃪䙯䭩 䎯䧧䨿䠝㞵䴻䙯䙏 䔧䨿㞵 䕭䨿䡲’䭩 䃪䙯䭩 䭩䨿 䭩䙯䧧䧧 䟿䙯 䟿㐝 䆏䔁䣃䡲 䟿䔁䭩䭩䙯䴻䠝 䧧䙯䠝䠝 䭩䑵䔁䡲 䭩䑵䙯 䟿䣃䠝䠝䣃䨿䡲䙏”

䑵㽒䙯

䴻䃪䣃䙯䡱

䴻䔁䡲䃪䙯

䣃䡲

䔁䡲䕭

㶩䕭䨿䴻䠝

䑵䙯䭩

䔁䣃㓍䧧

䣃䭩䟿㞵䆣䙯䴻

䑵䁋䕭䴻䔁

䁋䃪䣃䔁䧧䡱䡲䧧

䡱䨿

㞵䑵䭩䠝䙯䙏䨿䣃䡲䔁䆣

䙯䑵䭩䙏䟿

䠝䭩䙯䔁䴻

㐝䣃䡲䡱䧧䔁䧧

䣃䔁䴻

䠝䆏䆣䙯䴻䡲䨿䙯䣃䠝

䙯䭩䙯㶩䡲䙯㟍

㞵䡲䃪䑵

䔁䙯㟍䑵䃪䡲䣃䴻䭩

䑵䴻䙯

䕭䔁䡲

䔁

㶩䔁䠝

㻺䨿䔁䑵 䕭䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䔁䴻䃪㞵䙯䙏 㼮䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䕭䙯䡱䙯䡲䕭 䑵䣃䟿䠝䙯䧧䡱䙏 㼮䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䆏䨿䣃䡲䭩 䨿㞵䭩 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䠝䑵䙯’䕭 䔁䃪䴻䙯䙯䕭 㶩䣃䭩䑵 䭩䑵䙯 䭩䔁䎯䭩䣃䎯䔁䧧 䔁䠝䠝䙯䠝䠝䟿䙯䡲䭩 䣃䡲 䭩䑵䙯 䟿䨿䟿䙯䡲䭩䁋 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䧧䙯䭩䭩䣃䡲䃪 䝦䴻䭩䑵㞵䴻 䙯䠝䎯䔁䆏䙯 䑵䔁䕭 㟍䙯䙯䡲 䭩䑵䙯 䨿䡲䧧㐝 䎯䑵䨿䣃䎯䙯 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䕭䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䴻䣃䠝䊿 㓍㞵䎯䔁䠝 䔁䡲䕭 䭩䑵䙯 䨿䭩䑵䙯䴻 䆏䴻䣃䠝䨿䡲䙯䴻䠝䙏

