And I imagine him with an intelligence nourished only by the

black book of the father, and hence cruelly circumscribed, yet

dense with allusion, seeing himself as a kind of Adam and she his

unavoidable and irreplaceable Eve, the unique companion of the

wilderness, although by their toil he knows they do not live in

Eden and of the precise nature of the forbidden thing he remains

in doubt. For surely it cannot be this? This bliss? Who could forbid

such bliss?