First, however, she tried to lift it. It was heavy; quite too heavy for
the slender strength of a child, like Pandora. She raised one end of
the box a few inches from the floor, and let it fall again, with a
pretty loud thump. A moment afterwards, she almost fancied that she
heard something stir, inside of the box. She applied her ear as closely
as possible, and listened. Positively, there did seem to be a kind of
stifled murmur, within! Or was it merely the singing in Pandora's ears?
Or could it be the beating of her heart? The child could not quite
satisfy herself whether she had heard anything or no. But, at all
events, her curiosity was stronger than ever.

As she drew back tier head, her eyes fell upon the knot of gold cord.

"It must have been a very ingenious person who tied this knot," said
Pandora to herself. "But I think I could untie it, nevertheless. I am
resolved, at least, to find the two ends of the cord."

So she took the golden knot in her fingers, and pried into its
intricacies as sharply as she could. Almost without intending it, or
quite knowing what she was about, she was soon busily engaged in
attempting to undo it. Meanwhile, the bright sunshine came through the
open window; as did likewise the merry voices of the children, playing
at a distance, and perhaps the voice of Epimetheus among then. Pandora
stopped to listen. What a beautiful day it was! Would it not be wiser,
if she were to let the troublesome knot alone, and think no more about
the box, but run and join her little playfellows, and be happy?

All this time, however, her fingers were half unconsciously busy with
the knot; and happening to glance at the flower-wreathed face on the lid
of the enchanted box, she seemed to perceive it slyly grinning at her.