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Then one day when the light had gone out, when Tovina herself had tried to prune away this branch, when she still drooped in the vineyard with not an effort left in all her fibers; one day she heard again the voice of the Husbandman.

"TO THE VINE, Tovina, TO THE VINE."

Her responses, enlivened at first by the sound of his voice, fell back unchecked. Had she not tried that? There must be more.

"TO THE VINE, Tovina," he said. "That is all. Yes, some things have failed for you but only those conceived by yourself."

"No, Sir, I've tried enough."

"Oh, Tovina, you are part of my noble Vine. I have guarded you day and night that no impulsive hand should tear you away. I must see you flourish."

"I can't flourish. I can't grow the pleasant grapes. Prune me for the fire!" she nearly screamed it out.

"No, the branch cannot bear fruit of itself. When you have given up on growing grapes, when you have given up even on existing, then you have found the only solid basis for seeking TO THE VINE.

"How can the Husbandman tell a branch to give up on growing grapes? Are not grapes the very goal of a branch's existence?"

"But let the vine see to that," he said pointing toward the place of connection.

And the Vine said as much again: "Without me you can do nothing."