Passage A.550

rendering, not the wording of the record

The misfortune that fell on the family of my grandfather, Ilia Beridze, I never heard from him, and what I learned from the elders once I was grown I could in no way bring onto the pages of this book – my hand would not turn to describe the boundless suffering and pain of that most precious man, which gave him no rest to the end of his life and drew bitter tears from him even in old age. I was the small, astonished witness of his tears and probably often their cause too – my mischief and carefree chatter perhaps reminded him of his own tiny girl, for whom he dug a grave with his own hands in the wilds of Bakuriani