their own little cottage. On the contrary, the first thing that they
did was to fling open the doors and windows, in hopes of getting rid of
them; and, sure enough, away flew the winged Troubles all abroad, and so
pestered and tormented the small people, everywhere about, that none of
them so much as smiled for many days afterwards. And, what was very
singular, all the flowers and dewy blossoms on earth, not one of which
had hitherto faded, now began to droop and shed their leaves, after a
day or two. The children, moreover, who before seemed immortal in their
childhood, now grew older, day by day, and came soon to be youths and
maidens, and men and women by and by, and aged people, before they
dreamed of such a thing.

Meanwhile, the naughty Pandora, and hardly less naughty Epimetheus,
remained in their cottage. Both of them had been grievously stung, and
were in a good deal of pain, which seemed the more intolerable to them,
because it was the very first pain that had ever been felt since the
world began. Of course, they were entirely unaccustomed to it, and
could have no idea what it meant. Besides all this, they were in
exceedingly bad humor, both with themselves and with one another. In
order to indulge it to the utmost, Epimetheus sat down sullenly in a
corner with his back towards Pandora; while Pandora flung herself upon
the floor and rested her head on the fatal and abominable box. She was
crying bitterly, and sobbing as if her heart would break.

Suddenly there was a gentle little tap, on the inside of the lid.

"What can that be?" cried Pandora, lifting her head.

But either Epimetheus had not heard the tap, or was too much out of
humor to notice it. At any rate, he made no answer.