THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN
The truth is, those ugly little winged monsters, called Troubles, which are now almost as numerous as mosquitoes, had never yet been seen on the earth. It is probable that the very greatest disquietude which a child had ever experienced was Pandora’s vexation at not being able to discover the secret of the mysterious box.
This was at first only the faint shadow of a Trouble; but, every day, it grew more and more substantial, until, before a great while, the cottage of Epimetheus and Pandora was less sunshiny than those of the other children.
‘Whence can the box have come?’ Pandora continually kept saying to herself and to Epimetheus, ‘And what in the world can be inside of it?’
‘Always talking about this box!’ said Epimetheus, at last; for he had grown extremely tired of the subject. ‘I wish, dear Pandora, you would try to talk of something else. 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
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