In the morning he entered the city with some farmers on their way to the markets. The sun was rising, gleaming upon the great winged bulls before the temples, the green and yellow lions upon the walls. Under the clear upland sky the city shone with color like a fair. The markets opened; the streets filled with men and women in their colored shawls and clashing ornaments. And Jonah, looking and looking, was astonished. “Why,” he thought, “this is strange; there is something bright and bold about all this. This is fine, after all.” And he felt a gayety of heart take hold of him. How vigorous these mountain people looked with their insolent faces and their swaggering air. There was nothing old or sad in Nineveh. He forgot why he had come; he was excited, and happy. It was not at all what he had expected; and he forgot himself. But not for long. As the hours passed, he grew weary; and as the brightness wore off, and he began to think of his own life again, he began to hate Nineveh, to hate the bold colors all around him, the youth that carried itself so proudly and carelessly in the streets. “Yes,” he thought, “that is all very well for you; but you know nothing about life.” And, lifting his arms, he cried aloud with gloomy satisfaction, “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.” The success of this remark astonished him. Without waiting to find out any more about it, the Assyrians hurried home and put ashes on their heads. Nineveh repented like a child of its sins; in an orgy of humility the city gave up its business, and dressed itself in sackcloth. The king, even, left his throne, and sat down in some ashes. Jonah was vexed. This, also, was not what he had expected. He had looked for a wind of fury, for stones, and curses, and a final effect of glory. And when he learned that because of its repentance Nineveh was to be spared, his courage gave way in a flood of disappointment. “I knew it,” he said bitterly to God; “I knew You’d never do it.” And with an angry countenance he retired to an open field on the east side of the city, to see what would happen. His heart was very sore. “Where is my glory now?” he thought. Then God, who was anxiously watching, spoke to Jonah from the sky. “Why are you angry?” said the Holy One. “Have I done you a wrong?” Jonah replied, sighing, “Who will ever believe me now, Lord?” And for the rest of the day he maintained a silence, full of reproach. Then because the sun was very hot, and because where Jonah was sitting there was no shade of any sort, God made a vine grow up, overnight, to shelter Jonah. “There,” said God, “there is a vine for you. Rest awhile and see.”