“Adam,” she said, “do you believe that Solomon was a wise man?”
“I was brought up in that belief,” I observed, “but, notwithstanding, I have my doubts.”
“Oh, you have your doubts?” she asked. “And why do you doubt his wisdom?”
“For the best reason in the world,” I answered; and I laughed as I spoke. “And I hold that I am wiser than he—as I have said before. For he had seven hundred wives while I have one—but that one, Eve”—
But Eve had stopped my mouth. “Now, Adam,” she said, “I have missed some pretty speech of yours—and I love your pretty speeches—but you may make another for me when I am done. For I have a purpose. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I said. “I was sure that you had. You generally have a purpose—which you invariably accomplish. So ask, and I will answer; and if my answers are not what are expected of me it will be but my misfortune. My intentions are of the best.”
And, at that, she laughed. “Well, then,” she said, “was not Solomon a wise man?”
“He had that reputation,” I replied meekly; “and I believe that he has it still—though it is a marvel to me that a dead man can have anything in this world. Yes, I think there can be no doubt that he was the wisest man in the world.”
“That will do—nicely, on the whole,” said Eve, having weighed my answer carefully, “although it leaves something to be desired. Now,—do you know what Solomon said about despising your neighbors?”
She was looking down—and trembling at her boldness, I made no doubt—and so she did not see the look of grieved astonishment that came into my face. I was silent for some while, trying to recall just what Solomon did say about despising one’s neighbors. He said such a vast number of things. And, at last, Eve looked up,—and I saw that she had not been trembling at her boldness, for she was quite at her ease, and smiling at me.