And so perhaps she might, if the enchanted face on the lid
of the box had not looked so bewitchingly persuasive at her, and if she
had not seemed to hear, more distinctly, than before, the murmur of
small voices within. She could not tell whether it was fancy or no; but
there was quite a little tumult of whispers in her ear--or else it was
her curiosity that whispered:
"Let us out, dear Pandora--pray let us out! We will be such nice pretty
playfellows for you! Only let us out!"
"What can it be?" thought Pandora. "Is there something alive in the box?
Well--yes!--I am resolved to take just one peep! Only one peep; and then
the lid shall be shut down as safely as ever! There cannot possibly be
any harm in just one little peep!"
But it is now time for us to see what Epimetheus was doing.
This was the first time, since his little playmate had come to dwell
with him, that he had attempted to enjoy any pleasure in which she did
not partake. But nothing went right; nor was he nearly so happy as on
other days. He could not find a sweet grape or a ripe fig (if Epimetheus
had a fault, it was a little too much fondness for figs); or, if ripe at
all, they were overripe, and so sweet as to be cloying. There was no
mirth in his heart, such as usually made his voice gush out, of its own
accord, and swell the merriment of his companions. In short, he grew so
uneasy and discontented, that the other children could not imagine what
was the matter with Epimetheus.
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