Then I came forth, still gazing upon Eve and admiring, and said to her:
“You have not seen me before, sweet creature, but I have seen you. I have seen all the animals, but in beauty none of them equals you. Your hair, your eyes, your face, your flesh tints, your form, the tapering grace of your white limbs--all are beautiful, adorable, perfect.”
It gave her pleasure, and she looked herself over, putting out a foot and a hand and admiring them; then she naïvely said:
“It is a joy to be so beautiful. And Adam--he is the same.”
She turned him about, this way and that, to show him off, with such guileless pride in her blue eyes, and he--he took it all as just matter of course, and was innocently happy in it, and said, “When I have flowers on my head it is better still.”
Eve said, “It is true--you shall see,” and she flitted hither and thither like a butterfly and plucked flowers, and in a moment laced their stems together in a glowing wreath and set it upon his head; then tiptoed and gave it a pat here and there with her nimble fingers, with each pat enhancing its grace and shape, none knows how, nor why it should so result, but in it there is a law somewhere, though the delicate art and mystery of it is her secret alone, and not learnable by another; and when at last it was to her mind she clapped her hands for pleasure, then reached up and kissed him--as pretty a sight, taken altogether, as in my experience I have seen.
Presently, to the matter in hand. The meaning of those words--would I tell her?
Certainly none could be more willing, but how was I to do it? I could think of no way to make her understand, and I said so. I said:
“I will try, but it is hardly of use. For instance--what is pain?”
“Pain? I do not know.”