'There was Isaac,' says she: 'when Ablaham laid him on the wood to kill him, he did not jump up and lun to hide.' 'Isaac was a great exception,' said I: 'in the Bible and such books, you understand, you read of only the best sorts of people; but there were millions and millions of others--especially about the time of the poison-cloud--on a very much lower level--putrid wretches--covetous, false, murderous, mean, selfish, debased, hideous, diseased, making the earth a very charnel of festering vices and crimes.' This, for several minutes, she did not answer, sitting with her back half toward me, cracking almonds, continually striking one step with the ball of her outstretched foot. In the clarid gold of the platform I saw her fez and corals reflected as an elongated blotch of florid red. She turned and drank some wine from the great gold Jarvan goblet which I had brought from the temple of Boro Budor, her head quite covered in by it. Then, the little hairs at her lip-corners still wet, says she: 'Vices and climes, climes and vices. Always the same. What were these climes and vices?' 'Robberies of a hundred sorts, murders of ten hundred--' 'But what made them _do_ them?' 'Their evil nature--their base souls.' 'But _you_ are one of them, _I_ am another: yet you and I live here together, and we do no vices and climes.' Her astounding shrewdness! Right into the inmost heart of a matter does her simple wit seem to pierce! 'No,' I said, 'we do no vices and crimes, because we lack _motive_. There is no danger that we should hate each other, for we have plenty to eat and drink, dates, wines, and thousands of things. (Our danger is rather the other way.) But _they_ hated and schemed, because they were very numerous, and there arose a question among them of dates and wine.' 'Was there not, then, enough land to grow dates and wine for all?' 'There was--yes: much more than enough, I fancy. But some got hold of a vast lot of it, and as the rest felt the pinch of scarcity, there arose, naturally, a pretty state of things--including the vices and crimes.' 'Ah, but then,' says she, 'it was not to their bad souls that the vices and climes were due, but only to this question of land. It is certain that if there had been no such question, there would have been no vices and climes, because you and I, who are just like them, do no vices and climes here, where there is no such question.' The clear limelight of her intelligence! She wriggled on her seat in her effort of argument. 'I am not going to argue the matter,' I said. 'There _was_ that question of dates and wine, you see. And there always must be on an earth where millions of men, with varying degrees of cunning, reside.'