XXXIX
ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY
WHEN the Last Trumpet had cleared men off the earth like crumbs off a cloth, an unbelievable sweetness and freedom settled over the world. Presently all that man had spoiled was healed, and earth was a garden and God took his pleasure walking in it.
There’s a gold apple tree grows in the garden, and if God is so minded of all other trees he plucks the fruit, but at this he holds his hand and muses. The green serpent fawns about his feet. “If thou art God indeed,” he whispers, “eat.” But God bends and strokes the glittering coils.
“Do thou eat, belovéd,” says he, “and be even as I am, having knowledge of good and evil—and of thyself.” “Get thou behind me, God,” cries the serpent, and is fled through the dust of the garden like a green flame. And when the sweet laughter of God is over, all is quiet in the garden.
XL
IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A PEACE
AFTER the war, which he believed himself to have won, the everlasting No met, as he was travelling grandly in his great car, his defeated enemy, the everlasting Yes. This second, as became one so heavily defeated, went on foot, in rags, and seemed something of a cripple.
“Ha,” said No, “I am sorry to see you in such case, but you will not deny that even so I let you off lightly. I tremble to think what vengeance you would have exacted had you triumphed. Confess that you would have exterminated me and not limited yourself to ruining and crippling me.”
“Why,” said Yes reflectively, “I stand for acceptance. I have other names, too—Love, Hope and Charity. But as acceptance trails your shadow of refusal, so do my other names trail theirs—Hate, Despair and Unimaginativeness—and the worst of these shadows is unimaginativeness. I had dreamed, I confess, that it would be well to wipe out the shadows.”