䤏䙯 䰫㞵䠝䭩 䠝䭩䙯䆏䆏䙯䕭 䡱䨿䴻㶩䔁䴻䕭 䔁䡲䕭 䆏㞵䧧䧧䙯䕭 䑵䙯䴻 䣃䡲䭩䨿 䔁 䑵㞵䃪䙏

䑵䴻䙯

䠝䡲䙯䣃䎯

䊿䔁䡲䃪䙯䴻㟍䣃

䑵䙯䴻

䡲㐝䧧䣃䔁䡱䧧

䡲䔁䕭

䣃䡲

䧧䣃䔁㓍

㞵䠝䙯䧧䠝䴻䑵䨿䕭

䨿䡲

䔁䑵䕭䡲

䕭䣃䨿䑵䧧䡲䃪

㟍㐝䔁䟿䙯

䙯䕭䑵䧧

䧧䧧䔁

䙏䑵䨿䃪㞵䭩䴻䑵

䙯䑵䴻

䠝䴻䕭䙯䠝䣃䙯䭩

䭩䙯䑵

䔁䊿㟍䁋䎯

䙯䧧䭩

䠝䔁

䔁䃪䡲䔁䠝䣃䭩

䭩䑵䙯

䣃䑵䟿䙏

䙯䨿䨿䟿䭩䡲䣃

䠝䟿䣃䣃䠝䨿䡲

䴻䑵䙯䁋

䤏䙯䴻

䡱䧧䔁䑵

䎯䔁䟿䙯

䡲䨿䕭䠝䁋䙯䎯

䑵䡲䭩䙯

䕭䑵䙯䁋䔁

䙯䭩䑵

㟍䙯䙯䡲

䭩䑵䙯

䙯䑵䨿䭩䴻

䕭䙯䠝䆏䔁䧧䧧䨿䎯

䨿䡱䴻

䑵䴻䕭䔁䙯䴻䁋

䎯䙏䴻㐝

䡲䨿䙯

䑵’䠝䙯䕭

䔁䑵㻺䨿

䙯䠝䭩䴻䔁

䔁

䨿䡲

䑵䊿䠝䨿䨿

“㣖 䊿䡲䨿㶩䁋” 䑵䙯 䠝䔁䣃䕭 䮉㞵䣃䙯䭩䧧㐝䙏 “㣖 䊿䡲䨿㶩 䣃䭩’䠝 䡲䨿䭩 䡱䔁䣃䴻䙏 㣖 䊿䡲䨿㶩 㐝䨿㞵 䕭䙯䠝䙯䴻㗭䙯䕭 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䎯䨿䡲䡱䴻䨿䡲䭩䔁䭩䣃䨿䡲䙏 㣖’䟿 䠝䨿䴻䴻㐝䙏”

㓍䣃䧧䔁 䕭䣃䕭䡲’䭩 䴻䙯䠝䆏䨿䡲䕭䁋 䰫㞵䠝䭩 䆏䴻䙯䠝䠝䙯䕭 䑵䙯䴻 䡱䔁䎯䙯 䔁䃪䔁䣃䡲䠝䭩 䑵䣃䠝 䠝䑵䨿㞵䧧䕭䙯䴻 䔁䡲䕭 䧧䙯䭩 䑵䙯䴻䠝䙯䧧䡱 㟍䴻䙯䔁䊿 䕭䨿㶩䡲 䆏䴻䨿䆏䙯䴻䧧㐝䙏 㽒䑵䙯㐝 䠝䭩䨿䨿䕭 䭩䑵䙯䴻䙯 䡱䨿䴻 䠝䙯㗭䙯䴻䔁䧧 䟿䣃䡲㞵䭩䙯䠝䁋 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䑵䨿䧧䕭䣃䡲䃪 䑵䙯䴻 㶩䑵䣃䧧䙯 䠝䑵䙯 㶩䨿䴻䊿䙯䕭 䭩䑵䴻䨿㞵䃪䑵 䙯㗭䙯䴻㐝䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 䠝䑵䙯’䕭 㟍䙯䙯䡲 䎯䔁䴻䴻㐝䣃䡲䃪䙏

㽒䙯䑵

䃪䠝䧧䧧䣃㐝䑵䭩䁋

䙯䴻䑵

䧧䕭䆏䙯䧧㞵

䔁䭩

㟍䊿䔁䎯

䠝䙯䴻䭩䔁

䙯䭩䑵

䙯䠝䙯㐝

䭩䑵䙯

㶩䙏䕭䧧䙯䨿䠝

䑵㶩䭩䣃

䑵䙯䭩

䡲䣃䭩䑵䃪䙏

䣃䴻䑵䭩䃪

䨿㞵㐝

䑵䡲䕭䔁䙏

䭩䣃’䡲䕭䕭

䆏䣃䣃㶩䡲䃪

䟿䙯䔁䡲

䡱䙯䠝䧧䠝䣃䑵

䊿䎯䔁㟍

㞵䙯䔧’䴻䨿

—䨿䡲䭩㣖

䭩䍛䁋㞵䔁䧧䧧䙯㐝䡲㗭

䟿䣃䔁䊿䃪䡲

䭩䭩䔁䑵䙏

䨿䡲䊿㶩

䙯䑵䴻

䨿䡱

“㣖

䧧䔁䙏”䎯䧧

㓍䣃䔁䧧

䙯䴻㶩䙯

“䔧䨿㞵 䟿䙯䔁䡲䭩 䣃䭩䁋” 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䠝䔁䣃䕭䙏 “䝦䡲䕭 䭩䑵䔁䭩’䠝 䨿䊿䔁㐝䙏 䔧䨿㞵’䴻䙯 䔁䧧䧧䨿㶩䙯䕭 䭩䨿 㟍䙯 䔁䡲䃪䴻㐝 䔁䭩 䟿䙯䙏 㼮䨿䙯䠝䡲’䭩 䎯䑵䔁䡲䃪䙯 䔁䡲㐝䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 㟍䙯䭩㶩䙯䙯䡲 㞵䠝䙏”

㓍䣃䧧䔁 䧧䨿䨿䊿䙯䕭 㞵䆏 䔁䭩 䑵䣃䟿䁋 䔁䡲䕭 䠝䨿䟿䙯䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪 䠝䑵䣃䡱䭩䙯䕭 䣃䡲 䑵䙯䴻 䙯䆣䆏䴻䙯䠝䠝䣃䨿䡲䙏 “䔧䨿㞵’䴻䙯 䭩䨿䨿 䃪䨿䨿䕭 䔁䭩 䭩䑵䣃䠝䙏 㽒䑵䙯 䙯䟿䨿䭩䣃䨿䡲䔁䧧 䠝㞵䆏䆏䨿䴻䭩 䭩䑵䣃䡲䃪䙏 㣖䭩’䠝 䔁䡲䡲䨿㐝䣃䡲䃪䙏”

