Once, while walking with Diana in the vicinity of Geneva, we came to a place where Rhone and Arva, united, flow into the lake together. This spectacle invariably attracts travelers. The teacher-psychologist brought a group of Armenian orphans there. The water of the Rhone is remarkably clean and transparent, while in the Arve, on the contrary, it is gray, dull, and dirty. And for quite a long time, the two currents, already seemingly merging, sharply differ from each other. Two rivers flow in one channel, on the one hand the blue, sparkling Rhone, on the other, the gray, gloomy Arva, and a sharp border is marked between them. In a certain space they flow, as it were, separately. Then they gradually merge, and the grayish tint passes to the blue waters of the Rhone.
The Master tried to explain why it remained transparent for so long without mixing with the neighboring current: the source is at a height of ten or eleven thousand feet on an ice peak, and it is constantly fed by a melting glacier, which, in turn, is fed by eternal snows. Originating at this height and constantly replenished with glacier water, the river quickly rushes down, crosses the Swiss Alps and Lake Geneva and flows further. This is the secret of its purity, which remains pristine and in close proximity to dirty water. The psychologist concluded that our life should also flow from the high peak of God’s Mountain and be constantly saturated with fresh tributaries.
I told my father about this meeting, and he remarked with chagrin: “Unfortunately, since we emigrated, my source has dried up. Your mother didn’t forgive me for betraying Amalia and her children. She is mad at me. Apparently, I had to take your sister to Switzerland by force.”