As soon as Proserpina saw the pomegranate on the golden salver, she told
the servant he had better take it away again.
"I shall not touch it, I assure you," said she. "If I were ever so
hungry, I should never think of eating such a miserable, dry pomegranate
as that."
"It is the only one in the world," said the servant. He set down the
golden salver, with the wizened pomegranate upon it, and left the room.
When he was gone, Proserpina could not help coming close to the table,
and looking at this poor specimen of dried fruit with a great deal of
eagerness; for, to say the truth, on seeing something that suited her
taste, she felt all the six months' appetite taking possession of her at
once. To be sure, it was a very wretched looking pomegranate, and seemed
to have no more juice in it than an oyster shell. But there was no
choice of such things in King Pluto's palace. This was the first fruit
she had seen there, and the last she was ever likely to see; and unless
she ate it up immediately, it would grow drier than it already was, and
be wholly unfit to eat.
"At least, I may smell it," thought Proserpina.
So she took up the pomegranate, and applied it to her nose; and, somehow
or other, being in such close neighbourhood to her mouth, the fruit
found its way into that little red cave. Dear me! what an everlasting
pity! Before Proserpina knew what she was about, her teeth had actually
bitten it, of their own accord.
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