EVE. But why did she divide into two, and make us different?
THE SERPENT. I tell you the labor is too much for one. Two must share it.
EVE. Do you mean that Adam must share it with me? He will not. He cannot bear pain, nor take trouble with his body.
THE SERPENT. He need not. There will be no pain for him. He will implore you to let him do his share. He will be in your power through his desire.
EVE. Then I will do it. But how? How did Lilith work this miracle?
THE SERPENT. She imagined it.
EVE. What is imagined?
THE SERPENT. She told it to me as a marvellous story of something that never happened to a Lilith that never was. She did not know then that imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire; you will what you imagine; and at last you create what you will.
EVE. How can I create out of nothing?
THE SERPENT. Everything must have been created out of nothing. Look at that thick roll of hard flesh on your strong arm! That was not always there: you could not climb a tree when I first saw you. But you willed and tried and willed and tried; and your will created out of nothing the roll on your arm until you had your desire, and could draw yourself up with one hand and seat yourself on the bough that was above your head.
EVE. That was practice.
THE SERPENT. Things wear out by practice: they do not grow by it. Your hair streams in the wind as if it were trying to stretch itself further and further. But it does not grow longer for all its practice in streaming, because you have not willed it so. When Lilith told me what she had imagined in our silent language (for there were no words then) I bade her desire it and will it; and then, to our great wonder, the thing she had desired and willed created itself in her under the urging of her will. Then I too willed to renew myself as two instead of one; and after many days the miracle happened, and I burst from my skin another snake interlaced with me; and now there are two imaginations, two desires, two wills to create with.
EVE. To desire, to imagine, to will, to create. That is too long a story. Find me one word for it all: you, who are so clever at words.
THE SERPENT. In one word, to conceive. That is the word that means both the beginning in imagination and the end in creation.
EVE. Find me a word for the story Lilith imagined and told you in your silent language: the story that was too wonderful to be true, and yet came true.
THE SERPENT. A poem.
EVE. Find me another word for what Lilith was to me.
THE SERPENT. She was your mother.
EVE. And Adam's mother?
THE SERPENT. Yes.
EVE [about to rise] I will go and tell Adam to conceive.
THE SERPENT [laughs]!!!
EVE [jarred and startled] What a hateful noise! What is the matter with you? No one has ever uttered such a sound before.
THE SERPENT. Adam cannot conceive.
EVE. Why?
THE SERPENT. Lilith did not imagine him so. He can imagine: he can will: he can desire: he can gather his life together for a great spring towards creation: he can create all things except one; and that one is his own kind.
EVE. Why did Lilith keep this from him?
THE SERPENT. Because if he could do that he could do without Eve.
EVE. That is true. It is I who must conceive.
THE SERPENT. Yes. By that he is tied to you.
EVE. And I to him!
THE SERPENT. Yes, until you create another Adam.
EVE. I had not thought of that. You are very subtle. But if I create another Eve he may turn to her and do without me. I will not create any Eves, only Adams.
THE SERPENT. They cannot renew themselves without Eves. Sooner or later you will die like the fawn; and the new Adams will be unable to create without new Eves. You can imagine such an end; but you cannot desire it, therefore cannot will it, therefore cannot create Adams only.
EVE. If I am to die like the fawn, why should not the rest die too? What do I care?
THE SERPENT. Life must not cease. That comes before everything. It is silly to say you do not care. You do care. It is that care that will prompt your imagination; inflame your desires; make your will irresistible; and create out of nothing.
EVE [thoughtfully] There can be no such thing as nothing. The garden is full, not empty.
THE SERPENT. I had not thought of that. That is a great thought. Yes: there is no such thing as nothing, only things we cannot see. The chameleon eats the air.
EVE. I have another thought: I must tell it to Adam. [Calling] Adam! Adam! Coo-ee!
ADAM'S VOICE. Coo-ee!
EVE. This will please him, and cure his fits of melancholy.
THE SERPENT. Do not tell him yet. I have not told you the great secret.
EVE. What more is there to tell? It is I who have to do the miracle.
THE SERPENT. No: he, too, must desire and will. But he must give his desire and his will to you.
EVE. How?
THE SERPENT. That is the great secret. Hush! he is coming.
ADAM [returning] Is there another voice in the garden besides our voices and the Voice? I heard a new voice.
EVE [rising and running to him] Only think, Adam! Our snake has learnt to speak by listening to us.
ADAM [delighted] Is it so? [He goes past her to the stone, and fondles the serpent].
THE SERPENT [responding affectionately] It is so, dear Adam.
EVE. But I have more wonderful news than that. Adam: we need not live for ever.
ADAM [dropping the snake's head in his excitement] What! Eve: do not play with me about this. If only there may be an end some day, and yet no end! If only I can be relieved of the horror of having to endure myself for ever! If only the care of this terrible garden may pass on to some other gardener! If only the sentinel set by the Voice can be relieved! If only the rest and sleep that enable me to bear it from day to day could grow after many days into an eternal rest, an eternal sleep, then I could face my days, however long they may last. Only, there must be some end, some end: I am not strong enough to bear eternity.
THE SERPENT. You need not live to see another summer; and yet there shall be no end.
ADAM. That cannot be.
THE SERPENT. It can be.
EVE. It shall be.
THE SERPENT. It is. Kill me; and you will find another snake in the garden tomorrow. You will find more snakes than there are fingers on your hands.
EVE. I will make other Adams, other Eves.
ADAM. I tell you you must not make up stories about this. It cannot happen.
THE SERPENT. I can remember when you were yourself a thing that could not happen. Yet you are.
ADAM [struck] That must be true. [He sits down on the stone].
THE SERPENT. I will tell Eve the secret; and she will tell it to you.
ADAM. The secret! [He turns quickly towards the serpent, and in doing so puts his foot on something sharp]. Oh!
EVE. What is it?
ADAM [rubbing his foot] A thistle. And there, next to it, a briar. And nettles, too! I am tired of pulling these things up to keep the garden pleasant for us for ever.
THE