And, at that, the black cloud that was before the sun spilled a few drops, great drops that splashed as they struck. For it was well over us, and almost passed.
Eve was distressed. “Adam,” she said, “do you believe in signs?”
“Yes,” I answered, “if you like. Would you take that cloud to be a sign?”
She nodded, saying nothing.
“Well,” said I, rising, “so be it. But come where we can see the east, and I will interpret for you.”
So she rose, too, and together we went down the steep path and along the shore. And as we went I interpreted for her in this wise.
“The shadow of that cloud, Eve, that seems so black, is the shadow of a sorrow. And the cause is the behavior of your mother, who will have none of me for a son-in-law,—who says that she will not come to your wedding—if I am there. And the drops are your tears,—or hers; for I do not doubt that she has shed many tears over this same matter. But the cloud, although it is black, is not large and it is passed. Look, Eve; you can see the sun.”
And as I spoke, the sun was peeping under the western edge, and we saw his disk grow until we could look at him no longer. And we were come to the bank, where the pebbles shone red in the sun. For he was near his setting.
“Now,” said I, “I may have to wait some while for the rest of my interpreting.”
And we waited, watching in silence, for some minutes. And the cloud was gone from above us, into the east, and there were no more drops; but under the cloud it was raining hard. And there began to form a bow: first a patch of color here and a patch there; then, gradually, the patches joined by fainter parts; then those faint parts brightened into a perfect bow with its ends dipping into the sea, and with all its colors perfect. And as we gazed there formed, within the first, another bow, and yet a third—though one must look hard to find it.