“Perhaps you are right,” said Jonah in a low tone; “perhaps He is a raven.” Hearing this, the Devil, who was going by in the form of a scorpion, stopped, and said to himself, “I shall tempt this holy man a little.” And remembering how Jonah’s quiet and pious spirit had vexed him in the past, Satan considered how best to be revenged on the prophet. “There is nothing like an odor,” he thought, “to hurt the memory.” And he changed himself into a jasmine vine. The unwilling night wind, trembling and sighing, carried the fragrance of its blossoms toward Jonah, who shivered as though with cold. “Ak,” he thought, “I can never forget.” And staring with wide eyes at the west, he saw again the garden, with the moonlight falling through the leaves like honey; heard the voices of the old men under the trees, the whispers of lovers, and laughter, like a sound of flutes; felt on his hand the touch of her fingers.... Judith’s.... “What a beautiful night.... It makes me sad. Why does it make me sad, Jonah? “Listen ... there’s a bird singing. Just think, in the moonlight; isn’t it sweet, Jonah? This is beauty, isn’t it. “I could stay here forever.” “Oh, Judith, Judith....” “There is a smell of sulphur here,” said the fox, wrinkling up his nose. But Jonah did not hear him. Something was hurting in his throat. He sprang to his feet, and took a deep breath. “Look,” he cried out to God, “look; it is I, Jonah.” And he stood there, with bowed head, in the silence. “This is very good,” said Satan to himself. After thinking for a moment, the Arch-Demon decided to become a woman with brown eyes and brown hair. She came up to Jonah out of the darkness, timidly, draped in her shawls. “Well, Jonah,” she said, “here is the desert. See how quiet it is; what peace, what beauty. How happy we shall be here.” “Go away,” cried Jonah, throwing out his hands in front of his face, “go away.” “Why do you want me to go away?” asked the woman quietly. “Have I not come all this long way with you, as you wished? Am I not your love, tender and gentle and kind? Come, let me make you happy.” And as Jonah stood trembling, unable to reply, she continued in her soft voice, “Are you not young, Jonah, and lonely? The young ought not to be lonely. See how beautiful the night is with its stars, its clouds, half seen, half guessed, how the music of the wind rises over the desert and sings in the hills, softly, softly. It is a night for love, Jonah, for young hearts beating each to each in the silence, in the darkness. That is what life is for, Jonah, for lips to kiss, for hands to fondle.... There is no beauty like mine, Jonah, no voice like mine to hurt your heart so, no hands like mine to hold your face tenderly, to kiss your mouth, Jonah, and your tired eyes, your mouth and your eyes.... “And you in your little hut, all alone among the rushes, all alone, Jonah, all alone....