CHAPTER TWO
The Song of Songs, which is the widow’s.
When I was a rib, I spoke as a rib, and all my ways were the ways of a rib.
Lo, I took man seriously, even as he took himself. For him did I rush the breakfast—and keep it waiting.
Unto him did I offer up the palm—and the morning paper. All his opinions were right in mine eyes; and because he said a thing, it was so.
He was the Lord of my Heart, and the Source of mine Income. And in him I saw nothing funny; for my sense of humor had not yet been awakened.
He looked at my hats and mocked them. Yet that inverted salad bowl which he called a “derby” did not arouse my mirth. He waxed satirical at the number of my puffs, and my coiffure was a daily target for his wit. Yet, though he cut all the hair from off his head, and left it to grow upon his face, I felt no merriment.
In his conceit he made of me a human joke.
But now that I am become a widow, I see him as he is. Therefore shall I arise and smite him in his vanity.
Lo, what woman shall take men seriously, once she hath been married unto one of these? For he, that seemeth a thing of beauty and wisdom unto many virgins, is but a child in the eyes of his wife.
She knoweth the source of his opinions; and the padding of his shoulders is not hidden from her. His grouches are always with her and his digestion is her burden.
Go to! I have seen him at his mirror when he worked upon the parting of his hair. He hath borrowed my powder for his chin, and with my perfume hath he anointed himself. My nail-polish and my eau de cologne, they were not safe from him.
I have flattered him and beheld his fall. I have said unto him, “My love, thy judgment is above question and thy common sense above praise!”
And he hath smiled, as one that sippeth a wine of a rare vintage.
“Lo, thy reasoning powers and thine acumen are greater than those of Sherlock Holmes!”
And I have observed his secret joy.
I have cried out:
“Oh, why didst thou not go upon the stage? For thy shoulders are better than Faversham’s and thy profile than E. H. Sothern’s!”
And he hath straightway proposed!
The youths of the land have I called “Mr. Smith”, and the octogenarians addressed as “Silly Boy”. The fat man have I called “graceful”, and the ourang-outang, “distinguished”.
And all of these were overcome.
Their fairy tales have I outstripped with better fairy tales, and their devices with more subtile devices.
Verily, verily, men are as toys in mine hand; and, even as a child, do I delight to play with them.
Lo, she that fisheth for an husband, laboreth against many odds, but she that fisheth for amusement casteth her nets in pleasant waters, and they shall return unto her heavy laden.