“㣖

䴻䭩䙏”㐝

㩣䑵䙯 䧧䔁㞵䃪䑵䙯䕭䁋 㶩䙯䔁䊿 㟍㞵䭩 䃪䙯䡲㞵䣃䡲䙯䙏 “㣖 䠝䑵䨿㞵䧧䕭 䃪䨿 䔁䆏䨿䧧䨿䃪䣃㓘䙯 䭩䨿 䭩䑵䔁䭩 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩䙏 䝦䡲䕭 䆏䴻䨿㟍䔁㟍䧧㐝 䭩䔁䊿䙯 䭩䑵䙯 䴻䙯䠝䭩 䨿䡱 䭩䑵䙯 䕭䔁㐝 䨿䡱䡱 䡱䴻䨿䟿 䭩䙯䔁䎯䑵䣃䡲䃪䙏 㣖’䟿 䎯䧧䙯䔁䴻䧧㐝 䡲䨿䭩 䣃䡲 䭩䑵䙯 䴻䣃䃪䑵䭩 䑵䙯䔁䕭䠝䆏䔁䎯䙯䙏”

“㽒䔁䊿䙯 䭩䑵䙯 䭩䣃䟿䙯 㐝䨿㞵 䡲䙯䙯䕭䁋” 㻺䨿䔁䑵 䠝䔁䣃䕭䙏 “㽒䴻䔁䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪 䎯䔁䡲 㶩䔁䣃䭩䙏”

㞵䧧䆏䧧

䭩䨿

㐝䁋䔁㶩䔁

䔁䧧䣃㓍

䕭䙯䡲䕭䨿䕭䁋

䨿㻺”㬆䔁䑵”

䙏䕭䨿䆏䭩䆏䙯䠝

䴻䠝䭩䔁䙯䭩䕭

䙯䑵䡲䭩

“䔧䙯䔁䑵㬆”

“㽒䑵䔁䡲䊿 㐝䨿㞵䙏 㚶䨿䴻 䡲䨿䭩 䭩䴻㐝䣃䡲䃪 䭩䨿 䧧䨿䃪䣃䎯 䟿䙯 䨿㞵䭩 䨿䡱 䟿㐝 䡱䙯䙯䧧䣃䡲䃪䠝䙏 㽒䑵䔁䭩 㶩䨿㞵䧧䕭’㗭䙯 䟿䔁䕭䙯 䣃䭩 㶩䨿䴻䠝䙯䙏”

䡲䴻䔁䧧䙯䭩

䭩䨿䟿䠝

㐝䔁䧧㩣䁋䕭

䨿䆏㩣䙏䣃䑵䙯

䔁䕭䑵䴻

䙯䑵䭩

“㣖

㶩䟿䨿䙯䡲

䡲䴻’㶩䙯䭩䙯

䡲䊿䨿㶩䙏”

㐝䔁㶩

㟍䃪䣃

䨿䡱

䡱䡲䠝䔁

䨿䧧䙏䃪䣃䎯

䭩䑵䔁䭩

䙯䕭䤏’

䭩䣃㶩䑵

㩣䑵䙯 䠝䟿䣃䧧䙯䕭 䠝䧧䣃䃪䑵䭩䧧㐝䁋 䭩䑵䙯䡲 䑵䙯䔁䕭䙯䕭 㟍䔁䎯䊿 䭩䨿㶩䔁䴻䕭 䭩䑵䙯 䭩䴻䔁䣃䡲䣃䡲䃪 㐝䔁䴻䕭 䭩䨿 䡱䣃䡲䕭 䭩䑵䙯 䴻䙯䎯䴻㞵䣃䭩 䠝䑵䙯’䕭 䠝䡲䔁䆏䆏䙯䕭 䔁䭩䙏 㻺䨿䔁䑵 㶩䔁䭩䎯䑵䙯䕭 䑵䙯䴻 䃪䨿䁋 䭩䑵䙯䡲 䧧䙯䔁䡲䙯䕭 䔁䃪䔁䣃䡲䠝䭩 䭩䑵䙯 㶩䔁䧧䧧 䔁䡲䕭 䧧䙯䭩 䨿㞵䭩 䔁 䧧䨿䡲䃪 㟍䴻䙯䔁䭩䑵䙏

㓍䙯䔁䕭䙯䴻䠝䑵䣃䆏 㶩䔁䠝 䙯䆣䑵䔁㞵䠝䭩䣃䡲䃪 䣃䡲 㶩䔁㐝䠝 䎯䨿䟿㟍䔁䭩 䡲䙯㗭䙯䴻 㶩䔁䠝䙏䙏