Come, let us go and gather some ripe
figs, and eat them under the trees, for our supper. And I know a vine
that has the sweetest and juiciest grapes you ever tasted."
"Always talking about grapes and figs!" cried Pandora, pettishly.
"Well, then," said Epimetheus, who was a very good-tempered child, like
a multitude of children in those days, "let us run out and have a merry
time with our playmates."
"I am tired of merry times, and don't care if I never have any more!"
answered our pettish little Pandora. "And, besides, I never do have any.
This ugly box! I am so taken up with thinking about it all the time. I
insist upon your telling me what is inside of it."
"As I have already said, fifty times over, I do not know!" replied
Epimetheus, getting a little vexed. "How, then, can I tell you what is
inside?"
"You might open it," said Pandora, looking sideways at Epimetheus, "and
then we could see for ourselves."
"Pandora, what are you thinking of?" exclaimed Epimetheus.
And his face expressed so much horror at the idea of looking into a box,
which had been confided to him on the condition of his never opening it,
that Pandora thought it best not to suggest it any more. Still, however,
she could not help thinking and talking about the box.
"At least," said she, "you can tell me how it came here."
"It was left at the door," replied Epimetheus, "just before you came, by
a person who looked very smiling and intelligent, and who could hardly
forbear laughing as he put it down.
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