“To My WifeYou are like a youngwhite hen.Her feathers rufflein the wind, her neck curvesdown to drink, andshe rummages in the earth:but, in walking, she hasyour slow, queenly step,haughty and proud.She is better than the male.She is like the femalesof all the serene animalswho draw near to God.Here, if my eye, if my judgmentdoesn’t deceive me, among these,you find your equals,and in no other woman.When evening lullsthe little hens to sleep,they make sounds that callto mind those mild, sweetvoices with which you arguewith your pains, and don’t knowthat your voice has the soft, sadmusic of the henyard.You are like a pregnantheifer,still free, and withoutheaviness, merry, in fact;who, if someone strokes her, turnsher neck, where a tenderpink tinges her flesh.If you meet up with her, and hearher bellow, so mournfulis this sound that you tearat the earth to give hera present. In the same way,I offer my gift to youwhen you are sad.You are like a tall, thinfemale dog, that alwayshas so much sweetnessin her eyes and ferociousnessin her heart.At your feet, she seemsa saint who burnswith an indomitable fervorand in this way looks at youas her God and Lord.When you are at home, or goingdown the street, to anyone who tries,uninvited, to approach you,she uncovers her shiningwhite teeth. And her lovesuffers from jealousy.You are like the fearfulrabbit. Within her narrowcage, she stands uprightto look at you, and extendsher long, still ear; she deprivesherself of the husks androots that you bring her,and cowers, seekingthe darkest corners.Who might take awaythis food? Who mighttake away the fur whichshe tears from her backto add to the nest whereshe will give birth?Who would ever makeyou suffer?You are like the swallowwhich returns in the spring.But each autumn will depart—you don’t have this art.You have this of the swallow:the light movements;that which, to me, seemedand was old, you proclaimanother spring.You are like the providentant. She whom the grandmotherspeaks of to the child as theygo out in the countryside.And thus I find youin the bumble beeand in all the femalesof all the serene animalswho draw near to God.And in no other woman.”

“Without moving her head, she turned her dark eyes toward me and answered, “Jenna, you are different from all the others who seek me. You come to me with an unselfish heart.” She paused and turned her head to match her eyes. “You seek to save someone and give up your own happiness in return.”Save someone and give up my own happiness in return,I repeated again in my head, trying to understand what she meant.“Ah, Jenna,” she continued. “Don’t let your mind worry you. Not everyone has happy endings.”

“What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.”

“It draws you in. You twist your mind into new shapes. You start to understand Caverna . . . and you fall in love with her. Imagine the most beautiful woman in the world, but with tunnels as her long, tangled, snake-like hair. Her skin is dappled in trap-lantern gold and velvety black, like a tropical frog. Her eyes are cavern lagoons, bottomless and full of hunger. When she smiles, she has diamonds and sapphires for teeth, thousands of them, needle-thin.""But that sounds like a monster!" "She is. Caverna is terrifying. This is love, not liking. You fear her, but she is all you can think about.”

“She used to place her pretty arms about my neck, draw me to her, and laying her cheek to mine, murmur with her lips near my ear, “Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die—die, sweetly die—into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit.”And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow upon my cheek.”

“She came quickly over to me and held out her hand. I looked at her full of distrust. Was she doing this freely, with a light heart? Or was she doing it just to get rid of me? She put her arm around my neck, tears in her eyes. I just stood and looked at her. She offered me her mouth but I couldn't believe her, it was bound to be a sacrifice on her part, a means of getting it over with.She said something, it sounded to me like "I love you anyway!" She said it very softly and indistinctly, I may not have heard it correctly, perhaps she didn't say exactly those words. But she threw herself passionately on my neck, held both arms around my neck a little while, even raised herself on tiptoe to reach well up, and stood thus.Afraid that she was forcing herself to show me this tenderness, I merely said "How beautiful you are now!"That was all I said. I stepped back, bumped against the door and walked out backward. She was left standing inside.”