Seeing that his reply had disappointed the young woman, he added simply, “I am Jonah, the prophet.” V Jonah and Judith sat on a bank of ferns and moss beneath the shade of a giant sycamore tree. Already they were friends; they talked earnestly together, and twisted in their fingers the ferns with their tough stalks and cool leaves. “Well, but tell me,” said Judith, “did you really see an angel? Just imagine, how exciting that must be. What was this angel like? Very beautiful, I suppose.” And she looked down with a frown. “Such beauty,” said Jonah gravely, “I cannot describe to you. Because, actually, one does not see beauty, one feels it. One looks at something, and suddenly one feels a pain in one’s heart. Then one thinks ‘what a beautiful thing.’” “Yes,” said Judith. “Well, tell me, did this angel have dark hair too, like mine?” “I do not know,” replied Jonah candidly. “I did not exactly see any hair. But I remember the wide, white, folded wings, and the glow which entered my heart at the sight of that serene face.” Judith pouted. “Didn’t you notice anything at all?” she enquired. “For instance, what did she wear. And was she young or old? What a strange fellow you are; you saw almost nothing, or at any rate, nothing of any consequence.” “Why do you speak always of ‘her’?” asked Jonah. “This angel was not a woman. At least, I did not think so.” “Then he was a man,” cried Judith. “No,” said Jonah slowly, “he was not a man, either.” “You see,” said Judith, “I was right; she was a woman. And besides, if she was so beautiful, naturally she was a woman.” “I confess,” admitted Jonah, “that had not occurred to me.” “Of course not,” said Judith. “But it occurred to me, because I am a woman.” And she added with a smile, “Even if I am not as beautiful as an angel.” “You are very pretty,” said Jonah shyly. “But it is not the same thing.” And he dug in the moss with his staff. “Do you really think I am pretty?” asked Judith. “Sarah, my nurse, says that to be pretty is nothing, because any one can be pretty. She would rather I were virtuous, because virtue is woman’s richest jewel. Of course I mean to be virtuous, and to do what is expected of me.” She began to weave some ferns into a chaplet. “Sometimes,” she said in a low voice, “I look at myself in my mirror, and I give myself a little kiss. Do you think it is wrong? Nobody sees me.” Jonah moved uncomfortably in the moss. “God...?” he said. “Oh,” said Judith. “Well, God ... old God. “Anyway,” she added, “I don’t think He sees me.”