Speechless, he gawked at her, unable to comprehend the offer. “Ah, it is too soon,” she said. “I will not take it from you now, Aton. Not yet.” She noted his curling, empty hand. “Where is your book, Aton?”

“I was in the field—”

“Yes, oh, yes,” she said, twirling the hvee. “You are twice seven and you are a farmer now. But do you remember—”

“William Wordsworth’s ‘Intimations of Immortality?” he blurted, immediately shocked by his own loudness.

She caught his hand in hers, squeezing it. “Never forget, Aton, what a wonderful thing it is to be a child. There is that immortal bit of light in you, a ray of that sun for which you are named. You must cherish that ember, and never let it die, no matter how you grow.”

“Yes,” he said, unable to say more.

She held the hvee to her cheek. “Tell me, tell me again, Aton—am I not beautiful?”

He gazed into the black and green depths of her eyes and was lost. “Yes,” he said. “The forest fire, and the still water. You drown me in fire—”

Her laugh was the echo of candlelight and thicket streams. “Am I then so devastating?”

You compelling creature, he thought. You play with me, and I am helpless.

She reached her arms around him, standing close to replace the hvee in his hair. The light perfume of her body intoxicated his senses. She was timeless; she was perfection. “You have found no woman to compare to me,” she said.

Protest was useless; even her vanity was rapture. No mortal woman could rival the splendor of her person.

“You must not forget me,” she said. “I shall kiss you again.”

Aton stood, hands rigid at his sides, feet rooted, half afraid that if he moved a muscle he would topple. The woman of the forest placed those cool fingers on his elbows, the gentle pressure evoking a responsive tingle from tight shoulders to clenched fists. She raised her sweet lips to his, holding him in ecstasy. The kiss: and desire and chagrin suffused his mind.

Gossamers pinioned his body. Only his voice found volition: “But tomorrow you will be gone,” he heard it say.

She dismissed him. “Go, go now. When you find me again, you will be ready.”

She waved him away, and his clumsy feet turned him around and marched him from the glade.

•  •  •

What had occupied Aton’s idling imagination up to this point now became more urgent. His attitude changed. Interested in the distaff sex only in a speculative way, until awakened by the forest nymph, he now contemplated a program of self-education that went somewhat beyond that provided by his tutor. He planted hvee in a preoccupied manner—the plants flourishing even so—and pondered ways and means.